AGNES’ HERO.
BY
ELEANOR
CLAIR.
It was early on a dull, September afternoon. t flowers, saying, “Now, pretty posies, which I
Now and then a few sunbeams strayed through l spent so long time in arranging, you shall have the wildly scudding clouds, and found their way into the pleasant little parlor. But as uneasy as those flying clouds was the inmate herself, Agnes Murray. A very demon of unrest seemed to
i cousin Martha to admire you." i It was not many minutes before a sweet, smil 3 ing face, that carried its welcome with it, made g itself visible first through the window, and then
have entered the little form, that now paced the t at the door, whither Agnes had run.
Then
room backward and forward, now rolled itself § cousin Martha took possession of the sewing into a corner of the sofa, and now stood by the g chair, and admired the asters and balsams and window, half concealed in the crimson curtains, Q pansies to Agnes' heart's content. “You have
with face to the pane, gazing down the streeticome like a good angel to a lonely mortal. where the great maples had already begun to g Marnma has not yet returned from Lincoln. I put on their autumn livery. Look into that facetdid not like to run the risk of being abroad to see if perhaps you will wish to know Agnes g when she reaches home, and so shall remain better. hThe charm of beanlty is not there, yetzin-doors all this dreary afternoon—not dreary every t ought mirrors itse f, every breeze offinow that you have come. llow are all the emotion leaves some unexpected trace upon it. ichildren?" “In need of manifold garments as
You read tender sensibilities, a warm, true na- % usual, little mendicants that they are," replied ture, and alas! it waywardness that does notlMartha, as she drew from the recesses of her brook control from without, nor know it fromgsatchel the material of sewing.
within.
“Of course I
A hundred moods a day broke llleishall help you, for it will be such a comfort to
otherwise still surface of her life, but under- 3 have something to do_
say, Martha, were you
neat-h that Changing surface lay a 119"" 9"“ i ever in such a deplorable state—with nothing, full of generous impulse, and a mind of no ordi- g absolutely nothing to do?"
UThe day is far
nary stamp. A correct curly training would have t distant," said she, with a sigh, as she thought made that character a more noble and steadfast % of a thousand plans for profit or pleasure, which
one, but the fat-her, "110 died "6 Aglws' tenth she had long since foregone for the sake of the Ye", 10"“ the Pretty, capricious ways 0f his a instruction and care of a little troop of brothers only child 100 we" to attempt to Rf"!!! them'’ Q‘ and sistersr to which her mother’s death r some and the invalid mother, accustomed to lean upon
years before, had left her the heritage.
her daughter's strange will, left her to her own
Martha," Mid Agnes, an" a lime pause. “I
guidance.
Her energy and superior talentsslmve been thinking so much to-day,"
uOh, "And
gave her an ascendcncy in the little circle of i what, was the-cause of so rare an event?" friends in which she moved, that no one ever; “Don’t laugh and I will tell you-I am tired thought of questioning, even when her fearless ; of myself. Now I am of no manner of import
independence of sentiment led her sometimeslnnce or good to anybody, as you very well beyond the ordinary rules of girlish propriety. know Even to poor momma, I believe I am If she coquetted, as some called it, with one more of a trouble than a comfort." “Oh, after another of her little company of admirers, Agnes, don’t you ltnow you are a dear blessing ’/ ”/ ’, it was not to break hearts, but to amuse a fancy S to all your friends?" “They are few enough," that knew not how to fix itself long upon any i said she, with a doleful face, “blind grand
object, and yet was pleased with each in its turn. 3 ma‘am Smith, to whom I read Pilgrim‘s Pro As he stood by the window now, she caught i gress and Saint's Rest—yes, she's a saint her sight of a slender, erect. figure coming up theiself—and old Mrs. Gruler, to whom I carry street, and exclaimed aloud, “Oh! it is cousin " broth—yes, these, with you and uncle Stephen, Martha, how glad I am!" Moving rapidly abouttare the best friends I have. Now, soberly, the room, she wheeled the low, sewing-chairSMartha, it seems as if I might be something close to
the window, placed
a footstool, andEnoble, better if I would.
brought into plainer sight the vase oflate garden ; upon me. 190 4
But there is no call
Now you have some object to work
