The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1881-07-07
pleasure ne felt in conversing with the

II haven't a papa," she said, dropping
! her voice; she died, oh, long before I
can remember, but never ask about
him, because 1t always makes mamma
please ?"
Ernest glanced at his watch. '.Nearly
1 o'clock, he told her.
.'"Then must bid you goodbye" she
said, cor shall be late home" And
setting down her basket she bethouoht
herself OF the hat, which she proceeded
TO ADJUST on the top of her golden
curls.
''Do you come here every day ?" she
asked of Ernest
II shall be here every day for little
while" he answered her.
Then hope Twill see you again."
she said artlessly. ''And thank YOU SO
lily" A
For moment her little ungloved hand
rested on his own, her lips parted in an
other smile and then she was gone. has
tening away with all possible speed across
the sunny fields, bearing her sweet bur
den OF howers-types of her own pure
soul
| Ernest Darrell stood gazing after her.
Was it the touch of her light fingers that
| had brought 80 strange thrill to his
heart ? He sat down to resume his paint
Ing but even that had lost It's Ton1od
! charm-he was restless, and his thoughts
wandered back to what might have been
| some years ago, when he married a. girl
who loved him only for his fathers
wealth, and who (when the securities
failed in which old Mr.. Darrell had in
vested the whole of his money, and he
was a ruined man, his sons prospects
also) left him-his six months BRIDE
leaving behind her O cody worded-note.
mtimating that she could share poverty
with no one, and that he need not seek
her. as she never intended to return.
And he never had sought her; but the
| love he had borne her was as warm in
| his heart now as it had been on the day
they were married. And as he sat at
| his easel there, in the field where little
Lillian had left him, he wept for the
memory of her who, in those days, had
not been worthy one throb of his noble
| heart.
| Several days elapsed before he saw the
little girl again, but during that time
! she was hardly once absent from his
thoughts. He had lived such a lonely
| life since his father died (broken down
| by the trouble that had come upon him
in the loss of his wealth. and, with
nothing to care for in the world but the
art he was welded to, the child had
come across his path Like q ray of sun
shine In the darkness. But one day. as
he was returning home, she came dane
ing toward him, and seizing his hand as
II their acquaintance had been of years
instead OF days, she Immediately began
an animated conversation, such as only
children can begin on the spur of O. mo-
ment
Ernest was certainly amused, If not
Interested; but as their way along led
them past the brook where they had
met before, Lily broke away from him
and ran eagerly toward it. She looked
back once or twice to laugh at Ernest,
and in doing 80 tripped over a stone
hidden in the grass and fell forward into
| the water.
A cry burst from her lips, but imme-
| diately Ernest came to the rescue, and
ere she became totally submerged, had
| succeeded in drawing her out upon the
bank.
Wet clothes and severe fright was
all the harm the child had sustained;
and as Ernest proceeded to wrap round
her thick plaid shawl, which he gen.
orally carried with him to protect his
| feet from damp grass, she began to
laugh at her little adventure.
81 have gathered my water lily now,"
said the young artist, smiling; "and I
would not exchange 1t for all the others
| in creation"
He took her, entirely enveloped in the
warm shawl, up In his strong arms and
continued his walk, now in the direction
of Lilian's bone.
! 81 am SO sorry-mamma will be out"
she said, lifting her beautiful eyes to his
face. '!.She would so liked to have
thanked you herself. But do you know
which way to go?"
81 want you to direct me, Lily" he
said.
The distance was short, as he sup
posed; and as they reached the gate of
a pretty villa residence, which had often
attracted Ernest's attention before by It's
quaint picturesqueness. Lillian informed
him that this was cher home"
II thank you SO very much" said the
child, as she stood once more upon the
ground and rang the bell. "I wish
mamma could thank you herself don't
know how to"
''You need not thank me at all, dear
child" Ernest Darrell assured her, with
the old shade of sorrow darkening his
face. "I only hope the consequences
of what has happened may not be
serious" Ho remained with her until q
middle-aged woman, whom Lillian called
''nurse," came forward to claim her
young charge; and then, after giving q
brief explanation of the whole affair,
he bade Lily goodbye and walked on.
About week subsequent to this event,
Ernest Darrell happened to be passing
the house where little Lillian dwelt, when
he heard her voice calling after him
down the sunny road:
"Come back-Oh, please come backl'
| sha was aavino In hreafb1eaa on 0arne eaa.