Custer County Republican. (Broken Bow, Neb.) 1882-1921, 1907-12-12

homely little thing, with no sugges
ton Of beauty except In her large dark
eyes. These may have resembled my
sisters eyes, but / think II was the
child's mute sympathy that went like
balm to my mothers sore heart. We
brought the little girl to our homie,
where, with my fathers consent and
approval, she was introduced as an
orphaned relative. 1t IL no untruth,'
said my gentle mother To me. the sons
and daughters of sorrow are bound
together by tie stronger than the
ties of blood The child seemed to be
about three years old. She knew only
the pet name, Lassie,' by which her
mother had called her, and we gave
her no other. She was known as Las
sic Hamilton, and grew up to believe
herself the niece of my father and
mother. She called them uncle and
aunt, but her warm little heart must
have yearned for closer tie or kin
ship, for she always called me bro
ther, and on me she lavisbed that
wealth Of self-sacrif1cing love which
we sometimes see little sisters give to
| brothers older than themselves. l was
five years older than Lassie, big boy
with q willful temper which was not
| improved by those conditions Of life
which surrounded me as the only child
and the heir to large fortune. Poor
Lassie was often the victim Of my
temper, though ! think loved her as
much as IL she had been my own sis.
ter. At the time j am going to tell
you Of she was about IL years old, out
wardly unattractive, but remarkably
intelligent, and high spirited enough
| to have been a princess. Mother had
died two years before, and my father
had married beautiful and imperi-
Gus young woman, who conceived
strong prejudice against this adopted
child Of our house, though she never
knew that the object of her dislike
was not my fathers niece. Lassie
would have gone away had II not been
! for her devotion to me. How poorly
was II repaid! One day we had dis
| pute over game Of chess, and / flew
into rage. My temper, which had
known no restraint since mothers
| death, on this occasion passed all
bounds. / told her not to call me bro
| Their, that l was not even her cousin,
| and she had no right to the name of
| Hamilton; that she was the child OF
| pauper and had no name. Many times
| since have wished God had stricken
me blind before saw the look that
! came into her face, but was too an
CRY to think of it then.
'Lassie was not at supper that
| evening, or at breakfast the next
morning. Father inquired about her,
and heard a servant say che had
gone into the city to visit a school.
| mate i was quite willing, by this
time, to acknowledge myself In the
| wrong and beg her forgiveness. but I
was ashamed to meet her and confess
| that1 had broken a promise to my
dead mother. So week passed be-
fore l went to bring her home. But
| she was not with her friend. and had
been there only one day and night
Greatly alarmed, went to my father,
| and found him reading letter post
marked Cincinnati. 1t was from Las
sic. She thanked him in her frank,
childish way, for all his goodness, and
hoped he would not feel troubled by
her going away; she had found a stu
alton with lady travelling north, and
would not return to US. This, abe was
sure would be better Tor her, better
for us all. There we're tears In fathers
eyes when he Laid the letter down, but
he said, She is right, poor child; it
will be better for us all. Far better for
her. But we must find her. l cried.
We don't know how she Is situated;
she may be working for a living Toll
is better than strife, he answered sad
ly. In justice to my stepmother, con-
fessed that my cruelty, not hers, had
driven the child from home. His dis
ishment imposed was heavier than /
had thought his kind nature could de.
wise. 1t was that / should take no
| step toward finding and recalling my
| adopted sister, that should not even
| mention her name In his presence.
Thus was cut off from even the hope
| of hearing from her until my father
| should choose to speak. Years passed,
and had learned the hard lesson of
self-control before he told me that he
had traced her to Philadelphia, and
found her in training school for
nurse% She was quite happy, and i'm
| movable in her determination to make
nursing the sick her life work. went
to Philadelphia to beg her forgiveness;
] but she had gone abroad 10 remain In
definitely, and did not hear from her
again. That this Is she there can be
no shadow OF doubt; but so entirely
Is she changed that did not even sus-
pect the truth until tonight. The eyes
did remind me of Lassie, but had
never thought OF her except as the
thin, plain child grown taller II my
remorse was bitter before, can you
think what it is now. that owe her so
much? l am unworthy of her remem.
brance. but that She does think of me
|