Inter-Mountain Republican | 1909-01-31 | Page 27

THE INTER-MOUNTAIN REPUBLICAN, SECURING rR . ADAMSON was a short, stout pompous little gentleman. With his hands tucked under his. coat- M tails, ae he stood in front of the fire place, and preached propriety to his daughter. "The propriety one observes at one place, may with equal advantege be observed at another. Etiquette is always-er-etiquette." "Yes, but everybody makes friends. quicker at the seaside," pleaded his daughter. "Pardon me! I haven't spoken to a solitary individual during my sojourn here-except, of course, to the landlady; and on that occasion the bacon was undoubtedly burnt," "You're different," blurted out the girl. "Precisely! I am different. Other people, perhaps, have noticed it." "Well, they have,' snapped his aughter, "They say-" "Spare me!" Mr, Adamson uplifted a plump but modest hand. "(My example may have a farreaching effect. My daughter, obviously, should be the first to copy it. Of course," he went on, ith pursed ee "be pleasant and genial." "To whom "Er'-he paused, with a slight cough and stroked the crown of his head for a reflective taoment-‘‘with whomever you come in contact." "Well, that's what I was doing," said the girl aggrievedly, "when you came up end made such a fuss." "T trust, I am pleasant and genial," he said; "nobody has ever ventured to tell me to the contrary. But I don't carry it to the extent of sitting on the beach with a young man, and letting him hold my hand." "Why, of course not!" she sure Jed. "Or holding a young woman's hand," he added quickly, with a frown, which quenched his daughter's mirth. "You'd look silly either way,' she suggested candidly. "That, of course, is a matter of opinion," declared her father, somewhat annoye ‘However, I desire you to put an end to your acquaintance with that you will not ee not introduced yo "But you young man. to anybody never ‘eet In any I have young men," she was keeping an appointment with Mr. on his usually cheery he Mr. greeted her. Nicholson paused "nntil father knows you, fom the man in Hiiledale, the and with 2zndfather before him onage toward whom had and ingly all cara been the all eyes rers listened studious one man, of the polite great but loving none, a handsome ix eyes, man, with a voice of cast of singuiar if his mind, uspicion that though she love, which had not the tamed ver} hi sTouns oad wound fire. and a mor house, here the graveled and its wide, white old the silver noble columned fair, w delicate vith is w Dallelt's, little creature barely unpy blue eyes, a8 Innocent in child's, and a marvelously silky a , that Se gold; and she jimpled chin, and the me a} 1 a lox ked was. how numerously where the to rest 1D safety its like fool- shepherd is tire But Amy-vwho was there in all Hillsdale who ld wish to turn ae care iree, happy laugh oie banish , trustful from light? y ju deep ond se ber smu hey blissful surroundings heart Paul has but darkly that Dame Amy's Yet at all before ir ny x]ignh \! ee > -y | Wry M" Mate newspaper called forth an explosion of wrath which seemed the precursor of a fit of apoplexy. CA Dereueue Can you imagine me in a newspaper? The young man said he could not. He said it regretiully. Allowjng his imagination to play around the subject, he sniggered, and thereby drove the nae to the verge of lunacy. Shrinkng app rom the gust of passion which whirled maleenant like around him, Mr. Ni olson offered to obtain a supply of clothes, and, before his offer could be sean set out hurriedly in the direction of the tow: "T told the tramp man," he ee lant to Miss Adamson, ag she was making up «@ parcel of clothes, "to steal them and bring them to me. The running away with them altogether was quite his own idea. One comfort, I didn't give him the dollar in advance." While he was hovering fearfully like a somewhat plump merman, on the edge of the sea, Mr. Adamson Saecte to see things with remarkable clearness. effect of this brain disturbance was to some extent ere in the thankful, almost grateful, air with w hich he received the clothes from the hands of Mr. Nickolgon. It became strikingly apparent when he sought out his daughter on his return home "T am not," he said, "wholly an idiot!" "Well, perhaps: not," admitted his daughter. "S, when a series of mishaps befall me, Brine: h BN \ \\! ti Wy ey and CANT. alinost bad-tempered. their SBZAK TO FTE Acs He little plot It was quite evident had that seemed a