The Daily Reporter.
D. C., IRELAND 4 CO. PUBLISHERS.
McMinnville, Or.
•
-
Feb. 11, 1887
THE HALF CASTE.
ANQLD
GOVERNESS’S TALE-
FOL'NDEO ON FACT.
WV Miss MUIOCK.
Of ZTTla the lieutenant Hardly ever
took any notice at all, and she seemed
to keep out of his w ay as much as pos
sible. When he left us in the evening
—and there'wM'always a tolerabte con
fusion at that time, his two sisters
wanting to see him off by the train, I
which he never by any chance allowed
—then came the quietest and pleasant
est half-h'ourrtf the lay. The Misses
Le Poor disliked, twilight rambles, so
Zillah and I always set off together;
though oftentimes we parted company,
and I waa, left sitting on the beach,
while she strolled on to a pleasant walk
she said she bad found—a deserted
house whose grounds sloped down to
the vety shore:’ Rut I, not very strong
then, and weighed dowp bv many anx
ious th6ughts. loved better to sit and
stupify myself with the murmur of the
sea—a" habit not good for me, but pleas-
ant. No fCAr bad I Jf Zillah’s losing
herself, of comiflg'to' any harm; and the
girl seemed so happy in her solitary
rambles that 1 hail n6t the desire to
stop them, knowing how a habit of self
dependence is the greatest comfort to a
wotnau, especially to one in her deso
late position. But as the frost of her
nature broke up, and her dullness was
melting away, Zillah seemed more self
con taiuqd^sq to speak; more reserved,
and relylrtg on' her own thoughts for
occupation and amusement; still, she
had never tieen so attentive or affec
tionate to tup.
It was a ciirious and interesting
study—this young mind’s unfolding;
though 1 shame to say thut iust then 1
did not think about Zillah as much as I '
ought to have done. Often I re-'
proached myself for this afterward; but i
as things have turned out, I now feel,
with a quiqt. self-compassion, that my
error was pardonable,'
I min'd one evhhitig—that “I mind" is
not quite English, but I learned it with ,
other phrases^ in my young days, so let I
it stand!,—J. miud.one evening, that, be
ing nrtt quite in k triood for solitude, I
went out walking with Zillah. 'Some
how the murmur of the sea wearied me; '
I turned through the village and along ’
the high road—almost like an English I
road, so beautiful with overhanging j
trees. I did not Wk much and Zillah'
walked quite silently, which indeed was
nothing new. I think I see her now,
floating, along With her'thin but lithe
figure
ump. clinging dress—tile
verf aiitipbdes of fashion ->■ nothing
about her that would really be called
beautiful except |ier great eyes, which I
were perfect oceans of light. When we
came to a gateway—which, like most
things in poor Ireland, seemed either
broken '(town or left half finished—she
looked round rather anxiously.
“Do yqu know' this place, iny dear?” ;
“It is lin old fnaAsion—where I often
like to stroll.”
“What! have you lieen there alone?”
“Of cohrse I have,” said she quickly
and slightly coloring. “You knew it;
or I thought you did.”
She appeared apprehensive of reproof,
which struck me as odd. in so inoffens
ive a matter as her adventuring a soli
tary stroll; especially as 1 was anything
but a cross governess. To please and
reassure her I said: “Well, never
mind, my dear, you shall show me your I
pet paradise, It will be quite a
treat.
“I don’t think so. Miss Pryor. It’s !
all weeds and disorder, and yon can’t :
endure that. And the ground is very
wet here and there. I am sure you'll
not like it at all.
“Oh, but 1 will, if only to please you,
Zillah,” said I. determined to be at
once flrm and pacific; for I saw a trace
of her old sullen look troubling my pu
pil’s face, as if she did not like her
haunts to bo intruded upon even by me. (
However, she made no more opeu op- 1
position, and wn entered the grounds, |
which were almost English in their as
pect, except in one thing—their entire 1
desolation. The house might not have •
been inhabit J. or the grounds culti
vated, for I went • ve.irs. The rose-beds
grew w.ld—great patches of white clo
ver overspr ad th« lawn and flower-
garden. and all the underwood was one
mass of tall fern.
