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


own heart she entirely refused TO
believe that che could be the child of
the outcast woman who had died in the
gypsies' camp. The police might have
refused TO believe about her dying con-
fession-the Misses Knightley might
seem to have forgotten all about it.
What did they care to whom she be-
longed, now that they saw her 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 finger and looking and
speaking and acting just as they could
have wished in that dream.child who
might have been Joseph's 'if Joseph
had lived ?"
They had her portrait painted by the
rising young artist of the town, and it
was exhibited in the county art acad-
emy.
1t 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
can English Girl"
1t showed her standing at the
door OF Miss Elizabeth's favorite arbor,
Just as she really stood nearly every
morning during the mild months, for
she always ran down there to await
that lady's return ON her daily tour
round the garden.
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
something which set Josephine think
ing what would happen If they fell in
love with each other, and she was sud
denly discovered to be some great mans
daughter-the child perhaps OF some
secret marriage That dream dominated
thu poor girls mind terribly. She grew
to believe in II.
1t was only natural that she should
yearn after the unknown kindred who
must be somewhere in the world. II
was only unfortunate she began to feel
that the two maiden ladies were not
really her aunts, and that this, and this
alone, accounted for any rebellious feel.
ings which would arise when the wise
restrictions and couusels OF age occa.
sionally crossed the whims and impulses
of youth.
Il came to pass that one morning,
when she was standing By the arbor,
just as she stool in the picture. car.
riase drove upto the gate. At least, it
was not a carriage, but a cab; and out
o; this cab stepped an elderly lady, with
lean dark face, mufilsd in rich but
rather rusty black lace.
She paid the cabman. aud fingered
for moment at the gate. looking to
the right and to the left. Then she adj
vanced up the straight. center walk to.
ward the arhor.
She was nobody whom Josephine hal
ever seen before--a sour, commo7place.
looking person, who eyed her with great
curiosity.
This is Miss Knightley's houseY"
she asked, abruptly, when she was
within speaking distance.
Yes, madame. it is." answered Jose.
phinc.
The lady came a step nearer and
looked at her shrewdly.
And You are Miss March," she
said; "and your portrait is in the -
Gallery. Have they been good to you
these people here 2"
Josephine flushed hotly.
They have been my truest, kindest
friends" she said, warmly. but for
them"
"There. there child" interrupted d
the stranger, "don't go into hsroics. /
want to see them. Take me to
them"
Josephine obeyed. She led the
stranger to the prim little drawing
room and babe a mai: to send the
Misses Knightley to her immedi.
ately.
Then she returned to the arbor. Her
heart beat fast With uneasy fears. No,
no; 1t could not be; she was foolish to
imagine ii. This was somebody from
the county town, probably begging on
behalf of some institution.
Presently there was light step on
the gravel walk beside her. II was only
Miss Elizabeth; but her face was pale
and her eyes fearful.
Josephine's heart stood STILL
"Child," said the old lady. tenderly,
"it Is comfort 10 think you will not
aTfffaF An iaayiu0 ma aa wa shall az, fTav ;y