The Weston Democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1875-current, 1879-10-04
The Lover's Sacrifice.

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would not quite care TO live the
years over again.
Her childhood had been as swcet I
and bright as lovo and wealth
could make it, until the good father
had died so utterly ruined tinan-
cially that nothing was left for his
widow and only child except a
small, but pretty and pleasant res
idcnce, and al exceedingly mcager
income derived from certain
property not forfeitablc by his
many creditors.
Since the death of that loving,
indulgent, but most incompetent
parent, the girl had known almost
every vicissitude of trouble and
privation possible to the expert
ence ofthe young, the sensitive and
the refined.
Fortunately the elegant, finely
educated and rarely accomplished
Mrs. Rivers was competent to in
struct her child in scholarship as
well as in the subtle lore Of eti-
quettc affected by the social circles
from which she had been ostra-
cised by her pccuniary misfortrncs.
And the daughter being dutiful and
tractablc, rs well rs sensible, had
protitcd by this gentle but thorough
home tuition.
At twenty n Vassaritc might al.
most have envied Tcssic Rivers for
her crudition; and many PAM
pcrGd favorlte of wealth and aristo-
cratic pretcnsions might have cov-
cted her unaffected grace and dig
nifty of demcanor more, perhaps,
than her rich, vivid and healthful
lovcliness.
But she was not at all satisfied
with the station to which fate as
signed her. She was sick to the
soul of this perpetual struggle be-
tween hidden want and ostensible
modest comfort. Sho longed for n
life, not of utter Incidence and
clogging luxury, but of perfect free
dom from prosy cares-a life filled
with sweetcr possibilities and
broader purposes, and that might
bring n few seasons Of rest.
II should not quito care to live
my twenty years over again." she
aycrrcd mentally, us divesting her
self Of her becoming black cloth
cloak and prcttily plumed black
velvet hat, she entered the cheerful
room where her mother was rather
eagerly awaiting her coming.
"Are you tired, dcar?" questioned
Mrs. Rivers, tendcrly,as she poured
the tea she had made ready an
hour before.
"Not at all, mamma" answered
Tcssic, taking her seat ut the cosy
table. "Whcn ones talk is inter-
csting one does not become ia
tigucd easily. If l had nothing
less pleasant to do than to arrange
Lucille Carrington's flowers and
t!ounces, l should he happy, l
think
"Ah, Tessic," smiled tho mother,
"the most humble labor would
never be distasteful to YOU so long
rs you might find an element of
the aesthetic in it,"
sand if l might always serve a
lady us considerato and gracious as
Miss Carrington,' she added. "Shc
never patronizes mo; she treats me
as she might a trusted friend. And
yet am in a rebellious mood to-
night am, indeed, mamma.
Why should she be given so much
and I SO little? The lace that
drapes tho black silk dress she
wcars-tho single diamond on hcr
white hand-the pearls that CLEAN
on her bosom-if mine to trans
mute into money, would lift the
mortgage from this dear old home
and this heavy burden from our
hearts,"
Mrs. Rivers sighed rs she slipped
her tea silently, choosing neither
to contemplate nor discuss an i'm
pending trouble unless that it
might be avcrtcd.
II do not care TO think or speak
of n misfortune that cannot be
prevented, my dear" she observed,
after n sorrowful pause. "To