The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1885-04-01
BACK FROM THE MINES


corner Of Blessing street and Broadway /:
and people who had generally dealt at far
more pretentious places were often induced
to enter there, by the bright show of
flowers and ribbons in the bow-window, and
by the equally bright face of the milliner
behind the counter.
But, on the rainy autumn morning when
my story opens, Miss Martha Morrisons
face was somewhat overcast. She had
been looking over the accounts of the year.
only TO find loss instead Of profit, SO far as
the shop was concerned. And as to her
own personal expenditures, the sum of one
dollar remained in her purse. One dollar
to furnish food for the Saturday and Sun
day, for the ensuing Monday, also, unless
some customer should be seized with
sudden desire fora fall bonnet or ribbon
when Monday morning came.
Sunday was Miss Morrison's twenty-fifth
birthday, although one could scarcely be-
heye II, to look OF her bright blue eyes, her
waving chestnut-colored hair, and her un-
furrowed face, with its sunny, artless smile.
Her twenty-ffth birthday, and she had
planned to keep it with little feast, which
must not be given up.
As she stood there behind the counter.
looking down upon the silver dollar in her
hand, memory waved her magic wand, and
forthwith arose before her vision of one
birthday after another kept in her honor by
dear ones now "gone BEFORE" in the
beloved home of her childhood, which she
never again expected to see. The three
tall, handsome brothers, home from college,
and 30 fond and proud of their one sister,
albeit, they teazed her little about some
body else who was not q brother, but who
was sure to come to the birthday feast with
a pretty gift-ah, how many of Charley
Creighton's birthday presents had she now !?
just five, shrined safely in her upper locked
drawer-fvs tokens that represented tho
Eve happiest years of her life
Now they were all gone The three
brothers, in the pride of their youth and
strength, were lost at sen, one stormy
night. The gentle, sweet-faced mother,
broken-hearted, soon followed them. The
old house passed into the hands of strangers,
and Miss Morrison was forced to earn her
bread by the taste and skill that had once
been the Amusement of her leisure hours.
And Charley? Sometimes in her hours
of sadness, she thought his fate the hardest
of oil for he had loved her dearly, and in
her loneliness he would have made her his
wife if he could have gained his mothers
consent to the marriage. It was scorn-
fully refused, and without it Martha refused
to bear his name. So they parted. The
young man sailed for Australia, looking
forward confidently to the day when he
should return with q fortune to claim his
bride. For year his letters came to glad
den the girl but when she left her country
home for the city they ceased to follow her.
For four long years not one word from
Charles Creighton had reached her, and
she believed him to be dead.
Tears rose in the soft blue eyes as she
recalled those pleasant evenings in the old
home parlor. But she wiped them away
hastily, hearing knock at the back parloi
door. II was the staid attendant of the
rich invalid widow, Mrs. Grayson, her
right-hand neighbor, with a message from
her mistress.
would Miss Morrison waive ceremony,
and come and dine at two o'clock that
afternoon with lonely old woman ?'
Miss Morrison gladly accepted the invita-
ton, and at two P. M. she was seated at
the beautifully laden table of Mrs. Gray
son, in room fitted with expensive furni-
ture, and replete with comforts of every
kind.
A tempting little dinner was placed
before the widow, but, although she urged
her guest to try one delioaoy after another,
Miss Morrison observed that she scarcely
tasted them herself. Heavy signs rose now
and then from her breast, as if her heart
was overcharged with grief, and at times
she would pause in the midst of a sentence,
apparently forgetful Of what she was saying,
while her eyes dwelt sadly on q picture
which hung over the mantel-piece.
Miss Morrison had never been in this
room before, and the picture was strange
to her. But, after dinner, when they drew
their easy-chairs before the fire, while the
staid servant brought them coffee in costly
china cups, the bright blaze, Pickering
upward, threw light upon the painting
that made Miss Morrison feel like one in
dream.
You are looking at my sons portrait"
said Mrs. Grayson, when the servant had
left the room. This is the anniversary of
his death, and was too miserable to spend
1t by myself. He was my only child, Miss
Morrison, and till he was twenty-one he
never gave me q moments trouble. Then
he asked my consent to his marriage with
some low country girl, the daughter of a
farmer or q mechanic. He had known and
loved her, he said, for Ave years. I was
angry because he had kept such q secret
from me, and angry at lis request. I
meant him to marry his cousin Adela, who
was great heiress. He refused. So we
parted. The next day letter came to say
he was sailing for Australia, where he
hoped to find fortune that would allow
him to marry the girl Of his heart.
hardened my heart then, and / did not
answer the letter. 1t was the last ever
had. The next news that came was of his
death. The hard work and hard fare Of
the mines had been too much for him.
And drove him to his death Ny dear
first husbands son, my only child, my
handsome, iighthearted Charley! just
four years ago he died ~
Still like one in dream, Miss Morrison
listened. She rose and looked at the por.
trait. Her lovers bright, radiant smile
beamed down upon her as II there were no
such things on earth as parting, and re-
morse, and death.
"Y You would let him marry the girl now
II he could come back to you ?" she asked,
scarcely knowing what she said.
He might marry beggar in the streets
If he wished, sobbed the unhappy mother
:" I'm rich woman, my dear, but would
give half nay, all my fortune, if Charley
could be here again, even with wife like
that uneducated country girl"
II. l.. Al.