Cottonwood report. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1893-1901, 1895-09-27
FORGIVEN AT LAST.

n
D the stateliness Of antique architecture
the immortal home of the ancient fam
lily of Luttrell. One mellow evening in
early autumn there sat looking out to
sea, with sad and anxious faces, Walter
Luttrell and his bride.
"And so, Walter murmured the girl,
there is no hope of your father relenting.
Walter, 1 have been cruelty selfish, and
you, my darling, should not have sacri-
feed so much for me-"
Don't grieve, dearest; bear up. The
fate is hard, tbs true; but better thus,
and SO go forth and struggle with the
world than to be separated. Come, we will
meet the future bravely; and in America
there is no family pride to mar our hap
piness.'
Walter Luttrell was the only child of
Sir Walter and Lady Luttrell, who looked
upon alliances with their blood with all
exacting eXclusivenesS.
During a summer vacation in his uni
versty career he had been the sole occu-
pant of his fathers house. She was the
granddaughter of his fathers gatekeeper.
He took fate in his hand and hushing or
evading all Maud's scruples, presented
themselves before the rector of a distant
parish and were wed, with the proviso
that the marriage should be kept secret.
But almost the first guest that entered
his fathers halls after his parents re-
who so recently had officiated.
So the decree went forth and Walter
Luttrell as a discarded, penniless man,
babe adieu to the home of his ances-
tors and sought consolation in the love of
his plebian bride.
For seven or eight years 1 lost sight
entirely of the friend of my boyhood, ano
the story of his fortunes never reached
his home. His mother had died and a
gloom hung around the mansion.
1 had long become a permanent resi-
dent of New York. One wet boisterous
night l jumped on the front platform OF
a crowded streetcar on my way home.
1 was alone with the driver, whose man.
ner of talking to his horses as he stop
ped and started rather attracted my at
! tention.
You don't appear exactly at home with
this kind of driving 1 remarked
81 am not professional coachman,'
| he replied, with an English accent.
| "How far do you go before you change
| off?' 1 inquired.
81 change close by, at the station"
/ got off and watched for him as he
came out again and turned to go home
in the pelting, pitiless rain. Overtakine
him, I stepped up, and slapping him or
| the shoulder. exclaimed:
! "Luttrell, how are you, old boy?'
How came you to call me that name?'
he half angrily answered, starting back
MY name is Loring-But, by heaven
can it be? o. Frank, how glad 1 am tt
see your
In an upstairs room in a dilapidatet
| tenement we found the bride of his
| youth, pale, but still beautiful, huddling
close to her three little children.
my old college chum, Maud" he said
answering her inquiring glance.
My first impulse was to get them ou
of their present wretched abode and into
respectable house until other arrange
ments could be made.
| l obtained from Walter some employ
ment more fitting his education, but a.
his prospects here were by no means fiat
| tering, / struck upon another scheme
that, if successful, would aid him effec
tually. 1 was on the eve of making a peri
odical visit to connection whose estate:
in Somersetshire adjoined those of Sill
Walter, and 1 proposed to Walter an6
| Maud to take over with me their littl,
son. Walter, and try if, through the child
a reconciliation could not be affected.
The little fellow and 1 set sail ant
| reached our destination without inciden
of any kind, and one bright summer
morning l took him to pay my respect!
to the old baronet. OF course, with hi
usual Partially for children, he petteC
the boy, who answered to his name-b!
previous tuitfon-"Walter Henry" and
was encoura ged to notice that the men
ton of the name, in conjunction with thu
little fellows bright, swarthy face, sen
a pang through his heart.
IT was very harsh" he said, ito m!
Walter, and now his poor mother is gone
/ feel sadly alone in the world. Would t.
God he would WRITE" and the miserable
old man turned sadly toward the law
where the little boy was playing. l saw
at once that Sir Walters pride was tn
obstacle to first concession, and step
ping out onto the lawn, resolved to max
the coup without delay.
I called the child to me and gave hiT
some flowers, with instructions to tax
them to the baronet, and likewise wha
he was to say. The child approached hi
knee, and holding up his little face, said
Here are some flowers for you, dea
grandpapa."
That one word was sufficient the trut
flashed through his mind, and gatherin
him to his bosom the old man wept owe
him as though he was himself child
New York News.