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

1t has done her world of good-your
coming, MISS" said Maria, as she escorted
Miss Morrison back through the garden to
her own kitchen door. 81 do hope, for
her sake, miss, that you'll drop in of IN
evening and cheer her up"
Miss Morrison promised, quite fattered
by Maria's remark. And then she went into
her little four-roomed house Counting the
shop as one room) and looked round with
sigh as she took off her bonnet and shawl.
To think of her being Charley mother!
| A nd that she should tell me my own story
SO. And poor Charles life thrown away
out there, when, If he were here to-day she
would consent to his marrying-even me
And the dear, bright face looking down at
me with that same smile, when he has been
dust and ashes this Obi what is that ?"
Miss Morrison might we'll start out of her
reverie and ask herself that question, for
loud knocking came at the shop door just
then, and an impatient hand pulled the bell
until the wire broke.
"Dear mel who can it be, at this late
hour ?" she thought lighting a lamp and
hurrying to the door.
tall man entered, somewhat hastily, as
she opened it. Tall, dark, and heavily
bearded, with his figure half hidden by a
cloak worn in the Spanish way, and his face
entirely Swallowed by broad-brimmed felt
hat that was drawn down over his eyes.
From under that broad brim pair Of
bright dark eyes watched the little milliner
as she glided behind the counter and asked
what she could have the pleasure of show
ing " to her strange customer. Miss Morri-
sons cheeks had lost the roses just then.
Her voice trembled; her small white
hands trembled too. She forgot to light the
gas, and her lamp left the tall figure half in
shadow on the outside of the counter. In
one word, she was nervously afraid of the
stranger. He was so tall, so silent, so odd
in his manner.
Miss Morrison felt that she must run out
by the garden gate to Mrs. Grayson's house,
and leave the shop at his mercy, II that
strange silence continued long.
If you could tell me what you would
like-ribbons, laces, or perhaps bonnet,
SIR" she faltered at last, drawing the light
nearer to two autumn hats, freshly trimmed,
and displayed upon a stand.
:. Oh, yes 1 beg your pardon. was
looking around, and didn't see just what
want, said the man, in an odd, thick
voice. "a wedding bonnet lit must be
of white silk and lace, and one white rose
just above the forehead. You'll know how
to arrange it, no doubt"
He stopped short in his order. Miss M or.
rison had at last met those dark eyes, with
thor half-sad, half-smiling glance fixed full
upon her pale face.
heard such bonnet described once
by the girl loved, he went on. 81 always
said that my wife should wear one like it
on our wedding-day and I'm to be married
next week, please Heaven, if we both live"
Married /" repeated Miss Morrison.
She turned paler still-not with terror,
now-and leaned against the counter for
support.
The stranger threw aside his hat.
&c Don't you know me, Martha p he
cried.
Charley Charleyn said Miss Morri
son, wildly. But they said you were
dead !"
He sprang over the counter and caught
her in his arms, for she was scarcely able
to stand.
"I did not die at the mines, though /
came very near doing 80, Martha" he ex-
planned When recovered from long
illness, no letters came from you. l wrote
to the postmaster at your village, and he
answered that you had gone away to the
city, and that he had heard that you were
about to be married there. After that /
grew desperate. would not write. l made
myself believe that I hated and despised
you, Martha, and lived only to win gold
that might come back, Independent of my
mother, and then ask her to forgive me for
having quarreled with her for so slight q
thing as you. won the fortune and re-
turned. By chance, on the voyage home,
met person from this city who had known
you ever since You were forced TO earn your
own livelihood, my poor little darling. The
lady had dealt with you as a customer, and
what she told me sent me hurryipg to find
you out. I only landed two hours ago, and,
late as ii was, could not rest till bad
asked you to forgive me, to love me again,
if you can, to be my wife. Will you, love?
And we will seek my motbar together that
is, if you think you can care for me again."
said the stalwart miner, trembling in his
turn at the thought of the misery one word
from this woman's lips might cause him.
"Care for you again ?" said Miss Morri-
son, smiling gloriously on him through her
tears. "Oh, Charley as If I had not
always cared for you. Oh, If you knew how
miserable have been when believed you
to be dead. And your mother, too. Oh,
come with me this moment, Charley. I am
very selfish to keep you hore like this"
She caught up the lamp, and drew her
bewildered lover out through the clean little
kitchen and by the garden way 10 Mrs
Grayson's door, without answering the
many questions he asked.
Mrs. Grayson had not yet retired. The
maid-servant, after one whispered word
from Miss Morrison, and one surprised look
into " the young masters" face, admitted
them. Opening the parlor door softly, they
motioned him toward the respondent figure
brooding over the dying fire. Then they
drew back and closed the door, leaving the
mother and son to meet each other alone.
Joy never kills. Before the cuckoo clock
in the parlor had sung eleven, Martha Nor
rison was back in that luxuriously furnished
parlor, no longer as chance guest, but as
the welcome and honored " daughter of the
house" Seated beside her lover, with her
head upon his shoulder, and holding Mrs.
Grayson's trembling hand, she listened to
the story Of his dangers and escapes in the
land of gold.
And now another milliner occupies the
small shop in Blessing street; prosperous
little woman, who, with her own hands Gas
she will tell YOU made the loveliest bonnet
imaginable, Of white silk, lace, and white
roses, for Mrs. Creighton, the wife Of the