1 had not gone far tn and out of the
tangled walks of the shrubbery when I
found that Zillah hail slipped away. I
saw iter at a distance standing under a
tall Tortuga! laurel, seemingly doing
nothing but meditate—a new occupa
tion for her; so I left her to it, and pen
etrated deeper into what myoid French
governess would have called the 'joctgje.
My feet sunk deep in fern amidst which
I plunged, trying to gather a great arm
ful of that and of wild flowers; for I
had, and have still the babyish propen
sity of wishing to pluck everything I
see, and never can conquer the delight
1 feel in losing myself in a wilderness
of vegetation. In that oblivion or
jiliild-ttkn content I was happy—hap
pier than I had been for a long time,
l’he ferns nearly aid me, when I heard
a stirring til the buslies' behind, which I
took ter (untie harmless ‘animal which I
had disturbed. However, hares, foxes,
ii even squirrels io not usually give a
’.otid “ AhdmT” :n the perfectly human
tone which followed. At first 1 had ter
rors of some ktriy keeper, who might
possibly shoot me for a rabbit or a
poacher, till I recollected that I was
uot m England but in Ireland, where
unjust lundlords are regarded as the
more convenient game.
"Ahem!” reiterated the mysterious
voice—“ahem! Is it yon, my angel?”
Never could auy poor governess be
more thoroughly dum founded! Oi’
Course the adjective was not meant for
me. Impossible! Still it was unpleas
ant to come into such near contact with
a case of philAnderifig. ‘ Mete philan
dering it must be, for thia was no hon
est vtllage-tryste, the man's accent be
ing relined and quite English. Besides,
little as I knew of love-making, it
struck me that iu any serious utacti-
ment people would never address one
another by the silly title of "my angel.”
It must be some idle flirtation going on
among the strolling visitants whom we
occasionally met on the beach, and wiio
had probably wandered up through the
gate which led to these grounds.
To put an end to any more confiden
tial disclosures from tins unseen gen
tleman,'! likewise said “Ahem!” as
loudly as I could, and immediately
called aloud for Zillah. Whereupon
there was M hasty rustling in the bush
es, which, however soon subsided, and
the place became quite still again.
without mt ever r- havincd^iught sight
a
oi
ctie -----------------
very compnmerTniry
____
.. .
. TftfflTv luuai
who had in this extemjane manner, ad
dressed me as his “angel.” “Certain
ly,” I thought, “I must have been as
invisible to him as he to me, or he never
would have dbhe it.” '
Zillah joined me quickly. She looked
half frightened, and said she feared
something was the matter—“had I seen
anythlngr’
At first I was on the point of telling
her all, but someho# it how1 appeared
a rather ridiculous position for a gov
erness to be placed in—to have shouted
for assistance en being addressed by
mistake by an unknown admirer; and
besides I did'not wish to put any love
notions into the girl’s head; they come
quite soon enough of their own accord.
So 1 merely said I had been startled by
hearing voices in the bushes -that per
haps we were intruders on the domain,
and had better not stay longer.
“Yet the place seems retired and des
olate,” said I. as we walked down the
tangled walk that led to the beach, Zil
lah evidently unwilling to go home.
“Do you ever meet any strangers about
here’”’ 1
She answered briefly, “No.”
“Did you see any one to-night?”
“Yes, —given with a slight hesita
tion.
“ Who was it?”
“A man, I think—at a distance.
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.’
I give these questions and answers
verbatim, to show—what I believed
then, and believe now, that so far as I
questioned, Zillah answered me truth
fully. I should be sorry to think that
eit her at that time or any other she had
told me a willful lie.
