Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1888-09-13

" lNAN HN%AAt 49, NNt ~
with startling viyidness. He saw the fond
father on his death-bed, leaving the orphan
to the kindness Of strangers to his blood-the
| daughter weeping, disconsolate, the solitary
mourner at the fune-al-the desolate house
the well-meant, but painful sympathy Of the
villagers. He, meanwhile, who should have
cheered and sustained her, was afar eff, neg
lectful, recreant to his VOWS. Could he ever
forgive himselfs What would he not give
for one word from the dumb lips, for one
look from the eyes now closed forever!
But regrets were useless; his first duty was
to the living. he must hasten to find Agnes
But how, where II occurred TO him that
the village lawyer was probably administra-
tor Of the estate, and could tell him where
Agnes was. He went, therefore TO the law-
yer's Office. 1t was shut, and a placard in-
formed him chat Mr.. Blank was attending
court at the county-se seat The lawyers
housekeeper said that "Agnes was to New
York, with some relation or other--a Mr..
Jameson, she believed his name was, but
couldn't say, for certain. TIL Squire could
tell; but he wouldn't be back for three or
four days
Leaving his card, with the request that Mr..
Blank would communicate 10 him Agnes
address, Oakhurst hired a conveyancs 70 the
railway. He could not remain in Ralston an
hour; it was a tomb, and the air stiied him.
On his way, he had ample opportunity 20
consider what a slender clue be had to find
the girl; for lie thought of the long column
of Jamiesons in the DIRECTORY; . and, besides,
he did not feel sure that the housekeepcr had
correctly remembered the name, even.
We leave the repentant lover to follow on
the track Of Agnes, assured that no will re-
ceive sufficient punishment for his folly in the
remorse and anxiety he must feel.
It is quite time that our neglected heroine
should appear upon the stage. Gentle Agnes,
orphaned, deserted, lonely it is not from any
distrust as TO her talents, her manners, or
her figure, that she has been made t. wait so
long for the call-boy. The curtain rises. A
fair-haired girl Of medium height, light Of
frame, with a face in whose sad beauty is
blended the least p%erceptible trace of woman
ly resolution. She has borne the heaviest
sorrow; for when she followed her father to
the grave she buried the last object of her
love. The long, inexcusable silence of Oak
hurst had been explained to her; she now be-
lieved him f~aithless, ana had mot without a
pang) striven to uproot his memory from her
heart. Courageous, but with more than the
delicacy of her sex, strong only in innocence
anu httub-utdl Actilttort uiAtltit I'll tthilACttE
and feeling. but with fresh and tender sensi.
biity, She appeals to all manly and woiranly
| sympathy.
When the last ties that bound her TO her
native village were broken, she accepted the
hearty invitation OF her cousin, Robert
Jameson, and went with him to New York.
The house at once became a home to her.
Mrs. Jameson received her as though She
had been a daughter. Such a pretty, mother
less child-so loving SO sincere! How could
the kind woman repress the impulse to fold
her to her bosom. Not even her anxiety 70
retain undivided possession Of her sons heart
restrained her. So Agnes lived, quiet, affse-
Tomato, but undemonstratiye, As was natural
after the trials she had passed. Insensibly
she became "the angel in the house, mother
and son felt drawn to her by an irresistible
attraction. BY every delicate kindness, by
attention to every wish and whim, by glances
full Of admiration and tenderness, both
showed the power which her beauty aud
goodness exerted. And truly, she was worthy
of the homage. The younger men who saw
her were set aflama ut once, or sighed afar
in despair; while The elderly felt an unac-
countable desire 70 pat her golden head,
pinch her softly-rounded cheek, aud call her
such pet-names as their fatherly characte
and gray hair allowed.
Fate had not yet lone its worst; there were
other troubles in store for the orphan. She
knew little OF her kinsman's circumstances
but supposed him to no at least beyond the
reach Of want. But not many days passed
before the failure Of Norcross deprived him
Of his little patrimouy, AMI the suspension of
Mr.. Sleavin left him without employment.
That evening, when Robert came home, she
unwillingly heard the conversation between
him and his mother in an adjoining room;
and then she knew that her kind friends were
destitute. Her resolution was at once
formed. With as cheerful an air as She
could assume she took her place at the tea
table, and in the conversation afterward
stroye to hid her desolate heart-sickness. On
going TO her room she packed her simple
wardrobe, not without many tears. anithen,
with only Indifferent success, tried to COM
pose her scattered senses ia sleep.
Next morning size strovc TO appear calm
and cheerful, but a close scrutiny might have
detected the efFect-a deeper sorrow. PER
haps, about the heavy eyelids, and certainly
n firmer pressure of the sometimes tremulous
lips. But Robert was too much occupied
with the conflict Of his own feelings to OBJ
serve her closely. While bis mother was en-
gagged in her housewifely duties, lie took
Agnes hand, and for the first time spoke OF
his losses, but expressed himself confident Of
obtaining a new situation, and begged her %
dismiss any apprehension from her mind,
She turned her face that he might not see the
spfinging tears. He went on:
"The sharpest pang | feel. Agnes, is In the
thought, that, with the loss Of my little for
tune, and with my present gloomy prospects,
I can not say to you what | would can not
toll you what is nearest my heart. Since
you came here, our sonbre house has
bright. AS | have looked at you, / have
dared to promise myself a happiness which
before had never conceived possible
He hesitated.
"Don't dear Robert, l beg of you, don't
venture upon that subiectl'
"Why, is it painful to youf'
"Inexpressiblyi You are generous and
good. | love and honor you as my cousin,
my friend, my protector. DO not think Of a
nearer relationship"
Robert stood irresolute.
"Some other time, dear Agnes" he faltered
out. 81 don't wish to pain you, aud l have
no courage to-day"
LET me be frank, Cousin Robert. Under
other circumstances / would not anticipate
the words saw trembling on your lips. But
even II the memory OF my poor father were
not so flesh, | could not hear you" She hid
her face as she went OH. 81 have received a
wound from the faithlessness of one lover
which never will heal. l could not repay
your love. nave no heart to give you"
Thus far She had controlled her feelings,
when, kissing his hand with sudden fervor,
she burst into tears, and hastily left the
room.
She waited till Robert vent out; then she
wrote a brief note and placed it on the ii
brary table at bis ~favorite corner, and, after
bidding Mrs. Jameson good morning, went
out as though for o walk. Frequently she
looked back with fearful eyes at the home she
felt constrained to leave; but gathering her
strength, she turned away and plunged into
the current that set down one Of the streets.
Brave heartl Alone in a great city, whose
people were too much engrossed with their
own disiresses and apprehensions to give heed
to the sufferings of others! Alone among
strangers, she must seek a home and the
means of support. Who would receive an
unknown, friendless girig Who, in the terri
BILE palsy Of trade, would furnish her employ.
mentl
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SEARCH BEGUN.
Vharo VIVA uafurulIv rranf Sur.prfeo wbpT