The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1903-08-14
have to wait o*erlong for that pro-
pitious occurrence

have to wait o3erlong for that pro-
pitious occurrence.
Alma has been here three months.
Mrs. Brown was right. She has
| chased the somber shadows out OF
these big, quiet rooms and the sound
of her light footsteps, of her sweet
voice calling me to go riding or boat
ing with her, the eXhilaration of her
bright, lovely presence, has brought
another life into Branleigh Hall.
| =
Alma saw very little Of her father,
she tells me- He wandered around the
continent and at watering places (and
Monte Carlo, while she was at school
in convent in Paris.
Her mother died ten years ago. I
had not thought it so long How time
flies.
I am glad Alma was not with him.
What fascinating, honest child she
| is. His would have made a pernicious
influence Nor can Alma grieve for one
she hardly knew.
"Are you happy, child?" asked her
few evenings ago, when we came
back from a brisk canter and l was
lifting her down from her saddle.
Happy? I never was so happy in
all my life, Cousin Hugh she said,
resting her little gloved hands on my
shoulders.
I was passing by the wing part of
the house the other day and heard
Alma's joyous, mellow laugh. l stopped
and Looked in Mrs. Browns room
Alma sat on the floor, her sleeves
rolled up, stemmiHg strawberries for
Mrs. Brown, who was connecting
something at table, and the theme
of conversation l gathered was our
| family ghosts.
Alma's arms and hands are exquisite.
Like Parian marble. A ray of sunlight
| was falling over her splendid bronze
hair, and I noticed her eyes were
not purple blue, like her mothers, but
| dark gray, honest, frank and true.
No, she had not inherited any Of
Arthur's traits.
Of course the neighbors have flocked
to Branleigh Hall as soon as l issued
few informal invitations.
Alma is clearly the sensation of the
| day and hour in our exclusive society.
But l wont have Catherine Weihtley
and her fast set spoil my little girl and
brush the bloom of her exquisite fresh
ness away, by their reckless cynical So
ciety talk
Sue Darlington laughed at me last
| night. My dear Hugh" she said, you
are too absurd with that child You are
hen with duckling, positively. No
body's going to steal your jewel, at
least not tonight. A little later. But
you are worrying needlessly. Alma
is very clever, l assure you, and her
| convent education does not prevent
her from forming her opinion about
men and wonderland a very accurate
one it is. Nobody can spoil her."
l was glad such was Mrs. Caring
tons opinion. Sue lives and breathes
for her world social and Paquin is the
idol she worships. But underneath her
laces and frivolties, she has a warm
heart, and considerable brains in her
clever little worldly head.
Having assumed the responsibility
of Alma's life, must, of course, carry
it through. The child must have her
Paris gowns, and flirtations with BRAIN
less youth.
1 have not legally adopted Alma as
my child. But l have remade my will.
Branleigh Hall could never have
more exquisite mistress than Alma,
and she will know how to administer
these broad acres and properly care
for the splendid old place. Penroy will
see to the mines and other properties
for her, should my guardianship be
removed. Penroy is entirely trust
worthy.
have no special reason for dislik-
ing the man, John FELTON, is considered
a fine young fellow and a rising lumi-
nary in his profession. But his too
great Difference to my opinion jars on
me. His attentions to Alma are entire
ly too conspicuous to be either in
good taste, or ignored. Has he caught
the child's fancy? God forbid!
=
The night is quiet, and have paced
for long hours this deserted room.
where Alma's presence fingers, striv-
ing to look into the troublous future.
My heart is heavy with foreboding,
and wrung with sorrowful anxieties.
Alma came into my life, and has glori-
fed it. Am I to lose her and settle
back into the gloom and dryrot of
useless and aimless existence? l will
take Alma abroad.-New Orleans
Times-Democrat.
In NJ tat o. Fee