Year: 1879


nineteen years old, and then died, brok-
en-hearted, because unfortunate specu-
lations swept away his entire fortune,
reducing me to poverty.


For that was the light in which he
regarded it. Not that he was poor him.
self, but that must endure privation.


Before he died, indeed, before he lost
his fortune, Williston Moore had asked
me to be his wife, when he returned from
a trip to Europe his father insisted upon
his taking before he married and went
to home of his own.


Papa only gave half consent. We
were very young. Williston just of age,
] but eighteen, and he thought it best
we should both remain free until the
European trip was over and 1 was in
troduced to society.


So my handsome young lover bade
me farewell, and went over the ocean,
carrying my heart with him. Six months
later my father died.


l was crushed under the weight of
grief, for we had been companions and
friends as we'll as father and child
holding such intercourse as only love
can prompt, sharing each others thoughts
and pleasures.


The whole world darkened to me when
my father was carried to his grave.


wrote to my uncle in Florence, the
only near relative we had, who was
abroad, seeking health for his consump-
tive daughter.


He was a rich man, and INDUCED in
faint hope that he would send for me
to join him in Florence, or point out to
me some refuge at home.


To Williston Moore sent simply a
notice of my fathers death cut from a
daily newspaper.


In it the writer spoke of the recent
loss of fortune that had brought on the
mental depression that preceded the
fatal seizure, and l wrote nothing.


He, my lover had courted me when l
was an heiress, petted child of fortune,
and he must be left to follow his own
will if he desired to break faith with
the penniless girl left orphaned.


For l was proud to my hearts core,
and would not plead for a forced love,
wrung from sense of honor. If Will
liston loved me he would hasten to my
side; if his heart had gone from me, |
could live out my sorrow laden life
alone.


While my mourning was yet new, my
home was sold, the dear surroundings,
familiar from infancy, scattered under
an aucsioneer's hammer, and l found
myself the inmate of small room in
boarding. house, kept by lady who had
known me for years.


She was very kind to me, cheering
me as far as possible, giving me moth.
erly advice about the very small sum Of
money l possessed, and trying to find
me some light employment.


This was the most difficult task of all.
Though l had had every advantage of
education, was not trained for teach
er of any accomplishment, and knew
absolutely nothing of the care or control
of children.


| had no love for sewing, and as my
inclination had governed all my pursuits.
l had neglected needle work, excepting
some trifing tasks of embroidery or fan
cy work-never excelling even in these.


"What am going to do ?'


The question rose in my heart many
times day, assuming more force as
time sped by and my stock of money
melted rapidly away.


There came no word from my uncle,
no message from Williston. l seemed
deserted by all upon whom I had any
claim.


1t was six months after my father
death, and May was half spent, when
Mrs. Green, my landlady. came to my
room one morning to tell me:


"Miss Rosamond, l have heard of a
situation that l thought might suit you -


Tell me-" l said eagerly. vision of
my last broken bank note rising before
me.


my cousin has been here to call, and
has told me that an intimate friend Of
hers, great invalid, is going to Italy,
and is looking for companion"


To Italy My uncle was in Italy.
; Williston might be there
"But l know nothing about nursing u
| said, my heart sinking again.


"You will not be required to know
anything about it. Mrs. Hoffman has
a nurse, but she wants some one to read
to her, to 60 out with her, companion.
ship. Her terms are very liberal,
half promised you would CALL"


L gladly made the promise good and
called upon Mrs. Hoffman.
l found her an old lady, feeble and
pale, refined In manner, very gentle and
patient, under the suffering of an incur.
able and painful illness.


She seemed pleased with me, and
after some little talk we agreed upon