The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1879-05-13
True to Herself.

The November afternoon was dar-
kening into night rs Florence and
drove from the cemetery where we had
seen our father laid to rest. | was
twenty-five that summer, an: the atil-
anceG bride Of bert Freeman; but,
= since my fathers failure and death, |
had not seen him; and my heart told
me only too plainly that the love which
had been given to Marion Wilde, the fa-
vored Of fortune, had not been trans
ferred to Marion Wilde, the homeless
orphan.
Florence, though younger than I
was married; had her home and
husband, and so could afford to look
calmly on my fathers failure and
death. But What was 1 to do2
must begin the world and earn living
for myself.
We stopped before the mansion that
had so long been home-that after to-
night would be home no longer.
81 wish to speak to you, Marion,"
Florence said.
led the way to the library.
"Well," l said, sitting down in the
gloom. "What is it, Florence?"
"It is this, Marion: What do yon
mean to dop''
81 don't know"
'It Is time you did," said Florence.
"You must earn yodr own living. l
tell you quite frankly chat cannot Of
fer you home, and you must get some
situation. Tomorrow you must leave
this house. You have no money.
Where are you going?"
dropped my head on the table and
burst into tears. Oh, the unspcakable
misery of that momentl My sister had
never been oyerstockcd with affection
for her family, and thoughts Of the
world bad always filed Il large place in
her heart; but it did seem as IT she
might have given me time to bury my
father before thrusting me into it-and
not my father only, but my lover also,
for he was not dead to ne, and must l
not bury him out of my sight?"
81 have been thoughtful for you
more than you have been for YOURSELF"
pursued Florence "l have found you
temporary home. Mrs. Brown is in
want of seamstress. l have spoken
for you; her terms are liberal and you
60 at once"
Marion Wilde goout as a seamstrcss
How coolly she talked Of it.
"You will go there tomorrow morn
ing, when you leave here, and while
there you can advertise for another
place. l must be going, Goodbye"
81 did not answer, and she was gone.
Then l sank down in my loneliness,
poverty and misery, and cried until l
could cry no longer"
ooh, Albert, Albert !" ! cried In my
great grief, is this the love you have
prOfessed for me?'
And so tho long night passed, as all
nights must; but the morning found
mo a changed woman. 1t seemed as If
In that one night had given up every
thing that had been dear to me. I did
not break my heart, either. Albert
Freeman should never do that, when
my heart broke, it should be for a wor-
thier object. Mol 1 thanked Heaven
that lad learned Albert Frccman's
unworthiness SO soon.
With no choice left, I took my way to
Mrs. Brown and remained for three
months as a member Of tho family
One morning an advertisement in the
paper attracted my attention, and de-
termned to answer 1t. 1t was for q
copylst. A few minutes later knock
ed at tho office door of Edwin Graham.
He was barristcr, and one Of the most
talented men of tho bar.
"You advertised for a copyist," said /,
''and 1 came to SEQ If could do what
you require"
"Wtll you write something for me ?"
he said, and he placed some writing
materials before mo.
wrote several line, which he exam
incd and said would do.
found his terms liberal, and carried
home large roll ofpapers. 1t was ar
ranged that after this the clerk was to
call for my writings and bring me or
ucrs.
Mr.. Graham called occasionally to
give me directioilr about the law papers.
He was a man Of about thirty-fvc,v very
Kind In his manner, and occasional
~ brought me a book to read. His lite