But this adventure left an uncomtort-
iible sensation on my mind—not from
imy doubt of Zillah herself, for she ap-
p ared still too much of a child, and too
a >l.ward and unattractive, < r me to
i er eB .' tging in love-affairs <?’in-
3i»y**Tyny^bT'TOTnuiai Maj b uvqi ojota
joj iou jo jq8is oso{ idAsu ppioqs j
pm? ‘Auedcaoo ai syo-tpi iqihnM) mo
aipH pjnoqs oaa ivqi poAiJ-jnoj h X t ? w [T? [
‘S uiuoao siqi joijv k6sa|oq-)JOAOX '®<no9
0) anil) atuos joj ssiMJsqjo io auipiop
i
|_,____________
v < v M re • «.• < tattAKi |'*v( “Rill iota *
v.VWV». tier again atl tne aTlerniM.fr. T>r lieu
a very simple and short-sighted govern tenant Augustus kept me in the parlor
ess after all.
on one excuse or another until I waa
We had been at Holy wood a whole heartily vexed at him and myself.
month, and 1 began to wonder when we When I went up stairs to put on my
should return home, us Zillah was quite bonnet—we were all going to v ilk that
well, indeed more blooming than I had evening—Zillah slipped away almost aa
ever seen her. Mr Le l’oer made him soon as I appeared. I noticed that alls
self visible once or twice, at rare inter was quite coni|Mised now, and had re
vals; he had always “business in Dub sumed her nstial manner I called after
lin,” or “country visits to pay.” His her to tell the other two girls to get
son acted as regent in his absence—I ready, thinking it wisest to make no ra
always supposed by his desire; never marks concerning her excitement of the
theless I often noticed that these two I morning.
lights of the family never shone togeth
I never take long in dressing, and
er, and the father’s expected arrival was soon went down, rather quietly par-1 '
the signal of Mr. Augustus' non-ap- haps; for I was meditating with pain
| I>earance
\/\<k «w,
w* some
*/, wAkwwm
I zY tl.A
for
days. Nor zA did
the; on how much this passionate child
Sirls ever allude to their brother. I ■. might yet have to suffer in the world.
wight family quarrels might perhaps I believe 1 have rather a light step; at
have lessoned them in this, and so was all events 1 was once told so. Certainly
not surprised.
I did not intend to come into the parlor
It was certainly a relief to all when 1 stealthily or pryingly; in fact. 1 never
the head of the family again departed. | thought of its occupants at all. On en
We usually kept his letters for him, he [ tering, what was my amazement to see
not being very anxious about them; for standing at the window—Lieutenant
which indifference, as I afterward co«n- Augustus and—my Zillah! He waseoi-
Srehended, he might hate good reasons. bracing—in plain English, kissing her.
>nce there came a letter—4 knew from
Now. 1 am no prude in such things;
whom—marked in the ebrher, sTf ab 1 have oftentimes known a hannleee *
sent to lie opened by Mtss Pryor.”— father-like or brother-like embrace be
Greatly surprised wqur I to And it con tween two, who, quite certain of each
tained a bank-note, apparently hurried other’s feelings, gave and received the
same in all frank atTAetfou aiut simplic
ly inclosed, with this brierline:
“If Zillah requites more let me know ity. But gene bah v I am very partiodlBr;
at once. She must have11 every luxury more so than most women. I often
used to think that, were I a man, I
needful for her health.
A. S."
The initials certainly meant his name would wish, m the sweet day of my be
—Andrew Sutherland—nor could I be trothal, to know for certain that mine
mistaken in the hand. Yet it seemed was the first lover’s kiss ever pressed
very odd, as I had no idea that he held on the deal lips which 1 then sealed as
over her more than a nominal guardian wholly mv own!
To be Continued.
ship, just undertaken out of cnarity to
the orphan, and from his having slight
ly known her father. At least so Mr.
Advertisments, etc., intended for
Le Poer told me. The only solution I publication in The Weekly Reporter
could And for his sending Zillah the must be handed in Tuesday morning.
money was the simple one of its being
a gift, springing from the generosity of ' We cannot in future deviate from thia
a heart whose goodness I knew but too , rule.
well.