pickpocket by ye failed. "But what happened? When he found he hadn't his purse, what did he do?" "Gave me in charge!"' grunted the young man "At least, if he didn't exactly do that, I had to let myself be searched! Said I'd been following him about for days; anybody could see I was what as not sister- to know chamber summer was that where- the shifty look in my eyes." over. ever it was whispered in every house in Hillsdale irreparable dishonor abided in poor old Dallett' s humble cottage, and that fair good name was forever gone, Amy herself did not seem to heed or care for anything that was said, and sat the day a long with by low, ber hands something faith to the of in vine-shaded idly folded conscious her in her Jap, innocence eyes that south and was be- pitiable witness. was lover? The question had so startled and scandalized the entire neigh borhood., The outer door, to sna stood open, and she noiseleasly without entered stop- the little sitting- room, efore she had well recovered and, from her surprise at finding no one in the apartment, found herself bending over the cradle, wherein slumbered sleeps nocence misery her and the here peace, loveliest was dark-haired the "‘thy sin like the in the in- sorrowtrul ery has found thee very midst angel of of shame in- and unutterable!"' Shame and tmiserv? Could it mean that. when child was so iltogether beautiful, and slept in a downy nest of sill and lace, rich and fine enough to have decked the cradle of a king's the 8ori. 4 Mra. Hargate was both astonished and be wildered, Surely this lover of Amy's could be no beggar, nor had he forgotten or forsaken her in the hour of her utmost need, whoever he might be and whatever were his misdeeds-and they were not few or slight, she felt quite certain. Alice, widowed and childless, bent low. above the tittle sleeping face, and kissed the moist, sweet mout and tiny snow-white hands. A strange thing for her to do; for she was & proud woman, and not at all l¢vish of her endearments, The touch, light as it was, awakened the child, and a pair of great wondering baby-eyes opened wide to meet the gaze of those other eyes which were large and ee too, filled with a leok of unspeakable pain; , quick and the silent, and other this sharp es lightning forced longer iteelf upon love as she her had flesh, guard well side of the the secret grave which must to ever no be re- For more than a year Paul Everleigh had been in Europe. Business matters of great importance had detained him abroad much longer than he had supposed they would on leaving home, and his return was anxiously waited for by his sister, and perhaps by another, who patiently watched the crisp October days melt away into the stormy skies of winter, with that same sad, sweet smile in her eyes that hau haunted them ever since the "bitter truth soul that she could no formerly done her only brother y the time she first began to linger un- der the silver firs for the coming of one whom she had easily learned to love, but could not went from lip to lip among the curious village gos sips, but no one knew or could even guess who the girl's betrayer might be. One day, as Mrs. Hargate was passing the widow's cottage, 2 sudden desire seized her to enter and see for herself the child whose birth ping She kissed again the soft peachy-pink cheek lying uppermost on the pillow, and strangely guilty feeling tugging heavily heart, stole unseen from the house and fled home ag fast as her trembling limbs could carry her. It was plain now, and she, like Amy, must b learn Amy'a " SY You, ara Pa AIRE MOVP?NFOLLS ing in Adamson And purse the Amy to forget. went nowhere ‘and saw no one, and was deaf and blind to all that went on around her; but sometimes when the weather was fine she would hour steal when observation; away sbe and to would there the dark, be most one quiet likely bright firs, at an to escape spring morn- ing, Alice met her, slowly walking up and down beneath the low-drooping branches with the child in her arms, and her cheek laid lovingly against bis curly head. It was a pretty picture, an? Alice paused, chartoed in spite of heiwa, by the youthful grace and beauty of the mother, no less than by the healthy, rosy baby-loveliness of the boy. Amy stopped short, and the color all left her face at seeing the haughty lady of Everleigh so near. But Alice reassured her with a look, the without money his in "Nobody. stemped trouble the I with had to