Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1882-05-18
J0SEPHINE'S DREAM.

Josephine March lived in an old red
brick house, which stood at the corner
where The Canon's Close intercepts the
Cathedral square. 1t looked on neither
OF them. except as it were by the side
glance of two big windows which lit its
staircase. All its easements opened on
its own green garden, large enough to
allow of bright flower beds, open sunny
lawns and bower like leafy dells.
The Misses Knightley, to whom the
house belonged, took pride and an in
terest in their garden. They were proud,
too, of the delicate nee lew. which
decorated their apartments, and days
had been when they had added to its
treasures; but they we're old ladies now,
and their eyes we're failing, and they
did no more. But spring and summer,
autumn and winter, made room for per.
petual changes in that garden, and their
gentle exercise in its genial sunshine
did them good. And Miss Margaret
often said to Miss Elizabeth: "What
should We do without, the garden and
Josephine %
Josephine was not OF their blood.
She could remember the day when first
she wondered who she was. She re.
membered asking that question of Miss
Elizabeth. And sbe remembered the
kind lady's answer, shat when she
: was old enough she should know all
they could tell her." The promise was
kept when she was seventeen.
That was three years ego. and Joso.
phine would have started TO be told
how many hours she had spent In re-
volving the few meager particulars she
then heard. She was foundling dis.
covered in an encampment OF gypsies.
whose thievishnes8 had brought down
the police upon them. The pretty
baby's fair hair and blue eyes had pro-
voked inquiry, and some OF the old
women of the gang had eagerly con.
fessed that she was none of their people;
she had belonged to strange young
woman who had joined them some
months before aud had since died.
They could not be quite sure whether
she was the mother. She had always
said she was not. One harridan went
so far as to narrate the dead girls con-
fession that she had baby of her own,
which had died, aud that she had stolen
this one to personate it, for the sake OF
some money.
The Misses Knightley had heard all
this at the time, aud, like most OF the
neighboring innocent ladies, they had
. gone to see the poor little babe growing
in the honest arms OF the constabls's
wife, who had IL in temporary charge.
The Misses Knightley walked home in
silence till Miss Margaret said: "Liz.
zie, the little thing took to you"
Then she saw her sister was crying.
But Miss Elizabeth put aside her
tears, with . strong effort. and said:
"She curled her little fingers round
mine Just IS Joseph did when he was a
baby"
Joseph was brother years younger
than themselves, who he'd died in boy
hood.
"Her eyes are the color OF his" OBJ
served Miss Margaret. "Ah, If he had
grown up and married, We might have
had his childEen about rs now"
"Why shouldn't We take this oneT'
asked Miss Elizabeth, impulsively. "We
have right to do as we like, / sup.
pose" she added, with dash of def.
ance at the storm Of criticism and riii-
cule which she felt would rise about
them.
And in the end the two ladies' drove
back in ths twilight and bore home the
baby IN triumph.
: "I never In my life felt so much a. If
/ was committing crime." Miss Mar.
garet had afterward confded.
This was little enough for poor
Josephine 70 hear, though IL was dressed
up with loving little details Of how they
gave her the feminine form of their
dead boy-brother's name, and added for
patronymic that OF the ''roaring moon
Of dAffodils," during which she was
carried into their quiet retreat.
What dweIt most in Josephine's mind
rs The vague unknown which lsy be-