The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1879-03-07
TFegTH TO HERSELF.

1he November afternoon was darken1ng
into night as Florence and | drove from the
cemetery where we had seen our father laid
to rest. [ was % that sammer, and the af-
tianced BRIDE of Albert Freeman but, since
my fathers failure and death, l had not
seen him: and my heart told me only toe
plainly that the love which had been given
to Marion Wilde, the favored of fortune,
had not been transferred to Marion Wilde,
the homeless orphan.
Florence, though younger than l., was
married had her home and her husband,
and SO could afford to look calmly on our
fathers failure and death. But / what
was to do? | must begin the world and
earn living for myself.
We stopped before the mansion that had
SO long been home-that after tonight
would be home no longer.
Il wish to speak to you, Marion" Flor
ence said.
led the way into the library.
"Well," | said, sitting down in the
gloom, What is it, Florence.
;. 1t is this, Marion what do you mean
to do?"
Il don't know"
1T is time you did," said Florence
You must earn your own living. | tell
you quite frankly that cannot offer you a
home, and you must get some situation.
Tomorrow you must leave this house You
have no money. Where are You going? 2"
l dropped my head ON the table and burst
into tears. On, the unspeakable desolation
and misery of that moment My sister had
never been overstocked with affection for
her family, and thoughts of the word had
always filled a large part in her heart but
it did seem as if she might at least give me
time to bury my father before thrusting me
into it-and not my father only, but my
lover also, for was he not dead to me, and
must not bury him out Of my sight?
Il have been more thoughtful for you
than you have been for yourself" pursued
Florence. Il have found you a temporary
home. Mrs. Brown is in want of a seam
stress. l have spoken for you; her terms
are liberal and you so at once"
Marion Wilde 60 out as a seamstress
How cody she talked OF it.
You will go there tomorrow morning,
when you leave here, and while you are
there you can advertise for another place.
l must be going. Goodbye"
did not answer, and she was gone. Then
I sank down in my loneliness, poverty and
misery, and cried until | could cry no
longer.
.:Oh, Albert, Albert F." I cried in my
great gf1ei, Is ILLS IIe io'e you AdSe pro-
Iessed for me ?"
And so the long night passed, as all nights
must but the morning found me changed
woman. 1t seemed as if in that one night
| had given up everything that had been
dear to me. 1t did not break my heart, Ell
ther. Albert Freeman should never do that;
when my heart broke it should be for wor-
thier object. Mo- [ thanked Heaven that
I had learned Albert Freeman'S unworthi.
ness so soon.
With no choice left, / took my way to
Mrs. Brown and remained for three months
a member of her family. One morning an
advertisement i'll the paper attracted my at
| tention, and determined to answer it, 1t
| was for a copyist. A few minutes later
knocked at the office door of Edwin Graham.
He was q baIrister, and one of the most tai
ented men at the bar.
| "You advertised for copyist." I said,
!" and I have called 70 see if l could do what
YOU require.
evil you write something for me-" he
said, and he placed some writing materials
before me.
I wrote several lines, which he examined
and said would do.
| I found terms liberal, and carried home a
large roll of papers It was arranged that
4 after this the clerk was to call for my wri
tings and bring me orders.
| MIR. Graham called occasionally to give
ldirections about the law papers. He was
man of about 35, very kind in his manner
and he occasionally brought me book te
read. His little kindnesses were very vel
come in my great loneliness.
/ have forgotten to say that / had gone tt
reside with an old lady whom had once be