Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1879-03-27
ANSON GREY.

Anson Grey was still, stern man of
thirty, shut up within himself and by
himself, in his great stone mansion on
the hill, and people knew no more about
thlm than they knew about the dead. His
early years had been passed abroad,
where or how, nobody knew and most
had ceased to care, for that matter; the
last two had been passed in Burlingame.
A brilliant light at night, shining from
the great east windows, and occasional
gallops through the town, by day, were
the only tokens of his presence. How
ever, a change was coming and that
without warning. AnsOn fell sick, sud-
denly and dangerously so. The village
doctor was summoned, who in turn tele-
graphed for another from the neighbor-
ing city in hot haste, aQd together, they
said In whispers that their patient would
probably die. There was no woman in
the great house to act as, nurse, and the
head servant, obeying doubtless his mas
ter's orders, refused to allow one as yet.
How it came about was mystery, but
one morning, when the master had laid
a week half senseleSS, an unusual cloud
OF dust was observed whirling up the
hill, and emerging therefrom was a car
| rlage, SplaShed and Weather-stained,
headed by two straining, painting horses,
VINO came up to the entrance as if driven
by the evil one. A lady, tall and fair as
sunlight, pushed open the carriarge door
lmpatlently and sprang out. With a
nasty glance around she hurried up the
steps, entered the drawing-room, and
stood before the two aStOnished gentle
men who were seated there.
"Is Anson Grey alive?"
yes, but he grows worse"
Before they OWNED her intention, she
had passed them, and was in the next
room bending over the sick man.
"The devil will be to pay if she excites
him now," the elder one said; @if some
good nurse had come, it might have been
OF some use; but this dainty thing-bahr
She came out in moment, her face
white but determined.
"Will you be kind enough TO send for !
a minister, and remain until he comes ?"
she asked, as she began to remove her
things.
There was something in her manner |
that forbade questioning, and they obey
ed her like so many dumb men, as they |
said afterward
The minister did come; William Skim
ner, the head servant was called, and af-
ter the three held a private conference,
which seemed to be satisfactory, they
came out, and to the amazement of all,
the lady stood beside AnsOn Grey and the
marriage vows were taken.
The wise doctors were mistaken in
their estimate of their unknown. She
was something beside fair young lady,
as her actions soon proved. A new or
der of things was instituted in the sick
mans room, and his wife installed her.
self as nurse, a change which told for
the better. In month he was riding
terOugh the village, with his wife by his
side, all eyes, of course, agOg to catch
glimpse of her handsome face.
All agreed that she was just an angel,
and when they came to church the next
Sunday, and sat down in one of the pews
like other people, they were more than
ever confirmed in ther opinion. What
they never knew was this:
Three years before, Anson Grey,
naughty and indolent, was killing time
at one of the fashionable watering places
where Edith Willoughby also fingered,
though sorely against her will. d
A sweet and wondrOusly fair face, {
much admired and sought after, AnsOn
Grey had half a mind to enter the lists '
with the others, but something kept him
back, and he only exchanged a few i
words with her now and then.
There happened to come heavy, two d
lays flood, and the first night of it Edith +
'9nt servant asking Mr.. Grey to come |
20 private parlor for moment. He '
'beyed the summons with alacrity, won Q
lering much what could be coming now. t
Edith was waiting for him, cloaked I
md hooded, and evidently in haste to s
'e off somewhere. t
Il hope you will pardon me, she said, t
IS she closed the door behind him, "but e
eally do not know whom to ask, and v
mamma will not allow me to go by him a
elf A poor woman down ON the beach
S sick;perhaps dying, and / must go to b
ee her. Her little boy has just come af t
er me. / wBs there yesterday, and they v
re in great distress. Could l trouble g
'ou to go with. me?" "a" n
Il will do your errand. 1t is too stormy e
or you to venture out" d
"Oh, it is no errand. 1 am sorry to G
rouble anybody" g
Mr.. Grey saw what was wanted, and IL
aging he would be back directly, van n
shed for his rubber suit. n
The rain drove into their faces, and m
be wind hOwled through the dark night te
Ike the minister of thousand storms "
OF for poor fisherwOman, perhaps, but
Or one as good and fair as Edith Will
,ughby, he should not have hesitated a in
loment. When they came upon the di
each the waves fairly leaped into their ia
ices, and Edith shivered and clung half pl
,rrified to her companion in spite of 1t
erself.
"I believe you had better return now,
nd leave it to me-" he said. hs
mo, we are almost there. should Sa
ever forgive myself if I did" she an of
vered, catching her breath as she spoke. 90
t is only you am worried about" CT
~ am glad to be able to help yOu," he w
i'd. And think he spoke the truth.
Inside the cottage poor Grace Pooley
y on her hard bed trying to breathe ON ty
little longer, if so the good God might bu
nd some good friends before she died, to ac
re for her orphan boy. th
When the door opened her eyes bright wi
led, and she raised up a little. in
"The Lord bless ye for coming. 90