The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-09-17

''There!-there, sir,is the door! Go!
and never let me look upon your
face again. Not a word. Ihave heard
enough. COP
He gazed upon her for a briefspace-
q few secOnds-and then with some
thing very much like a smile upon his
frank and honest face, he turned and
left the rOom-and left the house, saw
ing to himself as he went:
"PoOr child! l will not blame her.
II she did not love me truly and well,
she would not feel so deeply"
He knew very we'll who had made the
mischief. A certain maiden, who had
sought in vain to win his smiles-who
had thrown herself almost into his
arms repeteadly land whom he had been
forced to repulse-had seen his fair
client alight at the door of his office,
and had very likely, seen him kiss her:
for he had done that thing; and had
done it most lovingly.
Meanwhile an unhappy maiden sat
all alone in the great drawing-room of
Judge Archer's he had been Judge of
probate) imposing residence. She had
never in all her life been so unhapnv
before.
As she called back the face of her
lover, and again, in fancy, heard the
rich music of his voice, she could not
believe that he was traitor.
Could he be false to her? Oh, she
would not believe it!
"And yet-yet-that kiss-Kate and
Belle both saw it; or Kate did, at any
rate. And he acknowledged it, too!
Oh, that is too much. Ii he had {, Sis
ter, orcousin, or anythingo OF that kind
but he has not-he has told me so
himself"
Thus sat the maiden OF the crushed
and bleeding heart, buried beneath an
avalanche of horror and despair; hor-
ror-stricken at the pertidy other lover,
and in despair because he would
never come back to her-never anv
more-thus pale and shivering-when
her father and mother entered the
room.
They looked at her in wonder and
alarm.
"Josephine!-my dear child! what in
the world is the meaning Of this? What
has happened"
So spake the Judge, with hand laid
tenderly upon his daughter head and
his voice betraying an emotion deep
and fervent.
She did not answer him. She only
bent her head lower, and sobbed more
violently. Then her mother spoke,
but without the depth of emotion
that had characterized the speech of
her father:
"Josephine, this is nothing but a low
er's quarrel; and all on your part, I'll
be bound. You've been doing some
thing foolish"
The girl was upon her feet upon the
instant, her hands clenched, her teeth
set, and her eyes flashing.
"a lovers quarrel, "she gasped. "On
my part. Oh, you don't know-you
don't know what the-the-wretchh has
been doing. Heis false! false! false!"
but, my dear child, what has he
"He's done enough. l am not his
first love-not his truel love. She-she
has followed him here-his sweet Kitty
Coryden, and he Rugged her-and-and
kissed heron the very sidewalk"
ellis what?-his who?" asked the
Judge, choking and gasping as he spoke.
ellis Kitty Coryden!' snapped the
maiden with terrible vindictiveness.
The effect upon her father was mar
velous. He sank down into a chair,
his face pulled and purple, and when
he could catch his breath he burst in
to an uprOarious fit of laughter; and
he was laughing with the tears stream
ing down his cheeks, when the door
communicating with the front hall
was unceremoniously opened, and
Enter-Henry Gilman, Esq. leading
be the hand alady-for q lady she GER
tainly was-a mild-eyed, sweet-faced
woman, petite and plump, a wealth of
golden brown tresses escaping from be-
meath a jaunty little hat of lace and
ostrich feathers-in short, woman
whom anybody might have loved at
sight, for she was not only very BEAU
tiful, but she looked good, and true,
and brave.
She was certainly older than was
Harry Gilman; but, then, many a
match had been made between parties
more wildly separated by age than were
those two.
However, Henry led the lady for
host and hostess.
"Judge Archer and Mrs. Archer, I
have the pleasure of introducing to
you my mother! And a mother good
and true she has been to me-"
The judge had recovered himself i'm
mediately upon the entrance of the
new corners, and he was not at all sur
prised by the introduction.
Henry had spoken with him on the
subject of finding a house such as his
mother would like to live in, for he
had persuaded her to come and make
her home near him, if not with him.
Mrs. Archer was surprised, for she
had not heard that Henry was expect
ing his mothers arrival, and she was
furthermore surprised upon beholding
| i'll that mother q woman so young and
| so beautiful; but she manifested none
Of surprise in her greeting, which was
warm and ardent.
1t remained for poor Josephine to be
dumbfounded. Henry had often spo-
ken of his mother; had told how good
she had always been to him; how she
had paid out of her own store, for his
comfort and convenience while in col
ACSC, AbA u1OAC VAAttll SuO WdS lcSSttlly
| bound to do.
She had, in fact, anticipated his
wants and supplied them cheerfully,
and even joyously.
| Josephine, he said, as he turned
to where she stood, struggling with all
her might to recover her scattered SEN
SEES, "this is my own dear mother; and
this, mamma, is my own dear Jose
phine; and l hope you will love her for
my sake as well as your own."
While Josephine, with thoughts Of
her lovers perfidy driven from her
mind, held the mild-eyed woman by
the hand, thinking how easy it would
be to love her, Henry proceeded, speak
ing to the family:
II think l have never told you my
mothers name. You will pardon me,
| mamma. My father died, as you
know, when l was Is years of age.
Three years later my mother married
again-married with Judge Coryden
| Of SW0nnOrt "