Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 April 1887 — STRANGER THAN FICTION. [ARTICLE]

STRANGER THAN FICTION.

BY CHARLES WETHERILL.

“All these ore under two vests," said the matron of the Foundling Hospital, as she. looked complacently around on the goodly array of babies of all sizes and complexions, ranged on either side of the long nursery. There were babies, plump, rosy, and ; good-natured, as all babies should be, and ! pale, fretful, puny little creatures, who, looked as if they were already disgusted 1 with the li/e upon which they had entered; ' black, blue, and gray-eyed* babies, nnd i babies with eyes of very little color at all. j It would seem that lhe lady addfessed, ! and who was desirous of obtaininzone ior adoption, would hud no difficulty in suiiing herself; but either she did pot see what she | was iu search of, or was 100- bewildered by j to many rival claims to be able lo make any choice. “Here is n very fine boy-baby,” said the j matron, pausing in front of a black-eyed fellow, who sat on the kaee of its nurse. Bucking its fnt thumb. “Yes; but I wnnt a girl; a blonde. Something like this.”

As the matron glanced at the photograph that was handed her, which was that of a lovely child of not moic than two summers, ■he uttered an exclamation of surprise. “It is the picture of my little girl,” said the lady, her eyes filling with tears, “who died a few weeks ago, and whose place I Wish to fill, if such a thing be possible.” “We have a little girl in the hospital ward,” said the matron, “who resembles this picture so strongly that I should think it was taken for her. Both parents are dead, and, so tar ns I can learn, there is no one to claim her.” The speaker led the way to a cheerful, sunny upper room, where on one of the little cots a beautiful child was sleeping. Thev resemblance to the picture was very strong, and to the bereaved mother «it seenud almost like a revelation from Heaven. “Lilian, darling LilianT”she cried, bending out her. The child must have been dreaming of its mother: the fringed lids flew open, revealing eves bine and wondrously bright, ! while the little arms went up, with an j eager fluttering motion. _ , “Mamma!” Clasping the child to her heart, the lady burst into tears, while the matron looked wonderinglv from one to the olfjer., “She looks enough like you '’to be your own child.” “She is my own child!" was the tearful response. “Providence has had compassion on my loneliness nud sorrow, and given my little Lilian back to mST” ■J& \ * * * * * * Blue-eved, golden-haired Lilian Howard stood n resolutely at the door of her father's study; the color coining and going ] in the cheeks, and a look of fear and dis- | may in the sweet face that was never seen j there before. The door being ajar. Mr. Howard heard i her step, geutle as it was. “Daughter!" Mr. Howard looked gravely and tenderly into the pale, wistful face that confronted him. “My child, von look as if you were summoned before a stern judge rather than a tender father, who would not knowingly deny you anything that would promote your true happiness.” . j “Yon have always Boon very kind to me, papa, until now,” said Lilian, bursting into tears. “But. indeed, indeed, I can never be happy without Charlie!” Taking his daughter’s hand, Mr. Howard led her to a seat in the recess of one of the window s. ,-j^k “Let us talk the matter over calmly. Yon are my only child, the pride and joy of my j heart. I have giveu you every advantage that wealth can command, and feel that I have a right to expect you to do better than iJ to marry a man with neither position nor means to support you in the style to which you have been accustomed. And - your mother fully agrees with me.” -A “But, papa, won always seemed to like Charlie until now. Yon never objected to his coming or my going out with him before.”

“I like him still; my personal feelings ' have not changed toward him in the least. ' But I tind his prospects are very different from vrhat 1 thought they were. I supposed Mr. Haven tb have no family, and | thiuking so much of the young mail as he ! seemed to do. a distant relative and all, I 1 thought that he would inherit the larger part of his property. But he tells me that he has a daughter, who will have everv penny of it. which gives the matter quite a different complexion. It is a little curious that much as he has been here, and as in- ' timate as he has been with all of us, that he never spoke of her." “But why should you care for money, papa, who have so much?" “You are wrong, Lilian. True, lam the owner of considerable properly, but the shrinkage in all values has greatly crippled \ my resources. Go now, my child; I have some letters to write. You may be sure that your father has decided wisely. Tell the young man what I have told you. an I let that end the matter.” Tying on her hat, Lilian went out for her usual walk; but not even the bright sunshine, and bloom, and verdure of that beautiful June day could make her henrt less heavy. Her eyes were so blinded by the tears that would come that she aearlv ran against nn odd-looking, middle-aged man, who came hobbling along tbenatrow footpath. As he caught a glimpse of the sashes, he came to a sudden stops ' ' “Crying; Miss Lilian! What does this mean?" ~ — ~ Lilian looked into the kihd, sympathizing face of the speaker. “Oh, Mr. Haven, papa says that 1 can see Charlie only once more; and then only to fell him that we can never, never marry!” “Does he?” was the grim response. “I think 1 shall have something to say about that. Do you love Charlie?" .“Dearly!” » “And yon think he loves you?* “l am sure of it.”

