The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1901-07-19
CHAPTER XVIII.

From one of the luxuriously furnished
chambers of her fathers elegant mansion
Jenny Lincoln looked mournfully out up
on the thick, angry clouds which, the live
long day, had obscured the winter sky.
Dreamily for a while she listened to the
patter of the rain as 1t fell upon the de-
serted pavement below, and then, with
long, deep sigh, she turned away and
wept. Poor Jenny! the day was rainy
and dark and dreary, but darker far were
the shadows stealing over her pathway.
Turn which way she would there was not
one ray of sunshine which even her buoy
ant spirits could gather from the sur
rounding gloom. Her only sister was
slowly but surely dying, and when Jenny
thought of this she felt that If Rose could
only live she'd try and bear the rest; try
to forget how much she loved William
Bender who that morning had honoraby
and manfully asked her of her parents,
and been spurned with contempt-not by
her father, for could he have followed
the dictates of his better judgment he
would willingly have given his daughter
to the care of one who he knew would
carefully shield her from the storms of
life 1t was not he, but the cold, proud
mother, who so haughtily refused Will
llams request, accusing him of taking
underhand means to win her daughters
affections.
II had rather see you deadP' said the
stony-hearted woman, when Jenny knelt
at her feet and pleaded for her to take
back the words she had spoken. II had
rather see you dead than married to such
as he. mean what have said, and you
will never be his"
Jenny knew William too we'll to think
he would ever sanction an act of disobe-
dience to her mother, and her heart grew
faint and her eyes grew dim with tears,
as she thought Of conquering the love
which had grown with her growth and
strengthened with her strength. There
was another reason, too, why Jenny
should weep as she sat alone in her room.
From her father she had heard Of all that
was to happen. The luxuries to which all
her life she had been accustomed were
to be hers no longer. The pleasant coun-
try house in Chicopee, dearer far than
her city home, must be sold, and no
MutIt III tuC Wlut NVllO was u
place for them to rest.
Mr.. Lincoln entered his daughters s
room, and bending affectionately over her
pillow said "How is my darling to-day|
Better, better-almost WELL" returned
Rose, raising herself in bed to prove what
she had said II shall be out in a few
days, and then you'll buy me one of those
elegant plaid silks, won't you? All the
girls are wearing them, and | haven t
had new dress this winter, and here
it's almost March"
OH how the father longed to tell his
dying child that her next dress would be
a shroud But he could not. He was too
much man of the world to speak to her
! Of DEATH so without answering her ques-
| tion he said: Rose, do you think you
are able to be moved into the country?'
what, to Chicopee? that horrid, dull
place? l thought we were not going there
this summerp
mo- not to Chicopee, but to your grand
ma Howlands in Glenwood. The physi-
clan thinks you will be more quiet there
and the pure air will do you good"
Rose looked earnestly in hero fathers
face to see il he meant what he said, and
then replied: "Pd rather go anywhere in
the world than to Glenwood. You've nc
idea how hate to stay there. Grandma
is so queer and the things in the house sc
fussy and country6ed-and cooks by q
fireplace, and washes in a tin basin, and
wipes on a crash towel that hangs on q
rollerw
Mr.. Lincoln could hardly repress .
smile at Roses reasoning, but perceivinl
that he must be decided, he said: "Wt
think It best for you to go, and shall &C
cordingly make arrangements to take you
in the course OF a week or two. You
mother will stay with you, and Jenny
too, will be there a part Of the time;'
then, not wishing to witness the effect o.
his words, he hastily left the room, paus
ing in the hail 10 wipe away the tear
which involuntarily came to his eyes al
he overheard Rose angrily wonder ''whl
she should be turned out Of doors whel
she wasn't able to sit up!'
Il never can bear the scent of thos'
great tallow candles, never" said she
"and then to think Of the coarse sheet
and patchwork bedquilts-oh, it's dread
} full"
Jenny's heart, too, was well-nigh burst