Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1880-12-09
AS AUNT ELLICE TOLD 1T.

AS AUNT ELLICE TOLD 1T.
CHAPTER I.
AND 80 you are teasing for the story
of that night-only because you heard
me refer to it, yesterday, when l was
adventure which ever befel me in all my
fve-and- fifty years? And you take it
for granted, you foolish young
people,. because I called it an
IS adventure, - that it must needs be as
s.thrilling y as the stories you waste
your. time in following so breathlessly
through your modern novels, and be-
hind the footlights? You will be disap-
pointed then; | give you fair warning!
It was all over in a short half hour,
and, moreover, wasn't in the least the
heroine of it; only "assisted " at it, as
the droll French phrase goes, which was
perplexing you in your translation yes
terday, Dorothy. And, moreover-but
you want the story, you say, and not ten
minutes of preface? The impertinence
of your generation spoke in that! Well,
you must have the story, then, sup
pose. Put fresh log on the fire, Tom !;
don't want you poking at it, present
ly, as you'd be certain to do, in the
midst of the only "thrill' my small
narrative can boast. Tell the maid not
to bring the lamps for half an hour !;
story-tellers are owlish, you know, in
their love for the dark.
1t happened to me the winter I was
eighteen years old. / had been spend
ing the Christmas holidays with Uncle
Philip and Aunt Hester Haywood, up in
Ayr; and as always happened when 1
went to them, my visit of a fortnight had
heightened out into months; and Febru-
nv found me still with them. I never
was rs happy elsewhere as at Ayr. At
home, as you know, had quite patri-
archal tribe of brothers and sisters, to
share with me papa's affection, and the
possibilities of our very limited income;
but at Ayr L reigned supreme; and 1
am sure that no child of their own could
have held warmer place than I, in
Uncle Philip and Aunt Hester's hearts.
Their marriage had been childless; and
it was natural that the only child of I'm
Gle Philips favorite sister should be so
very dear to them. They were clannish
folks, always, the Heywoods; and they
never. made any very friendly advances
to the second Mrs. Ainsworth-good
housewifely soul that she was! nor to
any of her big brood of children. 1t was
usually rather pointedly to Miss Ellice
Ainsworth that letters of invitation came
addressed.
had never been happier at Ayr, than
that winter [ was eighteen years old.
Aunt Hester gave me first, that year, a
responsible share in the entertaining of
the guests of whom her hospitable house
was rarely empty; and this was pride
no less than a pleasure to me, for she
had strict old-fashioned ideas of the
place of young girls in social
happy in the society of the clever young
people who found, in Madam Haywood 5
home, a ,congenial atmosphere. And
among the guests was the heroine of my
little adventure; to which am coming,
eventually, Tom, in spite of your i'm
patient doubts to the contrary! She
was the daughter Of one of Uncle Philips
college chums, a Miss Eleanor FORESTER.
She must have been about twenty-four
wears old then. l believe .worshiped
her with hero-worship that would have
satisfied the heart of Thomas Carlyle
himself! :. 1t was not so much that she
was beautiful Though looking back
through the years, still think her face,
in certain moods, the most beautiful
face l. ever saw, IS that she was at once
so frank and SO gracious, so genuine,
and so sweet. She had not the some
what rough self-assertion which so often
belongs to women of her power and
courage; she had not the finesse, the
subtle, false "policy' which so often
belongs to women of her infinite tact
and sweetness. She was q Bit of q Di
Vernon in her way, too; think it was
her superb horsemanship that so en-
deared her to Uncle Philips heart, ut
first. Her physical strength and endur-
ance were proverb among us; she had
proved them equal, more than once, in
unobtrusive ways to those of many q
Young man Of our society; not always
to the young mans unmixed satisfac-
ton. .s.es
l remember, as If it were yesterday,
one keen, clear January afternoon,
when, returning from skating frolic
on the river, we found Dick Francis and
Alec. Stuart standing before q target,
which they had just set up in the fir
grove for little pistol-practice. There
are certain moments-and these are by
no means the most vital moments of
ones ife-which photograph themselves
on the memory, without ones knowing
whye or how; but there they remain,
vivid and fresh forever. And so that
minute. photographed itself with me. !
shut nsy-oges ;vand again see the fir
wood. with a powdering of last night s
snow, still white on the sturdy green
branches, and f1uffing down, now and
then. In q diamond dust, as the sharp
wind stirred and stilled; patches OF