“Then I see no. reason why yon two shouldn't marry." i , . Lilian opened her eyes widely. "Y’ou don’t think 1 ought to disobey papa?" “I've said nothing about vour disobeying your father; that is about life verv last thing that I should counsel yon to, do. lint Charlie is poor, yon know. I have a daughter just about your nge, who w ill inherit all my wealth. Do you think yon could be happy In a small, platnly-fnf-utshed house, with neither servants, lino dresses, nor any of the beautiful things to which you have been accustomed all youT life?* The golden lashes drooped UUiiL-AkfcX-lay ouiveringly hnon the flushed cheeks. “If Charlie were (here.” Mr. Haven's face betrayed sitange and strong emotion.r* “Twenty years ago," be fluid tremulously, “lips just as sweet spoke to me neariy the same'words. ’As I live, your life shall not be blighted as hers was. Cheer up, rny child," lie added, “leave the matter to pie, and nil will be well. I was on my wav to your house when you met hie, 1 amgoing to dine to-day. Let us go back tog dber."

Air, ami Airs. Howard wero too n\uch nc-cu-toi'.i. d to the vagaries of their wealthy ahd eccentric neigblior, to be any way surprised at liis appearance. lie liad frequently dined with them in the same unceremonious fashion; his genial and-kimlly. traits of character .-making him a great favorite With the family. it Their after-dinner talk turning upon the | improbability of a recently-published story. Air. Haven said. "I will relate a story, ns strange ns any that can be found iu what is called fiction, and Which is strictly true; “h'ixte. n years ago yesterday, ns it stands upon the records of a certain orphan j asylum in a distant county, a lady, young. I fair, nnd wealthy, went there for the pur- ! pose of obtaining a child to take the place .of one she had just lost. In one of ! the wards was a lovely little girl, whose ! parents had both been killed, as was supposed, its a railwry disaster, and who so strongly resembled her lost darling that her heart went out tow ards it at first glance. "She took it away with her, giving it her "child's plai e and name, and Iter husband, who was absent at the time, lias never once suspected that it was not the little one that he kissed at parting, and civer whose grave the grass has been growing ior many a year. ' i— ; —s__—— “Nix months later the father of this child who had recovered iu .a. measure from the accident which had made him a cripple lot life, called at the n s.ln mto claim her, but only to learn that she had passed as completely out of his possession as if the grave had hidden her from his eyes. “'l he death of a wealthy relative had raised him from poverty to affluence, and he spaired neither iribney nor pains in his endeavors to find lier. But the lady who had taken her from the asylum having given a false name and address, all his efforts were fruitless, and it was not until after the lapse of some years, and by tho merest chance, that he obtained a clue which led to the discovery of her whereabouts.

“She Was then a blooming maiden-of Jo, the inmate of a beautiful and happy home, and the pride and darling of a man lor whom he had a high esteem, and who believed her to be bis own child. AH the father’s love sprang up in his lonely heart as he looked upon the sweet face that was the living picture of the wife he had so ! loved and mourned, but foreseeing the disl cord aud unhappiness that the enforcement of his claims would occasion, lie contented himself by placing her where he could see her occnsionally, and watch over her interests. “But as time passed on. and she reached the age of eighteen, she proved to be her mother's daughter in heart, as well as form, bestowing it, as that mother did beforher, on a man whose poverty was the only objection that could be brought against him. When be found that her happiness was to be sacrificed, he resolved ” Here the speaker was interrupted by an exclamation from one of the group. Sirs, j Howard had fainted. | During the bustle and confusion that [ followed Mr. Haven went out upon the j lawn, where he was joined, half an hour J later, by Mr. Howard. After conversing together a few minutes the two returned to the house, where tbey found Mrs, Howard and Lilian. Both had evidently been weeping, but the countenance of the former was .composed though very pale. “Mr. Haven,” she faltered,.“for the first time, my lrusbaud- knows that the-child-so i dear to us both is akin to neither. But you are wrong if you think that 1 intended lat first to deceive him. I was among i strangers when my own baby died, and he S on a business tour of several mouths’ duration. The two were of nearly the same age, and strangely alike, and on perceiving that my husband saw no difference I de- | cided to wait until she had gained too strong a place in his heart to la? easily rlislo lgCTf; every, week’s; delay making my task more j difficult, until it became something that I i found it impossible to do. And. strange [as it may souud to you, so closely did pLiltan resemble the little one ! lost, and so ! entirely did she take her place in my heart,' that f could never make it seem That she was not miue bv birth as well as bv afl’ec- | lion.” “I cau give you the key to this, 1 ’ said Mr. Haven, “ns well as to Lilian's strong resemblance to you and your child. Have von forgotten your twin Sister, who bore the same name, and who was discarded by , her family for marrying ben-nth her, as ! they caUed'it? She was my wife, and the ; mother of yo<r Lilian; for! have not come : to disturb ihe relation that has so dong snb- > sisted between you, but to see that she is i not defrauded of woman’s dearest right, ' the right to wed the man who has not only : won her heart, but is worthy of it. There is many a millionaire who.is not so rich in 11>11 that constitutes true manhood as Charles f Harlowe. My gentle Lilian was nearly , heart-broken at the harsh decree whicii separated her from all her early friends; give not to her child the, same bitter exj perience, but let her gb to the husband of : her choice with your blessing as well as 1 mine.” j '1 bat the blessing of her adopted parents j followed Lilian to her new life and home jwe may be sine. Mr. Haven is very happy j in the happiness of his Jong-lost daughter,' who often declares “that she has two , papas, and docs pot know which she loves best.” ‘ r