Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1881-02-24
Besieging His Heart.

"a clergyman hasn't any business to
be a single man." said Mrs. Brushby.
Certainly not" acquiesced Mrs. Foxe
But dare say he's engaged" slyly
remarked the plump widow. with side
long glance Of her green eyes, which
seemed to dilste and contract, like those
of middle-aged cat.
mo, he's not" said Miss Foxe. "At
least / heard him tell Col. Copley that
he was entirely fancy Free
"Humphr' said Mrs. Bushby. Then
there's no reason why he should not
marry and settle here at Exmar"
"Exmar, indeed" said Miss Foxe, who
had accepted her own old maidenhood
as feregone conclusion. "There's no
body here for him to marry-only fac
tory girls and Col. Copley's six daugh-
tiers, the youngest of whom is %, to Sc
lect from"
The green eyes scintallated sharply.
why shouldn't he marry either you
or me, Felicia FoxeT asked Mrs. Brush
by.
Miss Foxe gave a sort of gasp, as if
she had attempted to swallow some
morsel too large for her.
why, be hain't 3OI" said she.
"Neither am l." said Mrs. Brushby.
Now, Cornella Brushby, there amt
no sort of use coming that game over
me-" said Miss Foxe, fairly aroused into
ontagonism. "You were % when you
married Brushby, and he's been dead
and buried these ten good years."
Mrs. Brushby laughed.
Felicia" said she, you're worse than
an old family record. Don't you see.
there's people older than their years,
and people youngerl I'm one of the
latter; and don't see why can't marry
Mr.. Selwyn, If once make up my mind
to do So"
So Mrs. Brushby took up the brown
yarn that she had been buying at Fell
cia Foxes thread and needle store and
went home.
Her niece, tall, pale girl, transpa-
rently pale skin and sad, hazel eyes, was
setting the table.
"HOw slow you are, Claraw said Mrs.
Brushby, snappishy. 1 supposed, of
course, tea would be ready by the time
I came back"
lam sorry for the delay, aunt" said
Clara, timidly, "but was detained a
the factory
There, that will do / don't see why
you need be flinging the factory in my
face all the time. Oh, it's bad enough
to have niece obliged to drudge for her
living without hearing it forty times a
day"
The deep scarlet glow mounted into
Clara Cones cheeks.
81 could not pay my board, aunt" said
she, ''if did not work in the factory.
int ho crfAi 10
/ will endeayor to avoid it"
1t was not six months since Clara
Gone had arrived, a homeless orphan,
with all her worldly belongings packed
in shabby little travelling bag, at Mrs.
Drushby's door,
Aunt" she said, trying to repress the
rising sob in her throat, "will you give
me home? am your sisters orphan
daughter"
Mrs. Brushby received her as cordial !
ly as fish might have done
Il suppose you'll have to stay" said |
Mrs. Brushby. But didn't die and |
leave swarm Of orphans for my sisters
TO take care Of. Oh, yes, you can stay. |
and perhaps can find you situation
as dressmakers apprentice or shop girl. |
Because, of course, ,one cannot expect me |
to keep great girl like you for moth
Ing"
Upon which Clara bestirred herself
and had been thankful to OBJ
tain place in the pin factory, in the
glen below the village, where half a
hundred other pale-faced operatives
worked for scanty livelihood. and Mrs.
Brushby charged ner high price for
board, and got a servant-maid's work
tut of her before and after hours into
he bargain.
@fshould like to &c to church, aunt"
)lars yentured to say one Sunday morn a