Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1885-02-27

love letter and tho letters he wrote
wien ne ,quarreled with his ION 10,
VINO mad the honor of being nv great-
great-ggrandfather, Q know.H said
! head. soAo'io"n
Meanwhile they were running up the
attic stairs and through the center of
the attic, skirting the massive Chin
neys, each one of which could almost
have held in its interior q seaside cot
tage.
The attics were large and high, as
the attics of such a house should be.
u although tolerably well lighted,
were rich in those deep, dark. shadow
corners and recesses. whose phostlv
suggestions make ones flesh creep.
There was n particularly dark re-
cess where the low attic of the west
wing debouched into the main attic,
INTO which Marjory suddenly disap-
peared and shortly emerged, her hair
1estooned with dusty cobwebs. and her
eyes blinking as those of an owl sud-
denly launched into the sunlight might
90. She was dragging a small black
trunk by its brass handle, said trunk
beng as cobwebby as her head, and
mouldy with the mould of ages appar-
emily;
"Ihat is what I call second-sight,"
she said, swinging it around with the
cxpertness of a genuine baggage
smasher. II did not know this thing
was there-never hear of it before, and
should have said l had explored every
inch of this enchanted land"
The girls looked at it. 1t was brass
bound and fastened by a solid hook
of brass. She touched the hook and
the cover flew up, disclosing a
mass of papers. The three sighed sim
ultaneously. They had hoped for
something more precious, more start
hng;-a brides trousseau, perhaps,
fragrant with age and altar of rosc-.a
service of unique silver or even a
casket Of pearls would not have sur
prlsed, but merely satisfied them.
"Ah, it it had only been a skeleton!"
sighed Mariory. tsIt's big enough for
a small Ginevra;'' and she took up a
thin fiat book which lay on the top and
opened it. On the blank page was
written 'tMolly st. Leger. Her album"
A yellow paper fastened with a faded
blue ribbon dropped from between the
leaves of the album. Marjory loosed
the ribbon and disclosed a folded sheet.
"And who'is this Molly St. Leger who
had an album in 1865, and who re-
ceived valentines in 1868? For as true
as you live, girls. this is a genuine val
%entine, one hundred and ten years old
if it is a day, with cupids and hearts
and two doves a-cooing. Oh, what a
jolly find for a rainy day! It's like
reading a page of Walter Scott" said
Marjory, who by this time you know as
a dear lover of romance.
"Girls! girls! and SO you've found it
at last" cried out a CHEEKY voice at
their elbows. '.Every descendant of
Molly st. Leger's has to find that trunk
sometime and hear her story. But no.
body ever finds it till the right time
comes, though it may be under their
very noses"
"Her story! and who's to tell us, ]
should like to know?" queried Trix.
Il am," promptly replied aunt Pene-
lope, land right here. Time and place
couldn't be better"
Wouldn't it be more comfortable by
the hall fire?" timidly suggested Sue,
who is kittenish in her tastes, and likes
to curl up and purr in "a cosey corner
But the Others, aunt Pen included,
secuted the prosaic suggestion.
ooh, no; right here, with the beating
rain just above our heads. It's delici-
ous!p murmured Trix, stretching her
self on a discarded rug, with her head
on Ajax's shaggy sides. Marjory hav-
spidery legs which instantly collapsed,
! low hanl- orofc,.to \, %la az
while aunt Pen began:
Qtmay as well be explained here that
Fairview is richer in that species OF
wealth which pertains to attics, than
most of ever very old family mansions.
For after the Boston Fire of 1871 many
ancient relics were transported thither
for safety, not only those belonging to
Molly st. Leger's direct descendants,
but also heirlooms of families into
which those descendants had married. }
"Molly St. Leger was not a native
born American citizen. She was born
and lived in a delightful old castle in
England castle that would do your
heart good just 10 see, Marjory, with
real battlements and a turret chamber
-Molly's own-the very one from
which she fled, not with, but to our an
cestor, Abram Hunt. [ saw it all last
year when l was in England-the old
garden with its box two hundred years
old, cut into all sorts of queer shapes,
peacocks, Greek vases, and maids-of-
honor, and it's fish-pond with moldy-
backed carp az old as the time OF
William the Conqueror, for aught !
knew. The St. Legers came yer with
William, and are to this day as dis
tinctively French in feature as in name.
Molly's portrait shows her to have
been a brunette, with black eyes. She
was small and slight, with rosy cheeks.
and you look like her, Trix.
.Molly's mother died when she was
a baby. and she was brought up under
the supervision of her fathers sister,
dowagcr Lady Dunbarton, as uncom-
promising a Tory as her father, and
unbending in her views on all social
matters. Molly's earliest playmate
was Abram Hunt, the fifth son of John
Hunt, who held the nearest living and
who, almost as poor as Anthony Troll
lope's MI. Crawley, found great diff
-,l;op Gov. co r,orv c>o