Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1890-03-12
He Might Have Known it.

"No. Only five or six miles now
Are you getting tired, Alice"
ooh, no. 1t was not that" And
there were tears in the dark, lovely
eyes which the young girl raised to the
rough, kindly face of the elderly
gentleman who sat beside her in the
carriage.
What was it then, Alice?"
"Mr. Erskine-"
stop moment. child. You are
going home with me now, to be my
ward, and to live with me, and be
happy as you can. That Mr..
Erskine' is to formal for home use.
Can't you say Uncle Jack, as Ed
Lawrence does, when he's at home ?"
"Indeed l can, if you will let me,
Uncle Jack !" said the girl, smiling
through the tears. can do anything
to make you happy, since you are
doing so much for me. And it is just
that want to speak of Don't think
l don't feel grateful for and appreci-
ate your kindness to me in this heavy
trouble, because l can't thank you in
fine words, as some would do. l feel
it in nv heart, Uncle Jack, YES, indeed
| do !"
"There, there, Alice! am sure
you do, but after all the kindness is
on my child's side, not mine. Don't
you know my lonely old home will be
the brighter for the presence of live
ly young girlr
II will certainly try to make it so"
said Alice.
"You will do it without trying,
Alice. For many day have miss
ed young voices in its old halls. For
few weeks every year, at Christmas
and his summer vacation, Ed Law
renee comes, but all the rest of the
year, there's nobody but the servants,
the old housekeeper, Mrs. Conner, and
myself. Now you will come, and
you shall have all the young company
you choose, and we'll make things
livelyw
"You are so kind, Uncle Jack 7"
murmured Alice.
81 mean to be, to you, child. l
don't want ever to let you regret
coming among U.s."
81 shall never do that, am sure,"
said Alice. They were silent for the
the rest Of the way.
Mr.. Erskine was looking out of the
carriage window, but he was not see
ing the beautiful mountain scenery
they were passing. He was thinking
of the time, years ago, when he, a
young man, stood beside Alice Red
fields mother, another Alice, 50 like
herself, and heard her promise to be
his bride when he returned from his
next voyage.
He remembered how he had re.
turned, and found Alice Malcolm
false to him, and welded To young
Squire Redfeld, richer lover than
her hearted sailor boy.
He had never made any complaint.
but the wound was deep He return
ed to the sea, and followed it, until at
fifty years old, he had retired, an
honored captain, TO his old home to
spend the rest of his days in quiet.
He had never married. One day
there came to him letter from Alice
Redfeld. She was a widow, with
small property, and was now dying
without friend OH earth to whose
care she could leave her orphan daugh-
ter. Would Jack Erskine, for the
sake of old times, forgive the wrong
she had once done him, come to her
and accept the charge Of her child,
and the care of her small means?
Rough and gruff as the old sea-
captain was, he had the kindest heart
in the world. He could not resist
such an appeal as that.
He went at once to the dying-bed
of his old sweetheart, and saw her
laid in the earth before he brought
her daughter to his own home, a
sacred charge.
Mrs. Conner at first was little dis
posed to be half-offended at the idea
of young mistress being set over
her. But she soon discovered that
Alice was not at all inclined to be
"bossy," aud that somehow the dark,
old-fashioned rooms with their stiff,
black hair.cloth furniture we're grow
ing wonderfully prettier since she
came.
Mr.. Erskine, on his many voyages,
had brought home all sorts of queer
and curious things, but they had been
slowed away in hooks and corners,
and seldom saw the light
One day Alice said:-
"Uncle Jack, did you know this old
house VIVA inst full Of bric. n -bric ~