Indiana State Sentinel, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 June 1892 — Page 12

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THE lTfDIANA STATE SENTINEL, WEDNESDAY MORNING. JUNE 29. 1892-TWELVE PAGES.'

OLD MAN GILBERT. By ELIZABETH W. BELLAMY, ("KAMBA TIIORFe") Author of "Four Oak?," "Little Joanna," etc.

lh Sentinel" 1 Indebted to CI I A ITER XI. MISS KOXANNA MAKES CP HER MIND. With the hot blood of the Thornei urging iu his reins, Nicholas left his father's house, reckless of tbedrivinnrain; and when the rain ceased, at dawn, h had come to that sorry little un pain tod house, in the corner of the finld, on the edge of Eden, his horse llecked withfoam, himself drenched with tha storm. A bird was singing in the blooming elder bush that grew near one of the windows; it was Dosia's window, that looked toward Leon county. Tnere were no blinds, and presently the white curtains were drawn asido and Doeia appeared; tha small, square, high-set window framed her like an old-fashioned portrait. Well might the carpenter boast of his daughter's beauty! It was of a type that needed no adorning; and Dosia, as she stood in the window, waa none tha less an exquisite picture that her black dress was so severely simple. Her lax. uriant dark hair clustered in little ringi over her low, fair forehead and around her shoulders, a graceful riot .of curia. There was a smile, wistful and tender, on her perfect mouth, and a far-away look in her splendid eye, that ignored the near surroundings and pierced the distance with the soul's vision. Out of sight, behind the screen of dripping elder bushes Nicholas beheld this benediction in his young wife's eres, and tears blinded nun. "Ah, dear and beautiful and good:" he lighed. "Little do they dream what at angel they scorn in you! If they only knew you! But tbey wiil not! And bo farewell to them; henceforth I have only Dosia, dearest and best! And to what a fate have I compelled you, unwertby that I am! Like the unjust steward, 'I cannot dig; to beg I am shamed.' Hut happiness yet is mine, and can I neither repine nor repent." Dosia shut the window, and Nicholas, dashing away his tears, rods around the corner of the Held to the front of the houe. "Now, how thall I ask for her at this hour of the morning?" he rxmdered, not without a certain sense ol amusement. 'Her excellent cousin, Koxanna the Rigid, knows nothing of our marriage. The old metbodittt minister who performed the ceremony is somewhere in Georgia, her mother is dead, l.er father is away and he'll be invited within another hour to knock olT work at my aunt's, I'll bet my life!" Dosi&'.t cousin, or to be exact, her mother's cousin, Koxanna White, was one of those women providentially left, for the convenience of others, without settled habitation. Fortunate! she had no ob jection to "living around;" she liked chanje. he had nured Doeia'a mother In her last iliess, and she remained with Dosia now. in her loneliness not unwillingly, for she was far-seeing, and the day might come when ftb Furnival would be eeeking consolation ; she ate no idle triad, and Job might vet learn her value. Koxanna, according to her wont, was up J beaten the hired negress who did the I rnokinir. ha bounced out of the front . door, broom in hand, to sweep the front porch, just us Nicholas Thorue came up the stepy. A tal:, strong, gaunt woman was Koxanna, to whom hard work and meager fare had left scarce a trace of thebuxom beauty that had distinguished her youth. In her dress, narrow aid short, there was no effort at adornment. "Themas likes may pot in their eight or nine breadths," Miss lioxanna was accustomed to say, "but four is plenty fur any mortal woman, an' mo convenient to pockot an' backbone." No ruflle.s, no tucks, no manner of superfluities for her. Her only vanity waa her hair which still retained its color and iU glo.-s. She had tied a towel over her head to protect it from the dust ; but truly the dust might hardly have reached hor head, o high it was above her broom. No'v Miss Koxanna White had never approved of the admiration Nicholas evinced for Dosia. She was decidedly of the opinion that it would never do to have this voung sprig of quality hanging around a girl whoe mother was dead, and whose father was away, the would have liked to sweep Col. Thome's son off the porch, with the two or three leaves she espied upon the floor, but a she could not do thin, site towered in the doorway, and held her broom crosswise, as she exclaimed, forbiddingly: "Land alive! NickThorne! what brung you here this time o' day, bofo' even the cows is milked?" And to beraV.f she thought, "I've writ that aunt o' his'n a warnin' ; why ain't she litten to keep him home?" Nicholas laughed; the fun of the situation was irresistible ; it made him, for the moment, oblivious of its tragic aspect. "I've come for my wife," he said, and turned suddenly sober and scarlet with the humiliating reflection that he was seeking shelter, not offering it. "l.and o Goshen!" exclaimed Miss White-, irately. "Why ain't t mo respect fur yo' s'periors in age and wisdom, boy ? I'm s'prised at ve; an I dunno why I should be, neither. I doan' want no nonsense here. Git out!" "I tell yu Dopia is my wife," said Nicholas gravely. "We were married by old Mr. Druiritnond, in her mother' a presence, two days before Mrs. Furnival died." Mis White' sallow face underwent a variety of contortions; she nearly swallowed the little bit of athea stick with which she had been taking her morning "dip." and which she habitually carried in her mouth; the broom clattered from her grasp, as her hands hung down, helplessly. She understood now why he had been sent to visit a relation six miles distant, just two days before Mrs. Furnival died. "Wha What?" ehe gasped Then, under strong conviction, she lifted her right arm straight it nearly touched the lintel and "aid. with emphasis, "I'll bet my ultimate picayune the colonel ain't consentinV "Never you mind the colonel,' said Nicholas, shortly, "I must fee Doeia." Do?ia had heard his voice; shecamejout into the little entry that divided the rooms, and stood there, pale and trembling. "Dosia! Doeia!" cried Nicholas, wildly, as he pushed past the demoralized spinster, and the next instant she was in his arm a. "Donia," said Misa White hoarsely, "You're a cawnsistent member of the methodia' chu'eh, an' so fur fo'th ez I know, you ain't had naire a fall from grace; ef you say hit's true that ye air married, ez he tells beside cousin 'Mandy't bed o death-I'll believe iL" "It is true." said Dosia, with smiles and tears and blushes. 3Iiss White picked up her broom and weut to sweeping ofT the porch. She made two comments mentally, one in reference to Dosia's mother, the other to Dosia's father: "She must a-turned plam' fool befo she died ;" and, "He's got 'em to tote. 1 ief" Nicholas and Dosia sat down on the long wooden bench that constituted the only

the sbllhera of Bel ford e Monthly forth prlTllegw of prodaclng tbls fascinating storr.

