Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-02-03

III ali me- IN u6aLn, nOJnlng-nO euOSIl-
tute-nO staff on which to lean.
The girl looked around her on the
beautiful morning glory of life, fresh and
lovely, perfect in its plan and purpose,
and her heart took new courage, new
trust.
4 cannot doubt" she said, half aloud;
''fOr me to doubt were very falsehOod and
sim"
She had reached the gate, and almost
uncOnsciouslv had been leaning on it for
minute absorbed in her thoughts.
Suddenly she became aware thai uncle
Albert was standing near her, mOtionless
as statue, gazing at her face, and had
been, perhaps, for some time. Her eX-
pressiye questioning looks seemed to COM
pei remark.
"Yes, Charlie, have been watching
you some time; watching yon- face
brighten and then sadden. It was charm
ing study, assure you.1
She only thought, ''Nothing on earth
shall try my temper this morning." She
SAID:
81 was thinking sad thoughts, perhaps.
Good morning, STRIP
"Wait, beg you, dear Charlie. I've
just little to say, and have waited here
to say it.'
''Yes, sir"
81 have that 20 tell which you will not
care to hear, but, my dear girl, whatever
l may not be, l am patient; / will wait for
tardy justice at your hands,"
81 am listening. SIR"
"Last night your poor father signed his
will in the presence of several witnesses,
and l am to be your guardian and care
for you and my sweet young sister, your
mamma"
This was not unexpected, but Charities
poor heart sank and her color rose; still,
very quietly, she answered:
II am not surprised to hear it, sir"
And not gladY'
'And not glad"
His face flushed scarlet, but he con-
trOlled himself by great effort, and said:
''If in all the wide world | had known
person who would have been more faith
full to this sacred trust than myself, [
should have declined in his favor. If /
believed that you would love any other
guardian better, | should like to have seen
you gratitied. But it is some consolation to
me to know that, though you do dislike me,
you like no other. L certainly know. for
L have studied to know, that there does
not live a man tor whom you care a
farthing."
''There you are all wrong, sir. There
lives a man in this city whom l love be-
yond every other, even better than | do
my poor young mother"
Whilst she was speaking there grew
into his eyes an expression new and
strange. 1t was look of keen hurt and
of eager curiosity. a little breathlessly he
asked:
'Who? Who is it, CharlieP Tell me
his name."
''Dr. Henry Fearne," she replied, cOolly.
He turned off, determined that his face
should not be seen, and affected to cut off
a sprig of geranium, as he answered with
calmness and sufficient ease.
Eyes, we all know you love him. He is
a noble old man. l suggested him to
your father, and his only objection was
that he is entirely too old for such trust.
But L am OBTAINING you, and when l have
said one thing more l Will leave you. In
a short time, Charlie, will be vested with
my responsible rights as the guardian of
your person and property, and l do here
register a VOW before heaven that your
comfort and happiness shall be the first
object of my life; that | will promote
what seems to me your best interest at
any cost, at every hazard. l can only
trust the day may come when you will
know me as your truest friend"
He had taken off his hat and stood I'M
covered in the sunshine. His face was
flushed, and into his eyes there flashed a
curious look of stern resolve, strangely
overweight for the occasion. He seemed,
or Charlie thought he seemed, anxious to
impress her with his most generous disre-
gard of her dislikes, and willing to say at
last civil word in parting. She said:
''And mamma! l trust you will think
of her best good and happiness"
EYES," he said, ''that is easy; that is
sure. Annie trusts me implicitly: Annie
has no fear; Annie loves her brother"
His words were fair enough, but, as
he walked off with a quiet ''good morn
ing" the half smile on his lips was too
thought she had never hated him more,
He had come across her best morning
mood; had interpOsed his unwelcome
presence between her eyes and the radi-
ance the day had worn; had seemed to
her fancy much like black strip of cloud
threatening perfect day. She hated him
even this morning; she had hated him as
far back as her memory could recall him.
She had never been able to define the
feeling. 1t always sprang into life at the
sight OF him; it seemed always fostered
by his presence. In truth, she mistrusted
HIM. He seemed to her selfish, cruel,
false, and on her own impression she
judged him.
''He will be my guardian, acOmplacent,
intrusive, authoritative one, l know"
she thought, with power to control nv
movements, and with the will to enforce
his power. What prefer viii be quiet
ly, politely, steadily set aside, and l will
live, move, and have my being exactly as
he DEGREES. Ali me, how little of liberty
waits mel And mamma! poor, sweet
mamma! who, after living with him all
her life, knows him no more than if she
had had, met net. him but Oncei what will he do
The thought sent the hot blood to the
girls cheeks.
To-day my father is still living, and
today mamma is guiltless of a thought
untrue to him; and yet, before he has been
in his grave one year, Mr.. Beltham will
be Annie's husband and master in my
home"
She turned and looked back on the hand
some house and the elegant grounds, all
the result OF her fathers taste and work,
and, oppressed with the miserable fore
knowledge which so wounded her sense of
justice and propriety, she almost ran away
from the sight Of so painful and pitiful
contemplation.
Once at uncle Heary's, once in the pure
and sweet atmosphere of his happy home,
she was sure she should feel cOmforted
and better. Walking very quickly to
atone for her delay, she reached the manse
tired and flushed with her rapid walk.
Such a fOrmality as a knock at DIR.
Fearne's door was a superiority not to be
tolerated by the old people. Charlie had
always walked straight in, commonly an
nOuncing herselfby singing IN the hall, if,
indeed, the teacher was not at the gate
looking eagerly for her. To-day every
thing looks unnaturally still. The hall
door is wide open, and the morning sum
shine covers the floor, but there is not the
least sign of life anywhere.
"Welll" thinks Charlie, 'ths is queer:
[ wonder if aunt Mary thinks everybody
Outsideis as good as she is, that she leaves
her house wide open to be entered aud oc-
cupied by whoever likes to do sop
Her aunt's room was closed, and she
walked quickly back to the study, Won
dering that even Janet was not on hand
to explain this sudden exodus. This door
was wide open, and the room as empty as
the hall, or Charlie thought so, and con-
Guiding she would begin work and wait
her teachers return, she took off her hat
and gloves, and was about to seat herself
at the table when her careless glance fell
on person quietly seated at the window;
the last person she could have expected
to encounter here, and the person of all
the earth she least desired to meet. The
gentleman rose instantly, and Charlie
stood face to face with the stranger she
had met the night before. In the utter
CONSERVATION of the moment it never Oc-
Cured to her that he had any more right
here than chance visitor. He seemed
only by especially i'll luck to be in her
pathway. 1t was Just like her chance
meeting with uncle Albert, only thou
sand times worse a fhOuSand tiTnac mara