The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1886-12-31
SELECT STORY.
HOW THE MIsTs ROLLED AWAY.

SELECT STORY.
HOW THE MIsTs ROLLED AWAY.
AT 25, Emily Kennet.e found her.
self possessed of a lonely heart and an
empty life, of absolute independence
and 100000.
Had she been man she might have
been described as slightly cynical and
blGse-that type of individual being
sometimes considered the hero par ex-
cellence, to "point a moral and adorn a
tale"
But perhaps it would not do to ap-
ply those adjectives to lady intended
for heroine. Though she may shed
seas of tears though all manner of
persecution and martyrdom has been
suffered though centuries of agoniz-
ing experiences have been crowded in
to a single epoch of her amazingly
eyentful life-the heroine is expected
always to retain the transparent and
trusting simplicity of child, to remain
as sweet and fresh and innocent as a
lily budding in coistral garden
But Emily Kennette was not that
sort of heroine. She was but human,
and the shock of conflict with the
world had made its impress alike upon
heart and mind.
Her earliest recollections were of a
peaceful home and of parents who had
lived only long enough to Undue her
with predictions for the refnements
no less than the nobleness of life, and
then they had both perished, and she
had been cast forth-a friendless,
homeless, penniless waif, to sink or
survive upon the mighty tide of human
ity seething ever through the great
city.
Looking back on those long years,
on the terrible struggle which, with
her, was to earn bread for the soul no
less than substance for the earthly
body, she felt thrill OF exultation not
unmixed with shudder. She rejoic-
ed that she had scaled obstacles which
many another had deemed insurmount-
able; she shuddered at the pitfalls
wherein she had beheld thousands per-
ish in her sight.
And then just as she had made her
self victor in the conflict, when she had
gained the esteem of all who knew her,
when she bad mastered the vocation
which assured her competence-a
handsome fortune had been devised to
her by a remote and only relative.
But the anticipated wealth did not
elate her, as might be supposed.
81 do not value it," she averred
gravely; "nor do feel grateful for the
will which has made it mine. Years
ago, when was obliged to deny my
self bread so l might have books
when was starving the flesh so the
soul might live-$l00 of that money
would have been to me like heavenly
mamma. If had gone to Aunt Val
eska at such crisis, if l had gone as
often was-hungry and exhausted
and footsore searching for employ
ment-she would have refused so much
as farthing she would have politely
excused me from entering her house.
To accept this fortune now, wnen
nearer heir happens to be no more, can
only be humiliation to me-"
"You are almost faultily proud," was
the half inaudible remark Of Harvey
Ambrose prospering lawyer of 80,
and gentleman who was scarcely less
peculiar in many things than herself.
sam IT, she returned, with quick,
unconscious little laugh-a laugh
which was always instinct with
vaguely shuddering exultation. "Then
it is my pride which has made me
what l am. Then it is my pride which
has guided me Alright when every
other sense would have been dazzled
by fictitious allurements, or would
have succumbed to privstion and the
temptations which privation always
create
~ ould squeamlshness be the bet
ter word? said he, smiling at what
he knew she would consider lame
amendment.
Harvey Ambrose understood her
perfectly; with his own fine percept-
ions Of the nicer phases of nobleness,
he could scarcely have done otherwise
He admired her thoroughly, too,
even if her thoughts and feelings were
tinged with bitterness, and there were
times when she seemed to doubt all
and trust none. Knowing what her
life had been, how often her trust had
been met by treachery and her best
endeavors misjudged or repelled, he
only wondered sine had retained 80
much which was admirable and love
able of character.
II am squeamish on that point,
must admit, she said, in answer to his
smiling remark. "But, aside from that,
the money is burden rather than a
blessing, / was earning sufficient for
all my wants | had learned 20 rely on
my own exertions and to be happy in
the line had mapped out for myself.
The money changes the pleasant order
of things; it brings cares and response.
bilities for which l have neither taste
nor training. / heartily wish Aunt
Valeska's nearer heir would appear "a
claim it, after all-and | do not know
why there isn't bare possibility of his
being yet alive
"On what would you base such a
possibility Mr.. Ambrose inquired,
with sudden, keen, swift glance at
her pale, meditative face.
"Tbe rumors of his death were never
verified, for one thing she replied,
thoughtfully. "And as he was Aun,
Valeskas adopted son, he would very
naturally have resumed his own name,
whatever il was, after he left her iu
anger and so the advertisements mott
flying him of her decease might never