furnishing ot the little passage. Miss White, glancing over her shoulder, saw them there and ehe immediately slammed the front door. "You're been in the rain," said Doiia, accustomed all hor life to consider others. "How wet your clothes are! You must have ridden all night." "I did," Nicholas answered, with a dark frown ; then, with a burst of bitter laughter, "Have you any clothes, Dosia?" I don't know that I have any unless I've a few scattering about Sunrise plantation that I may lay claim to." "Your father has?" Dosia faltered. "My father has" responded Nicholas, indicating with a wave of his hand that words would not express the sentence passed upon him. Dosia eat siient and stunned, clinging to his arm ; for herself, it did not matter; but for Nicholas it seemed, at the moment, more than the could boar. "My whole fortune," eaid Nichoias, with covert bitterness, "con sie ts in my horse and my watch; we'll ped these. Dosia, and defy the world." "I have done you a great wrong," she whispered. "You've done yourself a great wrong, it may be, dear heart," said Nicholas. "Lut at least we have each other. Oh Dosia! Dosia! my wife! If they only knew you, Dosia, my saint! There is nobody like you. You had faith in me and you saved me. Compared with you, what are they ail? Henceforth I live only for you. Missy, Missy alone " he faltered. "Foor little 'sister! the has not cant me off. How he cried to roe. through the rainy darkneas, to take her with me! I seemed to hear her everv mild of the way! I'm 'an exile from home,' and all that, you know. Ah, not no!" he amended, quickly, as Doiia eobbed aloud. "How could 1 say that, my dearest and best? 1 ou are my home. Dosia, Dosia, lootc at me with your heavenly eyes; say you lovo me; Bay you believe in me !" And Doeia looked at him. She did not speak, but she smiled through her tears; and then she drew away from him and rose. "You are going to pray over the situation, Dosia, you know you are; my beautiful saint!" cried Nicholas, with ä smile of reverent admiration. "I am going to find you some of my father's clothes," said Dosia. "Good wife! You are better than any fortune," Nicholas declared; and he la'ighed. He was very happy in spite of the "situation." Misa White had finished sweeping and left the porch. bhe had no grace of manner, but she was by no means devoid of grace of heart. That this marriage was a wretched business, a niinerable blunder, was an opinion tire would not melt oi.t of her; nevertheless ahe had no thought of refuting Job Furnival, when the time should come, and she was entirely willing to spend hereolf in helping to take care of the foolish young couple. She had elammed the door, not in wrath, but solely by way of giving them to understand that Bhe meant to leave them untrammeled enjoyment ot their Fool's Paradise; and she now considerately avoided returning to the house to put "away her br?"b, 7l.dlth kitchen to ct -'V"Mlrt tt ul lie's next do to a fool, I deem," grum bled she; "but that ein't no reason why he should perish onto my hans; 'n if he don't git somethin' hot inside him, after that ride all night in the rain, he'll bo laid up agin with that stole in his lung. If 'taint his lung, leastwise 'twas mighty close. Hit would be a mercy o' the Lawd, an' a jedgment, if he was to" drap oil suddent, an' spito the colonel to conversion; but 'tain't none o' my business to hurry his end bv goin' beginst my lights to neglect him." So Miss White made Nicholas drink the coffee scalding hot, and then she departed to spread the new?, that being the sole satifaction she could derive from the event. Two hours laer Bhe returned in better heart. "Dosia." she said, cheerfully, "I'm a-goin' to stir up a poun' cake. It don't seem proper, nur 'cordin' to nature, not to have somethin' to give a feature to matrimony." CHAPTER XII. COMPLIMENTS PASS. It was Miss Elvira's wish that Gilbert should depart on bid mission without the knowledge of the rest of the world at Thorn hill ; therefore she herself took him his "pass" in the dark of the evening, stealing out of the house with a heavy covered basket, under the weight of which she could scarcely stagger. "I've brought you your pass, Gilbert," she panted; "and some provisions. You are to return tomorrow and bring word, you know. lie sure you put some provender in the cart for the ox." That one of the Thorne hill oxen should be fed from the Furnival corn-crib was ignominy not to be endured. "Igwan do dat!" old Gilbert assured her. He held the same views that Miss Elvira held in regard to the feeding of the Thorne hill oxen; and furthermore, he thought, "Is I gwan resk old Brandy on mouldy nubbins?" nd Gilbert," said Miss Elvira, coming back after she bad started away, as if what she had to say was an afterthought and not a deliberately premeditated design, "if Nicholas should take a fancy to anything in tho basket, you needn't bring back the jars." "Yes, ma'am," said old Gilbert,- with stolid gravity ; but he doubled over with a smothered chuckle when Miss Elvira was gone. "Is ahe clean plum furgot Mawsa Nick is a bawn Thorne? He ain't gwan tetch dat baskit;bntl gwan haul it js' de same." Now Missy, bidden in the clamp of Palma-chrinti that ornamented the front of old Gilbert's garden, had heard the whole of the conference between these two. When it waa concluded she crept out and hurried to the house, over the garden fence, fired with a wild resolve to run away with old Gilbert and join her brother. bhe made up a small bundle of her clothing and hid it under the wardrobe ; and when she went down to tea she secreted a biscuit by way of provision for her breakfast. Her next idea was to lie awake all night, in order to rise with the dawn on the morrow, to which end she insisted upon hearing Glory-Ann's whole repertoire of zoological legends; but in spite of this, Missy slept the sleep of a tired child. When she awoke the glimmer of the dawn wan in the east, and Glory-Ann was snoring on her pallet. Missy sprang up. She had to dress her elf, which she never yet had done. It was an arduous undertaking, but at last it was accomplished. Her shoes and stockings she took in her hands, with her little bund e, and stole softly and swiftly down stairs. As she could not unlock the hall door, she climbed out of one of the diningroom windows, and ran down the laue to old Gilbert's cabin. Alack! it was shut fast, and the ox-cart was not under the shed. When Missy comprehended that old Gilbert was gone, she threw herself on

