The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1885-08-06
He WASN'T ENGAGED.

L went to live with Aunt Edmonton
when poor papa died. That was half
dozen years ago, yet my trouble seems
as fresh to-day, my loss as irreparable
as on that terrible morning when left
him lying in his lonely grave under the
willows.
Poor papa how fond we were of each
other. He had no one in the world but
me. Mamma died when L was a wee
baby, not quite two summers old-died
away off in Southern France, and she
sleeps there now under the shadows of
the purple hills.
/ have seen many fair women, but
never face half so lovely as hers, Her
portrait used to hang in the old gallery
at Edmonton Hall, but it is gone now.
Aunt Edmonton had something to do
with its disappearance, for she never
liked my mother.
The Edmontons are proud race,
with pedigree running back to the
old Cavaliers, and an ancient crest on
their massive old silver, and the bluest
of blue blood in their aristocratic veins.
At least Aunt Edmonton says so. Papa
always laughed at her high fancies, and
held that one honest soul was as good
as another, no matter whether its owner
wore royal purple or holden gray; and
when he met my pretty mamma, and
loved her, he did not hesitate about
making her his wife, though she was
penniless and daughter of the people.
Aunt Edmonton was terribly an
gered, and when the pretty bride came
home to Edmonton Hall. she met her
with scowling brows, and led her such
a life that papa soon took her abroad,
and there she died and was buried a
few short months after / was born.
Papa never outlived his grief at her
loss; he loved her dead as tenderly as
he had loved her living, and cherished
me as no other child was ever cher
ished. 1 grew up in his bosom; he
was my teacher, companion, and friend.
We were never separated.
What blissful life we led, Bohemi-
ans though we were! Whittier our
fancy led us, there we pitched our
tent; under sunny skies, in the solemn
shadow of time-f famed ruins, by the
margin of stored rivers. / was era
died on the deep, and reared amid the
classic wealth of foreign lands.
But as time crept by papa's health
grew feeble, and we came back to
Edmonton Hall; there he died. left
the dear old home and his grave under
the dropping willows, and went to live
with Aunt Edmonton.
AS have said, Aunt Edmonton was
a proud woman. She was more-a
worldly one. Wealth was her Moloch,
and she held no heart treasure too pre-
.cious to be given as an offering to his
fiery embrace. / was an Edmonton as
we'll as herself, and, despite the dis
grace of my mothers alien blood, could
not be put to household drudgery.
Hence was installed as sort of COM
panion, to read Balzac and George
Sand. while my aunt and Marguerite
slipped their noon chocolate, and TO
keep the point lace in order and the
family jewels we'll FURNISHED. Not a
laborious task, and it brought me bread
and butter; and bread and butter we
must have in this commonplace world,
even though our hearts break and our
souls starve.
Aunt Edmonton did not like the old
hall. She declared that the old house
was better suited for bats and owls than
for human beings, aud il was shut up,
and we lived first in one gay city and
then another, and finally crossed the
sea and went to Paris. Dear me, how
my aunt and Marguerite did enjoy the
life the life they led there, and how !
pinned and longed for homel It is q
marvel how differently constituted peo-
pie are, with the same blood in their
veins, too.
BELL" said my aunt, one autumn
night, when preparations were going
on for some famous ball, will you have
the kindness to go to the greenhouse
and cut the flowers for Marguerite
hair? She wears natural flowers to-
night, aud can't trust to Felice. Loob
at her dress, please. and select wha,
you think will suit-your taste is per
feet"
Marguerite threw away her novel
and shook down her black tresses as
was leaving the room.
BELL, don't fail to cut some hello
trope, please. Captain Carruthers il
here. and he dotes on heliotrope. b,
the by, yW remember Captain Carru
theirs, don't your"
Nv foolish heart gave a sudder
thump, and the tell-tale blood rushe,
to nv cheeks. How we'll remembers,
him. Papa's best friend--the frien,
who stood beside his dying pillow.
remembered his parting words, too
when he Left me standing beside tn