The Opelousas courier., 1884-03-01

at may be that she did, but proba
bly, the prospect of being reunited t,
her family lessened her grief for you.
loss. Twelve years have passed. and
have never seen or heard from he
since. 1 have heard of her, though
and know that our marriage was an
nulled on the ground that she was toe
young to wed without the consent OF
her parents, and about seven years age
she became the wife of a man of rank
That was the last news | had of her
| Wronged your mother, Ailsie, and
wronged you in taking you from her
And now, if she will receive you back,
| will give you up. But you will not
return to her penniless-you will have
a fortune of twenty thousand dol
lars"
"And you will live with us, papa?"
mo, child, I will return to my old
lie In the mines.
"Oh, papal' cried Ailsie, bursting
into a passionate flood of tears, Il can
not, will not, stay there without your
He drew the child to his breast and
soothed her with tender words, telling
her that she would soon learn to love
her mother--that 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
descended to, the pubic room, where,
after a few moments conversation
with the landlord, he learned that ALL
sizes mother, Lady Caroline Denbeigh,
was living in retirement at Denbeigh
hall, with her child, a sickly little fell
low, about four years of age. The old
lord had been dead a year or more, and
the Hon. Mrs. Featherstone, Lady Car
dimes mother, had been with her I'M
til recently, but was then in Paris.
The next morning Ailsie and her
father went down to the village hotel,
where their luggage had been sent a
week before. and, after making the
needful change in their dress, they set
out for the Hall.
The well-dressed, gentlemanly-look-
ing individual who walked up the
graveled path with a firm step and in
dependent air, bore but a faint resem-
.blanee to the groom with whom Caro-
line ~Featherstone had eloped some
fourteen years before.
As they approached the house, he
espied Lady Denbeigh and the young
heir on the broad veranda, and his
heart gave a quick, painful throb as he
gazed upon the face he knew so well.
us that lady my mammag' whis-
pered Ailsie.
"Hush," he answered softly; then
under his breath. 'sTime will tell if
she is indeed your mother" Lifting
his hat respectfully he said: o.
Il have come to crave a few mo-
ments' conversation with you madam
in behalf of this child
Something in his tone touched a
chord in her breast that vibrated pain
fully. She looked earnestly from one
to the other, then with a sudden effort
recovered her calmness and said:
Estate the nature Of your errand,
sir"
He had fancied himself fully pre-
pared for this interview, but finding
himself face to face with the woman he
had never ceased to love, his courage
failed him; and the man who had been
shocking around the world for years
whose wealth had made him powerful
and self-asserting grew as embarrassed
a school girl. The fine speeches he
had meant to utter were forgotten.
Drawing Ailsie to his side he blurted
but almost savagely:
"Does not your heart tell you who
his child is?''
Pale with emotion she cried:
aTell me Miles Carlylel tell me
luickly-is it my lost baby?' Reach
ng out her hands she swayed for a
moment and would have fallen had he
lot caught her in his arms. When she
opened her eyes again Ailsie was BEND
ng over her.
aAre you better. mamma?' she in
stroking her mothers pale
heck.
lis it true then-are you indeed my
Ost darling? mnrmured Lady Den
'eigh family.
"Yes, mamma, and / am going to
owe you dearly to make up for the
we have not known each other"
Some hours elapsed before Lady
oedbeigh vas sufficiently composed to
isten to q recital Of the events that
transpired since Ailsie,s abduction.
hen Miles told her how be had gone
Vest with the baby, where. after a
harp struggle with poverty, he finally