Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1885-05-27
DAISY'S VISIT.

Itwas commonplace picture-a pretty,
slender young girl seated under vine
wreathed porch, her delicate fingers busily
stitching some coarse, homespun material
instead of being occupied with light
piece of embroidery or fancy work, which
would have been in greater harmony with
her refined appearance; but Clement Ash
ley's eyes frightened as they rested upon
it, and a strange thrill stirred his usually
unsuseeptible heart.
''Have traversed the wide world over,
and gone unscathed all these years" he
asked himself, ''only to fall in love, at
iirst sight, with rustic divinity in the
wilds of Yorkshire?''
At the sound of his footsteps the girl
looked up, with startled air. the lovely
peach-bloom color deepening and brighten
ing in her velvety cheeks.
What Daisy Wentworth saw was a tall,
dark young man, of ight-and-twenty,
with somewhat listless oppression upon
his fine, handsome face He wore
tourists dress of shabB BC.looking, we'll
worn, grey tweed, that only the initiated
would have known must have been cut by
a West-end tailor, and carried small pack
slung across his broad shoulders.
'May | trouble you for drink of
water?' he asked, in low, musical voice,
that made the young girl stare; its refined
accents were so different from the rough
northern dialect to which she was accus-
toned
Before Daisy could comply with the re-
quest, the door swung suddenly open, and
a hard, strong featured face, with beetling
black brOws and fiery eyes, peered out.
Mrs. Wentworth, Daisy's step-mother.
"Don't come in heren' she cried, in q
shrill, acrid voice, glowering angriy at the
astOnished young man. "You have moth
ing want in that nasty pack. 1 never
buy of hawkers I'm disgusted with the
whole tribe; and Daisy there has put me
all out of temper with her trifling and
idling Just like her mother, they say
It's dreadful trial to have another wom-
ans child to bring up. would never have
married Silas Wentworth had l known he
would die at the end of five years, and
| leave me to take care of his first wife's
brat. l have children enough Of my own
to look after.'
A rougsh twinkle showed itself in
Clement Ashley's eyes as he replied
'My pack only contains the kit of a
strolling artist. But here comes the real
Simon Pure" as a freczled- faced hawker,
with a scraggy, sandy moustache, climbed
the steps. Il only want to beg draught
of water"
| Daisy's cheeks were burning hOtly, but
she caught up her print sun-bonnet, and,
bringing a tumbler from the pantry shelf,
led the way to the well at the rear of the
house.
Clement drank the cold water she prof
fered as tnoL gh it had been ambrosia On
returning the empty glass, his gaze hap
pened to fall upon the brooch that fastened
| Daisy's collar. 1t was a cameo of consid-
| o. I.la val1n pOrtr1it fDo1v oDJ rti
cally cut; but it did not look out of place,
though her dress was Of common material.
81 beg your pardon!' he said, eagerly
''But may l ask where you got that
| brooch?''
SIT was my mothers" Daisy replied,
''that is why like to wear it,
''Oh-sn heirloom? Can you tell any
thing of its history?"
every little. My mother prised it high
| ly. The likeness is that of some relative
IA great-aunt, l believe"
'What was your mothers maiden
name?"
"Ethcl Mclean"
Clement gazed at the young girl curious
| ly. He would have said more, but Mrs.
| W entworth's shrill voice sounded at that
instant, calling sharply for Daisy.
| Don't be lettering there, you good-for-
nothing child? You might try to make
yourself useful occasionally. You've only
been a burden to me ever since your father
died.
Daisy fitted away, a painful aush suf-
fusing her face.
| But she had not seen the last of the
handsome artist, for that evening, as she
stood dejectedly at the garden gate, he
came whistling along the lane, and paused
tbeside her.
"You have been cryingr' ne exclaimed,
Pabruptly, looking into her pretty eyes
THAT dreadful woman has been scoldin9
you AGAIN.
81 deserve it, no doubt
"Why don't you leave her? Have you
no relatives to whom you could gO?'
| Daisy shock her pretty head.
"There is only the great-aunt of whom |
spoke this morningg-and don't even know
where to find her."
Suppose you go away with me?"
| The girl stared at him, her cheeks flush
ed, her lips apart.
''I-I don't understand what you mean,
SIR" she stammered.
''There is no occasion to look so fright
ened, little one, though it is very sudden.
! But took liking to you at once, and |
cannot endure to see you abused. l want
you for my wife, darling"
"No, no-you cannot realize what you
are saying, or else you are only laughing at
me!'' cried Daisy, running away and hid
ing herself with emotions singularly blend
Two weeks wore on. Daisy saw no more
of the handsome artist; but she was con-
tinually dreaming or thinking of him.
One morning, Daisy unexpectedly re-
ceived a letter. 1t fell first into her step
mothers hands, who, in the exercise OF
privilege she arrogated to herself, immedl-
ately tore it open and possessed herself OF
it's contents. 1t ran thus
81 do not expect to feel proud OF
grand-niece brought up in Yorkshire
farm, but it is time you saw something OF
the world. You can come to me for six
weeks visit, if you like. But don't expect
to become MY heiress. My will is made
already, and does not give you penny.
'PATTY MCLEAN"
Daisy's heart beat with hope and expec-
tation.
MAY 1 CO." she cried, in an eager,
pleading tone.
Mrs Wentworth frowned, but consent
ed.
When Daisy's preparations were all
made, and she was about setting out upon
her journey, Mrs. Wentworth said.
| = NOW Wdnb YOU W ep0dh d gnu w.
for Joanna. She amt no relation of Miss
McLean's. to be sure, but the old miser
might send her q few dresses and jewels,
and never miss 'em. Take everything
that's offered you, Daisy, and whe2 you
come back Pll divide the things between
you two girls"
Daisy was quite startled by the magnifi-
cence of the house where Miss Mclean re-
sided
Her great-aunt, a wrinkled old lady in
black velvet and lace, welcomed her with a
kiss.
'You have your mothers face, my dear.
| am glad of that
"Oh," cried Daisy, eagerly, ''do you re.
member my mother"
Certainly. l used to wish she was a
boy, that l might leave her my money.
But girls are not of much consequence in
this world. l had lost all trace of poor
Ethel. And so Silas Wentworth is dead?
He was good man, but sadly wanting in
energy"