The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1885-05-21

ing IN the Bu&UOWCs anu the IutUro ~
very dark. really do not SEQ where
1 Am to CO."
@Let me think, /" said her uncle, WHIP
ing the suspicious moisture from his
eyes with his handkerchief.
Margaret guessed ut her uncle's tears,
although the deepening twilight OBJ
scured his countenance.
@Let me see" he continued, ~there's
your Aunt Lucinda's step-brother, Cyril
Belknap. You remember him, Maggie
Well, he is as different as can be from
your aunt. Now it strikes me that he
would like to have you make your
home in his great big house. He is q
bachelor, and no one lives with him ex-
cepting his cousin, the housekeeper,
and servant or so. Besides, he said
when your mother died that If you had
been little older Lucinda wouldn't
have got you You see he's great big
heart, Cyril has, and he is generous to
fault. Yes, Maggie, it strikes me that
that is the incest home in the world for
you-seeing you have to leave me,
though God knows there's an abund-
ance here. But suppose your aunt
would object to your going there; she
would not be anxious for you to find ia
vor with Uncle Cyril"
"Why, Uncle Joe?"
"Oh, reason enough. She sort of
bankers after his elegant property, and
thinks maybe he might remember the
girls, which thing may: not be If you
find q warm spot in his heart. OF
course he's no more relation to them
than to you-no relative of any of you,
really-but she has her anticipations.
But Aunt Lucinda did not object
Her mind was too full of the present for
thought of the future.
Although several weeks elapsed after
this conversation and declaration of
Lucinda Maynard's, still Margaret had
not gone. There were the holidays,
and the work, and company, conse-
quently Mag could not be spared I'M
til after Christmas week. any way; "but
one cold bright morning in January
Uncle Joe drove Margaret to the sta
ton in his sleigh, and, putting a purse
of money into her trembling hand,
babe her good-by, and saw her off with
genuine tears.
Down over the hill swept little angry
gusts, whirling the snow in little spiral
clouds hither and thither, while the
faring sunset betokened cold, windy
night. The dry leaves rustled and
whirled off by twos and threes from
the scrub oaks struggling along the
solitary road from the lonely little sta
ton at the crossing to the interior.
Down over the hill, also, but not in
o,,ob n a,,,.rxv oovoa Norrarat ~
heavy basket, and looking anxiously
ahead of her down into the valley, ex-
pecting to see her destination ere long
Yes, there it was; away in the dis
lance, with the sunset cleaning on its
panes and fretted caves, stood Cyril
Belknap's home, half hidden by dozen
or more great pear trees, whose naked
branches caught the rising wind and
dashed each other savagely.
"Sure enough, there was Uncle Cy-
ril's home," and Margaret took better
hold of the big basket and descended
into the winding valley road.
On and on she pressed, with be-
numbed and aching feet, guessing it
was mile to Uncle Cyrils, when in re-
atty it was nearly two. But how
should she know, having never been
over the road before? Uncle would
have met her at the train, of course,
but she was coming unannounced; she
preferred to do; somehow she had not
the courage to let him know she was
coming in the way she was-homeless.
The man at the station told her it was
"a couple of miles, perhaps, to the
Belknap place." and she thought she
might walk that far and carry her lug
gage. When the gray-haired conductor
helped her down with the tremendous
basket. at the desolate little station of
Doster, he noticed her pale, thin face,
and wondered what a starved-looking
youngling could want to be set down in
such place in midwinter for; and
when she started off with her unwieldly
burden, he shut the carriage door with
bang, saying, "Good Lord, and no
one to meet her even"
Poor Margaret. Life's clouds had
never exhibited to her eager vision
much of their silver lining. Orphaned
in her babyhood, she had chung to
Aunt Lucinda; now she had cast her
off ito find situation" she said. Big
enough to do for herself" well, maybe
she was. Now what would Uncle
Cyril think? Perhaps he would think
as Aunt Lucinda, and send her adrift
also. She remembered him as a tall,
handsome man, with pleasant laugh
and musical voice, when she saw him
last.
All day long the thunder of the train
had made her nervous, and to get out
into the crisp air once more seemed like
getting a new lease of liberty. She was
not used to the close, heated air of the
coaches, but she was used to walking
in the cold, else this adventure of COM
ing unannounced would have been sim
ply insurmountable.
want to ride ways?" sahg ont a
pleasant voice, and Margaret paused in
her weary trudge, trudge to look up.
A little old man had reined in superb
span of black horses, harnessed to a
sleigh. with an abundant provision of
warm robes, which looked very COM
Portable and inviting.
II do not mipd, sir, as / am very
tired, answered Margaret; "and if you
are going past Cyril Belknap's home 1
will be very glad to ride that far"
II am going right by there, miss; so
hustle in here; the sun is abont down,