San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1889-11-18
LURED AWAY,
OR,
The Story Of a Wedding Ring,
BY CHARLOTTE N. BRAEME.

L lCCl budb huSO WIN ASA.
His soul seemed on fire: there was TO be
no more peace, no more rest for him until
he had won her. He did not leave Ash
burnham that day until he had been in
troduced to Mrs. Hope and the beautiful
girl who had so completely stolen his
heart. Mrs Hope was widow: her hus-
band had been in the Civil Service, and
she was left with barely sufficient to I've
upon.
Paul told her frankly that he had seen
her daughter. and fallen in love with her.
"Mauy people do that" was the quiet
reply. "But 1 must tell you, although
we call her Ismay Hope, she is not my
daughter"
Won by PauPs manner his handsome
face and eloquent words, she told him Is
mays story.
"She is no child, not even a relative, Of
mine," said Mrs. Hope; NOR have l the
least idea where she comes from, or who
her parents are. One summer night-it
was very warm, and was standing at the
open window, watching the passers-by-
/ saw a woman lettering near my house
in my own mind called her then lady,
and am inclined to call her so now; she
uAu u Ddle DeduJllui I"t4 WIN "aSp
brown hair: she was very poorly dressed,
and held by the hand little child. l saw
her turn aside and drop letter into the
postoffice; then, when she walked ON
again, her face grew paler, and her eyes
had in them an agony of entreaty when
they met mine. saw that she could hard
ly walk, and that in "A few minutes more
she must fall, so 1 spoke to her, and she,
looking at me, said:
"'Oh, if you would but let me rest for
one half hour in your house! Will you,
for the love of Heaven
II could not refuse such request. She
entered my house never to leave it alive.
my very heart seems chilled, she said,
when placed a chair for her.
''She sat down, and then called to her
child.
"Ismay, my darling. my heart is grow
ing coldp And immediately afterward,
when went to help her, found that she
was dead. The coroner's verdict was that
she had died from disease of the heart, in
creased by over-fatigue and privation. We
buried her-for all the neighbors were
kind, and. looking at the beautiful dead
face. no one could suggest a work-house
funeral for her. We buried her, and then
my husband said he would never part
with the child. She was so like her moth
er that the resemblance startled me. We
buried the mother, and kept the child.
My husband almost worshiped her, and
she has been called Ismay Hope ever
since" 3D.
you never discovered anything about
her mother?" asked Paul
mo; our vicar, Mr. Kirdell, inserted
some advertisements in the papers, and
made some inquiries, but all was in vain.
The poor mother had round her neck a
little gold locket containing the portrait
OF gentleman, and, beside her wedding
ring, she wore one with motto inside 1t.
The vicar took them all away with him. /
fear we shall never know who that poor
dead woman was"
And the-the child-has been as q
daughter to you ever SINGER" Questioned
Paul Waldron. "If 1 can persuade her
to love me, Mrs. Hope, will you give her
to me?"
And then the coy, blushing beauty came
In, and Paul Waldron was more enchanted
than ever. He was not long before he
had told her how dearly he loved her, and
had asked her to be his wife. There were
times when she puzzled him. There was
something about her quite different from
other girls; she was so refined, so gentle.
her very beauty was of an unusual kind
dainty, exquisite, unlike the rosy beauty
of the country girls. He found, too. that
her head was filled with romance. Who
her mother was formed an endless subject
of thought for her.
I'll am sure" she said one day to her
hnn
was lady, even though she was wander
ing through the streets with me alone"
What makes you think so?" he asked.
Il cannot tell. feel sure of it. And /
feel sure of another thing, Paul. and that
is, that though have been brought up in
this homely fashion, 1 am a lady myself
You may laugh at me, but l feel like one
OR rather how imagine a lady should
feel. love all things bright and beauti-
full: l detest everything mean. sordid, and
little. feel as though had tastes which
could never be gratified, longings which
can never be realized. l have strange
sensations always of not being in my right
place"
They were sitting under the spreading
shade of large oak tree, the evening sun
in its full splendor making everything
bright The next moment he was kneelinp
at her feet.
You are not in your right place, dar-
ling. Your place is in my pretty cottage
that must be your home. You shall be
my queen, and will work for you as no
man ever worked before, because 1 love
you as no man ever loved"
He wOOed her as women are seldom
W0Op0. alnnnanna nd