Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1890-04-26

uoutiy. want 10 KNOW what these chill
dren have been taught / begin TO fear they
have been soreiy neglected by that foolish
rsan. Can they read and write and ciphergi
Biddy, lard pushed, wa fain to confess
that Kathleen did not even know her letters,
and thai Rose was very backward with her
pen, though she could read beautifully.
II thought as much" said Miss Fitzpat-
rick. sand now, Bridget Ryan, I'll tell you
what | mean TO do; you seem to have been
a faithful servant, so I shall not allow YOU
TO be a loser by Captain O'Hara's death. /
shall pay you your wages In full, and send
you home TO Ireland"
with the young ladiesY' asked BIddy,
beaming.
"What should the young ladies do in Ire
landg' exclaimed Miss Fitzpatrick; they
haven't a friend In that wretched country.
NO, you can go back to your home, for [
suppose you have some kind Of home 10 60
TO. Blu l shall place the two young ladies
IN a convent / have been told about, three
miles from this city, where they will be care
fully educated and kindly looked after by
the good nuns. | shall pay for their school,
ing and provide their wardrobes till they are
grown up; but when they come to nineteen
or twenty, they will have TO earn their own
living. The better they are educated the
easier they will find IL TO carr their bread"
Biddy could but confess that Miss Fitz-
patrick, upon whom the elder sister had no
shadow OF claim, was acting very generous
ly; yet she was In despair at the thought Of
being separated from the children she had
nursed, and who were 10 her as her own
flesh and blood. II Miss Fitzpatrick had
sent them all three 10 IrelanG, ana given
her a cottage, a potato-held, and a pig, she
felt she could have worked for the two chill
dren, and brought them up in comfort, and
been as happy as the days were long. They
would have run about the fields barefoot,
n with wild uncovered hair, and made a
friend and companion 81 the pig, but they
would have grown up strong and beautiful
In that free life: and II seemed TO her that
such a life would be ever 50 much happier
for them than the enclosed convent IN the
fiat arid country outside Bruges, the grim
white house within high walls, the tall stat.
ed roof OF which she and her charges had
seen one day In their afternoon walk.
She accepted her wages from Miss. Fitz.
patrick, but she declined tho fare home 10
Ireland.
ut may be long days before | see that
blessed country" she said, "for, with all
submission to your la~dyship, l shall try to
get a place in Bruges, so that / may be near
these darling childer, and gladden. my eyes
with the sight OF them now and then, as the
good NUM- give lave"
Miss Fitzpatrick had no objection 30 this
plan. She was a good woman according to
her lights, but as hard as n stone. She want
ed TO do her duty In a prompt and business
like manner, and 10 provide for these or.
phans: not because she cared a straw fol
them, but because they were orphans, aud
10 feed the widow and the orphan Is the
business Of a good Catholic.
She put the two girls into a fly next morn.
Ing. after spending an uncomfortable night
at the best hotel in Bruges, where the for.
eign arrangements and the ail-pcrgadin2
odors afflicted her s0rely, anddroYe straight
off 10 the Sisters OF Sainte Mare.
Here, in a rambling chi~lly-l0oking house
with large white-washed carpetlcSs rooms,
and corridors smelling of plaster, Miss Fitz-
patrick handed the orphans over 10 the
Reverend Mother, a stout comfortable-look.
Ing Belgian, who, for a payment Ia all Of
ninety pounds q year, was TO lodge, feed,
clothe, and educate the two children from
January to December. There were TO be
no vacations-the school year was to be
really q year. Children who had parents
might go home for q summer holiday; but
for these orphans the white-walled convent
in its fiat sandy garden was to be the only
home.
And now there began for those orphan
sisters q new l%ife-very strange, very cold
and formal, after the life they had led with
the careless yet loving father and the de-
voted nurse. Ii was a life of rule and rou-
tine, of work and deprivation. The con-
vent school was a cheap school, and though
the Sisters were conscientious in their deal
ings with their pupils, the fare was Of the
poorest the beds were hard and narrow, the
coverlets were thin, domltortes draughty
and carpetless, everything bleak and bare
The children rose ut unnatural hours in the
cold dark mornings. and were sent TO bed
early to save tre and candle. Ii was a hare
life, with scarcely q ray OF sunshine. Some
of the nuns were kind aud somc of the nuns
were cross, Just as ONE are outside con-
yent-walls. There were nc pleasures, there
was very little 10 hope for; the nuns We're
too poor 20 afford pleasure for their pupils.
Chapel and lessons, lessons and chapel;
chapel twice a day, lessons all day long;
| that was the round of life. Half an hours
recreation now and then-just one brief
half-hour of leisure and play, il the children
had strength to play, after two long hours
bending over books, puzzllng over sums.
Rose bore her trials like q heroine. Kath-
leen fretted a good deal at first, and then
when she grew older and stronger she be-
came . little inclined to occasional out
breaks Of rebellion. She had a sweet loving
nature, and could be ruled easily by love
by threats or hard usage not at all. The
| nuns, happily, were fond of her, and petted
her for her beauty and brightness and grace
full ways. While dark proud Rose. earnest,
| thoughtful, laborious, plodded on at her
studies, always obedient, always conscien-
| tious, Kathleen learnt by fits and starts, was
| sometimes attentive, sometimes n~eglectful,
| sometimes industrious TO f~ever-point, some
times incorrigibly idle. She had all the
freaks OF genius.
Life went on thus with adismal monotony
for FIVE long years; till 1t seemed TO the sis
tiers as IL they could never have known any
| world outside those convent-walls, any hori-
| ron beyond that western line Of level marsh
and meadow, where they used to watch the
sun going down in a golden bed behind the
| tall black pOplars. To Kathleen il seemed
as IL the old sweet life, with father and
nurse, must have been a dream. One bitter
grief had come TO them in the last year.
| The good faithful Biddy was dead. Ii had
| been her custom 10 visit them on the last
| Saturday In every month for an hour In the
afternoon, by special permission of the
| Superior; and neither storm nor rain, snow
nor hail, had ever kept Blddy away. Her
| visit was q bright spot in the lives OF the
girls They chung TO her INT loved her in
that too brief hour as IL she had been verify
their mother. The vulgar Irish face, the
hands hardened by toll, the coarse common
! Clothes, were, 10 them, as dear as IL she had
been the inest lady in the land. She came
10 them laden with fruit and cakes, and she
brought them bright-colorcd neck ribbons
TO enliven their sombre black uniform. She
told them her scraps Of news about tho out
! side world. She walked with them In the
garden, or sat with them In the visitors
parlor, and they were utterly happy so long
rs she stayed.
At last, after they had been four years
and q half In the convent, there came one
never to be forgotten Saturday on which
there was no visitor for the Demoiselles
| O,Hara. 1t was q peerless June day, and
| the girls had pictured Biddy a, she walked
| along the sandy road from Bruges, where
| she had q hardish place as maid -of-allwork
| I'm n Ejemish tradexman's family. They