the ground with a scream ot rage and disappointment; but presently she reflected that if this attempt at flight should be discovered, every possible means would be taken to prevent her putting her intention into- execution on any future occasion that mitrht offers perhaps even she might be locked up and fed on bread and water, like a little girl in a story she had read; and however decided Missy might be as to dying of starvation, she had no mind to live on bread and water; so she made haste back to the house, and was lucky to get in unseen. Glory-Ann was still snoring, and Missy stuffed her bundle under the wardrobe again, tore off her clothes and curied herself up in bed. It was a mvstery Mom Bee was never able to explain, how Missy's clothes came to be scattered all over the room ; but ehe had her suspicions when, a few hours later, she discovered the bundle under the wardrobe. "Who in de lan' put dia here?" she inquired. "Me." said Missy. "What fur, I'd lak ter know?" "Caue." And no coaxing could make Missy say further. Meanwhile old Gilbert pursued his journey sadly. Once in the silent woods he essayed to sing, for his comfort: "Ziou! Zion 1 ray borne! "I'm trar'lin' ehr llebenly road;" but he ended with a sigh, and drove on, mute. Toward sundown Miss Koxanna White, sitting on the top step of the porch, and enjoying her evening "dip" in solitude, espied the ox-cart coming aloag tho road. In that primitive and secluded hamlet, the passage of an oxcart was an exciting event. Miss White watched it with an interest that was almost breathless. It seemed too good to be true that this cart, with the etrong, black ox and the very respectable old negro driver, was actually going to stop before the house w here, for the time being, she had her abiding place. "Whose ole nigger are you?" she demanded, in thrill excitement, as Gilbert dismounted. "I is Gilbert, ma'am; Kernel Thorne' man Gilbert, (urn over in Leon," ho responded, removing his hat and bowing low. "In the name o' peace an plenty!" exclaimed RoxBnna, rising to the full extent of her numerous inches, and peering at the cart from the hight of the top step. "Brought Nick Thome's trunk, eh?" "Fes, mistin." "Well, tain't no mo'n simple justice, 'cordin' to ray way o tbinkiu'; but as a officer o' justice, you're powerful laggard in yo' movements. Whyn't ye come a day sooner?" "I come soon ez de sucenmetances wuz qualified, ma'am," old Gilbert explained, deferentially. "An' you come too late; NickThorne ain't eher," Miss White announced compactly.

Old Gilbert stood agape and stupefied. "Whey whey he den, mistis?" he stammered. "That's mo'n I kin tell. He kited off to Sunrise plantation yestiddy two hours besun, an', as I hear teil, ho sol' that black haw.o o' his'n to the overseer fur a hund'ed an fifty, which it was wuth live hund'ed if was wuth a dime ; an' he come back with Johnson't rickettyole buggy an' blin' mare; an' this mawnin' by daybreak him an' Dosia tuk up their line o' march to seek their fortune I s'pose. They ain't r-aid naire word to me. They're a pair o' turkle doves, to-be-shore; what kin you expert but what they'd fly? But whar they It light 1 don tundertake to prophecy. All I know is they're gone, an I'm left alone here lak a sparreron the houRO-top, or mo' lakly, a buzzard on a rail considerin' of my size." "Tubbe sho!" old Gilbert ejaculated with polite assent, lie looked to the right, and he looked to the left, up to the sky and down to the ground, rubbing hi foreheal with his horny forefinger. "What I gwan do, nex'?" he sighed. "You kin tarry that trunk back an' wait fur accasion." said Miss White. "It's a mighty foolish business, this marryin' 'thout meat 'n bread; but cussin' won't mend it none, an' you kin tell Col. Thorne I eesso." "Dullaw, mistia!" said old Gilbert with uplifted band. "I wouldn't so much ez name Mawse Nick to mawstcr not for freedom !" Miss White cackled harshly. Gilbert, recalling Miss Elvira's instructions as to the contents of the provision ba-ktt, thought that it might be woll to make a propitiatory offering to this severe giantess, who seemed, somehow, to be linked with his young master's fate. "Dey is a little matter o goodies out in de cyart," he said, with hesitating humility ; "mebbe you mought lak tertas' 'em?" Mies White spat viciously. "No, thankee," said ehe. "They'd eour on my Btomik." "You mought set 'em aside, ontel Mawse Nick come back?" old Gilbert suggested timidly. "He ain't a-comin' back !" Miss WThite declared, with decision so enorge'ic that old Gilbert's heart sank back with fear that hia young mat. ter was turned out of doors on all sidee. "En me a-countin' on old Mawsa Job Furnival to tek care on him," thought the old negro, sadly, as he stood twirling his hat, and casting furtive glances at the inexorable Amazon on the door-step; but Miss White had said her say, and was silent. At last he turned to go. "I wish you well, ma'am," he said; "en I'm 'bleeged to you." "You're welcome," said Koxanna. "Though what you got to be thankin' me is mo'n I kin see." CHAPTER XIIL LABOR IN VAIN. Silence and gloom had settled upon Thorne Hill. Tom Quash no longer picked the banjo in his moments of idleness; Griffin Jim rattled the bones no more when work was done; Amity ceased her capering to the tinkling of the gourd-fiddle; and the talk in the kitchen was hushed; it was as if Mawse Nicholas had died. Mrs. Leonard and Miss Elvira instinctively shuuned each other; Flora forsook the piano, and Missy sulked in corners; but the colonel held his head higher than ever, hiding his mortification under a cloak of pride and silence that forbade sympathy. No one named Nicholas; even Missy, though her heart clamored for her brother, found her tongue refuse its office in presence of her stern father. The child understood intuitively something of the fierce tumult that raged in the colonel's breast. A great awe, not of her father, but of what he suffered, took possession of her, and compelled her to silence; but her sole object in life now was to follow her brother. To Missy this seemed an easy undertaking it she could only get away from Thorne Hill; but she was afraid to venture alone any farther thin the big gat at the end of the avenue. Here she sat gazing wistfully through the bars, and hating herself for cowardice, on the morning of the day that old Gilbert was returning from hia bootless errand; here had she been ever sinco breakfast, and it was now nearly 11 o'clock ; bnt she had rot yet made up her mind to venture ouUide, when she espied a carriage coming along the road. This sight created a sudden diversion in Missy' bitter thoughts. "It's Cousin Myrtilla!"she exclaimed aloud. "She's brought Lottie and Bess!" A vision of wild frolie down by the spring rioted in Missy's brain, as up she

