The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1882-09-28


Miss BritmAn sighed gently. The time
had long gone by whn dress had A1y
charms for hrr. il. lndeei !, ever bad, aad
Dots vision only made her more sad.
Clearly The child was dipping away from
her. For eighteen ycan she bad cherish
ed her, snd nov the FIRST person who pass
Cd her by aud saw her fresh, fair. young
beauty. might bear her away, twas oil
jus. and natural palpably and practically
for Dots good still, twas bitterly hard
aud Miss Britnaa sat BY the fire thinking
il al over and weeping in her unobtrusise
way, long after the child had laid her
sunny bead on her pillow and fallen asleep.
Far away into the past Mss Brismans
thoughts wandered to a hushed and dark
cned chamber where she bent to catch the
last faint Anttering accents OF one who was
lingering on the threshold OF eternity.
Ny child, Msggie-my poor little baby
my almost as helpless husband you
will not forsake them? promise me, Mag
ge, that you will take care OF themg
And Margaret Britman kissed her dying
sisters face and promised. All the dreary
dreadful days that followed, rushed upon
her-Dot a helpless infant, her father
stricken with blindness, both depending
on Maggie
Then in the midst OF all came still
greater trial
The gentleman Margaret was engaged
10 was offered lucrative appointment IN
India, and he wished her to go with him.
They had been engaged for three years,
and now there was nothing further to wait
for.
Here was a divided duty. Margaret
loved the man she had promised to marry,
but how could she forsake the helpless
baby and its equally helpless father? How
could she keep her promise to her dead
sister il she went to India2
Her lover left her in anger.
A divided love such as hers was not
worth having, he said.
But they are so helpless, she pleaded
only let me stay with them little while.
You may stay with them forever for all
of me, was the angry response, and the
next day little packet Of letters and
lock Of golden hair, and Margaret Brit
mans romance was hidden out of sight
forever,
A few years and Robert Derwent died,
leaving nothing but difficulties behind
him. Miss Britman took lodging in
distant part of the city, and toiled for the
child for long, weary years, late and early
through trials that would have oyerwhelm
ed less resolute and devoted woman; she
toiled on to give her niece good educa
ton, and enable her to earn her own bread
when she should be called away.
And now, here was some one stepping
in-Philip Ferris returned from India
Philip Ferris who had said farewell TO hel
in anger eighteen years before the one
love and lover OF her l.fe was coming tC
see her the next day to afk for the child
the motherless baby who had so unwitling
~ separated them eighteen years before
1t certainly was passing strange.
The next day was gray and gloomy, fog
overhead damp underfoot, cold every
where, but Dot was in high spirits, il
spite of the atmosphere
/ dare say Mr.. Ferris will be shocked a
seeing what hideous house and street w
live in, auntie, ] can imagine him saying
What distinctly dreadful place! Ii
truth, / shant be sorry to leave Berr.
street. Now, goodbye, dear. BE YER
gracious to Mr.. Ferris; and oh, nunti
darling! do hope you'll like him, be
cause you know we've got to live wit
him, perhaps.
Dot, my love do you really think tina
YOU like this gentleman well enough t
marry him? He is old enough to lie you
father.
SO he is, auntie dear, but that don
, matter much if he's nice and kind an
/ ever so rich and he 49,
Nice and kind, and ever so rich. Ths
was Dots idea of husband, and her aun
felt sad and sorry aud some way disaI
pointed; she did not know where the chill
had got such IDEAS And then came tn
awful thoughts OF losing her for she rt
membered what Mr. Ferris had said abor
: divided love. She would have but sma
, place in Dots new home and new life.
Never did day seem so long to Nil
Britman. She put on her best black drei
!. in the morning and took little ext;
care with the arrangement of her stl
abundant hair; that was all the extern
/, preparation she had made for the visi
70 but her heart throbbed wildly at evel
y ring of the bell or step on the carpetle
u stairs. But the morning passed.,
ie o'clock. and she breathcd more freel
h perhaps Le wouldn't come that day, pc
y haps he wouldn't come at all. 80 81
N went on with her pupil. dull, tireson
'e child.
ie One, two, three, four! she repeated ov
ir and over again. She did not hear 4
nr step on the stair, nor gentle tap at I
u door, didn't see it open, she looked up al
O. Philip Ferris stood beside her. For m
o. ment her brain rceled, and she had to ho
a on TO the chair-back to steady herse
an then she held out her hand in welcome.
You may go now, my dear, and I'll 81
il. you the remainder Of you lesson tom
ut row, she said, gently, and the child wig
ed of the stool, and departed ioyfully.
es Margaret That was all he said VIII
in they were alone, with one hand holdi
re. one Of hers and the other on her shoult
It's Margaret