The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1884-11-06
The Rose or Erin,

to join Mrs. General Clermont's party
fol season at Saratoga Springs, and
the only obstacle Is lief acceptance Of
the kind offer lay in the TACT that her
faithful old family servant; Mehitable
Cranch, had been called away to attend
upon the lingering illness of sister,
and would probably be detained for
weeks at her bedside.
Lucy had lived at the homestead since
her parents death; and had cared for
and petted quite an army Of domsshca
who had been left upon her hands.
They had gradually grown decrepit
and superannuated, but her heart was
too tender to have them made away
with, and now she could not harbor
the thought of shutting up the house
and leaving them to forage for them.
selves.
In this emergency she concluded to
leave her washerwoman in charge.
She had only lived in the village few
months, but was respectable looking
woman, and church member. She
was glad of the offer, only STIMULATING
that she should be allowed to have her
stey-daughter come and stay with
her.
Lucy consented cheerfully.
II did not know that you had any
family, Mrs: O'Connor. Where is the
little girl ?" she asked:
"She is at school with the Sisters,
ma'am. Poor O'Connor left little
money, and made up my mind that
| Norah should have the good of it in
getting an education.
Norah O'Coinor was not the little
girl Lucy had pictured to herself in re-
curing to Mrs. O'Conner's words. She
was fully sixteen, and had blossomed
within the year into rich, enhancing
beauty.
Lucy had already gone when Norah
came; so all through the summer she
retained the impression that Mrs.
O'Connor's step-daughter was frolic-
some child, drinking in her fill of coun-
try sights and sounds before autumn
should take her back to the Sisters.
Lucy had few relatives; but her
cousin Howe-an orphan like herself
had always been to her like q
brother: He saw Lucy and her party
safely of, and promised at the parting
moment to look in at the homestead ev-
cry day to see that all went satisfactor-
lily there:
So Lucy cast care to the winds, and
gave herself up to the enjoyments of
the novel scenes which soon surround
ed her, and amid which the first romance
of her life began:
Such delicious moonlight rambles,
when, amid the group of pedestrians,
Lucy was the one invariably singled out
by Vincent FARMLAND. But the season
passed, and Lucy returned home With a
new pain haunting her heart.
If Vincent FARMLAND loved her-as
his actions had plainly showed-why
had he remained silent?
Lucy's thoughts never once turned
upon the real reason of Vincent's ST.
lence. She herself cared so little for
money that suggestion that her pos
sessions were barrier to Vincent hav-
ing declared himself her lover would
have brought an incredulous smile to
her lips.
He was the last representative of a
proud but impoverished family and had
worked his way through college by TAX
ing private pupils. He had yielded to
the perilous sweetness of the attraction
which drew him toward Lucy, and all
unwitt'ngly had planted a thorn in her
previously tranquil heart.
But he was equally q sufferer. Never
before had he coveted wealth. Had he
possessed the treasures of the Indies,
he would cast them at her feet; but the
one rich treasure which he could have
ofered-his heart was withheld.
So the two parted-each to 20 diff
ferent way-each to carry heart filed
with pain along life's hitherto cloudless
pathway.
Howe met Lucy at the station. He
was so preocupied in his manner that
Lucy noticed it and said at last:
what are you thinking of, Cousin
Howe? You have barely said half
dozen words since we met. Has any
thing happened?"
Howe colored at Lucys question.
After moments silence, he answer
ed in a low tone:
YES, Lucy something has happened:
and if you have no objection, I will
drive around the lake and explain it to
you before take you home."'
II hope it is nothing bad, Howe"
said Lucy in a startled tone.
"That depends upon the way one
looks ut it. I am IN interested party,
and, OF course, can not expect others
to see through my eyes, The truth is,
Lucy, I am going to be married, and
as the world in general will cavil ut
my choice, want to enlist you upon
my side: You are so good and true
yourself that I am sure goodness and
innocence will weigh a. heavily in the
seal IS as worldly prominence, and ="
Lucy smiled at Howe's labored ex-
p1anation.
"You dear boy! ono would think you
were going to marry washerwoman's
daughter to hear YOU. There isn't a
girl worthy of you in the whole village;
but they are all American princesses,
you know. We have no aristocrats in
America"
I'm not so sure of that, Lucy. But
wait until I tell you more about my
wife that is to he. You hit the nail on
the head in the beginning of your SEN
tence. am really going to marry the
daughter of washerwoman.
Lucy grew suddenly white. A trou-
bled look came into her frank eyes.
You don't mean to say that it is the
little girl whom 1 gave Mrs. O'Conner
permission to bring to my house, that
has worked this mischief!"
1T is indeed Norah O'Conner, poor
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