exasperation little gentleman, hold of his Who lent him ing up lately, get knowledge! end?" He had a fiy er in his pocket book." s Early the ers morning, going anyone in the direction of Walmer would have become spectator of a cymious little scene. A short stout Mr. to his and a and mo tioned her to sit down on a rustic seat close by, remarking, by way of explanation, that Amy did not look strong enough to carry the child Amy did as Mrs. Hargate requested, much to the little fellow's disgust; for he already had a mind to have his own way, and peeped disapprovingly at Bice through the silken mesh of his tumbled curl: Alice felt her eyes growing misty, and it was all she could do to steady her voice sufficiently to ask, in forced, commonplace manner, if Mrs, Dallett's rheumatism were better, and her cough less troublesome than it had been during the winter Amy saw through the artifice, and a startled, half-frightened, half-questioning lock crept into her eyes. "You think me very wicked, I suppose, ond no longer Gt to see or speak to any one," she eaid, in a slow, heaitating tone; "but people do not know, and | am too happy and well conre ,» cate much what they say or think of Happy!"-Alice could not believe her ane "happy and contented, after being so deeply wronged by one whom I hope God will forgive, though I cannot find it in my heart to do so." "Wronged?" Amy repeated, with a wistful uplifting of her innocent blue eyes. "I did not say vo. It is for him to speak, not me. I love him nor conscience," said Alice, in a <-1 love their children; but hard, this con- boy of yours, it scems to me, is much less dear to you than your guilty friend, and I say to you, Amy Dallett, as a woman speaking to a woman, that itis a cruel-cruel wrong to make him the innocent, life-long bearer of his parents' dishonor.' "Thshonor! Who calls it so?' she answered with considerable spirit. ‘And you-oh, Mrs Hargate-you know that the Everleigh firs neyer cast their silent shadows on a fairer boy than mine. See-he has his father's eyes, his father's noble brow, and think you his father will not love him?" "Love him? Yes, as he has loved you, Amy, and as men Jove-only to forget!' was Mrs. Hargate's sadly-low reply, "You do him injustice-indeed you do!"' earnestly urged Amy. "If I make no complaint, surely you should not. If my heart trusts and believes in him implicitly, yours certainly has no right to either doubt or censure act of his."' "And the child's name?" questioned Alice, half-vexed and wholly surprised that Amy should persist in being wilfully blind, as well as inca- pable, she thought, of really knowing the miserable position in which she steod. "You may trust me so far-for, heaven help me! I am not ignorant of the truth, and the knowledge Is of a kind that I would much rather heave died than ever to have known.' : replied Amy, soft)ly, "My darling has no name," parting the curls from his forehead with her thin white fingers-‘‘no name at all, now! When poor Amy is lying yonder on the hill, beyond the wooded height, it will not matter how or by whom her little measure of happiness was given. He might not always bave loved me were I to live to be old, but I shall die young, as did my mother, and so I have nothing to fear. He will care for the boy-I know he will-for he is just, and would never wrong his own flesh and blood however weary he might grow of me." Alice felt herself answered, and without an other word, she turned and left the two together again alone fragile young of and lips under the mother, cheeks still, with sombre the deepened firs-the delicate to a vivid Nicholson, to of the beach, was boot and a shirt unconsciousness that an Is hmael face of the on the he was bloom scarlet, nameless and easily fatigued, and it was heart, sur prising that she should be more so now than ever before, since she kept herself shut up like 2 clojstered nun, and did nothing week in and week out but lie on a sofa or sit in a great casy chair by the sunny window, where she could see the Everleigh larches standing dark between her and the sky, and the summer breeze come drift ing in, ladened with the spicy breath of pine and cedar. But one night in June, when the birds and and a little wit-who making stood at timorous whispering, "He will while too Jate!"' she Paul Everleigh, America, midway might have that night, the soft wings, and thought it wake stand- the offers edge of one sions." "Yes?" ly C a certain