Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1889-09-26

M .Z.zl2 N
"Now, AUNTY, TELL NE YOUR PLANS"
tainty. Her apathy was all gone now, and
her eyes began to sparkle with the rays OF
anew hope. This will pay every debt and
leave quite large sum besides. 1 can plan,
now that there seems to be something to
plan with"
''Oh, my dear auntie, you have plenty to
plan with" said Isabel, joyfully. ~ have
the very best husband in the world, and
have come prepared to repay you for little
of the love and care you have given me
from infancy. All there is for you to do Is
| to make up your mind what course you
wish to pursue, and the means shall not be
wanting"
"Have you, then, married man who is
able to allow you to do this!" said Mrs.
| Harmon, looking into IsabePs glad eyes
with surprise.
mot only able, but willing, auntie," and
she repeated her conversation with Mr..
Falconer before starting, and named the
large sum he had given her.
isabel, child, ought not to take it, in
deed l ought nOt,n cried the widow with
emotion; ''your generosity forces me to tell
you a secret, which l have never thought
| best to divulge until now"
"a secret!" said Isabel, surprised in her
turn.
Eyes, a secret. ought not to take your
money, dear child, for really you are not re-
| lated to me, and have no claim on you for
such liberality."
Not related to your' echoed Isabel.
"Auntie Harmon, what do you meant"
''Just what say, Isabel,' replied Mrs.
Harmon. 81 have never told you the story
of your parentage, fearing it would make
You uneasy and dissatisfied with your hum
bic home, and the hard, humiliating work
which l saw no way to prevent your doing;
but now that you have husband and po-
sition to sustain in society it is fitting that
you should know who you are, and that not
a drop of my humble blood runs in your
VEINS
"You are good and kind, and have been a
true mother to me; you shall not under
rate yourself" said Isabel, warmly; 'but,
oh! do tell me of this strange thing"
1--WE were just married, John and !.
Isabel, child, pardon me ii 1 continue to
name you as relative"
'4untic"' interrupted Isabel, deprecat-
ingiy.
You can not realize, perhaps, that John
was kind husband, and that was one of
the happiest of wives. We lived in n large.
handsome cottage then, and were quite well
TO do at the time you were born. The first
shot had been fired at Fort Sumter the
previous January, and a young Southern
gentleman came here with his young wife,
who was an invalid, and he had brought her
North not only to escape the fierce heat of
Southern summer, but to avoid the ex-
element of the troubled times which she,
in her weak state, was poorly able to bear.
He was of rich and influential family, or
he could not have passed the lines, even in
that early stage of the National troubles,
and nothing but the devoted love he cher
ished toward his wife would have kept him
out of the fray.
They were accompanied, Of course, byan
old black nurse, Maum Chloe, who had
nursed and waited on your mother since her
infancy; but in spite of the tender care
which she and the tender young husband
had lavished upon her, the young wife con-
tinued to fade, and he stopped here on their
way to the South, and decided 10 remain
here until after you were born, hoping that
she would then be better able to travel, and
to face the excitement of the war times at
home.
Searching for quiet boarding place, for
the hotel was far from being a pleasant
home for an invalid, he happened upon US,
and at his earnest solicitation 1 consented
to furnish them rooms and board for few
months. and in nine weeks from the time
they came you were born"
" Then l am of Southern BIRTH" said Isa-
bel, who was listening to the story with
earnest eagerness.
Yes, and your name was Isabel Caring
ton. Your father was an ardent sympa-
thlzer with the South, as it was natural he
should be, and we kept our lips tight closed
10 repress the words of patriotism which
burned TO come out, out Of Difference to our
guests 1t was not for long, however, for
your poor mother, poor young thing, was
not strong enough 10 rally after your birth,
ana In our intense anxiety for her all sec
uonal differences were forgotten for the
time, and we watched over her as if there
were no interests outside her sick cham
Der. She only lived a few weeks, and the
war was fully under way. and though your
father was almost distracted with grief
at his loss and the necessity of leav-
ing her here, he saw no better way
than to bury her in Northern soil, until
such time as he could come back
and remove her to his home, which 1 think
was on a plantation near Richmond. They
were wealthy, knew, from their converse
ton, though they did not show it by assum-
ing superior airs, as so many people do,
ana came to love your dear young mamma
very much. After she died your father
was more than ever anxious to throw him.
self into the war, but, of course, 1t was not
10 De thought OF taking tender babe like
you with him, even if he could have passed
the lines with you in safety. So, with a
fathers natural feelings at parting with
you, ne left you in old Chloe's and my joint
care. leaving with me an ample sum of
money to care for you both, expecting with
the sanguIne folly so many were guilty of
that the war would soon be over, and that
ne would return and take you South. Poor
old Chloe pinned and mourned for her young
mistress, and grieved over her home until
she was mere shadow of herself and an