The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-06-14

gfItS 20 his We left him at Naples,
INT took a new man in his place for Egypt.
A year passed, crowded with new scenes
and people, when we returned to England
and went to the Charing Cross Hotel in
London, for q little rest before the home.
ward voyage. There we found an American
friend, Mr.. Leveridge, of Illinois, who had
been travelling for six months with q party
from st. Louis, and who was to sail for New
York in the Scotia the ensuing Saturday.
He was a Kentuckian by birth, but had
gone early to Illinois, and there added acre
TO acre till his estate surpassed those of
a dukedom. Genial and unpretend-
ing, his warm heart and manliness and gen.
erosity made him everywhere loved and re-
spected, and life had gone smoothly with
him. till the previous winter, when he had
lost his only daughter, an amiable girl, in
her. seventeenth year. He was ~inconsola-
BILE. He could neither attend to business
nor welcome his friends, and his wife, a
sensible, motherfy woman, alarmed at his
condition, persuaded him to join this party
from st. Louis for a tou abroad. He had
no enthusiasm, however, for travel. 81
would rather see a good field of wheat or
Europe. Everything is so old and con-
tracted and formal here, and the mass of
the people have to struggle SO formere ex-
istence that it depresses me. 1 shall be glad
to get home where there's room and liber-
ty." But, nevertheless, new scenes n
cheerful company had broken up tie sad
routine of his thoughts, and he now seemed
quite himself again, except when some al
fusion was made to his daughter.
1t was Monday morning of the week he
was to sail. He had dropped in to see us,
and we were looking over some American
newspapers, when a servant came to say
that Margaret Vallot, a young girl who said
we had known her father, begged to speak
with us.
." 1t must be jeans daughter?" we ex-
claimed. 'Bring her up at once"
A moment and a slight figure entered
timidly and a soft voice said:
pardon me if I intrude. Ihad heard so
much of you all frommy father hat when
I saw your name among the arrivals here
I could not help coming"
by the window and tell us about him and
YOURSELF"
"Alas! =" she replied, bursting into tears,
81 nave no longer a fatherl After he left
you he came to see Lucille and me, and
stayed several days with us, and gave us
told us much of you. We had always been
afraid of him, but now he was so pleasant
that it almost seemed as if dear mamma
had come back. He kissed us when he went
away, and wrote us sue a good letter from
Martigny that we thought he did love us,
after all, and that perhaps some day we
might live together n be happy. The
next news we had was that he was dead!
Crossing the Alps with his party, he was
thrown from a carriage and so badly hurt
that they took him on a litter to the nearest
inn, and there, after three weeks, he died.
1t was Karl Voigt, a friend of his, who took
care of him and saw him buried. He had
been to Rome with some travellers, and was
at the inn or his way back when the acct
dent happened. He would not write to us,
but as soon as he could he came to see US
and told US all, and brought us what things
our father left, and the little money that
remained when his bills were paid, and
with him we came to London"
We were shocked by this sad intelligence,
and expressed our warmest sympathy for
the time had soon come when his 'sgirls''
must "shift for themselves"
Margaret had spoken rapidly and with
many sobs, but now she sat quiet, with her
hands folded on her lap, in the full morning
light, and I observed her closely to see what
of girl she was-of medium height
and slender, with brown eyes, and hair of
the same color coiled low in her neck-her
face a little like her fathers in outline, but
delicate n sweet where his was heavy
and grim-not beautiful, but very winning,
and with an appealing look that went
straight to the heart and made one long to
shield herfrom harm. Her black dress was
of the simplest fashion and most ~inexpen-
sive material, but there was a dainty grace
in its arrangement-the carelessly knotted
fchu, the collar just showing at the throat,
the dropping hat-rarely seen in the attire
of an English girl of any rank, Inc which
she had brought with her across the Chan.
mel.
Sand what friends have you in Londong'
we asked at length.
"Only Aunt Mary, mammals sister, who
is a widow and lives in two rooms at No.
II Horton Street. We could live cheaper
on the continent, and so have never been
in England till now; but MANN was very
fond of her own country and told us much
about it, and always liked u to speak En-.
glish; 1 remember how she cried once when
some one brought her a pot of daisies from
Thorby, her old home-oh, we were very
happy as long as we had her!"
us your Aunt Mary like herr"
SIN some ways she is, and she is most
kind to us; but she supports herself by
sewing and is not strong, so lam unwilling
to burden her in the least. We have nothing
to depend on but the few shillings we get
from the Couriers' Society, of which our
father was a member, and must do some
thing at once. I am trying to get a place
as nursery .governess, and Aunt Mary
establishment in Oxford Street and learn
dress-making. But I don't wish her to do
that. She is not like me; she is light
hearted and pretty; have kept trouble
from her all 1 could, and it would distress
me to see her getting pale and thin like
many OIL the RlI1S ! m60U gong TO ana from
their work there. 1 have heard much of
America. Do you think if we were there
we could do any better than we can here:
I can sew nicely, and read and speak
French and German, and l am sure that ]
could get on well with children; but for a
month I have been looking in vain for a
situation and I sometimes think there is no
place for us in London"
Mr.. Leveridge had let his paper fall
when Margaret entered, and had hardly
taken his eyes from her while she spoke.
He was sitting near me, and now he leaned
over and asked if l would not like to see
her aunt n sister, and if l would go to
their house with him in the afternoon. ]
readily assented, and turning to Margaret,
he said:
"We would like to see your friends, Miss
Margaret, and if you will allow us we will
call upon you this afternoon"
"You will do us great honor, sir, 4" she
replied, blushing; then looking at a silver
watch in her belt which we had seen he1
father carry, she added: 81 have an ad
vertisement to answer at eleven O'Clock
but I shall be bach by one, and very CRATE
full for a visit" and dropping a curtsey
she slipped away.
As she went out Mr.. Leveridge rose anG
walked for a minute hurriedly up ant
down the room; then in a voice trembling
with emotion he exclaimed:
have never seen any n so much like
AJ LII s-UhO ALAS odIls
brown hair and eyes, and quiet ways. AnG
to think of her alone and friendless in thi.
great city, with her young sister on hel
hands-it goes to my heart, it goes to my
hearth Work? 1t is cheer and good Twins
and fresh air she needs. If l had her a
Oak Bluff she should soon be rosy and mer
ry. Let me see, it is now eleven; 1 mus
go to my bankers, but at two 1 will com,
for you, and we will find Horton Street."
With one breath we said as be shut tn,
door, 80, if he would only carry them bacl
with him! What a blessed deed to snatch
these two young things from this whirlpool
where SO many like them go down, and Sc
them in the safety of a loving American
home!"
Mr.. Leveridge was punctual to his en-
gagement, and with a little trouble w,
found Horton Street, which proved to b
almost a lane in an obscure part of the city
Margaret was evidently watching for us
for she met us at the door, looking yet NOR,
attractive now that her shining hair wa
uncovered, and her figure seen in all it
slenderness. We followed her to a bar
but neat room at the back of the house
where she introduced her aunt, a fair-com
plexioned, gentle, worn-looking woman
and her sister Lucille, a blue-eyed girl wit
faxen curls, small for her years, and look