Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1892-01-24

Of the tragedy. He called, in voice
too sad to be querulous-a hickering
voice, never TO be fed vigorous again by
any lusty hope:
Ellen Elem"
What, father dear?"
1.-THE water boils. Please bring the
tea, my child"
Eyes, father dear"
The answers came from within the
wagon.
1t was a sad, sweet voice that answer
ed the old gentleman's call. A lscy's
yoice-the voice of high bred woman,
delicate, distinct. self possessed. That
sound Itself was tragedy in such spot.
In an instant the lady so sweetly her
aided stepped from beneath the hood OF
the wagon, and sprang 10 the ground IN
more busy and cheerful guise than her
voice had promised.
Again the same subtle magnetism be-
tween her aud us. We could not have
been more convinced OF her right TO alb
solute respect aud consideration II she
had entered TO US In the dusky light OF
rich drawing room, or If We had been
prese nted in due form at a picnic OF the
grandest world, with far other scenery
than this OF desert idle, tenanted for
the moment By a Mormon caravan. The
lady, like her father, felt that we were
gentlemen, and therefore would compre-
bend her. she saluted Us quietly
There was ia her manner tacit and IN
voluntary protest against circumstances,
just enough for dignity. A vulgar Wo-
man would have snatched up and put
on clumsily a Observation-Disclosures air.
This lady knew herself, and knew that
she could not be mistaken for other
than she was. Her base background only
made her nobility more salient.
She did not need any such back
ground, nor the contrast Of the drudges
and meretrlcious rights of the caravan.
she could have borne full light without
any shade. A woman fit 10 stand peer
among the peerless.
We could not be astonished at this
apparition. We had devined ner father
rightly, as It afterward proved. Her
voice has already half disclosed her
character.
a mature woman; beyond girlhood,
BODY and soul. With all her grave de-
meanor, she could not keep down the
wiles OF gracefulness that ever buboled
70 the surface. II she could but be her
happy self, what fair world she would
suddenly create about her!
She was dressed in rough gray cloth,
as any.ady might be for journey. She
was evidently one whose resolU.e neat
ness repels travel stains. After the
tawdry, draggled silks Of the young
women We had just seen, her simplicity
was charmingly fresh. Could she and
they be Of the same race OF beings?
They were apart as far as coarse from
fine, as sllvern from brszen. To see her
here among this horde was horror in
itself. No horror the less that she could
not blind herself 10 her position and her
fate. She could not fail 10 see what
bane was beauty here. That she had
done so was evident. She had esSayed
BY severe plainness OF dress TO erase the
lady from her appearance. A very idle
attempt. There she was, do what she
would, her beauty triumphing over all
the wrong she did to IL for duty's sake.
All these observations l made with
one glance. Description seems idle
when one remembers how eyes can see
az a fash what IL took cons TO prepare
for and lifetime TO form.
Brent and l exchanged looks. This
was the result OF our fanciful PRESENT.
ments. Here was visible the woman we
had been dreading to find. 1t still
seemed an impossible vision. / almost
believed that the old gentleman's blank
ct would rise with him and his daugh-
ter. like the carpet Of Fortunatus, and
transport them suddenly away, leaving
US beside a Mormon wagon in Sizzum's
camp and in the presence Of a frowzy
family cooking a supper Of pork.
looked again and again. II was all
real. There was the neat, comfortable
wagon; there was the feeble, timid old
gentleman pottering about; there was
this beautiful girl, busy with her tea
and smiling tenderly over her father.