Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1898-02-16
CHAPTER ".

DR.. Letsom had prospered; one gleam
Of good fortune had brought with it a
sudden outburst of sunshine. The doctor
had left his little house in Castle street,
and had taken a pretty villa just outside
Castledene He bore his good fortune as
he had borne his i'll fortune, with great
eGuanimity; 1t had come too late. The
greatest happiness he had now in life was
his love for little Madaline. Besides his
great love for the little Madaline, he be-
came interested in the story of Margaret
Dornham's life-in her love for the hand
some, reckless ne'er-do-well who had CIV
IN up work as a failure-in her wonderful
patience, for she never complained-in
her sublime heroism, for she bore all as a
martyr.
So the two years and half passed, and
he child, with her delicate, marvellous
grace, had become the very light of those
two lonely lives. In another six months
they would have to lose her. DR.. Letsom
knew very well that if the earl were still
living at the end of the three years his
son would tell him of his marriage.
On bright, sunshiny day in June the
ioctor walked over to Ashwood. He had
a little pat ket of fruit and cakes with
him. and a wonderful doll, dressed most
royalty.
"Madaline," he cried, as he entered the
cottage, and she came running to him,
should you like drive with me to-
morrow? | am going to Corfell, and l
will promise 20 take you if you will be a
good girl"
She promised-for drive with the doc
sor was her greatest earthly delight.
Bring her to my house about three to-
morrow afternoon, Mrs. Dornham." said
Dr. Letsom. "and she shall have her
drive"
Margaret promised. When the time
came she took the little one, dressed in
her pretty white frock; and they sat
| In the drawing room, the doctor was
brought home to his house-dead.
1t was such simple yet terrible acci
dent that had killed him. A poor man
had been injured by a kick from q horse.
For want of better accommodation, he
had been carried up into a loft over
stable. where the doctor attended him.
In the loft was an open trap door, through
which trusses of h and straw were rais-
ed and lowered. No one warned DIR. Let
som about 1t. The aperture was covered
with straw, and he, walking quickly
across, fell through. There was but one
comfort-he did not suffer long.
sat waiting for him when the sad pro-
| cession stopped at the door.
The doctor is dead!' was the cry from
one to another.
A terrible pain shot through Margarets
! head. Dead. The kindly man, who had
been her only friend, dead! Then per-
haps the child would be taken fropa her,
anG she should see it no more!
An impulse, for which she could hardly
account, and for which she was hardly re
tpousible. seized her. She must have the
box that contained the papers. lest. find
Ing the papers, people should rob her of
the child. Quick as thought. she seized
| the bOx-which always stood on bracket
In the drawing r, Jm-and hid it under
her shawl. To the end of her life she
was puzzled as to why she had done this.
1t would not be missed, she knew. in the
confusion that was likely to ensue. She
felt sure. also, that no one. save herself
| and the child's father, knew of its con-
,ents.
She did not wait long in that scene OF
confusion and sorrow. Clasping the child
In her arms, lest she should see the dead
face, Margaret Dornham hurried back to
the cottage, bearing with her ihe proofs
Of the child's identity.
The doctor was buried, and with him
all trace of the child seemed lost. Care
full search was made in his house for any
letters that might concern her, that might
give her fathers address; but Stephen
Letsom had been faithful to his promise
he had kept the secret. There was moth
ing that could give the least clew. There
| were no letters, no memoranda; and, af-
ter a time, people came to the conclusion
that 1t would be better to let the child re-
main where sbs was, for her father would