The Brussels Post, 1887-6-17, Page 7l=i
f.
JUNE 17, 1887.
TIM ACTRESS' DAUGHTER; ;' self into the thickest of the political
r+ II Lif1,I melee and was soon the reigning demigod
pg , of his party, It was woll known he was
aeon to be Neat as a Representative to
TO MISTRESS OP RICHMOND HOUSH. Congress, and the hewing ones predict-
ed for him the highest honors the politi•
cal strife could yield, perhaps at soma
future clay the Presidency of the United
States. Iiia namo and fame were already
By Hrs. MAY AGNI S PI,I;MING, resounding through tfle land, and more-
ing, noon, and wo1it Mr. Leonard, who
Author of "boat For ,a W mou," ]Piaui was the fiercest off politicians, was taut.
1r'oroy'a $eerot,'%'le., Etc. ing and raving of the matchless talents
of this rising star,
And Georgia, how did she listen to all
this. All she had hitherto endured
seamed nothing in comparison to the
anguish she felt in his evident utter for-
getfulness of her. All the pride, and
triumph, and exultation, she wouldhavo
felt ill his success was swallowed up in
the misery of knowing she was forgotten
—as completely forgotten as if abs had
never existed. And oh, the humiliation
she felt, when in the papers of the
opposition party, she saw herself drag-
ged in as a slur, a disgrace, in his private
life. The sneering insinuations that the
wife of Richmond Wildair had deserted
him—had eloped—had been driven from
home by his treatment; these were wo±so
to her than death. She could almost
fancy his cursing her in the bitterness
of his heart when his eyes would fall on
this, for having disgraced him as she had
done.
On this morning, as she stood on the
veranda, with a paper in her hand con.
taming an unusually brilliant speech of
the gifted young statesman, her thoughts
wandering to the days long Past when
she had first known him, Miss Maggie
came dancing out with sparkling eyes
and eagerly accosted her:
"Oki, Miss Randall! only thinkl papa
is going to give a splendid dinner.party,
and going to have lots of those political
big wigs here. You know, I suppose,
that they, or rather that Mr. Wildair,
has gained that horrid question about
something or other the papers have bean
making sueh a time about?"
"Yes," murmured the white lips,
faintly.
"Wall, papa's been so dreadfully tick-
led about it, though why I can't see, that
he is going bo give this dinner.party,
and have lots of those great guns at it,
and at their head Mr. Wildair himself,
the greatest gun of the lot. Only think
of that!"
Georgia had averted her head, and
Miss Maggie did not see the deadly
paleness that overspread her face,
blanching even her very lips, at the
words. Thera no reply, and shaking
back her marls coquettishly, that young
lady went on :
"I'm just dying to see Mr. Wildaix,
you know, everybody is making such a
fuss about him • and
Ido like famous
men, of all things. They say he is
young and handsome, but whether he
ie married or not I never can rightly
discover ; some of the papers say he
was, and that he didn't treat his wife
well, and Mr. Brown, from New York,
who was here yesterday, ggys she com.
misted suicide—isn't till% dreadful?
llut I don't care ; I'm bound to sot my
.p for him, and I guess I can manage
DO got along with him. I should like to
see the man would make me commit
suicide, that's all! But it may not be
true, you know ; those horrid papers
tell the most shocking fibs about any
one they don't like. I wish Dick Curtis
were here ; ho knows all about him,
I've hoard, but he hasn't called for ever
so many ages. Maybe I won't blow him
up when 1 see him, and then I'll pardon
him on condibiou that he tells me all
about Mr. Wildair. He is going to bo
a senator one of those days, and a gov.
other, and a president, and no ambassa-
dor, and over so many other nice things,
and there is nothing I would like bettor
than being Madame L'Ambassadrice,
and shining in foreign oourbs,thongh I
am the daughter of a red-hot republican.
he ! don't I know how to build cas-
tles in Spain, Miss Randall? Poor dear
Signor Popkins1 what would he say if
he heard me i"
All this time Georgia had been stand-
ing as still and rigid, and coldly white
as a monumental marble, hearing, , as
one who o hears not, this tirade,which
Miss Maggie delivered d while daning up
and down the veranda like a living
whirligig, too full of spirits to be still
for an instant. All Georgia heard or
realized of it was that Richmond was
Doming here -here 1 ruder the same
roof with herself. Her brain was giddy;
a wild impulse came over her to fly, fiy
far away, to bury herself in the depths
of the forest, where he could never final
her or hear her name again.
