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About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 13, 1890)
WEST SHORE. .'98 " Sir, I am not Rose Wilton." " Not Koee Wilton I" The young man wai on his feet in an instant " If you are not Miss or were not Miss Wilton, where is she? " "That I can not tell," " Well, who, may I ask, are you? " " My name was Annie Johnson. I have never claimed to be Rose Wilton, but my husband insists to this day that I am. I hare never been able to explain the mystery ; but to-day I think I have found the explana tion," and she took fram her handbag the two silver charms with their soiled ribbons. " Tbis one," 'she said, holding up the one with the pink ribbon, wag always about my neck when I was very small, and my mother told me that somewhere in the world I bad a twin sister, looking exactly like me, with the same kind of a charm tied about her neck with a blue rib bon ; and here," taking out the other one, " is the very one, I believe." Eagerly Reece Rodgers caught at this one. " And you think ?" he queried. " I think Rose Wilton is my twin sister. I have never told even Lute about this sieter, because my mother never spoke of her bat a few times, and I have hardly thought of her. It seems my father died at sea, and mother was sick and discouraged with the two of us to care fcr. How she came to give my sitter away I don't know. Wasn't there something of this kind told Mies Wilton that made her run away?" " Yes, Mrs. Gaylord, and may heaven reward you for coming here to day. Rose Wilton was my promised wife, and the news of her flight near ly cost me my life. I was still weak when you came here a bride. You re member my speaking to you on the hotel porch? Well, I never doubted that you were Rose, you look exactly like her; and the fact that she could go away and marry another for the sake of the property has almost driven me mad." " Would you have married her, rich or poor? " Mrs. Gay lord atked, watching him with a keen eye. I would," he answered, solemnly and emphatically. She put her hand into the satchel and fin' gered the yellow document a moment in uncertainty, then pushed it deeper down and snapped the clasp with a sudden decision, " May be you could find her." She would not have liked to own it, but she was glad that Reece and Rose were engaged, for she had supposed that if her husband cared so much for his couiln she must have cared for him. Now she knew it could not be so. She was tenacious of her own right f the man whose name she bore, and be tides, she knew now that she loved him and wanted him to love her for herself and not for the sake of the woman she resembled. " I will advertise in every newspaper of any note in the state," mused Reece, " and spend every dollar I ' have before giving up the search. See the time I have loet, thinking you were she." When Lute Gaylord came home he waa completely astonished at the change in his wife. She reminded him of a butterfly Just escaped from the chrysalis state. " House cleaning has done yon good ; you seem changed, somehow," he said. As they sat together after tea, she drew her chair close to him, and put ting a hand in his, asked : " Late, do you love me the least bit aa Annie, or only as the picture of Rose?" ' " Why, my dear, what a question! You are Rose, and I am surer of it to-night than ever before." " But if I could prove to you that I am not, would you care for me at all?" she persisted. Looking into her beautiful face, he answered : " I can not Imagine what you are aiming at, but I love you, whether you be Annie or Rose." Then she told him what we already know, but not a word about the will. It was Christmas morning at Castle Garden, a clear, cold Christmas morning, just eighteen years before the day on which Rose Wilton saw Die woman she bad called mother, die. A ship bad Just landed, and its load of migrant swarmed up, jabbering in almost every known tongue, or moved in wretched silence. Children moaned and cried, and for the moat part ONR LITTLE HTRANUER OUT ITS DIRTY, DIM' FLKD HANDS." their mother were too discouraged or lndifierunt to notice them. A lady belonging to the Castle Garden mission moved about among them, appar ently quite at home. Not so an elegantly attired and noticeably stylish woman who watched everything with a smile half sarcastic half amused. Plainly she was there for her own amusement. Nothing else would have brought the fastidious and wealthy relict of the late Judge Wilton into Cas tle Garden on Christmas morning. Mrs. Markham, superintendent of the mission, was an old friend and classmate, and of her many friends not one did the fashionable widow care more for, albeit, the world called Mrs. Markham eccentric, because she chose to follow in the footsteps of Him " who went about doing good." " See there," said Mrs. Markham, pointing to a drooping, girlish fig ure, holding a lovely babe on either arm. " I must speak to her if I can make her understand ; she is Norse, I think." Some one claimed her at tention just then and she turned away. " Just for fun," aa Mrs. Wilton afterward explained, she approached the young mother and spoke to her. The latter only shook her head, indi cating that she did not understand. Then the widow held out her hand alluringly, and instantly one little stranger put out its dirty, dimpled hands. " You darling I " she cried, ecstatically, a vision of a little one sleep ing In Greenwood coming between her and this beautiful Norse Infant. For the moment she forgot her own elegance, forgot the baby's squalor, the mother love in her soul carrying every other consideration before it. The pale young mother smiled a wan, forced smile, and turned away, ostensibly to look after her satchel. A portion of the living mass engulfed her and Mrs. Wilton saw her no more, and when Mrs. Markham found her she was patiently awaiting the mother's return; but she never came. Had the ground opened and swallowed her up she could not have disappeared more completely. " A Christmas gift straight from heaven, Floy," Mrs. Mark ham said that evening, as the two friends sat discussing the strange occurrence and admiring the beautiful child now doubly sweet in its clean garments. " Its skin Is like a rose petal," said one ; " and her hair like fine spun gold," exclaimed the other. " And then her eyes and cunning ways," added the widow. About the little one's neck the) found a faded blue ribbon, on which curious silver charm was fastened. And to in time it came about that the dainty Norse maiden became the sunshine of the great old Wilton mansion, and possible heir to half a million, Lute Gaylord listened without in terruption to what hit wife had to tell. She watched hit face closely to detect the emotion that sway ed hit soul. At first he looked nothing but surprise, and then an expression of relief, it seemed to her, took Itl place. When the waa done and had exhibited the charms, her husband bent and kissed her fondly, saying: " I am jlad you are Annie." Then he, too, began to plan how Rose might be found. Suddenly be exclaimed : "I believe I have a clue I " "What is It? "she asked, eagerly. He told her of the young music teacher at Mrs. Lane't. " You remem ber I insisted you were the? Well if there are two of you, I suppose that girl waa Rose Wilton. That has been one of the things that has pmiled me most. I will see Ridgers immediately." There was a long consultation between the two men, resulting In their early departure, accompanied by Annie, for Han Francisco, the next day. Gaylord went alone to Mrs. Lane't and asked concerning the young music teacher. The good woman fairly beamed. " I am so glad you came, the whole thing has been tuch a mystery to me. Yea, Mist Wilson, at the calls her self, came back to me after seeing the notlre of your marriage to Ruse Wil ton. She said she did not understand; she knew the waa the true ltote Wilton, but the considered It merciful providence that had laved her from further persecution. She aald the would rather beg than ever meet one of your family again. She has tome other grief than the lost of mother and money, I think. Indeed, I am quite sure it it tome disappointment In affalri of the heart, at my nephew bai been trying to win her; but the ttllt him the hat no heart to give. Can It be possible, Mr, Gaylord, that she loved you?" jk ,iiiinrriwiitii:ii'" ""tr NIT