young out Saale of caid Miss of the man, appar imperfectly-re1 _tmtteas cans- a most drawing Adamson, the window. "Therefore, desiring a certain glancing nervous- © peaceful shall be glad to make the young man without delay. conelu- holiday, I acquaintance of this The sooner-er-the safer. You understand?" "Yes, papa," said Miss Adamson, over and tapped at the window. aa she went W ATSOWN come too late- peacefully died. between heard England about his and pillow, movement of an angel's but the moan of the rest- "You know all, she told you, then-and for that reason, I suppose, you. brought the child here!" "Yes, here, to his father's house-his rightful home.' "Quite true; and 'tis here I should have brought my wife, had she lived until my return," ead Paul, very "quietly. "Your wife?" Alice turned quickly, a look was lying so still and pale in her coffin, with a hushful smile on her lips, and nestling in her bosom the fairest roses that ever bloomed at of infinite joy breaking over her face. "Your wife, Paul?' "Yes; Amy was my true and lawful wife. I am not quite the villain you thought me to be, though I admit my conduct to be deserving of censure. Amy devotedly loved me, and I do not think she, ever regretted in the least our secret Everleigh marriage. less sea; or there in his dreams with haw and a might have appeared to him seraph as fair as the morning, eyes like Amy's-the Amy who And there, too, was Alice, with a kind of solemn sternness in her eyes, which no one knew the meaning of, nor dared to ask. "I will take the boy home with me," she had said, in her frmest tone ‘until a fitter home can be found for him.' At which everybody exclaimed: "How good ucky thing it of Mrs was for Hargate! the child taken a fancy to him!" Amy had been burned three Everleigh reached Hillsdale. A stolid villager whom he the railway station, told and that days, what she when a had Paul happened to meet him, in a merely at casual way, the story of the girl's sudden death, and who it was that bad adopted her fatherless child Katherless! Paul's face grew as pale as ashes. and he set his teeth hard in his bearded lip As soon as he had rid himself villager, he took a letter from kissed it passionately. "Written only two days said, with a low, in-drawn days! She she could had not not have of the garrulous his pocket and she died," he breath-‘‘only two before thought written death so near, else light-heartedly. so "I know you will explain everything when you return, for people are talking so, and the baby is so like you, and so perfectly good and beautiful, and I do so long to see you. Dear little, loving Amy! And she was really in her grave and would never see him more. Mrs. Hargate was alone with the child in her own private apartinents, when the door quickly opened, tered and the Paul, hurriedly unannounced, sprang abandon up, glanced playing of on affrightedly the toddling floor, infancy, at her cannot touch your head hand, and burst Paul-l, after all, and neither nameless nor and estates.' Had your secret been into cannot even say that I pity you-for I know all, and the poor girl's sad, patient face, as I saw it last, will haunt me to my dying day!" made Amy! I had not thought her so ill, though she did say, in. her simple, innocent \ people were talking so dreadfully, and she did not dare go anywhere. I cannot repair the wrong I did her, or the wrong [ was the means of compelling others; she but has her i left to try me, endure down and parting at the hands days' visit of to be a father to the child and, I am loving Amy "And'I a mother," in loving him, replied lovingly, as feel Alice, Amy wonder, of course, and Amy's grave see above that bending had the sank father- known sooner, it would have spared her much evil comment, though she never yemet to mind it herself or care what anybody "Because she knew me much etter than did any one else-much better than even did my sister, and loved me well enough to endure anything for my sake. Sweet, gentle-hearted nine now back in her cat again, unable to utter a word. Pau] was very pale, and he looked worn and weary, but Alice for her life could not rise and greet him as a sister should a brother, after av absence of nearly eighteen months. ae cannot be that you are not glad to see ' he said, advancing, and holding out I leigh, less! There Paul, take him! It was for his cake that my heart grew hard toward you!" and, with a great sob of mingled love