Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1885-10-14

| kind-hearted Nell; she so gentle and
child-like that we couldn't bear TO have
the house left single day W thout her.
Many times IL had seemed strange TO
me why Uncle Ben would have Nellie
receive Mr.. Wells attent on, and why
he would persist IN talking about what
a fine catch the rich old man would be
for any girl
had once or twice heard Aunt Mar
garet say that times were rather hard,
and that uncle didn't always have lit
tie ready change when il was wanted.
Perhaps that was why he thought it
best that Nellie should be, as lie some
times said. we'll married.
There was John Atherlgh, a nephew
of Mr.. Wells, the only child of his poor
dead sister, to whom the wretched old
miser never lent helping hand. John
was poor, but he was just as generous
and good as any nobleman that ever
lived. Some how uncle d dn't seem TO
be well pleased when he came about,
as he often did. to walk with Nellie in
the cool Of the evening, down the long
shady avenue. or sit by her side and
talk out on the old stone steps lead ng
up to the porch. The very old steps
where, / guess. Nelie's mother and
father sat together and talked OF love
and the happy, undiscovered future
during the days of Their honeymoon
long. long ago. used to think
some times as l watched John
and Nellie walk away how that it
would be a pity to spoil. that match,
for John was Just good enough for
Nellie. and Nellie-well, she was en-
tirely too good for anybody except
John. All these reflections, and many
more, passed through my mind while
Nellie sat in the parlor and talked to
her miserly old lover, and Aunt Mar
garet sat in her low rocking-chair,
with her knitting lying idle on her lap,
while uncle continued to read the
news.
BY and by another loud knock re-
sounded through the house, and pres
emily Andrew announced visitor to
see Mr.. Brandon Immediately. Hooked
at Aunt Margaret she had clasped her
hands nervously together. When uncle
left the room she asked, almost be-
seechingly of me.
81 wonder who it can be, Margie,
can you thinkp"
knew her nervous state of ANXIETY,
and determined at once to find out
about the visitor, and, if possible, re-
licve her fears. | crept softly into the
back parlor and up to the folding
doors, which, owingto an arrangement
of heavy curtains, was often LETT aiar,
through which hoped to get sight
of the visitor. had no sooner stolen
up TO the door than / heard footsteps
in the hall. and uncle ushered his Wis
itor into the room. 1t was too late to
retreat; what could l do? To pass
through into the front would be to in
trude upon Nellie and her company;
| to come out from behind the curtain
would be to appear like spy; so
there stood stone still and waited.
| The first few minutes l was too much
surprised and uneasy about my own
situation to be aware of what was 90
| ing on in the room, when at last /
caught the sound of the strangers
vo &C; he was saying something like
this:
ut Is very unfortunate piece of
work, sir. l beg leave to sympathize
with you and your family; but business
| is business you know. l was sent here
to settle this matter IN respectable
manner, if possible, and ] must pro-
| coed to do it at once. Your son, am
sorry to tell you, ST., but perhaps you
| know he has lived little fast of late
rather too fond of wine and evil COM
| pany-"
"Ycs, yes" uncle said, as if impatient
to get at the worst.
Il am sorry to tell YOU ST." the
stranger continued, ''but think it hap
pened while he was under the influence
of liquor, and likely surrounded b. his
evil companions. To be brief, this is
the whole story: Your son has broken
into the money-safe and robbed his en-
ployer of $1,000"
"Robbcd o God, my boy a rob-
Der -
shall never forget the groans with
VIII CHI he sank back upon the chair,
from which he had risen at this start
ling news.
IL own it looks bad, sr, but have
come to see if we can { arrange it some
how. His employer. you know, is your
friend. He bid me say that he is not
only willing but anxious to shield your
family name from disgrace and your
boy from the Pcnitentary, if it can
possibly be done. But the money
must be refundcd-there is no other
course"
Five thousand dollars impos-
s,ble" uncle exclaimed. 1T would be
to take everything-to ruin my
family"
II suppose nothing can be done,
them" the stranger SAID, deliberately,
and arose as if to depart.
''But wait moment; let me think"
uncle said. leaning his head forward on
the table by which he sat. BY and by,
getting up, he said: al will see what
can be DONE" and left the room.
was trying in vain to think what he
could be about. when suddenly he re-
entered the room, accompanied by Mr..
Wells. Alas, thought of that miserly
old man as our only means of help.
Then, they all three talked together in
a low tone of voice. / could only I'M
derstand word now and then of
uncle's trcmulous voice. Putting it all
together, l know he meant this: Joe
must not be sent to the Penitentary;
that would kill Aunt Margaret. The
farm-the old homestead know was
so dear to him must go before that
should be done. Would Mr. Wells adj
vance the money! Taking unclc's arm,
he drew him aside, so near by the cur
tain beneath which stood concealed
thought they could almost hear my
breathing; his voice was low, subdued
to whisper, but caught the name of
Nellie; something should be done if
Nell o would consent Great Heavens!
/ thought and shuddered can it be pos
sible he will ask for Nellie hand in re-
turn for thatp Will uncle sell one child
to buy another!
II can not tell it shall not be unless
she is willing" Uncle sad, and left the
room. 1t seemed like an age TO me
that stood there trembling with indig-
nation and horror. Ii she is willingp
Will they let her be the sacrifice to save
themselves, and then say that she is
willing; but then l thought of poor
Aunt Margaret, with bowed head and
brnto., hno q. oD,,,afk - ,,,nat a., lo,.o