Year: 1870

be under his control in everything. Per-
haps this thing had gone farther than he
had feard The letter looked it, certain
! ly And he must nexer be allowed to
entangle himself with this girl, to the
bighting of all his future prospects. He
examined the wafer it was hardly dry
yet and the self-willed man, who would
as soon have thought of committing mlr-
der as opening any other letter, reasoned
himself into the belief that he had per-
feet right to read his sons letters, and his
knife slid under the wafer, and the open
! letter was before him.


1t contained nothing to alarm, but some
thing to crafty him. For in it Lucy told
her friend of their proposed removal to
Illinois, and gave him her future address.
When Judge Whitcomb opened the let
| ter he intended to reclose it and send it to
| its address. But now, if he could suppress
| it-as he told himself he had right to do
"a point would be gained yes, two, for
he would blame her for not writing to
him before she went away, and would
| lose all clue to her address, for the present
at least Judge Whitcomb was not bad
man; and hidden in his heart beneath
crust of pride and sef-esteem, was a
warm love for his children Morton was
his darling, and around him gathered the
choicest emotions of his nature. And had
he suspected the sorrow that he would sub
iect him to by the act he contemplated,
! it would never have been committed.
That the girl would fret some he did not
doubt. But what right had she to think of
him--the only son OF Judge Whitcomb?
Her presumption ought to be punished!
This last thought decided him; and with
steady hand he consigned it to the flames.
on that bright spring morning. And Nor
ton Whitcomb recited poor lessons from
wondering why no letters came, and Lucy
Merlyman wept bitter tears in her far
! Western home for the answer that could
not come.


As soon as Mrs. Merryman was gone,
Judge Whitcomb wrote long letter to
| his son; and in postscript conveyed the
intelligence that Mrs Merryman had sold
her little place and gone West, tor some
advantage to her daughter, he had been
told


And thus the thread that had connected
their lives so long and SO closely was sew,
ered and they went their separate ways
with their first bitter lesson in distrust and
suspicion.


Mrs. Merryman had nearly three thou
sand dollars to place in the hands of her
brother; and took her place as housekeep-
er of his family, with honor to herself and
advantage to him and his two motherless
girls. Lucy, also, had a pleasant home
with them, and finally rose from her SUBJ
ordinate position to preceptress of the
very popular school.


Mr. Leonard was shrewd business
man, and the funds entrusted to him by
his widowed sister did not lay idle. BY
speculating in city property he soon
doubled the amount; and venturing still
farther, he added more. And mt the end
of four years, with Lucy's wages included,
they had ten thousand dollars in the bank.
! But, oh, how idle how less than worth
less it all seemed to Lucy when violent
disease attacked her mother, and she was
forbidden to hope Everything that
money and the most agonizing care could
do was done But the mandate had gone
forth, and Lucy Merrylnan was alone.
| The mothers dying request had been to
be buried by the husband of her YOUTH in
the shadow of those green mountains,
near which she had lived, and the brother
and the weeping daughter accompanied
the remains to the village graveyard.
And thus Lucy Merryman returned to the
place of her birth. They remained but
| few days, as her uncle was stranger,
and without seeing Morton Whitcomb.
who was transacting some business for his
father in Boston, she returned with her
uncle to hisresidenee in Illinois
! But during her short stay she had met
Judge Whitcomb and he was particularly
struck with her beautiful face, queenly
manners, and all that combines to make
an elegant woman. In Mr. Leonard his
quick eye detected the man of business;
/ L., ta.-.
pronounced him one of cultivation and re-
finement. As Judge Whitcomb, he called
on him at his hotel, invited him to his
house, and offered him all the attention
that one gentleman need offer another.


When Morton returned and found that
Lucy Merryman had been back, grief
| laden and desolate, the old love dream of
his boyhood swept and surged in his heart
as of old, and he longed to soothe and
cheer her, as in those early days. But
when his father in his usual business-like
manner, spoke of her great personal
beauty dignitied manners and good con-
nections, he then added, "And her uncle
tells me she is regarded as one of the most
successful teachers of the State" the can
ker spot burned again, and he said. bitterly:


Then she has obtained all she erayed.
and her best friends should be satisfied"


The father had never been quite salts
fed with Morton. He had not made the
man his boyhood promised. The gay
| hght-hearted youth had become sarcastic
and cynical. He was not so fond of fe-
male, society and sometimes spoke sneer-
ingly of affection between the sexes.
Coldly polite to all, the inner temple of his
heart seemed closed, and distrust guard
ed the portal.


"Morton, why do you say that? Did
you ever care for her"


1t was so unlike his father TO ask such
u question, that he started an instant be-
fore replying:


Eyes, as | never shall care for another.
But she threw me away as an impedimens
in her path, in her mad career to position
and wealth. If she has gained the first
the latter will surely come and ii she is
gratified, her friends Should not complain !;
and for one | will not


"You were so young Morton, when she
went away, that You ought TO have for
gotten that hoyish fancy, and long ere
/ this hava fauu1 "a haStnuy