and Joy, Alice put the boy in his father's arms. "Amy declared that not for the universe would she undo the past; and she did trust you so entirely, Paul! But we must be just, and clear the dead mother's name from all reproach. We must say to the whole world, ‘Amy was our brother's wife and our sister, and her child, our darling Paul, is rightfully heir to the Everleigh name en- in all the and "No, that she did not!" burst out Alice, catching up the wondering child, and covering his face with tears and kisses. és A true-born Ever- little Paul's clustering curls, The story when it came to be known, roor, gleefully merry not was the flowers were asleep, and the moon shone full and clear, Amy kissed her baby tor the last time bade her weeping old grandmother adieu, folded her two feeble hands above her faintly-beating anc eart No one nckriad. not even Mrs. Hargate, that Amy was really il], for she had always been delicate anger, "Can I go home in a boot and a shirt?" was one of the elder gentleman's coherences. The young man's feeble, tentative offer of a and the pretty child playing at her fect in happy with aol as BY demning tone of voice. "Mothers, even the worst of them, though lost to all sense of shame themselves, purple waist in the sea, gasping inarticudiscomposed-looking young man- ROSANNA very much. He has been, and still is, kind to me, and I would eat for the world undo what have done." "You reason hke one who has neither judgment their ently desirous jaf t playi ng Seere vealed one tee, 4 ble enjoyable + tte, ids Ws,ENA I My) here premedi an Everleigh's its silent the and snsecn, and birds of prey wheel watchfully above the spot where the weary saree vainly opes with or had : (ire) a iT the jews \i Hi, Nw | Nich BoA Fide its m ------ WYpalitaces! id weejames, Ny hidden Mr. her instinct not so simple human out, and notes the sparrow fall," might have ber in . 5s guards 3) keeping: yet true it is‘that wolves most towards of heart, child-for when tbe und was breast ever seen Amy!" bird-hke so fair and the filled eighteen, fluttering. wonder in she had Oh, Amy, had a sweet, rosy mouth and chase as warmly tinted as pretty. one 1M clamber down, Finally, to have that Amy was not very wise- -would old grandmother should go the flower this dainty, and ay of all the living, troubles butte rfly were left to face life's yaaa ovi or kinhome neither with alone, dangers snd va to call her own whe tempers the wind to the shor lamb, fare came fant expression wealth of in the sunshine slo "hic au --- ----_-- ti he disgorge countenance, unermng appear 4 of a sea-shell, and such wee ways as made ish granddaughter her father pi- GZ41F, The Adamson, the ‘coach + -- 7 says you or after _- --- ~ Everleisgh's Who carriage- thro a a stately avenue of glimpse could be had of the not lieving fabled orphan, and resided rue her li mess ottage, just bey ond 15 Bs ye Miss gloomy and been did enough be a Drneese in disguise, ag that her proud srother could by any possible misadventure be the victim of Cupid's subtle arts. un arrangement. and and ntaur, ught be at the bottom of her brother' 3 changed demeanor She would as soon have thought her pretty § ig-girl, Amy Dallett, to Amy w andmoth alighted, have window, elightest the a may whole magnetic sweetness with olson knew, countenance, wonderfully the Bi: lingsgate before of their lodgings. for she Ilis sister, who never ventured to ques gloomy moods, dearly as she loved him, long time noticed that sometbing far xing than business cares was preying jon his rad fo more :pon and severe that watched tated every to except his sister, a lady five years and es much like him in looks as it his scnlor ere yi sible Paul, for brother and sister to be. his way Sn no guest is ever bidden to enter. Just how the story originated no were otwithstanding the policeman She saw off hidden admir- attentively all, the exalt her to the seventh heaven of delight? Mrs. Hargate, observant woman though she was, could not tell what it was that so pleas antly occupied the mind of her nimble-fingered young seamstress any more than Amy knew the nature of the secret which she fancied might be type to about afternoon, and l was a proud, cold, which seems born to rule, but never to smile, or to show to any one a glimpse of the heart-a silent, reserved Jawyer, him CW ell?" ' she cried eage "Ah-h!"' snarled Mr. Techats on, the last of his name, Pau) embilious wad near Ol uting his