Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1885-02-05

wing utDOucucu lulO TIE Hdlu dttlC,
into which Marjory suddenly disap-
peared and shortly emerged. her hair
testooned with dusty cobwebs. and her
eyes blinking as those of an owl sud-
denly launched into the sunlight might
do. She was dragging a small black
trunk by its brass handle, said trunk be-
ing as cobwebby as her head, and mouldy
with the mould of age apparently.
THAT is what / call second-sight,
she said, swinging it around with the
experiences OF a genuine baggage
smasher. 81 did not know this thing
was there-never hear of it before, and
should have said l had explored every
inch of this enchanted land.
The girls looked at it. 1t was brass
bound and fastened bv solid hook
of brass. She touched the hook and
the cover flew up. disclosing
mass of papers. The three sighed sim
ultaneously. They had hoped for
something more precious, more start
Hng;-a brides trousseau, perhaps,
fragrant with age and altar of rosa
service of unique silver or even
casket of pearls would not have sur
prised, but merely satisfied them.
'.Ah, if it had only been skeleton,"
sighed Mariory. ats big enough for
a small Ginevra;' and she took up a
thin flat book which lay on the top and
opened it. On the blank page was
written molly st. Leger. Her album"
A yellow paper fastened with a faded
blue ribbon dropped from between the
leaves of the album. Mariory loosed
the ribbon and disclosed folded sheet.
'.And who is this Molly st. Leger who
IaI Ill
ceived valentines in 1868? For as true
as you live. girls, this is genuine val
entine, one hundred and ten years old
if it is day, with cupids and hearts
and two doves a-cooing. Oh, what a
jolly find for rainy day! It's like
reading page of Walter Scott said
Marjory, who by this time you know as
a dear lover of romance.
Girls! girls. and so you've found it
at last cried out a. CHEEKY voice at
their elbows. Every descendant of
Molly st. Leger's has to find that trunk
sometime and hear her story. But no.
body ever finds it till the right time
comes. though it may be under their
very noses
Her story! and who's to tell US, /
should like to know?' queried TriX.
all, cuc-
lope, land right here. Time and place
couldn't be BETTER
Wouldn't it be more comfortable by
the hall fire." timidly suggested Sue,
who is kittenish in her tastes, and likes
to curl up and purr in a cosey corner
But the others, aunt Pen included,
secuted the prosaic suggestion.
''Oh, no; right here, with the beating
r-as Ill; a.
ousi' murmured Trix, stretching her
self on discarded rug, with her head
on Ajax's shaggy sides. Marjory hav-
ing sat down in huge chair with
spidery legs which instantly collapsed,
lay back comfortably among the ruins
while aunt Pen began:
Qtmay as well be explained here that
Fairview is richer in that species of
wealth which pertains to attics, than
most of even very old family mansions.
For after the Boston Fire of 1871 many
ancient relics were transported thither
for safety, not only those belonging to
Molly st. Leger's direct descendants,
which those descendants had married
MOLLY St. Leger was not a native
born American citizen. She was born
England-a castle that would do your
heart good just TO see, Marjory, with
real battlements and turret chamber
-Molly's own-the very one from
which she fled, not with, but to our an
cestor, Abram Hunt. l saw it all last
year when 1 was in England-the old
garden with its box two hundred years
old, cut into all sorts of queer shapes,
peacocks, Greek vases, and maids-of-
honor, and its fish-pond with moldy-
backed carp as old as the time of
William the Conqueror, for aught |
knew. The st. Legers came over with
William, and are to this day as dis
tinctively French in feature as in name.
Molly's portrait shows her to have
been a brunette, with black eyes. She
was small and slight, with rosy cheeks.
and you look like her, Trix.
.Molly's mother died when she was
baby, and she was brought up under
the supervision of her fathers sister,
dowager Lady Dunbarton, as uncom-
promising a Tory as her father, and
unbending in her views on all social
matters. Molly's earliest playmate
was Abram Hunt, the fifth son of John
Hunt, who held the nearest living and
who, almost as poor as Anthony Troll
lope's Mr.. Crawley, found great diff
Guilty in providing for so many sons.
and Abram was destined to trade.
1.-The rigid Lady Dunbarton made no
objection t, the childish intimacy be-
tween Molly and Abram, never dream
ing that st. Leger could so far forget
her rank as to form an attachment for
any one in a lower station, and that
Molly should fancy herself in love with
young man destined to trade, was
supposition fit to- cause the St. Legers,
who had hitherto slept peaceably in
the churchyard precincts, to rise from
their graves.
'.But the fatal discovery was finally
made and Molly was forthwith shut up
in her turret chamber and ordered to
forget Abram instantly. She was
further informed that she could not
leave her turret till Abram was fairly
at sea on his way to Boston, in New
England, whittier his father had de-
cided to send him. Molly's own maid,
Phoebe, was taken from her, lest Molly
should win her by her Establishments
to carry some message to Abram, and
Lady Dunbarton herself took upon
her the surveillance of her rebellious
niece, and a hard time she had of it.
but love proverbially laughs at
locksmiths and surveillance. and one
day Mollys pet dove brought to her
window, tucked under his snowy wing,
a note from Abram, and this was fol-
lowed by sundry other notelets brought
by the same winged carrier. so that
Molly knew exactly the day and hour
on which Abram started for America,
and he SEirfinp tha castle at a SOTO