However, to be quite sure, I called
SEVENTH ANNUAL
Caroline into counsel; thinking, silly as
she was, she might know something of
the matter. But she only tittered, look
ed mysteriously important, and would
speak clearly on no point, except '‘that
we hail a perfect right to use the money
—pa always did; and that she wanted a
new bonnet very badly indeed."
A day or two after, Mr. Le Poer, re
turning unexpectedly, took the note in
to his own possession, saying, smiling
ly, “that it waa ail right;” and I heard
no more.
But if I had not been the very sim
plest woman in the world I should cer
tainly have suspected that things were
not “all right.” Nevertheless, I do not
now Wonder at my blindness. How
could 1 think otherwise than well of a
man whom I innocently supposed to be
a friend of Mr. Suti-erland?
’'Zillah, my dear, do not look so dis
appointed. There is uo help for it.—
Your uncle told me before he left us
that we must go home next week.”
So said F one day, trying to say it
gently, and not marveling that the girl,
was unhappy at the near prospect of I i Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday,
returning to her old miserable fife. It'
February 22d. 23d and 24th,
was a future so bitter that I almost [
1887.
blamed myself for not having urged oar I
longer stay. Still human nature is
weak and I did so thirst for home—my
LIST OF PRIZES.
own home. But it was hard'that my
There
will
be prizes given on the following
pleasure should be the poor child’s
minied exhibits:
pain.
1st nnd 2d prize for best sud 2d best ex
“Don’t cry, my love,” I went on, see- j hibit
of Kensington painting.
ing her eyes brimming, and the color | 1st and
2d prize, for liest and 2d tient ex
coming aiid going in her face:—strange hibit
of Kensington embroidery.
changes which latterly, on the most! 1st and 2<i prize, for best and *2d bent ex
trifling occasion#, had disturbed the ap hibit of outline work by a child under 14
parent stolidity of her countenance.— years of age.
'‘Don’t tie unhappy; things may tie ! 1st and 2d ia-st, for beat and 2d beat ex
smoother now: and I am sure your cons- ' hibit of work of any kind by a boy under 14
ins lie have better and kinder to you , years of age.
than they did; even the lieutenant is | Int and 2d prize, for tient and 2d bent ex
hibit of crayon work.
very civil to you.”
There will also be a prize given for the
A sparkle, which was either pleasure heaviest,
lighten! and prêt I lent baby under 1
or pride, flashed from the girl’s eyes, I year of age.
anil then they drooped, unable to meet
Following inn lint of prizw offered: Forth#
mine.
prettiest baby, gold necklnce; lightent and
“Be content, dear child; all may be heaviest baby under one year of sge, each s
happier for you than you expect. You gold ring; outline work by a child under
must write to me regularly—you can fourteen yen«, first prize, ear rings, second
write pretty well now, you know; you prize, mrnp book; Kensington < mbioidery,
must tell me all that hap|>ens to you firnt prize, napkin' ring, ntcond prize, box
pnper; kensington painting, first
and remember .lint in everything you writing
prize, manicure set, necoud priz<-, bracket:
can trust ine entirely ”
work, finit prize, paper holder, sere nd
Here I was astonished by Zillah's crayon
prize, pitcher; boy’s work, first prize, pajier
casting herself at my knees as I sat, holder, second prize, inkstand.
and bursting into a storm of tears.
of I'lrcnien Tiivada) ■!-
Anxiously I asked tier what was the
teraoon.
matter.
“ Noth i ng—everyth ing! I am so haj>- Doom will b<- open nr 7 o’rfock,
py—so wretched! Ah! what tnust I
p. m. dolli, «luring tli<‘
do?”
Fair.
These words bubbled up brokenly
—All are invited to Attend—
from her lips, but just at that unlucky
moment her three cousins came in. She Admission 25 Cents.
sprang up like a frightened deer, and
By Order of
C ommittee .
was ofl to her own room. 1 did.not see
FIREMAN’S FAIR
Garrison Opera House,