Miss Maggie, having waited in vain
for some remark from the governess,
was turning away 'with a muttered
"How tiresome 1" when - Georgia laid
her hand on her arm, and with a face
that ataxbled hex companion, asked :
"When—when do they come ?"
"Who ? Dear me, Mies Randall, don't
Iook so ghastly! I declare you're oneugh
to some a person into fits."
"Those—those--gentlemen ?"
"Oh, the dinner party. Thursday
week. 'Papa's waiting till Mr. Wildair
comes from Washington."
ahGeorgia turned away and covered het
eyes with a face so agitated that Miss
Maggie's eyes opened with a look of in-
tense ouriosity.
"Why, Miss Randall, you aro so queen
What =earth makes you look so ? Did
you know Mr. Wildair, or any of them?"
With a bgesture of desperation, Geor-
gia raised her head, and then, through
all the storm of conflicting feelings with-
in, came the thought that hor conduct
might excite auspioion, and, without
looking round, she said, buakily :
"I do not feel well, and I do not like
strangers—that hotel!. Don't mind no
—it is nothing."
,<
Whwhat harm c
,y, r an strangers do
you ? I never saw any ono like you in I1
my life, Mies Randall, Wouldn't you ! h
*TALE OF WRONG AND lfli A OR•HL.
"Web, it's not for me, it's for a friena.
Do oblige me, Miss Randall. Mr. Ran-
dall wants it so dreadfully."
"Mr. Randall 1 who is be ?"
"Tho author, the poet that everybody
is talking about. Ile saw it last night with
Jennie, and took a desperate fancy to it,
and, what's more, wants to he introduced
to you."
"I would rather be excused," said
Georgia, with some of her old hauteur.
"I do not like to refuse. you, Miss Loon.
era, and if any other picture—"
"Oh, any other wou't do; I must
have this. There, I shall keep it, and
you can draw a dozen like it any time.
And every one would not refuse to be
introduced to Mr. Randall, I can toll
you," said Miss Felice, half inclined to
be angry ; 'the is immensely rich and
ever so handsome, and as clever as ever
ho can be, and most young ladies would
consider i an r
d thone to be acquainted
with him."
Georgia bowed alightly, and made an
impatient motion to pass on.
"Well, I am going to keep it, Miss
Randall," said Miss Felice, half inquir•
ingly.
"As you please, Miss Leonard, Good -
morning," and Georgia swept on to the
school -room, and Miss Felice ran to give
the poet the picture, and toll him their
haughty governess refused the intro-
duction.
CHAPTER XX.
FOUND AT LAST.
"Thera are words of deeper sorrow
Than the wail above the dead,"
"Au eagle with a broken wing,
A harp with many a broken string,"
It was a pleasant morning in early
spring. The sunshine lay in broad
sheets of golden light over the lields,
and tinted the tree -tops with -a yellow
lustre. Tho fresh morning air came
laden with the fragrance of sweet spring
flowers, and the musical chirping of
many birds from the neighboring forest
was borne to Georgia's ears, as she stood
on the veranda, her thoughts far away.
You would scarcely have recognized
the flashing•eyed,blooming,wild-hearted
g
r
Geo la Darrel
1 in this cold,e •
stone like Miss Randall, with ceelctaol
brow cold and colorless as Parian marble,
and the dark, mournful eyes void of
light and sparkle.
It could scarcely be expected but that
she would sink under the dreary mon.
otony of her life here, so completely
different in every way from what she
had been accustomed to ; and of late,
she had fallen into a lifeless lethargy,
from which nothing seemed able to
arouse her. There were times, it was
true, when, for an instant, she would
awake, and her very tout would cry cut
under the galling chains of her intoler.
able bondage; buk these flashes of her
old spirit were few and Inc between, arcl
were always followed by a lassitude, a
languor, a dull, spiritless gloom, under
winch life, and flab, and health seemed
alike deserting her. She had not evon
the excitement of painting now to sus-
tain ha. Her "Hagar in the Wilder.
gess'' was finished, and she commenced
drawing another, but lacked the energy
to finish it.
It was an unnatural life for Georgia—
tho once wild, fiery, spirited Georgia,
and it was ,probable a year or two of
such existence would have found her IF
a lunatic asylum, or in hor grave, had
not au uulooked-fox discovery given a
now spring to her dormant energies.
