Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1884-04-03
Written for the HERALD
THE BLIGHT OF A LIFE.
a Tale of Lake George.

gazed out of the window at the blue
outlines of distant mountains, and counted
the days before l must start home.
YES" / said aloud, Il must certainly
start home next Monday"
Must you really 2" cried cousin Bert, re-
grettully.
Really ?" echoed his sister Vera
"Yes, really" / answered with a sigh
"and, although l want to see the home
folks and get back to school, / do hate to
leave it has been such delightful sum-
mer"
'You don't look much like the girl that
came on pillow a few weeks ago." de-
clared grandma Just remember if you
get down again, Lila, come to grandma to
get cured up"
Don't take too much credit to YOURSELF y
i said laughing. 81 wonder who could be
sick in such place, with such interesting
historic associations? Just think of the
Jennie McCrea spring and her grave; and
the beautiful Glens Falls, with the cave
Cooper describes, and"
''Oh, Lila !" interrupted Vera, "you must
not miss Lake George! When can we 60,
Bert? Tomorrow
Bert looked inquiringly at grandma and
aunt Lizzie"
IF you can 60 with us, aunt Lizzie, I'll
60 down this evening and engage car
riage"
Might as well, suppose" replied aunt
Lizzie. 'Of course Lila ought to see the
lake"
Grandma agreed to furnish basket of
provisions Bert went down to the village,
and Vera ran home to tell her mother and
bake cake to add to the lunch. And 1?
l did nothing. / was a visitor from the
Prairie State" and was never tired of
feasting my eyes on the varied and beauti-
full scenery of the Hudson river valley.
Next morning at o'clock we four were
seated in a carriage for the fourteen mile
drive to Lake George. 1t was delightful
morning in early September--thea air just cool
enough to be pleasant. We rode rapidly
stage road to the lake. At Bloody Pond a
little boy ran out with an armful
of fragrant water-lillies and threw some
into the carriage. They were the first l
had ever seen, and eagerly devOured their
beauty and fragrance, while Bert searched
for the change the little boy expected. At
last we reached the quiet little village on
the shore of the lake, and while Bert put
up the horses and went to secure boat,
aunt Lizzie, Vera and l strOlled in the
grounds of the Lake House and the Fort
William Henry House
A boat secured, we took our basket of
luncheon and rOwed away, planning to
eat dinner ON one of the tiny wooded islets
which so plentifully dot the lake. We
rowed about long time, admiring the
wonderful clearness of the waters and the
beautiful mountain scenery, then landed
on small island, found pretty spot and
ate with keen appetite.
1t is not my purpose to pOetize on the
remarkable beauty of this lake for its
charms are immortalized in words from the
most gifted writer's | want to report a
strange story l heard that day and so leave
you to imagine my pleasure in this charm
ing retreat, and hasten on to my story.
After dinner we again took the boat, but
soon my head began to ache, so, as | spied
a little house on the nearest shore, begged
to be set down there, while the rest ex-
plored pretty island not far away.
offer to stay with me, jumped on land
and walked rather blindly up to the tiny
cottage door. A woman answered my
knock and exclaimed as she saw me, 'Dear
me, Miss, you are real sick! What can l
do for you ?"
"Let me lie down on this lounge" said.
Bless your heart, yesw she cried hos
pitably. She covered me up, and then
before could prevent it, she had poured
some boiling water on drawing Oftea, the
fragrance of which did me good before she
offered it in cup
After drinking the tea felt much better
and half set up and talked with my host
ess, who was busy at an ironing table.
Everything was exquisitely neat, and some
evidences of a refined taste gave the two
rooms an air of comfort The woman her
self was of fine appearance, and used good
language She had told me she did wash
ing for gentlemen, and was unprepared
for her well-bred air and her intelligent,
well-wOrded remarks on the lake and its
Excuse me-" l stammered, "but you
seem rather-above your occupation. You
that is-we don't often see" and
here / blushed and broke down.
The woman smiled sadly.
"You are right. have seen better days.
Mine is a strange stOry-very strange" she
repeated.
'Oh, would you--,"I began eagerly,
and stopped again. 1t was not at all likely
she cared to tell it to stranger.
will tell you?" she asked. "Oh yes,
l had as lief" She stopped abruptly,
folded the shirt and hung it on line, set
her iron on the stove, built up her fire, and
sat down.
She unused moment, as if in RETROSPECT
ton, and then began in low, well mOdu-
lated voice.
Il lost both my parents when | was
mere baby They were strangers In the
town, but a few had found out that they
were both Orphans-that my father was
refined, scholarly man, and my mother a
real lady. Just before my birth my father
was taken with pneumonia and died when
| was but two days old my mother, una
BILE to rally from the shock, lied in few
hours after him, and was alone. klnds
hearted woman, who kept boarding
house. having no children, adopted me and
named me Laura, after little girl who
had died. 1t was, no doubt, serious task
to bring up child from the start, without
its own mother, but my fOster-mother al
ways cared for me as if / had been her
own, and loved her as child should.
Ours was very beautiful village, and
often there would be a party OF young
men come for the hunting and fishing.
Most of them staid at the village tavern,
but one of them who came alone and every
summer, boarded at our quiet house. he
was very young when he first came, and ne
liked it SO we'll he came every year, as l
said before l was ten years old, shy, but
fnll of cnriositv and IMAGINATION. and this