The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-12-11


OF q pretty Thames side villa near Hampton
Court. She was looking UP the dusty white
road, shading her eyes from the glare of the
August sun. and expecting her father. She
wondered whether he would come in a fly
from fhe station or walk. She would have
gone 10 meet the train but it would have
been no use. as she would have had to go
alone her aunt being too busy putting the
house in order to accompany her
And if Miriam Helston had gone alone to
the station she would have been terribly con-
fused. She would either have had to call
out as the train came in, IF you please.
am Miriam" or she would have had to ad-
dress all the middle-aged passengers one
by one to inquire which of them was Mr.
John 1elston.
She was a charming picture of fresh in
nocent English girlhood as she stood in the
sunshine in her pretty white dress and large
straw hat, her fair face wreathed with ex-
pectant smiles. and the dreamy expression
which was habitual in her deep blue corn
flower eyes intensified by the strange
thoughts and fancies with which her brain
was teeming at that moment.
What would he be like, this father of hers
who had gone away when she was two years
old and was coming back now she was
eghtesn-this father of whom no portrait ex-
listed and who, though he had sent her many
a tender message through the long years Of
separation, had never written to her?
Miriam, as soon as she was old enough to
know that she had a father in some vague
place far away, had written childish letters
and given them to her Aunt Dorcas ito send
to papa" When she grew up and under
stood things better she still wrote gentle.
affectOnate letters but they had always to
be handed to her aunt, who explained that
she Enclosed" them. To these letters there
was always a reply but it was given by
word of mouth by her aunt. No entreaty of
Miriam's could induce Miss Heston to show
her niece her fathers handwriting.
Have you had a letter from papa.
aunte?' Miriam would say, and if the an
swer was in the affirmative she would ask a
hundred eager questions as to the message
for herself. They were always loving ones.
Aunt Dorcas, with the grave patient face.
would take Miriam's hands in hers and kiss
her and say, Your papa sends me word that
he has had your dear letter, and it has
cheered him in his loneliness and made him
very Happy and he sends you these kisses. -
Then Aunt Dorcas would take Miriam to
her arms and kiss her tenderly, and some
times her eyes would fill with tears
Her Aunt Dorcas was the only relative
that Miriam had ever known. Her father,
she understood, had gone to some distant
place when she was quite tiny child, and
her mother had died soon afterwards, and
Aunt Dorcas, taking pity on the poor little
orphan, had treated her as her own daugh-
ter ever since.
They had not always been as we'll off as
4I,svr
tons were of lodgings in a narrow London
bye-street and she had gone to a school in
the neighborhood where many of the chill
dren were strange and rough, and most of
them very poor. But when Miriam was
about thirteen a great change had taken
place in her aunt's circumstances. They
had moved into a pretty little house which
was all her own, and they kept servant
and Miriam went to new school, where
the girls were all young ladies, and she had
new dresses and hats. and her aunt seemed
never to be troubled about money as she
was in the old days.
And now Miriam was eighteen, tall,
beautiful young Englishwoman, and she
was waiting for the father whose features
were unknown to her to come back to them
and live with them and be always happy
with them
A woman of about forty with grave
but pleasant face. and dark hair turning
gray came quietly down the garden path
and stood beside the girl.
oh Auntie!" cried Miriam, don't you
really think you could go up with me to the
station? Perhaps papa will expect us to
be there"
mo. dear; I'm sure your father would
rather meet you for the first time here
Il wonder will you know him, Auntie?
You haven't seen him all these years, have
you?'
Yes, I have seen him once or twice since
he left U.S.
And you never told me! When was it?
Not lately, because if you had gone abroad
it would have taken long time and you
have never been away more than a few
days ever since I can remember"
Aunt DOrcas turned the conversation. She
evidently did not want to so into explana-
lions.
How pleased your father will be to see
you, dear. and to find the little child he left
grown up into beautiful young woman
for you are beautiful"
Don't tell me that, Auntie; you'll make
me vain. 1 don't care what am so long as
papa loves me-"
Aunt Dorcas looked at her niece sadly
but tenderly for a moment and then, with
little sigh. went back to the house and
tusied herself with the preparations for the
comfort of the returning wanderer, which
she was personally experimenting.
And Miriam remained watching the long
White road as eagerly as Sister Anne when
She strained her eyes through the distance
for the coming of the brothers of Blue
boards unhappy wife.
Presently a tall. square-built man of
about forty-five came along walking quick
~ il the direction of the villa. From the
first moment that she caught sight of the
mans figure in the distance Miriam had an
instructive idea that it was her father, and
she watched him come nearer and nearer
with fsverish anxiety. She had thought
this meeting out day after day and pre-
pared herself for it. yet now that 1t had
come she felt nervous and terrified and no
longer mistress of herself.
The man came on. looking eagerly at the
names on the gate posts of the houses and
cottages that he passed. Presently he saw
the white-frocked girl at the garden gate
and he came on quickly, looking neither to
the right nor the left, only at her.
He came quite close TO the gate over
which Miriam was now leaning almost for
support Miriam started back with a little