The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1885-03-05

Though my lips be siIent-though
Underneath the cruel snow;
Though in vain you call to me
Where yonr straying feet may be-
Yet your Father watches still
At His window, on His hill;
Warmth within from cold outside
N. ?. Observer.
AUNT NORA'S
A Story Taken From the journal
of Miss Hazel Dudley.
+ JANUARY Is, WEDNESDAY. - This is
Aunt Morals birthday. Aunt Nora isn't
my aunt except as she is everybody's-
especially if they happen to be cousins by
marriage three removed, which is, l be-
lieve, my exact relationship.
Aunt Nora and her brother (who was no
uncle, but only Mr.. Fairfield to me) were
left alone in the world when she was a
school girl, and he was quite old should
think, from l have heard nearly thirty.
He was of a metaphysical turn, but papa
says that his wealth led him to make only
a pastime of study. So he lived at the
homestead, and played at farming and
writing. What he did in earnest was to
bring up his unhappy little sister. He had
theories to which she was adapted. He
held views as to the action of the female
mind that she was expected to illustrate.
But she illustrated instead the action of
the female heart, for she fell in love with a
stray science lecturer whom Mr.. Fairfield
had for the momen taken up. This fas-
cinator had, mamma says, a tremendous
forehead n long hair, and used long
words and wore green spectacles, but
Moral may call her.that when she was
younger han I am now-Nora had been
trained to adore mind, and she thought all
that Uranium meant very much mind in
deed. just as Mr.. Fairfield discovered thai
Herr Professor was a humbug, he also dis
covered that Nora had run away and mar
ried him.
Mamma says that his wrath was terrible.
He had lost not only his sister, but his sub
ject. He seemed to turn to stone, and he
made a will, giving everything except a
few thousands this father had left the es-
tate to his SOM to a cousin, Mr.. Alfred
Fairfield. He is Charles father. Charles
used to claim cousinship with me-about
the sixteenth, l should say it was. l ased
to like Charlie, but 1 will never, never like
the son of such a father, and when he up
holds him in it, too!
pigglety. This that 1 lave written about
all happened ages ago, when Aunt Nora
was young, and to-day she is sixty.
She was married just a year when the
Professor blew himself up with his chemic-
ais, and she came pack to the homestead a
poor little disenchanted widow of eighteen.
Her brother kind of forgave her, and took
her in; but it was years, mamma saws, be-
fore he would quite trust her. At last he
did-no piece of petrifaction could forever
resist Aunt Nora's sweetness. There they
lived together ever since till last year,
whenh he died.
People thought hat of course he had
changed his will, but it seems that he
didn't, so Mr.. Alfred Fairfield is to nave all
Aunt Nora's property. l don't so much
the Observation-Disclosures never was and never
will be another such delightful old place,
such a rambling, gabled house, such lawns
and groves and barns and orchards. o, it
is cruel, wicked, preposterous! To think of
her being evicted by that Washington
absentee, just as though he were an unpaid
landlord. People here respected him
rather stood in awe of him as a superior
being-but1 always thought it very I'M
natural for him to leave Charlie here to go
just as though he belonged to no one. Still,
people say they are very o of each
other. OF course he ought to give the
whole thing up, but the. year for settling
the estate is over, and he evidently means
to keep it. %, 1 should think Charlie would
die of shame-he would if he were the
splendid fellow l used to think him.
Mr.. Fairfield made a great show of
searching for a later will, but people say
now it was only to ease off the first in
rich n poor dote on Aunt Nora. She
bears it like a saint-her. brothers. word
was always law and gospel to her. What
a strange, beautiful life they lived together
he half buried in his books, she divided
between him and the little world she drew
around har MnDnn, cox-c shn hos haI
dozens of beaux, but she had had enough
of marriage, and atoned for deceiving her
brother once by her life's devotion. And
this is his return for it. 1t is so like her
dear, unselfish self to nave her young folks
birthday party tonight, when her mourn
She says it mustn't be a sad gathering,
only one more added to the pleasant men,
ories of the old place. There won't be
dancing and the usual frolic-only music
N talk and games. The Flower Game is
to be the event of the evening. Mr.. and
Miss Howe and Charlie lave the charge of
that. / begged Aunt Nora not even to in
vite Charlie, but she is so forgiving, and
she is SO fond of Charlie. How can She be
When Aunt Nora moves into the little
cottage from which she can see the old
trees Il dare say Mr.. Fairfield will cut
them DOWN 1 should like to go and live
with her, if it were not for dear papa and
m She says l am her dearest niece
and she is my dearest aunt To be sure ]
have no real aunt, but it would be the sam
If l had forty.
1 was so impatient to get off, that ]
dressed early. l have on my crimson me.
rino, mamma said it was nicer than my
blue silk for going sleigh-riding into the
country, and there l am to spend the night
Just to pass the time l came to my journa
to write about Aunt Nora. 1t will be 6
"story without an end," l guess, for aftel
this party there will be nothing more pleas
ant to tell.
Hark! there are the sleigh bells, and
mother is calling me.
AT THE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Nora told me to go to bed and to sleep, but
/ can't. My head is too full of the evening
and l feel haunted by ghosts of Aunt Nora's
past, but still more of her future. When
got here this afternoon / had a chat with
Aunt Nora, and told her how l was fret
ting, and she said with a sad, sweet smile
The future isn't such a bugbear at sixty
as it is at nineteen, my DEAR" But goof
gracious, she may live to be ninety-hel
grandfather did. Think of thirty or ever
twenty years. exile from the only home sht
ever knew, with the exception of tina
dreadful year with the sham Professor.
feel ik a Gagged thing17beating agains
the bars of wrong that l can't right, bur
only hurt my wings. l tcW think o
other things, and may be I'll get sleepy.
All, this dear west room--it is called
"HaZeis room" because L am so fond OF l
and to think that l shall never go to i
after those usuTpers take possession.
I'd like to photograph 1.-THE high four
posted bedstead, its curtains gay with i'm
possible birds and flowers and beasts of tn,
dragon family. The window and dressing
table have the same hangings. One ha
to look into the mirror through a hole o
drapery-it is like spying ones self in
deep pool surrounded with shrubbery
For my part I'd like more looking-glas
and less upholstery, especially after wha
Charlie Fairfield said about my color thi
evening. Well l might have color, feelin;
20 mad-to say nothing Of my s~leigh-ride