one turned set He widowed sister, Mre. Alice Hargate, in a beautiful mansion overlooking the town where his father and his (ve that pier, direction richest lived girl the daughter, "papa to to calla aang, and was the view by the ticket-office, stood at the end f the @l Ul EVERLEIGH scieida" met Was she wound up, introduces you to and - he y ae "Just before." is tone conveyed a suggestion of a feeling of injury. "I went away just after. If I'd only been able to render him some little service, now, it would have been different." consternation, explained exactly when talking threatened which me. And if I do onee to you," she concluded, "Dad will take me home at onec-I know he w Mt" "The idea would be-" began the young man I've * go t it!" i he cried, with an air of triumph. " ary thing!" AUL not man, Late in "Why? Got the toothache?" Somewhat indignantly the girl real position of affairs "T am not to speak to you," 1909. porters are used to talking." "Er-yes!"" admitted Mr. Nicholson, stroking his chin. ‘You see, he caeried on a good deal, and his language suggested that subject. He's not a very friendly man, is hc-not effusively so, I mean? I bought him a program, and he wae eaused her to glance hastily at the clock. "T can't speak to you," she said mournfully as ae young "But," objected Nich- countenance, 31, 9 bandstand next morning, "but I've paved the way. I think he will know me the next time he sees me." "If it's any gratification to you," remarked Miss Adamson quietly, "he does. He pointed you out to me when you passed our window this morn "No? Really?" cried the young man, with a pleased smile. "What did he say? "He-he only pointed you out," " sald the girl evasively. She paused, and appeared to be admiring the back view of a cab. ‘‘Why did you tell him last night that he put you in mind of your own father?" she demanded. The young man "T thought it would have drawn us together," he murmure "Tt hasn't. ‘He' 8 taken it as an insult." How?' ' she checked herself. ‘Of course, began olson, 2 young man of a jealous disposition She passed the bandstand with a caution due to her fathet's oft and loudly expreased love of music. As she approached the pier, Mr. Nicholson passed out of the turnstile, with a look of gioom JANUARY SOTUUIANeniente apt." said t the girl mournfully. ‘'N or a good reason, The modern von man is not worth knowing." He strode majestically towards the door. "Remember!" he said. Truth, however, compels the admission that MORNING, ELVERSON Miss Adamson reserved her congratulations until she learned phat it was he had got. "Why," explained Mr. Nicholson, "he didn't recognize me that time, did he? I must make friends with him, and get him to introduce me to you. Idiotic of me not to have thought of it before!" Miss Adamson demurred. It wasn't the delay in thinking of the idea which was idiotic; it was the thinking of it at all. Mr. Nicholson, however, refused to allow his confidence in his ability to overcome her father's objection to strangers, and, in particular, his curious detestation of young men, to be shaken. It wanted but a little effort, he asserted, to break down the walls of Mr. Adamson's reserve and enable him to creep into the stern father's affections. He drew a delightful picture of their smoking each other's cigars, and tripping _ along the promenade, with arms entwine plained that in looks you took after your mother, ¢e ee a you trod on his toes seven times. Didy "No!" he yin indignantly. "Not ag many as that!" "But why did you tread on his toes at all?" "Well, you see, that's the idea. You tread on a man's toes, and then, of course, you apologize, and then drift naturally into remarks about American boots and Protection, our corm cures and walking matches. Any subject that comes future, to whom to know BY JAMES IN . "<q 7 A SUNDAY COPYRIGHT © done, w as 2 those it an ho ex quisitelymarble, ee stone of the purest Italian bearing the simple inseriptioa- To the memory of 2 The beloved wife of Paul Everleigh And often, of 2 quiet, summer afternoon, you may see a lady sitting beside it with a little, dark-eyed boy on her knee, who is never tired of hearing about his iether: asleep this many 2 day under the nodding roses And sometimes a gentleman comes and spends whole hour there alone, and people who know him say he looks the very last man in the world to ever have had a romance, least of all one' so touchingly sad as that of his secret marriage.