The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1885-12-19

somewhat eagerly, evidently glad OF
an excuse to evade his unpleasant Wis
itor's conversation.
Unable to speak, drew drew forth
my treasure. The shopkeeper looked
suspiciously at me as he took it up
and tested it.
'Your name and address, please"
he said sharply. "And how much do
you want ?"
II want "a little money, if you
please, | faltered.
As | spoke the gentleman turned and
/ could feel pair OF bright, keen eyes
scanning my pale face. | grew more
helplessly confused; my tongue refused
to utter word.
"Tell the shopman how much you
want and your name, my good girl, "
he said, in a kind and pitying tone.
Then, for the first time, l raised my
eyes to his face, feeling that | had
found a friend. Merciful heaven was
| dreaming, or had my late troubles
driven reason from my brain and filled
it with wild, delusive fancies?
Surely there stood the original OF
Aunt Betsy's portrait; but young and
stalwart as he had been forty years
ago, when it was taken.
In vain | tried to speak. | could
only point helplessly to the portrait;
the shop with its occupants and its
contents swan around me, and with a
cry for help l sank fainting to the
ground.
When | next awoke to consciousness
| was lying on an imprOvised bed on
the old couch in our sitting room at
home. moved my head; it felt weak
and sore. Then | tried to lift my
hansd, but to my surprise was power
less to do so. A woman, plainly
dressed, with a kind, motherly face,
was sitting near me, and rose as |
moved.
Hooked around bewildered-
Mamma " called, feebly.
'Iiush, hush, my dear miss, said
the kind-lOOking woman, soothingly.
you must not speak; your mamma
Is asleep and you might wake her"
So lay still, wondering weakly who
she was, and who had sent her there;
but presently, seeing her stir the fire
into a blaze, | forgot her caution, as
all my old anxieties came back, and |
said, peadingly:
Don't poke the fire, please. 1t will
burn out too quickly, and we have no
more Goals"
con, how, miss, you have been
dreaming. The cellar is nearly full;
the Goals only came last week
Again essayed to answer, but was
so gem ly, yet with such authority, or
dored to be quiet that | was glad to
obey, so lay still, enjoying the sensa-
ton OF being able not even to think
In a day or two grew stronger, and
one morning, to my delight, my moth
er came in, and [ had leave given me
70 talk II little.
Then | heard all about my late ad-
ventures.
1T is really a most wonderful event,
my dear. and reads like d chapter out
of three volume novel" said my
mother, who, by the way, looked quite
bright and strong again. "When you
fell down in a faint you let fall the en-
veope in which you had carried the
miniature, and the gentleman who was
IN the shop"
Il remember MIN, mamma" | cried.
exCitedly, ''he was the very image OF
the portrait. | fancied | must be
dreaming"
THAT Is the strangest part OF the
story. but you won't let me tell it to
you properly, my dear That gentle
man saw your name, and address,
brought you home in a cab, sent a
nurse in and everything we wanted,
and has been our good angel ever
since. He is Arthur Rashleigh, the
only son OF your Aunt Betsy's old
lover, who, after mourning the sus-
posed falthlessnesS OF his old love,
married late In life, and has not long
been dead, leaving Arthur a large for
tune. His establishment at seeing you
with his fathers portrait, you may be
sure, was very great. However, 1t was
a lucky thing fo@ us; after all, Aunt
Betsy present was not such a poor
one. By the way, here it is; Mr. Rash
leigh was kind enough to bring it back
with him."
There was one thing which did not
appear to concern my mother in the
least, but made my pale face flame
and that was the idea OF receiving all
/ these benefits from a stranger, upon
whom We had not the slightest claim,
unless the TACT that his father, forty
/ years ago had been my aunt's lover
could be considered one.
So | made up an eloquent speech,
IN which | thanked MIN warmly for
all his goodness, and delicately yet
/ firmly conveyed the information that
/ | intended to repay him as soon as
/ could get work again.
But, carefully as | rehearsed it, that
1 eloquent speech was never uttered
nor did | wonder at my mothers
/ willingness to receive benefits from
/ him when once had seen and talked
! with him. He vas so lonely, he said
he had not a friend or relative in En-
! gland, and a man servant whom he
had treated with kindness and conf
| dence had Just robbed him OF some
/ valuable old family plate, which his
father had thought highly of and had
carried with him in all his wanderings
/ For me-may | confess it without
shame? the gratefulinterest that felt
IN him soon grew into love. and ah !,
4 happy as my life has been since, can |
ever forget that happy evening when,
walking home from the theater. with
er he had taken me, he told me that
ne lo"ed me dearly and asked me to
be his wife?
But Il am poor, | am not pretty,
and I'm so old - pleaded. fearing to
accept this sweet new happiness, and
mindful! OF L-ma's depreciation OF my
/ personal appearance, age, etc.
Arthur laughed and drew my arm
! closer in his
ii You are too old for marriage Al
twenty-five how may hope with SIX
more years added on ever to enter
that hIls>tul Stare2' he asked
80 said Yes and soon aft We all
went down 10 Aunt Bet>ey ,a,.u there
was married at the little village
church to the son of her old lover. VIII ,
loved and reve~encedr he queer. touchy
old maid not little for her loyal de
votlOn to his father.
SO Aunt Betsy's present saved my