The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1886-08-07

and l am the gardener out at Ealrylew. on
see. people are coming along here on the
street: | don't even want 1t seen that | am
talking TO you. Please walk along slowly,
and l will follow, as near you as / can, and
talk to you. Do, oh. do as | say; the whole
happiness of your life may depend on it. "
Astonished as | was, there was yet some
thing SO earnest as well as respectful In his
manner that | complied with his wish He
followed, and | talked with him, never
turning my head, as he requested, and not
speaking when people passed us
There's nothing wrong in this, dear
miss, believe me-" he went on. Il have so
much to say to you, and my old wife has
so much to say. that we must see YOU some
where alone. It's all about yourself.
Where can we see your"
Can you not call at the boarding house
on Sunday"
Il dare MOTT would be noticed; it might
come to tn ears of those in town who
would do you harm for it Stay-do you
not walk out sometimes on Sunday"
Yes, when the weather is good"
Then next Sunday be at the little lane
beyond the bridge on the road to Fairyiew.
at sunset. There's a clump of trees there,
and some rustic benches. If any one
should happen there, We can go some
II,
old wife, we can tell you long before dark
what you ought to know. VIII you cone
wills your"
Sud en- and curious as this adventure
and request were, could see neither dan
ger nor harm in agreeing to what he asked.
Besides, my interest and curiosity were
naturally excited, and the promise was
given He left me, begging me as ne did
so to tell nobody of what he had told me,
and, most important of all, TO come alone.
i reckon you'll be in no danger. miss,
he said, with a quaint smile. Its not old
Staples, who's been about here 'gh on
fifty years, nor yet his good old wife, who'd
seek TO do YOU harm. We're contriving for
your good as well as two such weak old
heads can.
1t was Friday when this meeting occurred,
and no one viii wonder that the matter was
constantly in my thoughts till the appointed
time. This old man was a stranger to me,
and | had never heard of him; bat | knew
where the Fairyiew place was. | had sew
eral times passed the great entrance, and
/ looked with admiration at the beautiful
! grounds and the fine mansion on my Sun
| day evening walks with my room mate.
| Dear Rosai-true friend as she was, she
noticed how absent minded and abstracted
! | appeared during those two days, and in
her merry way she tried to plague me.
| 4 declare, Paula she said on Sunday
/ afternoon, You must tell me what is the
mttter with you. Here you have been as
| quiet as a mouse for two or three days and
| [ hardly have got yes and no out of you.
| This morning you would not 60 to church
! with me, and | suppose you won't GO out
/ walking with me to- night-will you?"
| 1t has been so hard for me- all through
/ this business, to conceal the truth from her,
as we'll as from Harvey! My nature was
never made for duphcity, necessary though
| the concealment has been. [ have felt
| conscience-sore about ii. | put my arms
about her neck; l told her that she was my
/ dearest friend, as she well knew, but that
| did not feel like walking that night, and she
mUst excuse. She kissed me, and advised
me to 90 to bed early, saying. that she did
not think | was quite well and strong yet;
and after tea she put on her hat and said
| she would walk down the river path with
some of the girls, and would return in two
| hours. That path led in the opposite di-
rection from the Fairyiew road, and / saw
| that if | was back at the house before her,
l should escape any suspicion on her part.
! 1t was near sunset; the girls, as was their
! habit on Sunday evenings, were taking
! their rambles in various directions | went
| out alone and managed TO shun the COM
pany of any of them as | walked ont on
| the Fairview road. Several We're walking
! that way, but | loitered behind them, and
when | turned into the little lane beyond
/ the bridge over the creek, there was no.
body near to observe us. The sun was
half an hour high when old Hugh Staples
met me up the lane, near the clump OF
| trees which was quite familiar in my walks
| TuADT,EP II
He led the way to the rustic seats beneath
the trees We were fortunate; nobody else
was there, excepting his quaint old wife
who gave q little cry when she saw me.
There, Polly, what did [ tell you?" said
the gardener with kind of exultation il
his voice. as she like her, or not?"
"LjLe herr" almost sobbed the ole
woman Bless the young ladys deal
young heart she's her very image. No two
people could be so alike, unless their blood
was the same.
| stood under the trees. looking from one
to the other for explanation. Old Hugh
/ had thrown himself down on one of the
seats, and was looking at me with real ex.
ultation in his eyes. His wife had shyly
| taken my hand between both of hers, anC
kept it;
Tell her, Hugh, she said.
NJ Ntdi IOHIS ldtlN, AS SdlNl, we j
have short stories now. You've been mys-
tilted enough about this matter; but | knew
it was best to be still and quiet about ii
SO, now, in Fairview house, over Wonder
there's a rich, unhappy old man, dying by
inches-so rich that, aside from Fairview
they say he owns a quarter of million il
stocks, IN securities, and in the banks He
has no one about him but a villain of {
nephew and bis moiher-the old mans owl
sister, mores the pity-who shut every
body away from him, and are impatient fOl
his death, that they may have his wealth
the Ferrers being his only heirs; nobody
about him, l say, but them and that Other
scoundrel, DR.. Beaumont So weak ant
feeble is the poor old man now that he car
hardly speak at all; but not long since, be
before they drove Polly and me away from
his bedside, he used to look at me so pitt
fully, and whisper, Eunice-Eunice-
where is Eunice, Hugh? Bring her to me
/ want her. Eunice was his only child
who years ago married against his wishes
He drove her away. He never saw he
after: and it is long ago that the news came
to him of the death of herand her husband
In the cholera year in a distant city. Ol(
Edison Whalley is near to death; his con.
science smites him for the hard heart h,
had IN those days; he wants to take hi
daughter back to his arms before he dies
That may not be; but but"
He paused, and a glimmering of hi
meaning shone upon me.
Young lady, tell me. :" he pursued, "dit
YOU ever hear the name of Eunice Whal
ley? Have you not something-some bool
or article of clothing in your possession
marked with that name?"
My mothers name was Eunice, / re.
Piled Small as l was when she died,
remember her telling me so, and teaching
me to spell It, l have in my room the littlt
Bible that she used and which they gave
me after her death; on the fly leaf is writ.
ten in ladys hand the name EUnire WhdE
tsy Burton. And here is something thar
you would like to see; her own face in 6
locket which l have always worn: | canno
remember the time that it was not on this
chain round my neck.
| They eagerly examined it, and both de-
clared, with oyerhowing eyes that If was
the face Of Eunice Whallev
And the dear young ladys own face,