Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1908-03-13
THE STORY OF ANNETTE.
CHAPTER /.

People do very good or very bad things
nnder the pressure of trouble, and selfish
ness will rise to the surface as mud rises
up when one disturbs a stagnant pool.
I think / must be very wicked and
selfish, for I can think of nothing but
myself during this awful time of my
trouble have cried and cried until |
can cry no more; am perfectly exhaust
ed and lie sick and miserable on the bed,
feeling that l shall never care for any
thing in this world again. 1 think I
have been crying for a whole week but
to me it seems month.
Only this day week-or was it a
month Dad and / were happy togeth-
err with never care in the world; we
were gay and merry, taking life as it
came, roaming about just as fancy led
us. And now dad is dead and / am
alone. 1t is my first trouble, and am
wild and undisciplined, and do not know
how to bear it.
What a thin thread there is between
life and death, and how easily that thread
is snapped! Who would have thought
that Garvin Tremaine, one of the finest
horsemen in England, would be killed by
the stumble of mule in the Canaries
Yet so it is! He had been for ride up
the mountain which eliminates in the
Peak of Tenerife, and whilst coming
down his mule had stumbled over one OF
the large masses of lava and basalt OF
which it is principally composed.
He was paying no attention at the
time, being SO accustomed to rely on the
surefootedness of his steed; in fact he
was lighting cigarette when the beast
came down and threw him violently over
prec;pice.
They brought him back. Oh, shall |
ever forget the sight of that dear, uncon-
scious face, so white and drawn, or what
/ suffered till the doctor hastily sum
moned from Santa Cruz arrived! There
was no hope from the first; his back was
broken, and he had only few hours to
live.
He recovered consciousness, but l al
most wished he had not, his trouble was
so great at the thought of leaving me
alone and unprovided for Darling dad
the best and dearest of fathers, it made
my heart bleed to hear hint But it was
soon over, and with his death / lost all /
held dear in life.
l think of all this now as | lie in my
bare little room. What a queer little
room it is, and yet I like it, or did until
now There is no carpet on the floor
only a few straw mats, and the closed
window blinds outside give dim, uncer-
tain light to everything within. But it
is spotlessly clean, and during the three
months we have been in Tenerife it has
grown familiar to me, l suppose / must
leave it soon, but as yet have not quite
made up my mind where / am going.
Old Carlotta comes in with some bread
and-butter and coffee and deposits it on
a little table by the bed.
Eat, missy" she says, smiling sym
pathetically; "eat, eatd
Carlotta generally speaks to me in
Spanish, as she knows only two or three
words of English. l suppose she thinks
it will comfort me to hear my own Ian
guage, and it does.
thank her and try to eat, and am
rewarded by the look of Joy on her old
brown face.
Everybody is good and sympathetic to
me here, and shows me kindness during
this terrible time. I feel better after /
have eaten something for / was weak
and exhausted for want of food. l put
on my dress and step out of my bedroom
INTO the courtyard 1t is cool here and |
sink into low basket-ehair and lean nv
aching head against the cushions. There
is fountain in the middle, and the gem
tie sound of the splashing water is sooth-
ing to my tired head, and the gorgeous
flowers all around refresh my eyes.
take letter from dads dispatch box
and read it for the fourth time. It is
from my fathers cousin, Elizabeth Fitz-
george, evidently written some years ago
on the death of my mother
Dear Garvin," it rant am truly
sorry to hear of your sad loss. Would l
were near you to help in any way! /
fear you may find the bringing up of
your motherless girl great responsible
lty. VIII you send her to me? We have
no daughter, and it would be pleasure
TO have her. Remember you were almost
IKE a son to me when you were a boy,
and now shall be glad to have little An
nette-Your affectionate cousin, Eliza
beth Fitzgeorge"
found this letter carefully preserved
among dads few business papers: as a
rule he keeps no letters, and indeed we
accumulate as little as possible in our
ioFihg lie, and always reduce our lug
gage to a minimum. l suppose he hest
iated to destroy this letter, having an
instinct that it might be needed some
day.
de had not taken advantage of his
cousin Elizabeth's offer at the time. nei-
ther had he ever mentioned the subject
10 me, although he had often spoken of
her
When he was young schoolboy she
was woman of nearly 80, and he spent
most of his holidays at her fathers
nouse. She married very late in life a
ar. Fitzgeorge and / believe has one or
Two sons good deal younger than dad,
bae am not quite sure
we are singularly destitute of rela.
lions on both my fathers and my moth
ers side, and l know of no other except
my old cousin Elizabeth; but we never
felt the want of them.
we are Irish, and have a full share of
our national characteristics. Happy-go-
lucky. generous Froo ba nIaJ auJ ,,~st%-,