Nearly half a year had now elapsed
since that sorrowful night when she had
lied from home—six of the darkest
months in all Georgia's life. For the
first four she had heard no news of any
of those slip had left, not evon of him
who, sleeping or waking, was ever upper-
most in hor thoughts. But ono morning
at breakfast Mr, Leonard had read aloud
that our "gifted young fellow -citizen,
Mr. Richmond Wildair, had returned
from abroad, and, having re.eutered the
political world, which he was so well
fitted to adorn, had been elected to the
legislature, where he bad alreadydiis-
tinguished himself ar a statesman of ex.
traordinary merit and profound wisdom,
notwithstanding bis 'extreme youth."
Than there was another brief paragraph,
in which amysterious allusion was niade
to some dark, domestic calamity which
had befallen the young statesman, but
before Mr. Leonard could finish it be
was startled to see. the governess make
an effort to rise from her seat and fall
heavily back in hor chair. Then there
was a cry that Miss Randall was faint-
ing, and a lass of water was held to hot
lips; and when, in a moment, she washer
own calm, cold self again, she arose and.
hastily
loft the room.
Blit from that day Georgia made a
point every morning, with a feverish
interest, to react the politioal papers in
search of that one loved name. And in
everyone of them 16 continually mother
eye, lauded to the skins by his friends
and followers, and loaded with the
.fiercest abuse by his enemies. There
were long, eloquent speephee of lilt,
glowing, fiery, living, itnpaseloned bursts
of eloquence, that sent a thrill to'this
heart of all who heg{yrrd him, and swtapt
away all obstacles Wert the force of his
own matehlesslo is
g
i
A great t ostion Was then g qt1, as en in a it ion,
and the young' orator, as the c } iibn
of liiimausliy' aucl egtlg,xtglltl, 9kpg
THE BRUSSELS POST
like to see Mr, Wildalr? I'm sure you
seam fond enough of reading about bun.
Papa told me to persuade you to join us
at dinner that day."
"No l no 1 r10 ! Not for ton thousand
worlds 1" cried Georgia, wildly. Alen,
seeing her companion recoil and lopk
.upon per with evident alarm, she turned
hastilyaway, and' sought rbfugo in the
school -room.
Mies Maggio leoked after her in comi-
cal bewilderment for a moment, and
then, setting it down to oddity, she
danced off to practice "Casts Diva,"
preparatory to taking Mr, Wildair's
heart by storm singing it.
"I do hope he isn't married," thought
Maggie, dropping on the piano -stool,
and commencing with a terrific pre-
paratory bang; "he is so clover, and
such a catch 1 My 1 wouldn't Felice be
mad !"
All the next week Miss Randall was
more of a puzzle to the Leonards than
ever before. Hoz moods were so change.
able, so variable, so eccentric, that it
was not strange that she startled them.
Mrs. Leonard declared slie was hysteri-
cal, or in the first stages of a brain fever.
Mise Felice pooh-pooed the notion, and
said it was only the " eccentricity of
genius," for Mr. Randall had said she
was a genius, and he was infallible ;
while Miss Maggie differed from both,
and set it down to "oddity." Fortu-
nately, however, for Georgia, the whole
house was in such an uproar of prepa-
ration, and new furnishing, and cooking,
and there was such distracting running
up and clown stairs from day -dawn to
midnight, and the house was so overrun
with milliners and dressmakers, and
they were all so absorbed in those mys-
teries of flounces, and gilts, and flowers,
and laces, wherein the female !hart de.
lighteth, that she was left pretty much
to her own devices, and seldom or never
disturbed.
At last the eventful day arrived. All
the invitations had been accepted, and
Mr. Wildair, and Mr. Curtis, and Mr.
Randall, and all the rest, were to come.
Through that whole day Georgia had
seemed like one delirious. There was a
blazing fire in her eye, and two dark
crimson spots, all unusual there, burned
on Dither cheek, bespeaking the consum-
ing fever within. How she ever got
through her school duties she could not
tell, but evening Dame at last, and with
it Georgia's excitement rose to a pitch
not. to be endured. She could not stay
there and hear them, perhaps see them
enter. She felt sure, even amid thou-
sands, she would distinguish his step,
hear his voice; and who knew what
desperate act it might drive her to com-
mit—perhaps to burst into the room, and
in the presence of all to fall at his fent
and sue for pardon.
Unable le o '
b t sit still with wild gusts f
0
conflicting passions sweeping through
her soul, she seized her hat and mantle
and sought that panacea for her "mind
diseased," a long, rapid, breathless
walk.
