The Wilmingtonian., 1885-10-17

ming my pale face. L grew more helple' sly
confused, my tongue refused to utter a
word.
tTell the shopman how much you want,
and your name, my good girl," he said in
kind and plying tone"
Then, for the first time, raised my eyes
to his face, feeling that had found friend.
Mercifu Heaven! was dreaming, Or had
my late troubles driven reason from my
brain, and filled it with delusive faucies.
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. l could only
| point helplessly to the portrait; the shop
with its occupants and its contents swan
around me, and with a cry for help, sank
iainting to the ground.
When next awoke to consciousness, l
was lying on an improvised bed on an old
couch in our sitting-room at home.
moved my head, it felt week and sore.
Then tried to lift my hands, but to my
surprise was powerless to do So wo-
man, plainly dressed, with kind, motherly
face, was sitting near me, and rose as l
moved.
looked around bewildered.
''Mammar' called feebly.
"Hush, hush, my dear miss, said the
kind-looking woman, soothingy. ''You
must not speak; your mamma is asleep and
you might wake heI."
So lay still, wandering weakly who she
was and who had sent her there; but pres
entity, seeing her stir the fire into blaze, |
forgot her caution, as all my old anxieties
came back, and | said pleadingly:
"Don't poke the fire, please. 1t will burn
out to quickly and we have no more GOALS. T"
ooh, ro ", miss, you have been dreaming.
The cellar is nearly full, the GOALS only came
in last week"
Again essayed to answer, but was so
gently, yet with such authority ordered to
be quiet, that was glad to obey; so 1 lay
still enjoying the sensation of being not able
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 to
talk a little.
Then l heard all about my late adventure.
at was really most wonderful event, my
dear, and reads like chapter out of three
volume novel;" said my mother, who, by
the way, looked quite bright and strong a
| zofx EsMbo,, foil Jnur,, In n fai
let fail the envelope in which you hod car
ried the miniature, and the gentleman who
was in the shop"
81 remember him, mamma" l CRIED ex-
citedly, che was the very image Of the por-
trait. 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 gentleman saw your name
and address, brought you home in a cab,
sent in nurse, and every thing we wanted,
and has been our good angel ever since. He
, is Arthur Rashleigh, the only son of vogl
Aunt Betsy's old lover, who, after mourn.
? ing the supposed faithlessness of his ole
love, married late in life, and has--uot- Lone
been dead, leaving Arthur large fortun
Ne His astonshment at seeing sou with i
l fathers portrait, you may be sure, was We
oi- great. However, it was very lucky thiI
~ for us; after all, Aunt Betsy's present W
| ut a. Rxy
is; MIR. Rashleigh was kind enough to brir
a it back with him"
Cu There was ono thing which did not appe
= to concern my mother in the least, b
made my pale face flame, and that was Il
tn idea eff receiving all these benefits from
nd mere stranger, upon whom we had not Il
slightest claim, unless the fact that his fat
on er, forty years ago, had been my aunt's 10
er, could be considered one.
MT So made up in eloquent speech, in whic
TX l thanked him warmly for his goodness, al
's- del!catey yet firmly conveyed the informs
-. ton, that intended to repay him as soc
d. as coulu BeJ 10 Work again,
ad But carefully as reached it, that eloque
speech was never uttered, nor did wond
NJ at my mothers willingness to receive ben
~ fits from him. He was so lonely, he sal,
m he had not friend or relative in Englan
ou and man servant, whom he had treate
a with kindness and confidence had just ro
bed him of some valuable old family pla
n which his father had thought highly of, an
had carried with him in all his wandering
er For me-may confess it without shan
II, the grateful interest l felt in him SOC
1T grew into love, and, ah, happy as my Ii
:, has been since, can ever forget that hapr
evening, when walking home from the the
Ill tire, whittier he had taken me, he told me th
t's he loved me dearly ann asked me to be h
p; wirep
"But L, I'm poor, am not pretty, an
no am so old" pleaded, fearing to accel
Ill this sweet, new happiness, and mindful
ed Lena's depreciation of my personal appca
'e- auce, age, etc,
Arthur laughed and drew my aim close
~, in his.
nd "If you are too old for marriage at twe
ny ty-two, how may hope with six more yea
added on ever to enter that blissfn1 state