The state rights democrat. [volume] (Albany, Linn County, Oregon) 1865-1900, 1882-05-19


Josephine March lived in an old red
brick house, which stood at the corner
where the Canor's Close intercepts the
Cathedral square. II looked on neither
of them, except as it were by the side
glance of two big windows which lit its
staircase. All its other easements opened
on its own green garden, large enough
to allow of bright hower-beds,
open. sunny lawns and bower
like leafy dells. The Misses Knightly
20 whom the house belonged, took
pride and interest in their garden. They
were proud, too, of the delicate needle
work which decorated their apartments,
and days had been when they had added
TO its treasures, but they were old ladies
now, and their eyes were failing, and
they did no more. But spring and sum-
mer, autumn and winter, made room for
perpetual changes in that garden, and
their gentle exercise in its genial sun
shine did them good. And Miss Marga-
ret 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 remem-
bered asking that question OF Miss Eliz-
abeth, and she remembe the kind
lady's answer, 'sthat when she was old
enough she should know all they could
tell her." The promise WIS kept when
she was seventeen.
That was three years ago, and jose
phine would have started to be told how
many hours she had spent in revolving
the few meagre particulars she then
heard. She was foundling, discovered
In an encampment of gypsies, whose
thievishness had brought down the po-
lice upon them. The pretty baby's fair
hair and blue eyes had provoked inquiry
and some of the women o. the gang had
eagerly confessed that she was none of
their people; she had belonged to q
strange young woman who had joined
them some months before, and 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
own, which had died, and that she had
stolen this one to personate it, for The
sake of some money. The Misses
Knightley had heard this at the time, and
like most of the nei0hboring ladies they
1fa4 kC1AG ~ SC t4C 1AStAG 4AAOSChk DsAOE
growing in the honest arms of the con-
stables wife, who had it in temporary
charge.
The Misses Knightley walked home In
silence, till Miss Margaret said, Lizzie,
the little thing took to you" Then she
saw her sister was crying. But Miss
Elizabeth put aside her tears with q
strong effort, and said:
''She curled her little fingers around
mine, Just as Joseph did when he was .
baby"
Joseph was brother years younger
than themselves, who had died in boy
hood.
''Her eyes are the color of his" OBJ
served Miss Margaret. ''Ah, if he bad
grown up and married, We might have
had his children about us now"
"Why shouldn't We take this one?"
asked Miss Elizabeth impulsively; 1--WE
have right to do as we like, L suppose"
she added with dash of defiance at the
storm of ridicule and criticism which
she felt would rise about them.
And In the end the two ladies drove
back in the twilight and bore home the
baby IN triumph.
81 never in my life felt so much as if
was committing crime, Miss Margaret
aad afterwards confded.
This was little enough for poor Jose
phine TO hear, though it 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 pat
ronymic that of the roaring moon of
daffodils.' . during which he was carried
into their quiet retreat.
What dwelt most in Josephine's mind
was the vague unknown which Law be-
hind all the information she could get.
In her own heart she entirely refused to
believe that she could be the child of the
outcast woman who had died In the
gypses' camp. The police might have
efused to believe about her dying con-
fession-the Misses Knightly might
seem to have forgotten all about it.
What did they care to whom she be-
longed, now that they saw her q fair and
graceful maiden, full of gentle ways and
learned in gentle lore, turning over their
old volumes of the poets with her fresh
young fingers, and looking, and speaking
and acting just as they could have
wished in that dream-child who might
have been Joseph's eff Joseph had
liVed?"
Tney had her portrait painted by the
rising young artist OF the town, and it
was exhibited In the conntry art acad-
emy. It was not called Miss Josephine
March"
Nobody but our Josephine's friends
need know who it is, they said to each
other, and the picture was called IAN
English Girl
It showed her standing az the door of
Miss Elizabeth's fayorite arbor, Just as
she really stood nearly every morning
during the mild months, for she always
ran down there to await the lady's re-
turn from her daily tour round the gar
den.
The young artist-Philip Harvey-felt
he had never had a sweeter subject, and
perhaps there was something In his eyes
which said so, for certainly there was
omething which set Josephine thinking
what would happen If they fell in love
with each other, and she was suddenly
discovered to be some great mans
daughter-the child, perhaps, of some
secret marriage. That dream dominated
the poor girls mind terribly. She grew
to believe it.
It was only natural that she should
yearn after the unknown kindred who
must be somewhere in the world. It was
only unfortunate she began to feel that
the two dear old maiden ladies were not
really her aunts, and this alone accounted
for any rebellious feelings that would
arise when the wise restrictions and
counsels of age occasionally crossed the
whims and impulses of youth.
There was nothing bitter or scornful