Middletown transcript., 1878-09-14
Select Storp.
SAVED I'M TIME.

/
Mr.. Marcus Wilkinson sat alone il
his Office, with dainty little perfumed
note between his fingers, and a puz.
zled frown upon his brow. The note
directed in a graceful, feminine hand
was brief.
DEAR GUARDIAN Il will be at the
Office at ten in the morning, to consult
you upon a matter of Importance.
M1LL1E.
"a matter of Importance, " muttered
Mr.. Wilkinson, twisting the note ner.
vously. "Can my fears be true? Has
Cyril Ormsby proposed to my pearl
I am afraid he has. And what can
say? What can l urge against the
man, if Miles own instincts have
played her false? Ten o'clockp
The last silvery stroke of the man
tel clock had not died away when the
door of the Office was opened by q
clerk, and Millie Bently entered the
room.
Just a few words to describe the
ward whom Marcus Wilkins always
said was a pearl, a lily, everything
pure and fair. She was one of me.
dium height, slender and graceful,
with a thoughtful face of exquisite
beauty.
Very young, only eighteen, Mile
Bently had borne early the sorrows Of
life. Her father, having been wealthy,
had failed in business and committed
suicide. Her mother, delicate and
helpless, had fought poverty feebly
for two years, and sinking under pri-
vation and toll, had contracted fatal
disease. When all hope of life was
over, the news came that Miles
uncle, dying abroad had left large
fortune to his only sister. A will was
made by the dying woman, leaving
her own too-lately won independence
to Mile, and appointed their old
friend, Marcus Wilkinson, guardian
to the heiress.
Sorrowing, and womanly beyond her
years, hfifiie had turned from from her e7fa
grief to a noble endeavor to solace
some Of the trials of those with whom
her own poverty had made her famil-
lar. A cousin had come at Mr.. Will
kin's request to make home for his
ward, and she resumed many long in
terrupted studies. But a large por-
ton of her time was spent in the hum
BILE homes of those who had been her
mother friends in the dark days of
widowhood, and her gentle charities
soon extended far beyond this small
circle.
She had been an orphan two years
on the day when she came to seek
Mr.. Wilkinson, as already described,
and the sorrows of her life had lost
some Of their bitter stings, leaving on
ly sadness behind.
"Well, Mile" said the old gentle
man, ''what brings to me the pleasure
of seeing you to-day?"
"It was about myself" Mile said,
the sofest rose tint flushing her
cheek.
"Dear me. 1 didn't think you ever
took such an Insignificant person into
consideration at all"
"Now, Uuncle Marc, please don't
tease"
"She wants something enormous"
said the old gentleman, addressing the
walls. .'Whenever.I am Uncle Marc,
I know what to expect next"
But Just then the kindly man detec-
ted signs of trouble in Miles face,
and the jesting voice was turned at
once to one of tender gravity.
"What is it, my child?
"Cyril Ormsby came to see me last
evening, and he will come here to-
day; but wanted to see you first.
He wants me to be his wife, Uncle
Marc, and" d"-she hesitated here-"you |
do not like him"
"Who told you that ?"
"No one but I see it myself"
"Well, you are right. I don't like
him. But my like or dislike has no
control over you"
mo control!'' and Miles voice
was piteous. "Please don't talk SO. I
come to you as I would have game to
my father"
"There, dear, was wrong. Tell
me, then, as you would have told your
father, do you love Mr.. Ormsby?" |