Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1883-10-31

>x23 HOC JOf aodnt OF OppOTtNN1Ey!
TWICE MARRIED.
"Oh, papa, I'm SO tired"
II know you are, Ailsie, but We must
keep on till we reach themountain top. ,
els mamma up there?" asked the
child; then with wistful glance at hel
father: "Do you think she will be glad
to see us, papa y
"Glad to see you, hope, but, oh
Ailsie, you must ask her to forgive me. u
There was slight culver in the man.
voice, and the child, although not COM
pretending the cause of it, laid her small
hand on his coat sleeve with sympa-
thetic touch. They walked on for some
time without speaking, then she broke
the silence, saying:
"Papa, why is mamma angry at you ?
I will not love her if she is not good to
you, for love you dearly-dearly."
'Let us sit here awhile, Ailsie, and I
will endeavor to make you understand
all about it..
She obeyed, glad of an opportunity to
rest her tired limbs. Crossing her hands
on her lap she looked up into his face
trustfully.
"You see" he began, "your mother
wasn't like me; l mean long ago, when
first met her. She was lady, and
was groom or servant on her fathers
place. she used to ride out every day,
and I rode after her to see that no harm
came to her. After while We grew to
be friends, then lovers. She was only a
chit of girl, and when I asked her to
run away with me she consented. One
night she stole out OF her fathers house,
and came to the oak grove where I was
waiting for her, I had secured q feet
footed horse, and when morning dawned
we we're miles away. We took passage
on steamer bound for America, and we
were married the day after our arrival.
For awhile she appeared happy enough,
Of course, we were very poor; but I was
young and hopeful and loved my child.
wife. Gradually she began to pine for
her old home. She was unused to pow
erty, and didn't know how to bear the
ups and downs of life as a poor girl
would have done. She frequently up
braided me for the misfortune I had
brought upon her, and in time began to
hate me. I did the best I could for her
and looked forward to your birth, thi *
ing she would be more content when
she held her baby in her arms; but
was mistaken; nothing could reconcile
her to life OF poverty with me. When
you were few months old I discovered
she was receiving letters from her father.
Every day helped to widen the breach
between us. Although she treated me
with cold contempt l did not blame her
much, for knew too well how I had
ruined her life, and her unhappiness in
creased mine teniold.
cat that time was employed on the
docks. One morning while at work q
lady, closely yelled, accompanied by q
gentleman and a nurse, with a child in
her arms, passed me. Something about
her figure attracted my attention, and
as turned to look after them, I caught
aglimpse of the lady's face. I stood
for moment unable to move or speak,
Meanwhile they had boarded steamer
that would sail for Liverpool in few
hours. When l recovered my surprise
I went as rapidly as possible to the
home that had never been happy one,
and learned that my wife and child had
gone away in a carriage an hour or two
before. Burning with rage and excite.
ment, [ hurried back to the vessel.
Your mother was on deck talking earn
estly to her companion, and the Nurse
was saying good-by to some friends who
had come to see her of. I walked bold
~ up TO her and inquired the number of
her stnte-room, saying that her mistress
had sent me for her shawl. The girl re-
piled that she would 90 and get it, but I
said, pleasantly, Talk to your friends
while you have time Only too glad to
have last word with those she was
leaving behind, she told me the mum.
Der, at the same time charging me to be
careful and not awaken the baby,
Trembling with excitement hurried to
the state room, wrapped you in the
shawl and walked off the steamer. Have
l made the story of my early life clear
to you, Ailsie 2"
eyes, papa, understand it perfect.
~, and am so sorry for you, poor, dear
papa" Then, with wistful glance in
his face, Do you think mamma cried
for me-for her baby ~"
"It may be that she did, but proba.
bly, the prospect of being reunited to
her family lessened her grief for Your
loss. Twelve years have passed and I
have never seen or heard from her since.
1 have heard of her though, and know
that our marriage was annulled on the
ground that she was too young to wed
without consent of her parents. and
about seven years ago she became the
wife of q man of rank. That was the
last news 1 had of her. I wronged your
mother, Ailsie, and wronged you in tax.
ing you from her. And now, if she will
receive you back, I will give you up.
But you will not return to her penniless
you have fortune of $4,000.
AID you will live with US papa?'
"No, child, I will return to my old
life in the Mines"
sob, papa!" cried Ailsie, bursting
into a passionate food of tears" I can
not, will not stay there without you."
He drew the child to his breast and
soothed her with tender words, telling
her that she would soon learn to love her
he would watch over her.
and perhaps see her often. After she
grew calm they started on their journey
again and soon reached the old-fashioned
inn where they were to pass the night.
Ailsie retired early, and her father de-.
'cended to the public room, where, after
1 few moments conversation with the
landlord, he learned that Ailsie's moth
sr, Lady Caroline Denbeigh was living
n retirement at Denbeigh Hall, with
1er child, a sickly little fellow, about
Jour years Of age. The old lord had
been dead q year or more, and Hon,
Mrs. 'Featherstone, Lady Caroline's
mother, had been with her until recent
y, but was then in Pans.
The next morning Ailsie and her
ather went down to the village hotel.
where their luggage had been sent a
week before, and after making the need
ul change in their dress they set out for |
he hall.
The well-dressed, gentlemanly looking
who walked M the praveled |