Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-06-18
u, at least, Mr.. Sampson pays it for

"You will never be anything but what
you have always been, Amy, the dearest
girl in the world
Simple and chivalrous soul as he was,
he could not have conceived more
cruel torment than the tone of voice
and form of words wherein he spoke.
Gratitude and tender regard and playful
affection were all expressed there, and
yet the tears welled up in the girl'sheart
as she listened, and, but that they were
held resolutely back, would have
dimmed the eyes that regarded their
idol through the fast-gathering gloom.
She was silent, fearing to trust her voice
and Jack, too, held his peace for a
little time.
"You were always my confdante in
the old time, Amy" he said presently.
GA man must have somebody to tell his
secrets to, at least I must, and should
really like to tell you little story"
She waited, more than ever afraid to
speak, and he went on, taking her silence
for consent:
"You have heard of Mrs. Farnaby.
the authoress A friend of hers took
me to one of her evening receptions and
introduced me, and she was kind enough
to give me standing invitation for the
season. It was the one house that was
open to me in London, and cannot tell
you how dear those evenings were to
me, and how they stood out from the
rest of the dreary week. One night I
found myself seated next to young
lady whom I had not seen before. She
struck me particularly by reason of
strong likeness I saw, or fancied l saw,
in her to you. I spoke to her on some
commonplace topic, and we fell into
conversation that lasted the whole even
ing, until she went away in the company
of an elderly lady, who seemed to be her
chaperone, or guardian, or companion,
whatever the phrase is. She was there
the next night and every night after, and
we were there together good deal. I
assure you honestly, Amy, that until the
season came TO finish, and Mrs. Farm
aby's receptions ceased for the year, I
had no notion of my real feelings toward
the girl. But it struck me suddenly, as
I was dressing for the last of the even.
ings, that I was in love with her. I
went to the house with the intention of
doing something decisive-what, I did
not know myself. She did not come. I
waited the whole evening, hoping for
her appearance, long after all reasonable
chance had passed, and at last went
home feeling as I had never felt before.
I could not work or sleep for thinking
Of her.
"Nearly four months passed before I
saw her again. was walking in the Re-
gents park, late one afternoon in De-
cember. There was half.frozen snow
on the ground, and more in the sky
waiting to fall. I was thinking about
her, and I felt dull and miserable. I sat
down upon bench and Lit my pipe, and
tried to drive her from my mind by
thinking of story was writing at the
time. But I could think of nothing
but her. The night was closing in, and
park-keeper came and told me that
the gates would soon be closed and I
must 60. AS I rose to obey, woman's
figure futtered by me. The light was
dim under the trees, and she passed
quickly at some distance. But I knew
her. It was she-the girl I had lost.
81 could not tell you, Amy, how the
story she told moved me. It was
commonplace story enough, I suppose.
Her aunt, the lady who had accompan-
led her to Mrs. Farnaby's, had lost the
income Oh which they had lived by a
piece OF heartless rascality. The injps-
tice was so fragrant that cannot con-
ceive how the law of any country could
countenance it. But legal redress was
impossible, according to the highest
opinions, and they We're ruined. They
had never been rich, but they had had
enough for comfort, and now they were
reduced to complete poverty and were
subsisting as best they could. A far
away relative had discovered them-a
successful man of business with whom
they had never had any communication
for many years. He had offered them
assistance, and for some time their bur-
den had been greatly Gghtened by his
aid, though they still worked for
themselves and preserved their indie
pendence as much as they could. Their
relatives help had been continued for
some time, they suspecting no Interior
motive, when one day he proposed to
the aunt for the hand of the girl. The
aunt made no definite reply, merely
| promising to use her influence on his
behalf The offer was refused-and re-
fused, believe, Amy, for my sake-and
| he withdrew his assistance and left them
to fight their way as best they could.
She told me all this quietly and calmly
as we walked together. can tell you
what she said, but what actor could hope
to initiate the calm, despairing resigna-
ton of her voice and manner? I told
her that if she would put her destiny
into my hands she should never know a
want 1 could supply. I told her that
loved her, and had loved her since the
first moment had seen her. pleaded
hard-all in vain. Her place, she said,
was with her aunt, to whom she owed
everything, and she would never consent
to cripple me by adding the burden of
their poverty to my own. I argued
against her resolution-all in vain. She
was adamant. She said, frankly and
freely, that she returned my affection,
but she begged me to believe that any
renewal of my proposal would only in
crease her trials. I longed to offer her
assistance, but I dared not do it, and
she left me, begging me to make no at
tempt to follow her. For days after
haunted the spot on which we parted,
and at last I saw her. She told me she
had secured an engagement as COMPANION