It was a delightful army evening, soft,
and warm, and genial as in June. There
was au air of repose and deep stillness
around; one solitary star hung tremb.
ling in the sky, and brought to her mind
the nights long past, when she had sat
at ha little chamber window, and
watched them shining in their tremulous
bsautyfar aboveher. Evorythingseemecl
at peace but herself, and in her stormy
heartwas the Angel of Pease ever to take
np his abode?
On, and on, and on she walked. It was
strange the charm rapid walking bad to
soothe her wildest moods. Star after
Star shone out in the blue, cloudless sky,
and the last ray of daylight had faded
away ,before she thought of turning.
Taking off her hat, and flinging back her
thick, dark hair, that the cool breeze
might fan her fevered brow, she sot out
at a more moderate pace for home.
It was a lonesome, unfrequented road,
especially after night, There was
'another new road, which had of late been
made the public thoroughfare, and this
one was almost entirely deserted; there-
fore, Georgia was somewhat surprised to
see a man approaching her at a rapid
pace. He was a gentleman, too, and
young and graceful, she saw that at a
glance b i
but n
tho dim starlight ht h
g ,ie
g s could
not distinguish his features, shaded as
they were by a broad -leafed bat, He
stopped as he approached her, and hur-
riedly said :
"Call you tell me, madam, if this road
loads to the Widow O'Neil's?"
That voice 1 it sent a thrill to Goa.
gists inmost heart, as, with her oyes
riveted on his face, sbo moobanioally re-
plied:
"fes; a little farther up there is agate.
Go through, and the road will briug you
to it."
"Thank you; I shall take a shorter
way," said the stranger, lifting his hat
courteously and turning rapidly away,
but not before she had recognized the
pale, handsome face and the beautiful,
dark eyes of Charley Wildair.
For an instant she stood, unable to
speak. She saw him place one liand on
the fence, leap Iightly over, and disap-
pear, then, with a sort of cry, she started
after him. But ere she had taken a
auzeu seops some inward reeling anemia
her, and elle stopped. What would he
thinks of her following him thus ? 1e
'was no longer the boy Charley, anymore
than she was s trio child Georgia. Might
he nob thiols prying curiosity had sent
her after him
? Would ho be disposed
to renew the acquaintance? Perhaps,
too, he had recognized her, as she had
him, and gave no sign. Tho strange
revelation of Richmond gave her a sort
of dread of him, and, after a moment's
irresolution, she turned and walked I
back,
Tho whole house was ono blaze of
light when she teethed it. Ott the dining.
room windows wets oast many shadows.
Which mon
a themwas his ? Did either
g
x
brother dream he was so near the other?
id Richmond dream she was so near d
im, and yot so far off? She could not 0
enter the house; liar heart was throb-
bing so loudly tkat she grew taut and
sick, and she staggered to a sort.of sum.
mer house, tick with; olusbetipg hap
vines, and sank clown on 'a rustic bench,
and buried her face in her hands•
flow long she had sat here alone in her
trouble, and yet so near bin who had
vowed to "cherish" her through all her
trials until death, she could not tell.
Footsteps coming down the graveled
walk startled her, The odor of cigars
came borne on the breeze, and then,
with a start and a shock, she recognized
the voice of Dick Curtis saying, with a
laugh :
"I wonder if Ringlets has got through
that appalling howl on that instrument
of torture, the piano, she was com-
mencing when we beat a retreat ? It's
a mercy I escaped, or I should have gone
stark staring mad before the end."
"Oome,now,Curbis, you're too severe,"
said a laughing voice, which Georgia
recognized as Mr. Randall's. "Ringlets,
as you are pleased to denominate Miss
Felice, is only performing a duty every
youngJadyconsiderashe owes to society
nowadays, deafening her hooters by
those tremendous crashesand flourishes,
and crossing her hands, and flying from
one end of the piano to the other with
dizzying rapidity."
"And it's a duty they never neglect,
I'll say that for them," said Curtis.
"And that's what they call fashionable
music,' my friend? Oh, fox the good old
days, when girls weren't ashamed to
sing 'Auld Robin Gray' and the 'Bonnie
House of Airlie.'
The world's degener•
ating every day. Thank the gods, we
have escaped the infliction, anyhow.
Here's a seat ; suppose we sit down, and,
with oar soul in slippers, take the world
easy. Poor Wildair! he's in for being
martyrized this evening."
"So much for being a lion," said Mr.
Randall. "If he will liersiat in being a
burning and shining light, he must ex-
pect to pay thapenelty."
"Miss Maggie—little blue eyes, you
know—has made a dead set at him.
