The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1886-09-18


hoarsely. "My God have gone mad,
or is it indeed so? What ghastly trick
of fate is this?"
She smiles grimly, and the child looks
up at him, then shrinks away with big.
frightened eyes.
"You call it rightly" the woman
answers, drawing the child closer. "a
ghastly trick of fate, and before the sun
rises tomorrow, l shall be past it all.
Ten years ago, you would not forgive,
Mark Wolcott, neither you nor my faith
er, because i married the man who
blighled my life-made me the thing l
am, in loneliness and obscurity.
"Listen, Mark. Come closer, it is
getting dark. From the high station
where l met Ralph Revere, he fell
to Oh! l cannot name the depths of
degradation, yet it was no fault of mine.
II was in his nature, think. AT last
he brought us here-Lucile and L
among the rough miners, where Well,
there were none SO depraved as he. He
is dead now-let it rest-and l soon
shall be; but what is to become of my
child, my darling? viii you forgive the
past, Mark? Will you take care of my
baby, my darling? She is so Young to
battle with the cold, hard world-only
nine. l was not worthy the love you
gave me, Mark, Teach her to for
get"
But what she wished her child to for
get, Mark Wolcott never knows, for the
words die on her blue lips, and the love
of his youth-the woman who had made
him look on all other women since as
light. fickle, and heartless-falls back
against the shabby pillows.
The cordial he draws from an inside
pocket is useless here, and he lays it
aside with a sigh of vague, sad pain,
thinking of her blighted life, his broken
dreams and hopes; and the child sobs
quietly in one corner of the room, fright
ened at the presence of this tall, dark
stranger.
"Poor child-poor little oner' he says
at last, taking her in his strong arms,
and pillowing her little, yellow head on
his breast. 'You have no mother now,
You will be my l.t'le girl, as you might
/
have been, had fate been less cruel"
A few days later, his mining business
complete, Mark JFolcott returns to New
York, bringing with him a shy little
girl; with great, dark eyes of deer
thought, at whom the ladies who pass
them in the drive glance curiously and
jealously.
Lucille is placed in a fashionable
boarding school at Mark Wolcott's ex
pense.
Orders are given that every advantage
money can secure is to be hers then he
self-constituted guardian completely for
gets her in the round of fashionabl,
pleasures which constantly crave hi
presence.
Sometimes the memory of that seen,
in the cabin on the edge of the fores
comes to him in the midst of gayety
but he puts it from him with shudder
ing aversion, telling himself that to tn
child he has done his duty.
So the years pass; and although h
has forgotten her, Lucille has never for
gotten him.
1t is ten years since she left the min
ing district, and those ten years hav
made of the little frightened child a gir
of nineteen, tall, slim, graceful an,
beautiful as poets dream; but still il
her great. dark eyes rests that look o
deep thought, more pathetic than tears
the thought that makes the dreamer th
artist she is.
One day Mark Wolcott receives Iii
tie sketch, beautifully executed in waite
colors, in which he bends an eager
anxious look.
1t is marked "Lucile, and represent
a low, dark house nestled against tn
picturesque forest he remembers so wei
to haye seen in the mining excursion.
81 must see her." he exclaims at last
''It is-it must be nearly ten years sine
| have seen the child. Perhaps she
lonely, as | am, for when alrs told
wealth does not bring happiness. Sh
is my ward-why should not the chill
live with me here? Yes-why not?"
And the "child" does return with hir
to the great, grand house which befor
had seemed so lonely.
Like one under a spell, Mark watche
her, and vaguely wonders at the fail
fragile beauty over which all New Yor
raves, even as they adore the famou
young artist.
lie becomes restless and cynical, anl
ry that the crow's-teet have made sue
lines beneath his eyes and the whit
, hair sprinkled his temples so profusel
ohNNil liiS anu oNOiillS ~ MS Ntdhlltol
TO him Lucille is always sweet, gent
and gracious, as, indeed. she is to ever
one, except that there is deep reve
, ence tingeing her treatment to he
guardian.
"What shall do when you are gon,
Lucile?" he asks one day, and sudde
tears spring to her eyes before she ca
avert them. "Some day you will go,
, suppose, and have no right to prever
it, If only my life were not The III
slightly, WORKOUT thing it is"
She lays her hand against his bearde
lips.
''To me your lite is beautiful, grand,
she says shyly. "Bid me stay, and
, will never leave you-neverp'
"You cannot mean it?' he cries eal
erly, catching her hands in his. "Ol
love, | am 50 old, so unworthyr'
.,-, .,-.,,,, Ill Ain . -. 90.