iiped to open the gate; but when the c.riage passed through, only Cousin Myrtil I. a looked from the window. "You didn't bring Lottie and Bess?" cried Missy, in deep reproach. "Well, no, I didn't," said Mrs. llerry. "Came o!f in such a swivet. Never mind, bring 'em next time. Open the door, Larkin," she commanded the driver, "and let me take this child in." Missy made no objection. She was fond of her Cousin Myrtilla, and ehw admired that lady's showy dress. Such beautiful pink hrcacinths within the bonnet-brim that framed the faded old face, such loved yellow rosos outside ; such a bewildering lilac organdie, with its tumultuouB pußa and frills; and those purple shoes! How Missy wished for a pair just like them! But these pomps and vanities soon palled, and Mi?ey's thoughts reverted to her trouble. "Brer Nicholas is gone away!" she said abruptly. "He's married to Dosia Furnival, and he can't never come home no mo'." And Missy began to cry. This was no news to Mrs. Herry; she had learned all about it. "Tut ! tut !" ahe said. "Who says he'll never come home again? Don't cry ; I am going to see what can be done about it." This coneoied Mwsy, and by the time the carriage arrived at the house eho was quite cheerful acain. "Cousin Myrtilla is come; Cousin Myrtilla is here!" she announced, joyfully rushing into her aunt's presence, and Miss Elvira, in the fond belief that Cousin Mvrtil a would prove a tower of strength, hastened to the parlor. "Oh, cousin!" she said with tears, "you've come to a houae of mourning." "Now, Elvira," remonstrated Mrs. Herry, "why Bhould you talk as if Nicholas were dead?" "It is worse than death," sighed Miss Elvira. "My poor brother!" "Well, yes," eaid Mra. Herry, with an answering sigh. Her son also an only child had not been a credit to the family ; neither had he married acceptably, but Cousin Myrtilla had over-lived all that, and today was fat and rosy and happy. "And I suppose Jasper Thorne is doin? all he can to make thing wor.e with his stilf-neckednes, and thinking himself a philosopher when he id only a fool." 'Oh!:' Mi Klvirn eaid reproachfully. "I've known him, my dear," continued Mrs. Herry, " man and boy; I've known Jaeper more than forty years. He never was wrong in his life." Mis? Elvira looked bewildered. "But I came here to talk to him, not about him. I've a message for my cousin, the colone'." "Oh." stammered Mifs Elvira, "if it's about Nicholas I'm afraid " "It is about Nicholas, and I'm not a bit airaid," Mrs. Herry declared, stoutly. "You miserable coward, Elvira; iust because Jasper Thorne has heavy eye-brows and a high and mighty air, you don't dare hold an independent opinion. Go, call your brother ; I have that to Bay to him it is host he ehould hear."

