The Argosy — page 329: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

310 A Romantic Wedding. were equally vain. She alienated the child who would have loved her, and in punishment, God sent to hernone of herown. Yet Ermen- trude flourished as a flower beneath the fostering care of her nurse. If she hid herself at the sound of her step-mother’s voice, what | mattered ? she was received in the sheltering arms of her faithful | Betto, and consoled by toffee and sugar cakes. | The Squire, her father, was self-indulgent, and troubled himself not | about such trifling matters. He had a handsome wife, an heiress, and a wine cellar—what could he want more? one child was enough for him, and his lady was careful not to display before him her antipathy for Ermentrude ; so no disquieting suspicions disturbed his frequent potations. Nevertheless, they were disturbed. An adversary even more fatal than his wine cup overpowered him, and that enemy was Death. The Squire died suddenly, and the child Ermentrude, at six years of age, was heiress of all his possessions. Save her dowry, the jealous wife had nothing. Little did Ermentrude realize her position. She scarcely under- stood the loss she had sustained in her father. All she knew was, that instead of her step-mother’s cold salutations, she was clasped in the arms of a loving uncle, her own mother’s brother, who was constituted her guardian. ‘‘ What should she know of death?” She looked with terror on her father’s white face and rigid form, and piteously asked him to speak to her ; she stood at her nursery window while the grand funeral procession wound through the park of which she was now mistress ; and she sobbed out her childish grief on her fond nurse’s bosom. But no sympathetic word reached her ear from the haughty lady who remained apart in her solitary chamber. Scarcely was the father laid in the ancestral vault, before Ermentrude was told that a great change awaited her. She was to leave the castle and live with her uncle and guardian, the Squire of Plas Gwen, at his place some thirty miles away. When Mistress Betto said she would accompany her, the child clapped her hands with delight, for had not her uncle embraced her tenderly and vowed that he loved her for her mother’s sake? She paused not to consider whether he might prove a naughty uncle, like him of ‘‘ The Babes in the Wood,” or to enquire concerning his only son, who would inherit the castle if she were to die; she only thought of his kisses and assurances of affec- tion. Accordingly, preparations were made for her departure. All her childish toys were gathered together. A warm coat was put upon her Italian greyhound, a baize covering on her canary cage, and she was dressed in her sable hat and plume. At the last moment, her uncle took her to bid farewell to her father’s widow. She found her in the _ profoundest of weeds, and shrank from the face, now unsoftened by fair curls, and the severe white cap that surmounted it. ‘You will remain here, madam, soe long as you may please,” said COMME DOOKSa6OM