Custer chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, Black Hills, D.T. [S.D.]) 1880-1890, 1889-05-04
himself. II feel that / must win her.

no more peace, no more rest Tor 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 II widow: har hus-
band had been in the Civil Service, and
she was left with barely sufficient to live
upon.
Paul told her frankly that he had seen
her daughter, and fallen in love with her.
MANY people do that was the quiet
reply. But / must tell you, although
we call her Ismay Hope, she is not my
daughter"
Won by Paul's 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 / the
least idea where she comes from, or who
her parents are. One summer night-it
was very warm, and l was standing at Thu
open window, watching the passers-by-
l saw IA woman lettering near my house
in my own mind l called her then a lady,
and | am inclined to call her so now; she
had a pale, beautiful face. with wavy
brown hair; she was very poorly dressed,
and held by the hand a little child. / saw
her turn aside and drop q letter into the
postofice; 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 IA few minute more
she must fall, SO | spoke to her, and she,
looking at me, said:
"'Oh, if you would but let me rest for
one half hour in your housel Will you,
for the love OF Heaven?'
81 cOIII not rafpsa cr,ch On ranuaSt Che
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.
"lsmay, my darling. my heart is grow
ing coldN 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"
you never discovered anything about
her mother" asked Paul.
No; our vicar, Mr.. Kirdell, inserted
some advertisement 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 n gentleman, and, beside her wedding
rInu she lynrp ono vii N n y,ntfn ipciIn ~
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 n
daughter to you ever ~sinceP" questioned
Paul Waldron. "If can persuade her
to love me, Mrs. Hope. will you give her
to me?"
And then the coy, blushing beauty came
In, and Pau Waldron was more enchanted
than ever. He was net long before he
had told her how dearly he loved her, and
had asked her 10 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.
81 am sure" she said one day to her
handsome young lover, that my mother
was q lady, even though she was wander
ing through the streets with me alone"
What makes you think SOP" he asked.
II cannot tell. / feel sure of IL. And I
feel sure of another thing. Paul, and that
is, that though | have been brought up in
this homely fashion, ! am a lady myself.
You may laugh at me-. but I feel like one
OR rather how imagine a lady should
feel. ] love all things bright and bea0ti-
full: l detest everything mean. sordid, and
little. / feel as though | had tastes which
could never be gratifed, longings which
can never be realized. | have strange
sensations always of not being in my right
place"
They were sitting under the spreading
shade OF a large oak tree, the evening sun
In its full splendor making everything
bright. The next moment he was kneeling
at her feet.
you are not in you 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 / love
you as no man ever loved"
He wooed her as women are seldom
wooed, with such eloquence and truth,
such love. sue tenderness. that she could
not resist him. His handsome face, his
musical voice, his devotion, all touched
her heart as nothing else could have done
She was too beautiful not to have many
admirers, but none Of them had pleased
her. This handsome young keeper, with
his dark eyes and thrilling voice, was quite
different. His great passionate love
touched her-his utter and entire devotion
flattered her; beside which he talked Of
one day being rich, and that was the one
grand wish Of her heart. She knew tina
she was beautiful. To have her beauty
adorned by costly dresses and rich jewels,
to live in a grand house, to nave servants
to wait upon her, seemed to Ismay Hope
the very acme of bliss.
She did not stop to consider how vision
airy after all was Paul's idea Of growing
rich. He would show her occasionally
models of steam-engines or OF looms, and
tell her that IA patent for this invention
and that Improvement would make him q
wealthy man. He painted the future for