The Penn's Grove record., 1883-08-18
Walt a Little.

n picturesque Old house IN a neglect
ed garden, a vine-wreathed window,
and a young girl lying on the low-cush-
Toned seat of its embrasure, hidden
frem the room within by a rusty red
curtain. She would have been pretty
if she had not been so pale and ~listless.
Certainly the faint, momentary smile
which the shy confidence of a little
gray bird in the woodbine brought out
was most charming. The girl was idly
watching the little creature. She had
a sheet of music in her slim fingers.
Her eyelids were red, as if she had
been recently crying. So still was she
that the bird continued to adjust the
dried grasses of its nest without fear.
The balmy May wind lifted the tendrils
of soft, brown hair, but did not other
wise disturb her utter inactivity.
For an hour she had sal. there-ever
since her uncle, M. Bozarth, had fallen
asleep upon his sick bed in the adjacent
chamber. The girl had not been crying
for him-1no, she did not love him.
Even in sickness he was t~yrannical,
cruel, as he had ever been. He kept
his fiddle bow upon the bed to rap her
knuckles when she did not wait upon
him quick enough. She wal tired. For
three nights she had sat up a greater
part of the time. The doctor told her
NJ. Bozarth was going to die, so she
was full of dread and fear, but not
grieveds o~rrfearing the bereavement,
although when NJ. Bozarth was gone
she would be all alone. She was an
orphan, and for the last four years he
had supported her, after a fashion, and
taught her music. She had a beautiful
voice-pure and delicious. She sang
when she was hidden, and sometimes to
please herself in pleasing their landlord,
Alan Dunleith.
He was a handsome man. He had
keen blue eyes and a smile that was
very gentle. He seldom spoke to her,
hut he came across the garden some
times of an evening to drink a bottle Of
wine with M, Bozarth, and listen to his
adventures in France and Italy. They
talked about music, the drama, and the
old masters. NJ. Bozarth was selfish
and harsh, but he was no fool. Two
We 81
years before. he had hired Mulberry
Cottage, and he and Alan Dunleith
had always agreed very well. Only
this girl Theresa, had been alone. NJ.
Bozarth was away all day and most Of
the night, busy with his musical en-
gagements in the city. They kept one
maid, whom the girl would have turned
to for society in her extremity but she,
too, was cross.
The poor girl saw no kind face but
Alan Dunleith's. She had come TO
worship that. She dreamed of it at
night waited from day to day until
she saw it, though the owner seldom
gave her more than a courteous GOOD
evening. Miss Tessie p
But he always remembered to say
good evening" again, after she had
played and sang for him, and the smile
he turned on her seemed kinder. And
then she would watch his fine, stalwart
figure going down the garden, listen as
he whistled an air she had been playing,
and wait for the next visit. No one
dreamed of all this /; perhaps she did
not realize it herself; and it was not at
all strange. The little grey bird was
very quiet building its nest, and Tessie
was extremely tired.
Suddenly she realized that she had
been DOING, for there were voices in
the chamber, and she did not know
when her uncle had awakened or when
Alan Dunleith had come in.
"No, i do not know what will be-
come of her when ! am gone" M.
Bozarth was saying. 81 have little to
leave. But she has her voice and her
knowledge of music. She must make
her own way"
"A very perilous position for a girl
so lovely"
Perhaps, Mr.. Dunleith but it is
too late for me to make any provision
for her now. She must take her
chances, the same as l did,"
"But she is a young girl, and a very
delicate and sensitive one, Monsieur
Bozarth. 1t is different
M. Bozarth made a faint, inarticulate
reply.
"Wil you trust her to me ? ! would
like to marry her," said Alan Dun
leith, after a moment.
"Eh? Oh, yes. But she is very
young.'
81 consider her youth I, but | think
/ understand her. l believe l could
make her happy. Then you give your
consent P"
Yes, yes, = wearlly.
What more they said, Tessie did not.
know. There was no lack of life and
energy in her air now. She sat erect,
with wide eyes and flaming cheeks, for
a moment ; then, her heart beating in
great shocks, she slipped out of the
window, flung herself upon the turf of
the terrace, and disappeared among the
rank shrubbery of the garden-disap-
peared from the view of the house, but
not from her own terrified conscious
Alan Dunleith marry her--her?
She was burning hot to the tips of
her fingers with shame. Then, as she
read her aching heart and knew the
truth, she uttered q h~eartrending cry
and sank down upon the grass, pale and
faint She hurried her face in the moss