Mias Elvira obeyed ; that is she sent Missv to tell Glory-Ann to tell GrifSn Jim to tell Tom Quash to hunt up the colonel and bear him the information that Mies Hfrry wished to see him. The colonel made no delay in answering the summons, but he was very ceremoni ous in his greeting; he overdid everything now in his desire to appear unmoved. Mrs. Herry, however, had not known him so many years to be so easily deceived. "It will kilt him," ahe eaid to herselt, "unless he can be persuaded to reconciliation." Then she spoke out: "Cousin Jaeper, there's no need for pre tension between you and me. I'm older than you are. and I've seen trouble with a son of my own. It is best to look tl ines square in the face. Nicholas has made an unfortunate marriage, but "Madam!" said the colonel, in a deep and angrv voice, with a hand up lifted in trotesL His face had turned a ghastly palor that made his black brows look blacker than ever, underneath which his eyes gleamed like lightning. Missy, who had refused tobe sent away, sat gazing at him, fascinated, and Miss Elvira shrank visibly: but Mrs. Herrr never faltered. "Do.ia will make him a good wife," she proceeded, in a calm and even voice; "she would make you a good daughter, if " "Never! shouted the colonel; he seemed to wish to tay more, but speech failed him. "None of us, indeed, would have chosen her for Nicholas," Mrs. Herry continued, unmoved; "but she is a good girl, and all this is something for you to consider and be thankful for. Life has more remunerative work to offer than nursing a wrong; and Nicholas isn't alone to blame." "Will you oblige me," the colonel interrupted, coldly, "by talking of something else?" "No," said Mrs. Herry, with heat. "I've nothing else to talk of; and I've yet more to say. Nicholas is at my house." "I will receive no embassy," the colonel declared. "Don't you know yoxir own flesh and blood better than that?" exclaimed Mrs. Herry, impatiently. "Nick is a Thorne, every inch of him: he'll make no overtures. Ho has married the girl he loves, and he is insanely happy, poor fool ; but he is desperately ill." Miss Elvira clasped her hands, but uttered no sound. "He is desperately ill," Mrs. Herry repeated. "He rode all night in the rain; and exposure, fatigue, and excitement have told on him. Nicholas is very ill." Missy Burst out crying. "I want to go home with Couin Myrtilla!" ehe wailed. Except for this there was a dead silence. The colonel thought his son's illness a ruse. "That man, or that woman," said he, after a long pause, "who harbors him is no friend of mine." "As you please," said Mrs. Herry, rising. "He is your only son; you cannot take away his name, nor his blood. And as far me lean get on without you, Colonel Thome. My house is my own, and I'll entertain whom I sea fit." She was thoroughly angry now. "If your brother did but know it," slid continued, turning to Miss Elvira, "the only thing to do, now, is to forgive Nick's marriage. Let him try the other way, that's all! But he ought to remember that he is not blameless himself. He has always worked wrong with poor Nick, keeping hirn at a frowning distance, when he ought to have grappled him close; banishing him to that Sunrise plantation, when he oughtto have had him here at home. It isn't Nicholas that is alone to blame." Hut the colonel did not hear all this; he had left the room in great wrath, and Mrs. Herry, overcome by indignat sorrow, and vexed ather deteat, declared that she would nH remain a moment longer. "I am going back to that poor boy," she said. "You may call it a weakness, if you like, but thankful am I thst I forgave my son. I've gotten more good out of that, Elvira, than ever you'll get out of Bishop Ken." And Mrs. Herrr departed. Misny, at least, had derived some comfort from this visit; to know that her brother was at Cousin Myrtilla's was to feel him near within reach. Though he was ill, he need not die, and some day she could go to see Lottie and ßeea and. once there, what could hinder her staying forever with Brer Nicholas? But, alas for this cheering hope! the colonel returned to the parlor when Mrs. Herry ' can iage had disappeared, and said, sternly: "Elvira, you will oblige me by ceasing from this time forth to hold any communication with Mrs. Herry and any of her family. For myself, I never will cross her threshold again, save in case of some calamity." "And that means I am not to play with Lottie and Bess any morel" wailed Uluy,

The colonel sighed bitterly. He felt himself a deeply injured man. He wad remotely sorry for Missy's childish disappointment regarding her playmates ; but what was tbatcompared with hia anguish? Yet nobody realized bis position, nobody considered his wounded dignity. CHAPTER XIV. old Gilbert's vow. When Gilbert returned, some time after sundown, he found Missy seated at his cabin door. "Brer Nicholas is in Tallahassee," Bhe announced, in triumph. "De Laud! Wha dat you tell me. Missy? Nobody ter Eden, nur ter Sunrise kin tell whicherway is Mawse Nice gone. Is bit fur a fac' he ia in Tallahassee?" Missy nodded, with a comfortable sense of superiority in the possession of knowledge that this old man had missed, though he had made a journey ot thirty miles. "At Cousin Myrtilla's," Ehe explained further. "You doan tell 1" "And he is ill, dreadfully ill," whimpered Missy. "And I know he wants to see me." "Lawd! Lawd!" ejaculated old Gilbert "You got to carry me up to town tomorrow." said Missy, authoritatively. "You got nothin' else to do." O.d Gilbert shook his head. "Hit mouiht be a ketchin' complaint, chile." "I hate hard hearted people!" Missy declared, bringing her little fist down on her knee with violence. "And everybody on this old hill has got hearts like milestones 'ceptin' me. You mean ola nigger 1 I ehiin't give you any Christmas git'." "You mus' Uk' patience, honey." counseled old Gilbert. "Hit ain't mo'n three days sence Mnwee Nicholas ldf us; things

