Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1883-09-13

three, beautiful "stalwart,' full of energy
and enthusiasm, | went with him to see the
girl OF his heart, whose acquaintance he had
made short time before, during the sum-
mer vacation. She was an orphan, it ap-
peared, and an heiress of great wealth, and
as we approached the magnificent mansion
she called "home,' little dreamed that un-
der that palatial roof, l should once more
come face to face with Qunn's baby.
"You ksow. Aunt May" Theodore had
said as we drove along, "if had heard in
the first place. Of Emilys position, of all
this money, don't you know,-I should new
er have thought of mean, should never
have had courage. to pay her devoted atten-
ton, and all that. But it was not until
had expressed my feelings, and she-well,
she had, in measure, expressed hers, that
the knowledge came TO me, about her being
so awful!y rich. She is so lovely and tai
ented, beside And these people she lives
with,-her guardians,-they are immensely
wealthy. too they have son-I must ad-
NIT he is splendid fellow, and the received
idea IS, that Emily ought to marry him.
She had no intention Of course, especially"
adds Theo, modestly, latter she had seen
me
-hiHiusA WIN NUttS WE Ttitu the
house and am soon in the presence Of Miss
Emily Ransom. She comes to meet us.
queenly, beautiful creature, with such win
ming grace Of welcome, that am captivated
at once, and fee that | can bring TO Theo-
dore's mother such a report of Theodores
choice, as even the lover himself would ap-
prove. There is great deal of strength
about Emily Ransom. a direct, simple ear
nestness, that bears the stamp Of large and
sincere nature. We spend delightful af-
ternoon, she and ! and Theodore, together,
examining the house and strollng about the
lovely grounds At dinner we meet her
guardians. DR.. and Mrs Meredith. who
make their home with her. and their son,
Roger, rather coarsely handsome Young
man, bright, aggressive and clever soon
discover that be makes no secret Of his de-
yotion to Emily
cannot now remember how it came about.
but IN the shlftinss of dinner talk, we chance
upon the subject Of Christmas gifts. and the
various methods and motives of their be
stowal, and somehow, TO illustrate a point,
! glide into recital Of our long ago expert
encr with "Qunn's baby" AS speak the
name, laughingly. describing the child and
its odd surroundings, sudden, almost start
led glance flashes across the table from Emf
ly to Roger. and from Roger back to Emily
l. i ike warning,-a signal, full of swift
intelligence and meaning. | am so dis
turbed and a>tonshed bv tins curious reve!a-
ton. that am afraid conclude my story
rather lamely. That look haunts and dis
quiets ne until much to my amazement, il
is finally explained
Just before we take our leave, find my
self alone with Emily, in wonderful Jewel
Of room, all lace and satin and flowers
an exquisite harmony Of color.-and the girl
herself. in her dainty dress. and delicate
lovtiiness, is standing before me, strange
pa!lor on her face. and panied, pathetic
look in her lifted ewes.
Dear Aunt Nav" she SAYS, hurriedv,
with a strange little smile. taking my hand
between her own, IL will call YOU so this
once must tell you something, and Iheo-
dore must know, for II i the truth The
little child YOU spoke of, in that wretched
home, 50 forlorn and neglected, oh, Aunt
May, am hat lonely child you we're 50
Kind to once - and she buries her face up
on my shoulder.
Emily You? Oh, impossible :"
'Nes, she says very gently. and raising
her head, to look me earnestly in the face.
Il can Just remember when the arm cloth
lng came. 1t seemed like one Of grandpa's
fairy stories,-poor grandpa; you remember
him? Dead, long ago, and can remember
when the house was torn down, and we went
away, oh, 50 plainly"
but YOU? Quinn's baby ?" | gasped
"No, no, il can't be. Quinn's baby was
boy. And then-your name, Ransom"
Again Emily smiles. but there is not much
mirth in her smile.
Il suppose was more like boy" she
answers. "for, was left 50 much alone, and
had 10 depend on myself. Quinn was grand
pas name. my mothers father"
but your own father ?"
His name was Matthew Ransom,--I ney-
er remember him. He went away when |
was six months old. We heard nothing
more from him until | was sixteen Then
the news came of his death, in Colorado, and
all this great fortune. from a mine he had
discovered, was left to me. Poor mamma
had died nearly ten wears before, and when
was left alone. the Merediths had taken
me into their family, and given me home
and an education. Mamma had always
worked for them, and had lived in their
house. as a girl, and oh, they have been
blessed friends 10 me But now, Aunt NAV,
now that YOU know all my story-the wretch
ed beginning of my life. the poverty, the
observation-disclosures even than can remem-
Der it , perhaps you and his mother will
think am not fit TO he Theo's wife" and
her beautiful head sinks again on my shoul-
der
why, you precious child" stammer
for nv mind can scarcely vet grasp the real
it,o of tba ssIF ap,tbipt, in tba rnrll
could make me love you more, il would be
baby, The dear, little, bright, sunny tenn
he was girl, after all. And did they fit
YOU; did the clothes really fit you. Emily ?"
"Oh, Aunt May" SAYS Emily, with a
ful dresses have had since, we're ever half
as lovely, or half such a comfort to me !"
As We ride homeward together, presently,
Theo and |, can't refrain from telling all
the surprise Of this discovery about Emily.
But to him 1t does not seem half sach a
wonderful happening as it does to me, prob
ably because other wonderful happenings
have precedence in his mind.
YES" he said dreamily, "Em told me her
people had been wretchedly poor, to begin
with and about her drunken grandfather,
and all that, and think she mentioned they
had lived once on the Harlem rocks. In
any case, | couldn't make myself remember
much about that episode. was such a lit
tie fellow, you know"
YES, you have changed in more ways
than one. since them" | rejon, quietly, ''for
then. it was impossible to make you take the
slightest interest in 'Quinn's baby
Cheer.
NO." said the sad-eyed man, 81 never
press Young woman to play upon the pi-
ano. tried it once to my sorrow" "Why,
what followed ?" asked half-dozen eager
voices. ''She played" replied the sad-eyed
man. Il shall never forget the lesson l
learned that day. Boston TrnnScrint