The weekly sentinel. [volume] (Winston-Salem, N.C.) 1886-1887, 1886-07-29

family were sitting, and with a whit,
set face Miss Polly was present. &C
cused Mr.. Livingstone of having kill
ed father in duel, and of having pro
voked it.
They say, not Miss Polly, for she's
never repeated the interview, that Mr.
Livingstone uttered my God who
told you that ?" and young Emory
told how he had been urgently sent
for that morning by an old man, who
said he couldn't die contented until
he made confession to him, which
was that his father died by Mr.. Liv-
ingstone's hand, and not from and any
accident while hunting. That on that
memorable day, unseen by any, but two
servants who were sworn to keep the
secret, the two men met by appoint
ment, Mr.. Livingstone having sent
the challenge. and said, " the two
could not live in this world together
and love the same woman" Neither
would give her up SO it must be de-
clded which should live and gain her
! hand.
They took their stand, and fred at
the same moment. One fired in the
air, while the other aimed at the heart
and the victim fell. Mr.. Deane died
at sunset in the house of the man who
had slain him, while he, branded as
Cain, lived to win his cousin q love. This
ended Emory Deans recital, then twas
told demon entered into his own soul
and with bitter scathing words, he
flung all of Mr.. Livingstone's kindness
to him into his teeth, saying it was on
ly done as penance to quiet a too
tormentlng conscience, and then and
there he broke off all connection with
the, to his family at least, fated house
OF Livingstone, declaring it impossi-
BILE, with the present hatred to the
name, ever to link himself to anyone
in whose veins flowed the blood of his
fathers murderer, then away he rode
and has never been here since, though
its been seventeen years ago. That's
the story and know it by heart now,
even in Miss Polly's language, who
gave that interview, as others said it
was.
Mother says she can't vouch for it
all, but great deal is true.
Mrs. Livingstone became so gloomy
after this and got into so much poorer
health, that they broke up house keep
ing, and travelled all over Europe,
and died over there. Then Mr.. Liv-
ingstone and Miss Rebecca kept on
travelling, only coming back home for
short while to bury the wife. Now
they say, his health has gotten to be SO
bad they are coming home for good.
I'm so glad I want to see people
living at Oakland; its such a 'grand
old place it oughtn't to be deserted.
A great big brick house painted red,
with hundreds of oak trees all around
it, and long avenue of oaks leading
down to the gate. I've always had a
fancy I'd like to live there, it looks so
grand and roomy.
The family are expected to arrive
on Easter Eve, but I'm supposed to
be too absorbed in my practicing to
remember anything else.
It's the eventful morning, and I'm
so nervous I'm all in a tremor. I've
sucked SO many lemons, I feel like
vinagar barrel. I'm heartily thankful
Aunt Priscilla doesn't believe in " fan
cy church music" as she calls it
enough to 60 to our church to-day,
she is such critic. She and / don't
agree in anything. She believes in
work, work, work and never any play,
Thinks | ought to cook, wash and iron
tor the whole family believe. Belle
pretends she's quite industrious, car
ries piece Of fancy work about with
her, whenever Aunt Priscillais around.
For my part, I'm thinking practicing
on Aunt side would do better than so
much preaching. She's come to
stay long time it looks like.
L go to church and UP into the gal
lery, and all the time, feel as if I'm
about to sink. Mrs Everest is al
ready there, looking so composed /; she
mods and smiles at me Sc kindly, I feel
more composed myself. All I know
and hear is when the service begins,
that the flowers are deathly sweet, and
the voices of the minister and congre-
CATION sound like they are getting fain-
ter and fainter, as they float farther
and farther away from me.
I'm frightened nearly to death dur
the opening piece, which we all sing
together, but when the verse in. the |
" lie Dunn " is reached, which 1 have
to sing alone, my lips feel literally
pasted together, and my throat as dry
as if it had been parched by a raging
fever. I'm on the eve of giving up,
and not trying, when Mrs. Everest |
touches me. I open my mouth, and
make violent effort. Out comes the
voice, and it sounds to me like gong
its so loud, but it doesn't tremble, I'm,
thank full to know. When we finish
and seat ourselves, l feel completely
worn out Mrs. Everest turns and |