New Ulm weekly review., 1882-04-12
AUNT BETSY.

AUNT BETSY.
Mine was lonely boyhood, uncheer-
ed by the love of kindred, unblessed by
the soft caresses for which childhood
pines.
Mother and father had been nothing
but names to me since I could remem-
Der anything. / had an ample allowance
of pocket-money and good clothes, butt
never went home for the holidays, and
no one ever came to see me. On my
thirteenth birthday q watch was sent to
me, with "From your loving mother
engraved on the case, and then I said to
DR.. Surtees:
''This seems as though my mother
loved me. Does she never care to see
mep''
~ DR.. Surtees answered.:
''Your mother is very fond of you, and
an excellent mother, but your father is
compelled to remain absent from
hOme.''
I supposed from this that both my
parents were abroad, and asked no more
questions.
Four years after this the news was
sent me that my father was dead, but
there was no alteration in my position.
My parents, it appeared to me, must
be wealthy. If they were also respecta-
BILE, why had my father never sent for
me? Why did my mother never give
me any token of her desire to see her
sonP l had right to ask the question,
and to be answered. But feared the
answer, and I delayed. Ny acquaint-
anccs were many; my friends four-the
doctor, his wife, my old fellow-pupil at
his school, Roger Wharton, and my
laundress.
Yes, the laundress, Aunt Betsy, as ey-
eryone called her, humble though she
was, was one of my friends, and not the
least valued of them.
/ confded in her little, and one day
she looked at me solemnly, shook her
head, and said:
''Ah, boys need mother. Do you
ever think OF yours, lad?''
''More than she does of me-" said I.
':Don't dare say that, lad," answered
the old woman. "Your mother is sore
hearted to bs parted from you like
this"
'.How do you knowp" cried, start
ing up: ''Do you knowmy mother, Aunt
BetsyP'
''Whatever I know keep to myself"
che said; "but remember your mother
loves you, always has, and always viii.
Remember that"
That evening went to DR.. Surtees's
house, determined to ask him what my
parents were.
Il have come to ask you some ques-
6ons,' -'tquestions that have a
right to ask. Will you promise to an
swer themp'
II will decide when have heard the
questions" replied the doctor.
''They are simple, }" l answered. t'Who
was my fatherp Who is my motherp
Why have I never seen my parents?
Where does my mother live?''
''Your father was named, like your
self, Arthur Varley. Your mother was
his lawfully welded wife, Elizabeth
now his widow. When you were five
years old your father was obliged to
leave the country, and your mother con-
fided you to our care. She has since, as
you know, amply supplied your every
want. There has never been blot upon
her character. She has forbidden me to
tell you where to find her. It is your
mothers fixed determination that you
shall never see her. She has no other
child, and is not poor. Her will is made
in your favor. have no right to tell
you more"
Soon I had other thoughts to fill my
mind I had fallen in love. The object
of my admiration was beautiful girl,
whose father, wealthy client of our
firm, did not object to my pretensions.
In fact, we were engaged, and my heart
was full of Joy. Yet with it mingled the
longing to find my mother and tell her
Of my happiness. One day I told Aunt
Betsy.
'Aunt Betsy,'1 said, perhaps shall
be m married arr a,on some s,sY day" -, 49,. po..-
''You seem such boy"
1T will not be at once" said, shut
afterI am we'll on in my profession. I
love her dearly. She is Mr.. Charles
Rushton's daug
''Miss Rushton!' said Aunt Betsy.
She folded her hard little hands togeth-
er, and stood looking at me. ..You Il
have your things done in the family
then, and see no more of old Betsy"
'pll give you my collars while have
one left, and all my wife's ruf1es, too. y
II don't want hers . said Betsy, cross
ly. ''Wish you joy, Mr.. Arthur but
her things don't care for.''
''Too much trouble, I suppose
But thought of my mother more and
more, and as that day was the one on
which drew my allowance, I went up
to the Doctors house, intending tomake
one more effort to move him to tell me
where to find my mother.
The doctor sat alone in his study. An
envelope lay before him. As he saw me
he drew it toward him, took out par
Gel of bank-notes, and with them q let
| ter, which he at once returned to the en-
velope and thrust into his pocket, as he
thought, but in reality it fell on the floor
beside him. The thought flashed upon
me at once-it was from my mother
and sudden summons which called the
doctor temporarily from the room ena-
bled me to secure the piece Of paper.