Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1908-10-06

pected courage comes? AS her father ad-
vanced to the bed, Lorraine sat up and
looked calmly into his face, her own most
pale and quiet now.
what am 1 to do, papa? must l go
back at once, or may l stay little
just a little time?"
Mr.. Galveston took out his watch and
examined it coolly-his daughter Una in
herited his slow, graceful languor. "The
London train leaves Alton in twenty min
utes," he said; mind you are ready to
leave here in FIVE; and if ever this occurs
again, you shall be watched. as not fit to
be trusted"
The child's desolate, yearning eyes were
still fixed wonderingly upon her father
face, and she spoke with hot and trem-
bling lips.
Even if were good, you would not
like me any better. papa, so what's the
use of trying? If it made any difference,
l believe l could be good. Oh! papa.
would it make you like me any better?
would do anything to make you like me
just a little as you like Una"
This is not the sort of conduct to win
you esteem or even liking" said Mr..
Gaveston, coldly, as he turned away. I'm
five minutes, recollect, you must be at the
hall door"
Don't cry, DEAR" said Una, when her
father had left the room, ''he does not
mean anything unkind."
Cry" echoed Lorraine, with no sign
on her cold sad face of the tears which
had started when she first spoke to her
father. I'm not crying. Why should
cry? Bid me good-by quickly, Una, /
may be late. Una, you must lend me
hat, please"
A very hopeless good-by it was, but
still it had not brought the tears. Through
the drive into Alton, and the journey to
London, Lorraine sat beside her father
almost motionless, and he hardly uttered
a word to her until they reached Hamp-
ton House. Leaving the child in the hall,
he went alone into the favorite sitting
room of his widowed sister, and was there
many minutes before Lorraine was sum-
moned. Trembling visibly in the dread
of the punishment which awaited her, she
came timidly forward, not even seeing
Athol We're as he sat apart in one of
the windows. But suddenly a great joy
the child; Mrs. Farrissey
was not going to scold her.
Mind this, Lorraine" her aunt said,
stifiy: next time you get lost in the
London streets and a woman offers to
take you home, remember home means
here. Don't give your fathers address
again. l should never have expected you
to be so clumsy. Making me so anxious.
too. Never do it again"
Never" replied Lorraine, shaking her
head brightly, and glancing for her faith
ers approving recognition of her ready
wisdom in so promptly indorsing his YER
SON of the matter; mo, l shall never do
il again"
Put even this repetition of the proof
of her wisdom failed to elicit an answer
ing smile. His eyes were on the ground,
and remained so until she was told to 90
to her room, when he coldly bent to re-
ccive her kiss, and answer her good-by.
Lorraine :"
The voice that stopped her on the
stairs was Athol Vere's.
II am going back with your father, so
have only time for a word" he said. "Try
to be brave and true, my little pet" and
then he left her.
Il think" unused Lorraine to herself.
Is she walked on very slowly up the
stairs, that if Aunt Farrissey hadn't
,een always so particular in ordering me
o like him, l should like him, very
much; he's very patient with me- Yes,
le's very good to me. l wonder'-al-
'eady the hayward thoughts had left him
whom, in her humility, she thought was
)nly patient with herr wonder how
Mr.. Trenham would have said good-by.
f l had seen him at the very last. Would
lie have kissed me, and cared about my
being good? 1 hope So"
Poor child! BY this time Rourke
would have forgotten her very existence.
,ut for Una's anxiety about her, and Mr..
Hartle's regrets that she had ever thought
# coming to see the old man at all.
This is the last glimpse we take of
he child in her childhood's home. When
re see her again seven years will have
passed over her; and she will be nine
cen.
The days varied but little through all
he long seven years, but the loneliness of
hem deepened year by year. There were
lines when she was sent for home, for
lay at time, and there were times when
Ter father brought Una to London to visit
Ter aunt in ceremony, and there were the
lays when Athol We're came from Kun
ey, and would snatch minutes from his
xacting hostess to tell her all the scraps |
# home news which he had collected to-
ether for her especial benefit: but these
we're the only CLEANS of brightness which |
roke the long gloom in which we leave
Ter.
Long, long letters she wrote to Una
hey were almost like having her nearer,
he said-and she begged for long ones |
Jack, because there was nothing of real |
in all her days like reading
mas words but Una's letters-though |
hey always charmed her younger sister
were never long.
'She does not know how really solitary !
am" Lorraine would sigh, holding the |
'aper to her lips; IF she did, they |
you'd be longer; they are so soon read, so |
DON learned, and then it is all over for |
ong. long days"
And so the years passed, and the girl |
rod her solitary way; but until we meet |
Ter again can we judge whether the teach
ng of that time has changed at all the |
Iature of the child.
Still, though we leave our heroine for |
hose seven years, we must pause just |
vice during their course, to glance at |
ther characters of our story.
CHAPTER III.
Between Hohve and Kumley there
TODD low white house. separated from
he high road only by its dozen square
ards of smooth turf, in which. in sum- /