A Story of Every Day.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 219, 11 April 1872, Page 9

A Story of Every Day.

" Laura Lemoine, come in here this instant ! Don't you hear, you careless young jade ? There ! I will teach you to start when T call you ! " And the great coarse hand of Nancy Bngg fell, with a heavy blow, upon the delicate young creature who had come to her calling.

The girl, scarcely more than a child, stood before the woman who had insulted her, and the warm, scarlet blood leaped into her cheeks, and a strange light came into her eyes. Standing there, before the woman who should should have felt only the . tenderest emotions for the oi'phan girl, she seemed no longer a child, but a glorious woman, endowed with the requisite pride and determination to go forth into the great world, and, unaided, win a name among the great.

She looked calmly at her aunt for a few moments, and then all the passion that had been raging in her bosom for years burst forth.

"Aunt Nancy," she excitedly exclaimed, " you have insulted me ! Lonely and unpleasant as you have made my life to me since I became an inmate of your house, two years ago, I did not think you capable of striking me. If you had just cause — "

" Laura Lemoine, if you don't stop your saucy tongue this instant, I will turn you out of doors, bag and baggage!"

" Do, Aunt Nancy. Fear you Ido not. Two years ago, when you promised my dying mother to care for me until I was sixteen, do you think she

thought you would keep your promise in the manner you have done 1 A very kind and loving mother you have surely been to me ! When I came to you, after her death, instead of soothing . my grief by loving words and caresses, you commanded me to stop my 'whimpering.' and go to work. And I did so ; stifled all my grief in my bosom, and crushed back the tears that blinded my eyes, too proud to intrude my grief upon anyone. Yes, I tried to be good, and endeavoured to please you. But then you called me sulky, and said I looked as though I had not a friend in tbe world. And I really believe that if you and I had been the only dwellers therein, I should indeed have been friendless."

Mrs. Rugg tried to speak, but Laura went on.

"A sulky child you told people I was. I would like to tell them what Nancy Rugg, the wife of the deacon of the village church, is ! But the good people- of the sewing circle would not believe me ; and you would answer, with that smile of sublime faith hovering about your mouth, ' Poor child, my heartaches for her! I have tried in vain to make an improvement in her.' and then you would look as if you had passed through great trials, and had come back purified. Not a word ! You have talked to me two years, and now it is my turn. Wicked I am, no doubt. But what I am you have made me. To-morrow I shall be sixteen, and then I sh-ill be free to go where I please, and I shall go. I am deeply thankful for one thing, and that is, I am not a debtor to you for staying here. Good night ; Igo to my room to prepare to leave you in the morning.

She passed out of the room before Mrs. R>ugg recovered from her astonishment. But as soon as she came to understand the true state of things she called her eldest daughter, and told her what Laura had said, and then such epithets as mother and daughter heaped upon her beggars description. They laughed scornfully at her idea of leaving them in the morning.

But when the morning train steamed up to the village station the following clay, it found Laura waiting on the platform. She entered the train and seated herself so as to command a last view of the village. When the train slowly sta'rti d, gradually increasing its speed until the village was left in the distance, even then there did not come a regret to her for leaving it. The past two years she wished to forget, and in the future she created, with her imaginative mind, a very beautiful life for herself.

While she is- marking out the course she is to pursue in the future, let us leave her for a season, and take a hasty

glance back into the years of flic past.

Mr. Desbro, when we first made his acquaintance, was a widower, blessed with a lovely daughter, and of sufficient wealth to live superbly. No doubt you think that Emma and her father were very dear to each other ; but there you at are fault, for they were al m ost strangers. He chilled and frightened his fair young child with his haughty and aristocratis manners. Instead of caressing her, and having her sit upon his knee, and put her little arms around his neck, and call him "the dearest and best papa in the world," he left her to build a world of her own to live and love in.

Many a time she pined for some fond friend to love ; she would sadly think of her unloved condition, and wonder if qMs who were so poor that they could hardly keep body and soul together, were not happier than she, with no one to love her.

Her father married again. His new wife was a proud, passionate woman, who well understood the meaning of the old adage, ff the first wife is the young man's slave, and the second one the old man's darling" So she ruled nun with a rod of iron, making it. a

point that she would never yieid any of her wishes to please her husband.'

