Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1884-03-28

treasure. Lie SuOpuldu IOOAc0 suSShCi
ously at me as he took up and tested
it.
Your name and address, please"
he said sharply. And how much do
you want2"
II want "a little money, if you
please" / faitered.
As I spoke the gentleman turned,
and could feel a pair of bright keen
eyes scanning my pale face. l grew
more helplessly confused, my tongue
absolutely refused to utter word.
Tell the shopman how much you
want, and your name, my good girl, u"
he said ia kind and pittying tone.
Then, for the first time, raised my
eyes to his face, feeling that / had
found a friend. Merciful heaven! was
l dreaming, or had my late troubles
driven reason from nay brain, and
filled it instead with wild delusive fan
cies.
Surely there stood the original of
my aunt Betsy's portrait, but young
and stalwart as he had been forty
years ago, when it was taken.
In vain tried TO speak. l could
only point helplessly to the portrait ;
the shop, with its occupants and Its
contents swan around me, and with
a cry for help, l sank fainting to the
ground.
When I next awoke to conscious.
ness, | was lying on an improvls2d
bed on the old couch in our sitting
room at home. l moved my head, 1t
felt weak and sore. Then | tried to
lift my hands, but to my surprise |
was powerless to do so. A woman,
plainly dressed, with kind motherly
face, was sitting near me and rose as
[ moved.
| looked around bewildered.
Mammal" | called feebly. .
"Hush, hush, my dear miss" said
the kind-looking woman soothlngly.
You must not speak. Your mamma
is asleep and you might wake her"
SO lay still, wondering weakly
who she was, and who had sent her
there; but presently, seeing her stir
the fire into blaze, l forgot her eau
ton, as all my old anxietieS came
back, and | said pleadingly:
Don't poke the fire, please: 1t will
burn out too quickly. and we have no
more Goals.
"Oh, now, miss, you have been
dreaming. The cellar is nearly full,
the Goals only came in last week"
Again | essayed to answer, but was
so gently, yet with such good author
ity, ordered to be quiet, that | was
glad to obey, so | lay still enjoying
the sensation of not being able to
think. In day or two | grew strong
err, and one morning to my delight my
mother came in, and | had leave Civ
en- me to talk little.
Then l heard all about my late ad-
venture.
"Itis reallya most wonderful event,
my dear, and reads like chapter out
of a three volume novel, SAID my
mother, who, by the way, looked quite
bright and strong again. "Wh hes you
fell down in faint, you letfall the en-
velope in which you had carried the
miniature, and the gentleman who
was in the shop"
81 remember him, mamma" | cried
excltedly. He was the very image
of the portrait. | fancied l must be
dreaming"
THAT is the strangest part of the
story, but you won't let me tell it to
you properly my dear. That gentle
man saw your name and address.
brought YOU home in a cab, sent IN a
nurse, and everything we wanted, and
has been our good angel ever since.
He is Arthur Rashleigh, the only son
of your Aunt Betsy's old lover, who,
after mourning the supposed faithless-
ness of his old love, married late In
life, and has not long been dead, leav-
ing Arthur large fortune. His as
constituent at seeing you with his
fathers portrait, you may be sure was
very great. However, it was a very
lucky thing for his after all; Aunt
Betsy's present was not such poor
one. BY the way, here it is; Mr.. Rash
leigh was kind enough to bring 1t back
with him"
There was one thing which did not
appear to concern my mother IN the
least, but made my pale face flame,
and that was the idea of receiving
these benefits from a mere stranger
upon whom we had not the slightest
claim, unless the fact that his father,
forty years before, had been my aunt's
lover, could be considered one
SO l made up my eloquent speech
in which | thanked him warmly for
all his goodness, and delicately yet
firmly conveyed the information
that | intended to fully repay him
as soon as | could get to work again.
But carefully as | rehearsed it, that
eloquent speech was never uttered,
nor did | wonder at my mother
willingness to receive benefits from
him, when once l had seen and talk
ed with him. He was so lonely, he
said, he had not a single friend or
relative in England, aud a man
servant, whom he had treated with
kindness and confidence, had just
robbed him Of some valuable old
family plate which his father had
thought highly of, ana had carried
with him III all his wanderings.
For me-may | confess it without
shameR-the graceful interest | felt
i'm him SOON grew into love, and. and,
all, happy as my life has been since,
can l ever forget that happy evening,
when walking home from the theatre,
whittier he had taken me, he told me
that he loved me dearly, and asked
me to be his wife.
bat II am poor, am not pretty,
and l am so old2' pleaded, fearing
to accept this sweet new happiness,
and mindful of Lena's depreciation
of'my personal appearance, age, etc.
Arthur laughed and drew my arm
closer in his.
IF you are too old for marriage at
two twenty, hcw may hope with
six more years added on, ever to
enter that most blissful statei' he
asked.
SO | said yes, and soon after we all
went down to Aunt Betsy's aud there
| was married at the little church, to
the son of her old lover, who loved
and reverenced the touchy old maid
not little, for her devotion to his
father.
And so Aunt Betsy's picture saved
my dear mothers life, and also saved
me from the dreadful fate Lena had
threatened me with. l had it made
into locket, and l wear it constant,
ly. 1t is generally mistaken for the
portrait of my dear husband; SO is
the large oil-painting of his father
which hangs in our drawing room,
from which the miniature was copied.