Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1890-05-16
CHAPTER 1n.-THE GovERNEss.

had been from home two years, and as
I came up the avenue to the Waverland
mansion / could not help thinking what a
deserted old place it was. The gate lodge
was in q dilapidated conditions the gate
itself hung by one hinge. The avenue was
covered with weeds. The young forest,
once the pride of Lord Waverland, was
open to the cattle, and the park about the
house was used for horse pasture. The
venerable old house itself. built n century
ago, with tower and tuIret, was going to
ruin. The windows we're filled with
boards or rags TO keep out the weather,
and the steps were hardly safe to mount
''By the ghost of st. Patrick If there amt
Sir Loydr' said Michael O'Shane, the old
butler, who, with an enormous wig, high
coat collar and stiff cravat, met me at the
door.
YES Mike, this is Lloyd" I said, shak-
ing his hand with real pleasure. IL am
glad to be at home again. So this is Wa
verlandp
"This Is Waverland," he said; "and it's
right glad we are to see you home againP'
found the inside of the house in as great
disorder as the out. The elegant old furni-
ture was moth eaten and covered with
udoI, anu blc JuttO BICtbtu
when l opened the drawing-room door,
was enough. did not care for closer ac-
quaintance. finally made my way to my
mothers room. 1t was the only place that
seemed inhabited. My dear, dear mother!
How my heart yearned to cheer her lifel
Good morning, mother; here's your big
boy back againr' said, as came to her,
where she sat by the window busy with
her thoughts.
"Oh, my son, my son, are you at home
once more!" she cried, throwing her arms
about my neck and indulging in tears of
joy. And, 1 confess, my own eyes were
dim for moment, for two years had made
great change in the face so near my own.
The dark brown hair was lined with gray,
and the pure white brow was marked with
care. folded her in my arms, saying,
"How is this? you seem almost an in
validp"
~ have suffered great deal of late, but
now you are at home l shall soon be well
again. l think this dreary old house makes
me feel blue" And she drew long sigh,
half pleasure, half pain.
Where is Lord Waverland9 The old
place seems going to ruin"
HE is in Paris; he has only been at
home for few weeks at time for years
He says the old place is too dull for his
high temperament" said my mother in b
slightly sarcastic tone
Here is Myrtle, your little sister," she
said, as young girl with bright blue eyes
and fiaxen hair came bounding into the
room. "She is my little sunbeam. Myrtle,
your brother"
The child paused moment, giving me
searching glance as though asking herself
II we could be friends. Then she came to
me, and clasping her arms around my
neck as L stopped toward her, put up her
full red lips for kiss. She was small for
her age, looking far younger than she
really was.
Taking a chair by my mothers side,
with Myrtle on my knee, we began to fill
the space our letters had left vacant.
While we were busy talking of the past, a
young lady came into the room. She was
plain looking, with soft brown eyes that
had pleasant look, and silken brown hair
that lay In natural waves above n clear
white brow. AS she came 10 my mothers
chair, thought to myself, "You are girl
OF independence, whoever you are" indt
Gated by her firm, elastic step and noble
carriage.