News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1891-09-03
As 1t Was Told To Me.

1t was my aunt Lena Wilson who
told me the story, when we were look
ing over a book of photographs.
There was one that did not admire,
commenting upon it after this fash
ion:
'That is a good face, auntie-a no.
bic face; but what a stiff, horrid pic
ture!"
'It is taken from an oil painting,
dear, not from life, and it is the pic
ture of the best friend l ever had-the
noblest, most generous man | ever
knew"
waited quietly till my aunt wiped
away the tears that filled her eyes,
wondering at her emotion. The por-
trait was not that of my uncle John
Wilson, for it was entirely unlike the
one that hung upon the wall in the
large drawing room. But | knew
very little of these relatives of mine,
although my mother was uncle John
Wilson's sister, for my parents lived
in France until | was seventeen years
old, when | was orphaned and came
to share my aunt Lena's home, with
seven children of her own, who gave
me cordial welcome, and made me
one of the family in the kindest, truest
sense of the words.
But it was to aunt Lena herself
that [ clung in those early days of
desolation, and my own mother could
not have been more gentle and loving
to me. She looked at me, when her
tears were dried, with her sweet smile,
and said:
F'Shall | tell you the story, dear?"
"Oh, yes =" / cried. "If'-thinking
of the tears-''if it does not make you
| feel badly
"No, dear; no. Where shall l be-
gin? | think it must be when | was
a little girl, only ten years old, and
lost my father. Long years before,
my mother had died, and | had been
my fathers idol, his companion, pu-
pill and play-fellow, so that the world
looked very empty to me after hewas
taken away. His dearest friend for
many years had been an old school
mate, Stephen Hetherington, and his
friend took me, after the funeral, to
a boarding-school, where / was enter
ed as his ward. Twas too young then
to ask questions about my own pros.
poets, and did not know that | had
absolutely nothing, butwas indebted
to my guardian for the clothes | wore
and the food | ate. He came to SEE
me very often, and | loved him as ]
had loved my own father, with q
child's devotion, a reverence and af
lection that | had never expected tC
feel again. He was a man under &c
when he became my guardian, but tC
my childish ideas he seemed quite ad
vanced in life, and the feeling of hii
superiority in age, as well as in every
thing else, never quite left me.
"We were strangely alike in one re
spect, man and child, in having nC
near relatives, and it was natura
that we should cling to each othei
more than we might have done haC
there been others to claim a portion
of our love. | wish | could tell yOl
anything that could convey to yot
any true idea of Stephen Hethering
ton. He was not very handsome, bu
There was nothing small about him
All his thoughts were broad, liberal
noble, his generosity unbounded, hi
courtesy perfect. When | was nine
teen he took me from school ant
found me a home in the family o
some old friends, the Wilson's, whC
consented to take care of me. HI
sent me q quarterly allowance that
believed to be money left by my faith
er. but which, many years later,
knew was provided by my guardian
/ generosity.
81 was very happy with the VII
sons. Your mother was about IN,
own age, and we were soon like sis
ters in our love for each other, Will
John was my lover, dear, before
had been week in his mothers house
/ was still very young, just fTOI
school, and John was twenty-five
boy still in heart, and ready for an
frolic his sister or | suggested.
was all sunshine for a year, and
never guessed that | was making des
! olate heart that was all my owl
giving bitterest pain where had II
ceived only kindness. | never guesse
it, for | loved Steven Hetheringto
with the same warm affection m
childish heart had given him so long
and realized nothing of the highe
love he was trying to win, and whic
/ gave to John Wilson. Child, child,
did not understand at all the Sc
stern face my guardian wore when h
gave his consent to my marriage, nc
why he left us so soon afterward, Sc
Ting upon me the sum from whic
my allowance had been drawn.
"When you are Older, dear, yo
p, shall read some pages in the diar
" that was Stephen Hetherington's las
sad legacy to me, closely written vo
umes that were the companion an
solace of his bitterly lonely life. An
you will see how a mans own mob
heart can elevate it's love dream, al
raise merely pretty girl to a pla
scarcely lower than an angels.
makes me very humble, very pitif
in my own eyes to read the record
my lovers devotion, and see what
= glamour his love threw over my col
~ monplace attractions.
= II was happy in my married Iii
~ never dreaming of the sore heart wa