The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1880-05-11
Deacon Sharpe's Wife's Niece

hNOU just look here, " said Mrs. For
bearance Sharpe, wife of Deacon
Sharpe, of Pentonville; eff you stay
here, Mercy Lane, you'll have to pay
your way. We've seven children of our
own to look out for, and the deacon
isn't q very forehanded man. You're
fourteen years old now, and you've had
all the eddication you'll ever get out of
me, can tell you, once for all. Any
gal that can read the Bible and the
newspapers, and write a fair hand,
ought to be satisfied, unless she's got
fortin. And as for them new-fangled
notions Miss Carter's putting into your
head, the sooner you get over them the
better. You're at liberty to leave us
any day, but, 30 long as you stay here
you've got to earn your bread and but
ter" and Mrs. Sharpe settled anew to
shelling bushel of beans, which she
intended to "lay up" for the winters
use.
1 cannot say what notion induced that
lady's progenitors to christen her For
bearance !" but there certainly never
was greater misnomer, as any physi-
ognomist could have told by one glance
at her sharp wiry visage, with its small,
keen, sunken eyes, and its thin, pale
lips, whereon her character was written,
as legible as the life can write itself on
the face.
Mercy Lane was an orphan, and the
dou0htar of NTro Chorpa3o vo,,n0or eiu
ter. She had resided with her aunt
about six years; and temperaments
more thoroughly antipathetic were never
brought in social and domestic relations
with each other. Mercy was very
singular child, combining those qualities
which are accompanied with genius of
certain order. She was dreamy, indo-
lent, and impulsive; capable, too, of a
great deal of stubborn endurance, and
outbreaks of wild energy and wrath.
There was in her great latent power of
great good, or evil; but her aunt did
not understand her, any more than a
savage would the soft beauty, and the
stirring grandeur of the Iliad.
It is one of the darkest riddles of life,
why two natures so essentially unlike
should ever be brought in contact with
each other-a contact that must result
in exquisite suffering to one of these.
But so it is; the early life of most
geniuses is narrowing history to him
who reads it. But the fearful discipline
may be needed; the fine gold must have
the ordeal of the fire. Up there we shall
"know even as we are KNOWN
Mercy Lane stood very still, and
listened to her aunt's speech. She was
neither pretty, nor, at first sight, inter-
esting. She was dark, thin, sunburnt
child, and just now her face had harsh,
sullen expression, that made it almost
disagreeable. The lips, large and full,
were set down firmly together, and the
thin brown arms moved to and fro with
nervous restlessness. Her features
were large and irregular; her figure
lean, awkward ,undeveloped; you would
never have dreamed there was any
beauty or loveliness there And yet
there was. II she were to lift suddenly
these short thick lashes you might see a
pair of eyes, dark, and warm, and
radiate as a choice bit of agate; and if
that harshly set mouth were to flash out
on you suddenly one of its smiles, the
face of Mercy Lane would be something
more than dark, and lean, and homely
to you for you would see it ever after
ward in the light of that wondrous
smile.
Deacon Sharpe was good man, but
he was weak, Emphatic sort of char
acter, largely controlled by his active
spouse, who, to do her justice, was