gwan to mend maybe. "And it might ba a thousand years," eighed Missy. "Chillen mus' obey," Gilbert reminded her. Miner was silent a long time; then eaid she at lant: "Daddy Gilbert, vou've got religion, ain't you?" "tfress de Lawd!" ejaculated the old man, piously. "If. ' proceeded the child, with great seriouBnesK, "if you was to make, right here, a solemn vow to the Lord, like the bible sava, vou'd keep it, wouldn't you, if it kdled you?" "Tubbe sho!" the old man answered, a little dazed between the fatigue of his journey and the look of strange resolve on Missy's face. At this assent she stood up, on the step above him, her hair tossing in the evening wind, her eyes burning, her slender hands cltsped against her breast; she looked, in the dim twilight, like a spirit, and old Gilbert felt awed. "Kneel down," she samperiously. 01b Gilbert obeyed as though the command had come from another world, as he half believed it did. "Say after me." Mi?sy dictated: "I promise and vow, in the help of the Lord, to keep track of Mawse Nicholas Thorne to the end of my days. Amen." These words Miesy recited with fervid solemnity, the old negro repeating after her, in an awe-stricken voice; he thought the child must surely be inspired. "Now," said ehe," in a matter-of-fact tone, when this ceremony was over, "I'm goin' back to the house and bring you eome supper. I've got to take care of you, 'cause you've got to look alter Brer Nicholas." The old negro stood watching her as ehe went along the lane. "Dat chile ain't gwitie live out half herdaya," he muttered, with a eonowful shaking of his old head. When Missy returned presently with the promised eupper he declared that he could not cat. "Well, but you better," Missy insisted. "You got to go up to town tomorrow. I know Aunt Elvira is goin' to send you." "Dat cawfee do smell pow'ful encouraging tubbe sho," he admitted, with a Blow smile, and soon found his appetite. He had just ended his meal when MlbS Elvira stood in the cabin door, and the old man roso btillly to make his awkward obeisance. "Sit down, Gilbert, you must be tired," eaid Miss Elvira, graciously. "Winifred, my dear, run on back to the house; it is too late for you to be out." " What's the use?" said Missy, with an impatient shrug. "I know all about it. Daddy Gilbert has been to look for Brer Nicholas, and Brer Nicholas ain't there." "Nicholas is at Mrs. Horry's," eaid Miss Elvira, wearily. "So Missy brcn tellin' me. Hukkom you know. Missh-virey?" "Mrs. Herry was here today," ehe answered flußhing. "You must go up town tomorrow, Gilbert. You need not start so very early, and I'll see you again in the morning." But the next morning old Gilbert was ailing, and for several days thereafter he was unable to leave his bed. Tom Quash, who went "up to .town" three times a week for the mail, reported to Glory-Ann that Mawse Nick was "mighty sick," then that he was a little better, and finally that he was pronounced out of danger. A fortnight later Miss Elvira added another hundred to the sum she had already given old Gilbert and dispatched him on an embassy to her nephew. "I's s'prised at Mipsle-virey," mused old Gilbert as he jogged on his way, with Nicholas' trunk in the ox-cart. "Hit ain't no mo' use 'n nothin' 't all ter een' dishyer money. Mawse Nick ain't gwan tek hit. But I ain't gwan say nothij,'; when Mawse Nick done refuse hit I gwan put hit away ; come o' use bom-bye." It came to pass an Gilbert had foreseen ; Nicholas would none of his aunt's gift, and indeed the faithful old Elave had some difficulty in persuading him to receive the trunk. Mus Elvira, however, made no inquiry about the. money; she had not expected thanks nor any kind of acknowledgment, and she preferred to Bay nothing about it. "En hit ain't fur me ter go ter her'dont I is axed," old Gilbert decided ; and very early the next morning he buried Miss Elvira's gold whore his own savings were hidden. Some days later came the news that Nicholas had left Tallahassee, or rather, it was understood that Job Furnival had taken his daughter and his son-in-law away. It was old Gilbert who brought this news; he had learned it through the negroes belonging to the improvident and despised Furnivala down the road, whose society he now cultivated, as one means of "keeping: track of Mawsa 'ick." "Hit's a fur war, a very fur way fum here, Missle-virey, eaid he, sorrowfully. "Hit's clean ter Tampa, yuther side o' Madison, de tells me." It seemed quite aa far to Miss Elvira as it did to old Gilbert, and she wept abundantly when she heardjof her nephew's departure; but Missy took the news very soberiy. Old Gilbert, remembering the, vow she had extorted from him, expected her to insist upon bis setting out for Tampa forthwith; but the child was reasonable. She recognized the fact that Tampa was. as old Gilbert said, "a very far country," and she did not remind the old n.an of hia vow. Apparently, she had resigned herself to the inevitable and was learning to live without Nicholas; but in truth she was only biding her time: one of these days, when sho should know more about geography, she would go hersclf to Tampa, and Daddy Gilbert, having nothing particular to do at Thorn Hill, should go with her. Such was Missy's present program. She had fonnd starving impracticable; but ! eh etil! maintained aa unrelentinbit-

ternesn toward her father, never speaking to him except when impossible to avoid it. This, however, made little or no impression upon the colonel; children had few attractions for him at any time, and ha was too much a prey to his own bitternesa of heart to be conacious as yet to his little daughter's estrangement. Mrs. Leonard Thome and her pretty daughter, finding such a state of a'lfairs too irksome to bo borne, made all haste to their own home, as soon as two or three rooms could be put in habitable condition. The colonel did not oppose this plan: he did all that he could, in fact, to expedite the work on the honee by way of making amends for Furnival's eummary dismissal; but after Flora was gone, his health seemed to fail end leulv, though he did not acknowledge that he was ill. Miss Elvira, in alarm, contrived to have the doctor pay him a visit, as if by chance; and the doctor urged a change of scene. The colonel for a long time resisted, but at last he allowed himself to be persuaded to visit an old aunt of hid who for many years resided in New York. He set off alone one sad September day, when the land lay aweary in the sunshine, and the cicada kept up a din, and the cottonfields were white for the harvest. CHAPTEll XV. r ROT EST OF TUE F1DDLE.. It was the end of October when Col. Thorne returned. Miss Elvira welcomed him with a gentle and dignified selfrestraint, born partly of timidity and partly of her notion of perfect ladvhood, and the colonel expected nothing mors from his undemonstrative sister; but there waa a perfunetoriueäs in Missy's greeting that made him at last aware of her estrangement an J struck a chill to his heart, lie had brought the child some extravagant pieces of jewelry, but she evinced no pleasure in his gifts, and her father noted, without comment, that bhe le.t them lying on the table. The next morning he rode over to hs tister-in-law's place. He hoped to receive from Flora a welcome that would make amends for what he mitwed at his own home, nor was he disappointed. His pretty niece met him with an affectionate effusiveness that almost did away with the effect of his little daughter's coldness; but it did not escape his observation later that Aleck Gage waa in the background, deporting himself with a confident air. Mrs. Leonard talked garrulously of various things; of the improvements she wished to make, of the sa!e of her cotton, the investment of her surplus funds, the purchase of mule?, even her poultry ; but never a word of Aleck (ia;e. The Colonel deemed this reticence significant, and he rode home vexed. He had thought to order his small world according to bis own wili and pleasure, and now he found it fast slipping ftom his grasp bis son an alien, the niece whom he had hoped to make his daughter ready to marry one he had not chosen, and his own little daughter indifferent to him. But when Flora came, two days later, to say that she had promised to marry Aleck Gage in December, the colonel, perforce, resigned himself to her choice with dignified philosophy. "I had allowed myself to expect a different marriage for you, Flora, as you