Did you observe ?" said Mr. Curtis.
"Yes; but I can't say. she has met
with much success, so Inc. If report
ea71 true, she is not the only young lady
who has tried that game of late."
"Poor Rich 1" said Curtis, "If they
know but all, they would find how use-
less it was doing anything of the sort.
I suppose you beard of that sad affair
that happened last winter?"
Oh, what would not Georgia have
given to be a thousand miles off at that
moment 1 She writhed where she lay;
it was like tearing half -healed wounds
violently open to sit there and'listen to
this. But move she could not without
discovering herself to Curtis, so she was
forced to remain e e in whore she was and
hear all.
"No, I can't say as I have," said Mr.
Randall, in a tone of interest. "There
are so many rumors afloat about his
wife—suppose you allude to that—but
one cannot even tell for certain whether
he was over married or not."
"Oh, he was, no mistake about it,"
said Curtis ; "I was present — was
groomsman, in fast. Such a magnifi-
cent creature as she was. I never saw
a girl so spleudid before or since 1 beau.
tiful as the dream of an opium eater,
with a pair of eyes that would have
made the fortune of half' a dozen or.
dietary women, By George 1 that girl
ought to have been an empress."
"Indeed! I should think Wildair
would be fastidious in the choice of a
wife. How came they to separate in so
short a time ? Did she not love him ?"
"Yes, with her whole heart and soul,
in fact, I believe, she loved nothing in
earth or heaven but him, but then that
is nothing strange, for Richmond Wild.
air is a glorious fellow, and no mistakel
But, you see, she was poor as Job, and
proud as Lucifer, with a high spirit that
would date and defy the Ancient Henry
himself, one of that kind of people who
will die sooner than yield an inch, Well,
it appears his mother did not like the
match, and persisted in snubbing her,
and making little of hor before folks and
behind backs,in fat o
fact, treated liar shame.
full until she drove t o e thepoor girl
fully,to
g
the verge of madness."
"And Wildair allowed her to do this?"
said Randall, indignautly.
"Well, I don't know how it was, but
he was blind to it all, but I think the
truth of the matter is they deceived
him, and only did it when ho was absent.
There was a cousin there, a little female
fiend. whom I should admire to be put.
ting in the pillory, who 'tried every
mean% in her power to make him jut),
ons, and succeeded ; and you don't need
to be told a jealous man will stop at
nothing."
"Poor girl ! poor Wildair 1 What em
infernal shame."
"Wasn't it ! You see, he had invited
a party to his countryseat-'-Richmond
House they called it—and I was there
among the rest. Poor Mrs, Wildair had
a wretched life of it, with them all set
against her. If she had been one of your
meek spiritless
llttlb creatures, she
would have drooped, and sunk under it,
and died perhaps of a broken heart, and
all that sort of thing; or if she had been
a dull, spiritless young woman, she
would have snapped her fingers in their
faces, and kept on, never minding. Un-
fortunately, she was neither, but a sea.
sitive, high-spirited girl, whom every
slight wounds to the quick, and you
would badly believe me if I were to tell
yon the change ono short week made in
her—you wotTld hardly have known her
for the same a person. What, with her
mether•iu.lew's insults, her cousin -ea-
aw's sneers, her husband's jealousy and
angry reproaches, and the neglects and
slights of most of tho company, a dailly
etreit,j 11,14rggltpl0lijtlr' lave 'beets s
b3Fl o i• ascii; t4 at.'•
"Sham fu11
e rico ��o
atrocities iii ��olain d
Randall, impetuously. 'I'}Ioly crdhld Wit -
air have the heart to tasitt her so? He
ouldn't bays oared Muth about her."
"Didn't be, indeed ! That's all you
know about it, If over there was a man
loved his own wife, that man was Rich.
Wildair; but when a man is jealous, you
know, ho b000mee partially insane, and
ail an
ow cos mush be made for him, One
night this little vixen of a cousin I men.
tioned somewhere before began taunting
Mrs. Wildair about her mother, telling
her she was no better than she ought to
be, and calling her all sorts of scandal-
ous names—one of the servants accident-
ally heard her—until she maddened the
poor girl so that, in a fit of passion, she
caught her and hurled her from her,
with a shriek I will never forget to my
dying day. Of course there was the old
—what's his name—to pay immediately;
but Freddy's injuries did not prove half
so severe as she deserved, and a piece
of court.plaster did the business beauti-
fully for her. Bat you never saw any
one in such a sage as Wildait was about
it, knowing it would be ahl over town
directly. Three or four of the mean
crowd be had invited went off, declaring
his wife was a lunatic, and that they
were afraid to stay in the same house
with her. Wasnit that pretty treatment
after his hospitality?"
