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About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 1, 1886)
248 THE WEST SHORE. "Away from here, aunt Don't le vexwL I am only a trouble and anxioty to him. He suggested it liim self. It will lw better for all of us. I thought you would 1m glad." " Who suggested it? For heaven's sake speak plain ly, Emily." Miss Milward sank into a chair, and stared at her noico, who shrank beneath her amazed looks in intense discomfiture. "My father. He told me to take my choice wheth er I would atay here or go where they want me, in New York, and abroad. And I told him I should like to go just before he left thia morning. It will be better bo, indeed, Aunt Azubah." " I don't think I underatuud you, Emily," said her aunt, coldly. " Do you moan to leave your father for good?" "I don't know," faltered the girl, giving the pipe a final rub, and then laying it down. " We should see af ter awhile how things turned out" Miits Milward gazed fixedly at nothing for full five minutes iu silence. " I'oor John!" hIio cried, with an odd catching of the breath; and without another glance at Emily, she weut up to her own room. Emily felt quenched and miserable. Sho went into the garden and gathered some flowers to arrange for the table, there being the while a miat between her and the trees and hedges, and dew on the flowers sho held that waa not there before they were gathered. " Poor John!" Those two words rang in her ears all morning; and though at dinner Mias Milward scarcely sjxike, her red eyes and noae repeated "Poor John," plainly enough for Emily. During the duration of daylight Emily could man age to avoid much intercourse with her aunt, but when the lamp waa lighted, it waa impossible to eHcao the long Mr-a-Ma lefore tedtiine. The elder lady brought out her knitting, not having enough heart for anything that required more thought and attention. Emily took a book and mado a pretense of reading, her eyes following every word without her mind, and leaving her at the end of a pago in complete ignorance of its drift " Khali I read to you, aunt?" she aakod, norvounly, after an unsociable half hour. " No, thank you," said her aunt, and another silence ensued. "Aunt Azubah," cried Emily, at last, shutting up her I look iu deepair, " I wiah you would scold me, soon er than go on like this. It is so dreadfully silent every, where, I eau't War it I don't see why you should be angry-you have never seemed to like having me here." The reproach cut Miss Milward more keenly than the girl gunned, for she only said quietly " I am not angry, nor sorry, on my own account I aw only thinking of your poor father." You are rather hard on me," aaid Emily, letting a Ur fall ou the cover of the book, and then carefully removing it with her handkerchief. " You've always kept me at a distance, while I have been bo lonely with out mamma, and now you are surprised that I am glad to get away." " Perhaps you will say next that your father has kept you at a diBtance, too." " He can't miss me much. All these years he haa douo without me." " Yes, poor fellow," sighed Miss Milward. " As you say, perhaps it will be for the best You have given him nothing but anxiety ever since you entered the house, just as your mother did twenty years ago." " My mother! Oh, aunt! do tell me how it all hap pened ' Why did they live apart? Why did they ever marry? They were so different." " Ah! Why, indeed! It was a great mistake." " Who was my mother how did they meet?" Emily drew her chair closer, and her aunt's auster ity began to relax. "Mamma would never talk about her past, but I think there was something in it for which she was sor ry," continued Emily. " Do you mean to Bay she never told you about your father'" " No, nothing." " Humph! She was a teacher to the children at the minister's houso all married, now, poor things!" " And weie they fond of each other?" " Ho was," said Miss Milward, vaguely. " She mar ried him for the sake of a home; and it didn't answer. I never thought it would. Poor John I For the first week after thoy were married he looked perfectly con tented; then ho began to look oh, she did just as she you have been doing, only ton times more so worried the life out of him with her discontented, despondent ways. She had been better off a lawyer's daughter and when he died, had to teach for a living, and she looked down on John and made herself wretched think ing she had married beneath her. Beneath her! Why, it was just the opjKwite way on, if you come to that" "Poor mamma!" said Emily, "I dare say she was very unhappy." "Unhappy! and what do you think he was, then? Do you think it can be pleasant for a man to have bis wife always telling him that she made a mistake in mar rying him? I don't mean telling him in words, but by ltKiks and actions. After a time you were born, but evon with a baby to amuse her she was no better. She thought the place so dull, she said, though your father brought her lxoks of all kinds, ami took her for long drives, and did everything to amuse and please her. Then by degrees she brooded herself ill, went away for a change, came back bettor, and weut back to her old state in a week. I can't toll you all the ins and oute of it I never knew exactly how it came to the point, but somehow they decidod between them that it could not go on. She thought she should go melancholy mad if she remained bore. So she went away, and took with her the little baby girl that waa all he had, and I came to