know, be could not resist saying nor could he say it without a sigh; but he did not say it harshly. It was the first expression he had ever given to his disappointed hopes, and F lora, eager to console him, exclaimed, with the indiscreet enthusiasm of youth: "Aleck hasn't a fault in the world, Uncle Jaeper; he will be the best of eons to you. if vou will only let him 1 The colonel did not say that he had no desire to claim Aleck Gage for a son; he broke awav from her abruptly, and stood looking out of the window some little time, struggling for command of himself. He was still pale when he returned; but he spoke with a courtly dignity: "I claim the privilege of giving the bride away." "That is just what I wanted!" cried Flora; and with a sudden impulse of gratitude, affection, and sympathy, she threw her arms around his nee and kissed him, and cried a little. The news of Flora's engagement threw Miss Elvira into a great flutter. She de clared that it was just what she had always expected, and that she was never more surprised in her life; and then bhe looked helplessly at her brother. "Flora will be married in ber mother's house, of course," eaid the colonel; but Thorne Hill must honor the occasiou with merry-making; and all our friends must be invited. "Yes, oh yes!" Miss Elvira responded, with a sigh of relief. Her brother's dieapproval of the match would have been a Bore embarrassment; the entertainment the colonel wished to give was a triile in comparison, though it meant three weeks of incessant work of seeding raisins, wash ing currants, blanching almonds, and frcst itig cakes; but those burdens were to be borne by Glory-Ann and Chanev and Dicey, Tom Quash and Gritlin Jim. "And since Flora is such a favorite,1 eaid Mrs. Herry, when 6he heard of these great preparations, "why doesn't she put in a good word for Nicholas? The arrant little coward, she knows very well that it was to save her from embarrassment. while she was the colonel s guest, that the bov delayed his confession, and so made matters worse. The colonel is pin ing for a reconciliation with ms eon. though he won't own it, and Flora might do something to bring it about. As for me, I've only meddled to mar, so there's an end of my efforts. Mrs. Thorne was very angry with Cousin Mynilla tor this speech. 'I don't see how you can talk of recon dilation with .Nicholas! said ehe. 1 am surprised at vou! As if we Thornes ever could consort with a Furnival." To which Mrs. Herrv made the exasper ating retort that Nick's wife was every bit as much & Thorne as Mrs. Leonard herself. For all this, however, Mrs. Herry was not omitted in the list of invitations, either to the wedding or to the merrymaking at Thorne Hill; for the colonel had announced that every connection of the familr. far and near, should be in vited to the entertainment he meant to give in honor of his niece's marriage. "And ain't Brer Nicholas and his wife kinfolks?" asked Missv, with bold eigniti cance. She did not fear her father, and yet her poor little heart fluttered wildly when she put this daring question. The colonel's only answer was a dark and forbidding frown, and Missy betook herself to a corner. "Don't you fret 'bout dat, heney," whispered Mom Bee,,4'now don't you ; fur de H gTAU IU UO Ut7 uauv.u , vu plum-cake a-plenty." "Don't want none !" said Missy, who had givan herself an indigestion by the sur reptitious gormandizing of raisins and citron. "En besides all dat," proceeded Glory Ann to her overwhelming climax, "vou gwan be dressed so spruce en' gay; yo' cousins. Miss Lotty en' Miss Bess, in pink, en' you in a bebenly blue. Foor little Missy, who was fond of dress, dried her tears, and reconsidered her de termination to abstain from the wedding festivities for her absent brother a sake. But not even the companionship of Lottie and Bess, not even the dress of "bebenly blue," nor the sound of the music.nor the sight of the inaiy dance, could shut out the memory of Nicholas. "Oh, Lottie, ain't them fiddles just 4readiul?' abo lamented. ;ow ro ti-