Too late Mr Desbro saw his folly in bringing to his home the woman who was now his wife, and, in his time of trouble, his thoughts wandered off to his first wife's child. He longed to have her comfort with him her love. Then he remembered, with many sad regrets, that they had been estrangled all her life. But still there was time for him to endeavour to atone for his past neglect, and he set himself to work to gain the affections of his daughter. He easily succeeded, for she had long been wishing to comfort him, now that his wife and her daughter had made home so unpleasant.

But the end at last drew near. Mr Desbro had long been feeble, and now he was confined to his bed. One night Emma was watching by his bedside, when he awoke from his slumber, and gently called her name. She arose and bent tenderly over him. "Emma," said he, "it was many years before I found that I had such a kind and loving daughter. May G-od bless you, for you have been the stay and comfort Of my old age. I have willed you the pretty little cottage over by the river, and enough money to support you comfortably. Mrs Desbro expects to have a magnificent fortune, but she will be disappointed, for I have lost the most ot my wealth by speculation."

He paused, exhausted, and Emma saw with anguish that her father was fast nearing the land of eternal rest. The stupor of death crept over him ; he tried in vain to talk longer, and. having bid his daughter a last farewell, he closed his eyes and expired.

After Mr Desbro's estate had been settled, it was found that there was only a bai c pittance left for the widow. It was a great disappointmeut to Mrs Desbm, but smothering her anger, she went to reside with her daughter, for Nancy was now the wife of the deacon of the village church.

Emma, left entirely alone, and feeling more desolate than she did in her early unloved years, left her former beautiful home, and with an old servant who had been in the family many years, went to live in tbe cottage that had been her father's legacy.

When she was about twenty years of age, a stranger, Clarence Lemoine by name, and an artist by profession, came to board at the village. He met Emma, loved her, aud asked her to be his wife. To this she willingly consented, and they were married.

And now Emma at hut was happy in the love of another heart. Their home was a paradise. Little Laura was born, and her happiness was complete. But, alas ! scarcely had she become accustomed to the sweet joys of motherhood, when Death struck at her bliss, and lefc her a widow.

For a long time Emma prayed to die. Her health suffered, and she finally fell into a sure decline. Before she died, she begged her stepsister Nancy to take charge of the child. The woman consented, and after the funeral, poor Laura wentto reside with her aunt, where she remained till the day of her introduction to the reader.

Having given you an insight into the past, let us return to the present.

When Laura alighted from the train she went onward through the villiage which they had entered, and in a short time was seated in a room at the hotel, meditating upon what she next do.

Lonely, and a stranger to all the villagers, this young girl, scarcely more than sixteen, was pondering how she was to support herself.

She had left her unpleasant home, and had come to this village in answer to an advertisement inserted in the •' Times " for a teacher for a primary school. It was very likely that someapplicant had obtained the situation before she arrived, but still, even if such a thing had taken place, it would be better for her to be there than at Mrs. Rugg's".

At last, resolving not to lose the situation by being dilatory, she left the room and learned from the landlord the direction she should have to take in order to find the committee of the school. Before these gentlemen she finally appeared, and tremblingly stated her errand. To her joy she was accepted as teacher, and was soon installed in her new office.

Two years went by, and Laura toiled patiently on, winning good words from everybody. /_t the end of that time she received an offer from the principal of a fashionable school in a distant city to fill the post of a second teacher. Of course she gladly accepted the offer, and, by means of her beauty and talents, soon became an ornament to the society of the city in which the establishment was situated.

It was here- that she met the handsome Bert Mowbray. He soon discovered the worth of the beautiful girl, and paid marked attention to her. She was equally pleased with him, and it was soon evident that both young people were in love. When the all-important question was asked, it met wich a favourable answer.

They were soon married, for BpH; was rich and his own ma a ter, and could not bear to see his darling dependent upon her own labour. It need hardly be said that Laura was very happy.

When Mrs. Rugg learned her niece's good fortune, she was ready to cry

with rage. But soon after she called upon Lxura in her city home ; and though the happy bride treated, her very coldly, scarce showing her civility, the deacon's wife used to talk for hours, in tlie midst of the " sewing circle," about the " attention my niece paid to me when I visited her in her splendid city home."