Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, 1906-06-22

a1ected though with fol tune rerns1 i
impaired as had been those q ma1y
Southern families, including
Beauchamp line.
To this strong haven of refuge NAG
come Mary Ellen Beauchamp nom
the far-off Western plains, after me
death of her other relatives In tnek
venture SO ill-starred. The whit
haired old widow who now represenr
ed the head OF the Clayton FANNY
her kin somewhat removed. but none
the less her cousins" after the COM
prehensive Southern fashion--had
taken Mary Ellen to her bosom, up
braiding her for ever dreaming OF
going into the barbarian West, anu
listening but little to the plea OF the
girl that poverty had driven her to
the company of those who, like her
self, were poor Now, such had BEEN
the turn of the wheel, the girl was
nearly as rich in money as her older
relative, and able to assume what lit
tie of social position there remaine1
in her ambition.
mdly EilCh was INV
twenty-seven, tall, matured, and
somewhat sad-faced woman, upon her
brow written something of the sor-
rows and uncertainties of the home
| less woman, as well as the record or
| a growing selfreliance. If Mary Ell
len were happy or not none might
say, yet surely she was dutiful ana
kind; and gradually, with something
of the leadership she had learned I'M
her recent life, she slipped into prac-
teal domestic command of this quiet
but punctilious menage. By reason 9
of an equal executive fitness Aunt
Lucy rose in the kitchen also to full
command. The Widow Clayton found
her cousin Mary Ellen a stay and
comfort, useful and practical to de-
gree unknown in the education of the
Southern young lady of the time.
OF her life in the West Mary Ell!
spoke but little though never with
harshness, and at times almost with
usefulness. Her history had seemed
too full of change to be reality. For
the future she made no plans. It
, seemed to her to be her fate ever to
DS al dliCh, a ioOnSh7oh. hS AOSS~
dropped across her lattice, and the
[ blue grass stood cool and soft and
deep beyond her window, and the kind
! air carried the Groom of the wooing
/ mocking bird; yet there persisted In
her brain the picture of wide, gray
land, with the sound of an urgent
wind singing in the short, tufted
grasses, and the breath of a summons
ever on the air. Out there upon the
Plains it had been ever morning.
Here life seemed ever sinking toward
its eventide.
This old family and the family
house were accepted unquestioningly
by the quiet Southern community
now, as they had ever been, as a part
of the aristocracy of the land, and as
appurtenances thereto. The way OF
life had little change. The same
grooms led out the horses from the
stables, the same slow figures cut the
grass upon the lawn. Yet no longer
were the doors thrown open upon a
sea of light and color The horses
were groomed and broken, but they
brought no great carriage of state
sweeping up the drive between the
lion-headed pillars of the gateway
When Mrs. Clayton feebly sought ia
propose brighter ways Of life for the
young woman, the latter told her gen
tly that for her, too, life was planned
: and done, the struggle over, and thai
:, she only asked that she might rest
~ and not take up again any question:
for reimbursement. y
r. "You will change after q while
Nv honey,~ said her protectress; bu
,s Mary Ellen only smiled. It was enough
20 to rest here in this haven, safe from
20 the surging seas of doubt and hop'
: and fear, of love and self-distrust. LIE
no 1t be settled. Let 1t be ended. Fo
= her no cavalier should ever come rid
n. ing up the graveled way, nor shoul'
az lights ever set dancing again the sha
,d dows In the great dining hall over tn
% heads of guests assembled in her hor
a or. 1t was done-finished. And Mar
ar Ellen was not yet twenty-eight.
10 ITO be continued)