wavs sayin'. 'Nicholas. Nicholas, whey'e

Brer Nicholas ?' no matter what the chune they plav." "Why, Miss, what a funny chill you are: eaid Lxjttie, with a gigg:e: out presently Befs declared that the riddles did say just what Missy thought; and if the truth were confessed they a.tid very nearly he eame thing to the colonel ana -Uis Elvira the name that no guest dared mention rang in their ears, no matter what tune the fiddles played. Ito be cosTiNvrn next weecj liiiililn'l Slaii'l Ii. (Streets Pmith'i Uoo.l h"eir. First Boy "Ain't vou goiu' swimmin'?" Second iky "No." Firct Bov "You eaid you was. Why don't vou?" Second IVy "Mother said if I went in Bwimrain 1 d have to tatce some soap along and wash." NIAGARA FALLS EXCURSION! Tkaradty, July 28, ISO!, VI ! Lk Erie & Watni lt. lt. "N lirl Ituut." On Thursday, Julv 2S. lSi'j, the Lako Erie fc Western railroad wiil run their rtopular annual excursion to Cleveland, Chautauqua Luke. Bmhiio and Niagara Falls at lol owing very low rates, viz: Peor a. ....7. 5' Tort Wajue l-i.OO ISlooruuifctoi) 7.U0 Muucie ö.U) afayette ti.oOl "onuersvilL S.tM Michigan City C.uJ U'jnvi:ie ?..()) ndiaoapolie. .... 6.0" .New t alle ß.o.) i.ijo anihride City.... Mi 4.0't Fremont. Sandmky. ?LoO. TiptonLima With corresponding reductions from intermediate points. In addition to thu above, the purchaser of thsrt tickets will be given privilege o! ppecial excursion ei-ie trips to l.ewiaton-on-H.e-Lake, inc.udin u 6te:imt.oat r;-lo on Lake Oirtario. for ' r-nt". To Toronto and return by Lake from Lewiston, J1. 0; to Thousand Islands, Sö.Ot). Ticket for the above si le trips can b" had when parchaing Niagara 1 "aha ticket, or at any time on traiu. Beside th" above privileges, with that of spending Sunday at th Fal s, we will furnish ad those who de-ire a fi le trio from Brocton Junction toClwitaU'iuaLakeanl return FItKK OF 'Ii A k i F. Tickets of admi-sioi; to places of ppceial nterest at or near Niagara Falld, but outtide the reservation, inc tiding toil over the International Bridge t tho Cunadiau side, elevators to the water's edo at Whirlpool Kapids on the Canadian side, will be offered on train at a reduction from prices charged after reaching the Falls. Do not miff this opportunity to spend Sunday at Niagara Falls. The excursion train will arrive at Niagara Falls 7 a. m. Friday. July l.). IS'. 'J. and will leave the Falls returning Snndav morning, Jnly 31, at 6 o'clock, stopping at Cleveland Sunday afternoon, giving an opportunity to visit the magnincem monument of the late President Garfield, and many other interesting points. Tickets will be good, however, to return on regular trains leaving the Falis Saturday, July 30, for thosd not detiring to re main over. Iickets will a so be good re turning on all regular trains up to and including Tuesday, Autf. 1', lSl'2. txcurt your tick t, also Chair an-i Strtjiing Car Acoommolitions, early. Thofe desiring caa secure accommodations in these cars while at the Falls, For further information call on any atrent Lake Erie & Western railroad, or address C. F. Daily, Gen. l'asi. Agent, Indianapolis. Ind. PATENTS FOR INVENTIONS OBTAINED UY THE INDIANAPOLIS SENTINEL PATENT AGENCY. WKSHINCTON. D. C Iaventort oftn Iom th taaeflt of valuaM and protUbl toT9tioat on coaut of tb ia(!laiDoy or iQtiMulioa of tbe tt ru-ri lLr nplor to obiua their iiUnU, Tu uuuir jai uei ol i Ual .it ration to b fouo i id all oar ooart reord. tofttivr with tha Tit naiahar of opl oslien dailf rjotl br tha Fatt-Dt UJc, boenu lrr-ui(ir la form, att 'tt tha .'act that lo muco care caanot t eiarouel br in van tor in t-lectirii( a-iai-tot anl eiparUaoal liolotlors to tsoura Ibtnr tal'ila, amos tha valua of a latent dtrnl in a errat ra -tar upon thi J aij-lu-nt, era an1 ability of tha ait irnej. TIIEUI'.FOHB, with ttia Uta of proUetlnf io-Tf-utom from onar im i4 upon br iaaiüolaot an t lacapabla atiornryu, aud ttmir laraatioai tuui beominif trptioliy I t f th-m. th INDIANAPOLIS SEMiKhL PATKST AGENCY b bo tatiüxh-d, ad acx.tupeteut o-.rpi rtrx art attoraarf and oounlort bar bo-o retained to conlnot It bunt ; and tUm AULM.Y :. therefore, j rparod V conduct Preliminary and Special Examination!, 1'roseonte Applicatioat for Patents, both Fol eigo and Domeatic. . Amecd and Prosecute Rejected Applications, Secure Trade Marks and Copyrights, conduct Iuterfttrencea, Kaoder OpiuioDs aa to 8oope, Validity and la fringeuient of Exutiug Fa'.enta, Proaee'ii and Tiefend Infritiguiut Stlita. IÜ VkMTit! hTin nr.peoti ira moat a1ln tu INDiANAl'OUS eh.Sn.Nb.L rATliJtr AGENCY a aaetch. ptut-igrayh. iri a or atolat, aai a brief ddaoiptton of la ntial poinu tut e.eiumu of the earno, together iiiSV0 . 1,1 bar earea mad tnroun im raoorl oi tat Paieal 0:E and a report lor ariel triam at oa .a ai t tits patntaMUtf of a ir itiTen:lon, end ta -ir ehaaoM f obtaining protection on liieaame. Fiirla,erlaor mat ion abaerfullr furnuhel. Adlrsa Tkehd.MipoIis Smiinel latent Afcncj, taltia Udlding, Waehiafton, 1. a W. C Anghlnbaugh, Manajiog Att'r. PROTECTION OR FREE TRÄDS. r Henrv Georee's Great Book. TU Graatait Werk tur VTrlttea mm Ike Subject. Kew York Herald A bok wlilch ererr orklnj Batu ean roa 1 wUu interest aaa oukht t read. f.maJel .hia lU.corJ-Wr.lten wui a eloaraaei, a Itfor anil a ter. tie ttai al oaee attraot. lNbiaa arOLia okjiiski Ail anxioa for a tall d.ias.-iou ol : iba mutt iia porta':! puolis queetioa f tbe day rti u:l iu lUeir bout e.Ijrn t promote th e.reuili'-a ' lui ban ij aa 1 m itaueetiwa i a real ciauio in ioii:ical eoouomr TbeOaaba (Neb.) H ,uiiliran a:l: "KTerf aas vho waoti to get a clearer view on tue leriquettioa bouid read ttue book, aad whether be becetaeaa tree trader or not, he will know aaore ! puliiiaai conouiT than erer b lore." Sent postpaid to any address for 23 ceaU per copy. Address ail ordt rs to TiiiIsniASAPOLis Sintis el Co., Indianapolis. Ini. i's Cotton Root COMPOUND. A recent d.ecorerr br aa 11 phytician. Miecaotuilr uaei monthly br thouftau l of LaJiee. 1 the oiiir ierfectlr eale and reliable meticine aiojTered. Lew-ire of unurluoipled drugciete who oiler inferior mlicuie in iiac-e or tijia. Aeklor Cooa'a Cotton K t CmrorsD, take a Subetltut, or Ineloee l nd oente In p-tere letter, and we will send, tealed. by return roaiL Full eealed particular in plain eneope. u ladieeoolr, SatatBDe. .4ddraa renn L) Compter, N.. S F'eher B'ork. letrott, Mich. ffS.-M la Indiaoapoli F. Will 1'antier, I'-atef House Pharmacy and all wholeeala aad retail drugs gists STery where. .CURE FITS I VTnen I r euro 1 dj not raean merely to atop tbroa for a t.mo ar.d t'aea havn tn rct-ira ti.z. I mesa a r-.IicU eure. I be msde thed easeof 1 li d. tPfc lii'SY or FALLING SICN'HGS a life-lou atadj. I warrant my remnj to car the worst casea. Bacase others hire failed i no reason far Bit now recemng a cor. end at ore tor a trfu.Li and a Trea Bottle of Bjj Infallible remedy. Giro Kxpreea aad Poet Ofioa. I XL C. BOOT ?l Ct.lSS rrl buXt.1

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