"It's the way of the world, mon ale{."
"And a very mean way it is, Web,
Wildair went to his wife and said all
sorts of cutting things to her, was as
sharp as a bottle of cayenne pepper, in
fact, and wound up by telling her he was
going to apply for a divorce, which he
had no more notion of doing than I have
of proposing to one of the Misses Leonard
to•morrow. She believed him, though,
and driven to despair by the whole of
them, made a moonlight flitting of
it, and from that day to this Richmond
Wildair has never seen or heard of his
wife."
"Poor thing 1 it was a hard fate.
What do you suppose has become of
her?"
"Heaven knows 1 She left a note say-
ing she had gone and would never dis-
grace him more—these were her words
—and bidding him an eternal farewell.
Wildair nearly went crazy; he was mad,
I firmly believe, for awhile, and it was
as much as any one's life was worth to
go near him. Re searched everywhere,
offered enormous rewards for the least
trace of her, did everything matt could
an, in a word, to find her again ; but it
was of no use, no one had heard, or seen,
or knew anything of her."
"Could she have destroyed herself ?"
"Just as likely as not ; she was the
sort of desperate person likely to do it,
and she had no fear of death, or
eternity, or anything that way. Well,
he was frantic when he found she was
lost forever, and would have given even
every cent be was worth in the world
for rho Least tidings of her, dead or
alive, but it was all a waste of ammuni.
tion; and, maddened and despairing, he
fled from the scene of the disaster, sprang
on board a steamer bound for Europe,
and was off. But he couldn't stay away;
he couldn't rest anywhere, so he came
back, and plunged headlong into the
giddy maelstrom of politics, and became
the man of the people—the Demos-
thenes; the magnificent orator whose
Lipa, to quote the Political Thsndertolt,
'have been touched with coals of living
foe; a pleasant simile, I should think.
Poor Rich! they do not know the cru-
cible of suffering from which this fiery,
impassioned eloquence has sprung.
Ambition will be to him, for the rest of
his mortal life, wife and family, and
home, for he is not the man to dream
for a second of every marrying again."
"A sad story 1 And yet he can smile,
Null jest, and talk gayly, as I heard him
half au hour ago, when he was the very
life and soul of the company."
"He must—it is expected of him; a
man of the people must please the peo-
ple; and besides, he does it to drown
thought; he trios to forget for a time
the gnawing remorse that, if indulged,
would drive him mad. Ile lives two
lives—the inward and outward—and
both as essentially different as day from
night. He believes himself the murderer
of bis wife; in fact, an old lady who
brought her up—for the girl was an or.
pban—told him so, and would not look
at him or let him in her ]louse. His
mother, touched with remorse, confessed
what she had done, and thus he learned
all hia wife had so silently suffered. It
was enough to drive a more sober man
insane, and that's the truth. Ah 1 there
was more than one sad heart after her
when she went. Poor little Emily Mur-
ray 1 the nicest, sad best, and prettiest
girl from here to sundown, was nearly
brokenhearted. I offered her my own
hand and fortune, though I didn't hap-
pen to have such an abide about me,
and she gave me my dismissal on the
spot. Heigbo 1 Burnfield's done for poor
Rich' and me."
"What 1 'Burnfield, did you say ?" ex.
claimed Randall, with a start.
"Yes, i3urnfieldd, You have no ob-
jections to it, I hope ?"
"You—did you know—did you ever
happen to hear of a widow and a little
giri by the name of Darrell there ?"
said Mr. Randall, in an agitated voice.
"Well, I should think I did --rather l"
said Curtis, emphatically. "The widow
died one night, and the little girl was
brought up by one Miss Jerusha Skamp
of severe memory, and it's of her I've
bleualkin
t g for the last half-hour, if
you mean Georgia Darrell."
"What!" exc`laimed Randall, wildly,
as ho sprang to his feet. "Do Yell
mean to toll me that Georgia Darrell
grew up in Burnfleld, and . was the
wretched wifo di Richmond Wildcat ?"
"Indeed I do," replied Curtis, with
increasing emphasis. "Why, what in
the dickens is the matter with you ?
What does all this mean 2"
"Mean! Oli, man? man! Georgia
Darrell was my sister 1"
CHAPTER XXL.
T.0 BB 'CONTINtIID.
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