Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1879-04-03
New Series-Vol. 1o. No. IL.

well. Now go and play and sing some
thing, and mind, | don't want my ears
deafened with fireworks, and the drums
split with parrOt-Shriek bravuruS. Sing
something and simple and old-fashioned,
if you can, she added ungraeiously
L crossed the room and sat down to
the magnificent piano, and for the next
five minutes seemed to be far away,
down in the old home, as l forgot where
| was, in singing my poor dead fathers
favOrite old ballad: robin Adair;"
while, as finished, had hard work to
keep back the tears. -
"R-bin- A-dair," she sang, as 1
rose, i'll not unpleaSing voice. 'NOw
let me hear you read. | always make
my companion read to me great deal;
and mind this, l hate to hear any drone
like school girl Go over there into
the corner of the window and stand
there. Take that book; you'll find the
mark left in where Miss Belleyille-
bah l believe her name was Stubs and
her father green-grOcer-left off. Now
then, begin"
She pushed lounge-chair close up to
the window and sat down with her
hands in her muff, while | stood there,
feeling like schoolgirl and ready to
drOne, as l began to read with faltering
voice what happened to be ThaOkray's
most beautiful ehapter-the death of
poor old Col. NewcOmbe. l know my
voice trembled at times, and a strange
sense of choking came upon me as l
went on battling, oh, so hard to read
those piteOus heart-stirring linesl but l
was weak and suffering, | was faint
with hunger and exertiOn, sick with that
hope deferred, and at last the room with
its costly furniture, seemed to swim
round before me, cold perspiration
bathed my face, and with weary sigh |
caught feebly at the curtains and then
fell heavily upon the polished floor
have some faint memory of being
lifted and wheeled in chair whose cas-
tors heard chirrup to the front of the
fire, and then, as my senses began to re-
turn, seemed to feel arms arms around
me and a pleasant voice saying, half
aloud:
"And she just lost her poor father,
-toO-tO set her to read such a thing as
that l declare I'm about the wiekedest,
most thOughtless and unfeeling old wO-
man under the SUM-"
Then there was the refreshing odOr of
a vinaigrette, and the sick feeling began
to pass away. -
IL beg pardon faltered, trying to
rise.
81 beg yours, my DEAR" she said, ten
derly. 'Sit still, sit still. Now then,
try and drink that"
Some sherry was held to my lips and
then | was almost forced to eat bis
ouif Thov hOUauor rani6lxr rovfxrod
me, and / found Mrs. Porter had torn off
her bonnet and mantle and was kneeling
by my side.
"That's better, my dear, she said, smi-
| ling at me, as she passed herr arm around
me and drew me nearer to her and kiss
ed me in gentle, motherly way. And
now this was too mvch, for l was weak
and hysterical. l could fight against
harshness, but her tender words and
ways unlocked the tioodgates of my
grief and / laid my head down and sob
bed as if my heart would break
4 An hour later, after she had literally
forced me to partake of the breakfast
that was ordered up, she sat beside me,
holding my hand, and more than once 1
saw the tears steal down her pleasant
face as she won from me, bit by bit, the
story of my troubles and my bitter strug
giles here in town.
At last l rose to go, trembling and ex-
pectant. Would she engage me? 1t
was more than dared to hope
''Sit still, my child" she said tenderly
at has pleased God to make me-a
childless, widowed woman-His steward
over much wealth. and if / did not make
this home for one of His tempest
smitten lambs, should be a worse wo-
man than think l am. Stay with me /;
we shall be the best of friends"
stayed-stayed to know her real
worth and to win her mOtherly love
stayed to find, when John Murray return
ed, that his love was greater for my sis
ter than for me, and patiently resigned
my love to her, and then battled with
long illness when they had gone together
to the far-Off home. But every day gave
me new lesson ON not juding too hast
| lily. That is ten years since; and am
still in my happy home, though only "as
companion to a lady."-Cassell's Maya
zine.