Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1893-03-30

You've just woke up from a nice, long
sleep.
"Sleepl Then the bridge, the storm,
Raymond No, no! 1t was all true. On!
where am |? Who are you? How came
/ here, in this strange placer
"You are among kind, true friends,
dearie-kind, true friends, and you must
not get excited, the doctor says.
Kind-hearted, mothorly old Mrs
Blake, the farmers wife, stroked Edna
Deanes brow as she spoke, and her
startled charge sank back among the
pillows, moaning with weakness, mysti-
1lcatlon, and anxiety.
A long sleep, indeed, had 1t been; for
two weeks had passed away since hon
est Farmer John had dragged her from
the snowdrift at his cottage door, ran
for the doctor, and, with his sollcitous
wife, had worked all night long to re-
vlve her well.nigh exhausted vitality.
Since then, in dose and delirium, the
poor child had lain, and this was the
first awakening to consciousness.
She listened with q shudder to the
story that her motherly nurse told her
OF their finding her that weird snowy
night. She cried softly as she told her,
too, how they came to love her bonny,
innocent face-how If she was home
less, frlendless, they would gladly make
room for her in their home and their
hearts, bereft only short year since by
the death of their own darling child.
They asked her no questions as she
grew stronger daily, and Edna did not
enlighten them. 1t seemed as II pail,
never to be lifted, hung over her young
life. She remembered all that the mes
senger her father had sent for her had
impaired to her-that he alone had
placed her at the seminary years agone,
and with him had persisted the mystery
of her young life, all hopes of establish
ing her identity, Of finding her father.
She had been cast upon the world alone,
with no claim upon her past life, and
the mystery of her true identity was a
mystery still.
No claim, save one-Raymond! Her
heart beat anxiously as she thought Of
him How he would worry over her
sudden departure, her strange silence.
She must write to him, to her dear friend
Beatrice Mercer, Mt once, No, she re-
membered all her guide had told her.
She must never communicate with any
of her old friends until she saw her
father. It might mean perll-trouble
for him. OH how the perpleXities Of
her situation fretted her
A week passed by. She was strong
once more. All one day Edna reflected
seriously That night glancing lovingly
at the faces of her kind friends, she told
them of her resolve.
you have been like an own father
and mother to me-, she murmured,
gratefully. Il can never forget YOU
never cease to love you, but am go
ing away"
"Golng away" sighed the kindly Mrs
Blake.
"Yes I must see some friends. Then
will return, then may be glad Of your
happy, happy home. Please do hot
question me, but l must go.
Reluctantly they bade her good-by
the next morning. The farmer drove
her over to the railroad station. In the
new garments with which her old torn
and bedraggled attire had been re-
placed, no one recognized her as the
supposed victim Of the bridge disaster,
an event strangely that Mr.. Blake had
not heard of. Edna had few dollars
in her pocket. She bought ticket TAX
ing her half way to Hopedale, kissed
the fatherly farmer good-by, promised
to write or return within few days,
and the train whlrled her away.
At the terminus she sold her watch
This gave her ample means to continue
her journey. All the way she was think
ing Of what she should do. Something
in the memory Of her guides strange
warning about the mystery that clouded
her father life impclled her to secrecy
in all her movements, and when she
reached Hopedale at noon she trusted
to her attire and heavy veil to conceal
her identity.
She haunted the vicinity Of the semi
nary. She would try to get word to
Beatrice. Finally, she addressed a
strange student. The reply to her
questions chilled and disconnected her.
Miss Mercer had left the seminary two
weeks previous.
Then Raymond-she must find him
now. She could tell him everything.
While he endeavored to get some trace
of her father, she would return to the
Blakes and make her home with them.
at the door, bell of the Marshall resi-
dence.
A servant informed her that Mr. Mar
shall was not at home. He had gone to
the hotel with his father, the colonel.
what shall do? Oh! am so fear.
full of making mistake, but l must see
Raymond. Who else can l appeal tc
in my uncertainty"
obviously, undecidedly, Edna walked
towards the village hostelry. 1t wa,
quite dusk, and she was very tire,
when she reached the place.
Mechanically, almost, she ascendeC
the stairs leading to the ladies parlor
and sank to a cushioned chair, thinking
wondering, hoping she was doing wha
was eminently proper, and for the best
Footsteps on the stairs brought her t.
her feet. II it was a servant, she woul
ask her to try and find Mr.. Raymon
Marshall and his father, and send ther
to her-but it was no servant. The ia
miliar form of Doctor Simms passed tn
door, and following him was a clerical
looking man, and the former was say
ing:
4Mr. Marshall is waiting for us. TIL
way, sir.
Mr.. Marshall-Raymond He was
the hotel, then? What meant the wore
of the Doctor? Why was the minist
rial-looking man here? For few nj
ments the perplexed girl fingered. The
involuntarily, she stole from the roo
and down a cokldor