Middletown transcript., 1883-11-30
MY STORY.

"My dear, I have something to tell
you; Richard is coming home. =
Richard, Aunt Barbara ?''
"He will be home on Thursday"
She did not look at me as she spoke,
and after that first, startled glance, I
had quickly turned my eyes from her.
81 am very glad, Aunt Barbara :
II-''
Some honest words were on my lips,
but her crisp voice interrupted:
" You would like to make Richard s
acquaintance that is only natural.
But, Elsie, Richard has been so long
away, feel like having him to myself
little, and so | have arranged for you
to 60 to Medford to visit other cousins
you have not seen. You will meet
him, Of course, my dear he will be
here in tile morning, and you will not
leave till afternoon.
Aunt Barbara ~
A cry of amaze, of wrath, burst
from my lips in open defiance | stared
at her, till, suddenly, she raised her
usually quiet eyes with look l had
brought to them once before.
You think it strange, Elsie, but it
must be, all the same. I"
But | did not wait for her to finish !;
ere the last 1 was hurrying out and
down the hall to the room where the
picture hung. 1t was Aunt Barbara's
custom to sit here mornings, butt
did not care with little thrill Of tri-
umph, locked the door behind me,
and stood alone with him.
With him, indeed, for the face on
the wall had long been living one to
me. 1t was the first to welcome me,
that dreary morning six months ago,
when, a stranger even to Aunt Bar
bara, had come to stay at Bonny-
crest. Till my fathers recent death l
had lived abroad his will making her
my guardian, I had come, perforce,
with a great shyness and shrinking
from all of them 1 could not master.
The face was my first glimpse Of him,
and, somehow, all Aunt Barbara's ten
der words and kisses were nothing to
the silent soul with which, that mo-
ment, it spoke to me.
We led a quiet life. Aunt Barbara
had resided but a little time at Bonny-
crest, and acquaintance were few. 1t
was natural, in my loneliness, that
first fascination should grow on me
that 1 should steal away often to look
up into the handsome face, to think
how much pleasanter the house would
be when Richard would come back to
it.
To wonder-when ? He was away,
was all Aunt Barbara had said. 1t
was business, Of course - some un-
pleasant business l felt sure, from her
manner, and l asked no question of it.
But as the weeks passed and there was
no sign of him, as waited in vain fo1
some little word OF presage Of his
coming, it grew uncomfortable the won
der yelling up in my heart, broke, one
morning, uncontrollably into speech.
"Where is he ?" I asked, abruptly.
Where is Richard, Aunt Barbara,
and when is he coming home ?"
She had started at my questions
there was plainly in her eyes the fright
ened look, the one might say pleading
determination had brought there
again to-day.
Richard is away" was all the re
ply she made. 1 understood the words
the look the subject was to be forever
dropped between US. There was {
mystery, then-something beyond un
pleasant business | had felt it for days
and now l knew. What could it be p
through the weeks stood before tht
portrait to ask and wonder. Wa
there a stain on his fair fame i? Wa
it any sin of his committing tha
barred home and sealed his mother
lips of him And ever with the ques
tions the eyes looked down at me il
keen reproach, yet even with th'
fancied eager query in them-would
care if it were