The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-07-07


with us did he allude to his children. He
was faithful in his capacity, but untitled for
| Eastern travel; and, two months later, wish
ing him we'll and sending some slight gifts
to his daughter we left him at Naples, and
took new man in his place for Egypt
A year passed, crowded with new scenes
| and people, when we returned to England,
went to the Charing Cross Hotel, in London,
| for little rest before the homeward voyage.
| There We found an American friend Mr..
Leveridge, OF Illinois, who had been travel
| ing for six months with party from st.
| Louis, and who was to sail for New York in
| the Scotia the ensuing Saturday. He was
Kentuckian by birth, but had gone early to
Illinois, and there added acre
to acre till his estate surpassed
those of many dukedoms. Genial
and unpretending, his warm heart and man
illness and generosity made him everywhere
| loved and respected, and life had gone
smoothly with him till the previous winter,
when he had lost his only daughter, an amia-
| BILE girl in her seventeenth year. He was
| inconsolable. He could neither attend to
business nor welcome his friends; and his
wife, sensible motherly woman, alarmed
| at his condition, persuaded him to join this
party from st. Louis for a tour abroad. He
had no enthusiasm, however, for travel. II
would rather see a good field of wheat or
corn" he would say, than all the ruins in
Europe. Everything is so old and contract
ed and formal here, and the mass of the peo-
| pie have to struggle so for mere existence
that it depresses me. l shall be glad to get
| home where there's room and liberty" But,
| nevertheless new scenes and cheerful com
pany had broken up the sad routine of his
thoughts, and he now seemed quite himself
again, except when some allusion was made
to his daughter.
1t was Monday morning of the week he
was to sail. He had dropped in to see us,
i and we were looking over some American
| newspapers, when a servant came to say
| that Margaret Vallot, young girl who said
we had known her father, begged to speak
| with us.
ut must he Jeans daughter" we ex-
planned. Bring her up at once"
A moment, and slight figure entered tim
| idly, and soft voice said:
| Pardon me if intrude. / heard SO much
of you all from my father that when saw
your names among the arrivals here l could
| not help coming"
'We are glad to see you Take this chair
by the window, and tell us about him and
| yourself"
"Alas!" she replied, bursting into tears,
Il have no longer a fatherl After he left
you he came to see Lucille and me, and
stayed several days with us. and gave us
| the presents you were so kind to send, and
/ 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 such q good letter from
Martigny that we thought he did love us,
after all, and that perhaps some day we
\ might live together and. be happy The next
| news we had was that he was dead. Cross
ing the Alps with his party be 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 Vogt, 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 OH his way back when the accident hap
pened. He would not write to US, but as
| soon as he could he came to see 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 orphans. Hard well-meaning mantle
time had soon come when his girls 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 observed her closely to see what
manner of girl she was-of medium height
and slender, with brown eyes, and hair of
| the same color coiled low on her neck--her
face little like her fathers in outline, but
delicate and 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 her
from harm. Her black dress was of the
| simplest fashion and most inexpensive ma
terial, but there was dainty grace in its
| arrangement-the carelessl y-knotted fichu,
the collar just showing at the throat and
dropping hat-rarely seen in the attire of an
English girl of any rank, and which she had
brought with her across the channel.
"And what friends have you in London"
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 Eng
| land till now but mamma was very fond of
her own country, and told US much about it,
and always liked us to speak English; l re-
member how she cried once when some one
brought her lot of daisies from Thornby
her old home-oh we were very happy as
long as we had herr"
us your Aunt Mary like herr"
'In some ways she is, and she is most kind
to us; but she supports herself by sewing,
and is not strong, so am unwilling to bur-
den 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 member and we must do something at
once. am trying to get place as nursery
governess, and Aunt Mary thinks Lucille
can go into Madame Beck's establishment in
Oxford street and learn dressmaking.
But I don't wish her to do that.
She is light-hearted and pretty. 1 have, kept
trouble from her all could and it Would
distress me to see her getting pale and thin
like many of the girls meet going to and
from their work there. i 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 am sure l could get on
we'll with children; but for a month l have
been looking in vain for situation and l
sometimes think there is no place for us in
London"
Mr.. Everidge had let his paper fall when
Margaret entered, and had hardly taken his
eyes from her while she spoke. He was sit
ting near me, and now he leaned over and
| Y i