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v-r. INDEPENDENT FAMILY NEWSPAPER. '',ZX?'
"Vol. "VI. Now Hloomflolcl, !?., Tucsilniy, .Aiig-iiat O. 18752. IVol, 32.
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THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER.
OR
CAPTAIN JOHN'S COURTSHIP.
ONE cold, wet morning in November,
1855, Captain John Burrill, master of
the fast-sailing clipper ship Dreadnought,
left his vessel at her pier on South street,
at the port of N,ow York, and started for
his lodgings in tho upper part of tho city.
Although tho rain was descending heavily,
the captain, who had a contemptuous dis
dain for umbrellas, wrapped his greatcoat
tightly about him, and as he trudged brave
ly forward over tho glistening pavements,
plunged his hands deep into his wide pock
ets aud lost himself at once in profound
meditation. It was not unnatural that,
among the busy thoughts which lingered in
his contemplative brain, those of his lady
love should occupy, just at thnt time, a
prominent place, somewhat to the exclu
sion of moral rejections and business
schemes. For Captain Bun-ill was in love,
and surely was scarcely tcba blamed if bin
mind, during most of his leisure moments,
did chiolly run upon tho stately beauty
whom ho had asked to become his wife, and
who had graciously accepted his hand and
fortune, and promised to marry him within
tho month. Captain John, remembering
his early days as cook's scullion, and his
subsequent success, achieved by unremit
ting exertion . and his own . merit, could
hardly help wondering how it camo about
that from tho foot of tho ladder ho should
-so soon find himself at tho top, and how
fifteen short years could so metamorphoso
him from a pitiful mixer of "lob-scouKo"
to a captain of a ship and possessor of an
independent fortune. To bo sure, tho lat
ter had fallen upon him liko a golden thun
derbolt, launched by a distant relative who
had taken a whim to leave him most of her
money, and now that the captain camo to
-think the matter over, he began to wonder
whether, had it not been for tho latter
-streak of luck, Jacob Marshall's daughter
would have accepted him. It did not seem
to him that sho cared for him iu the way
' ho had socn some sailors' sweet-hearts care
for their beaux, but then sho was proud
and aristocratic, and Captain John, being a
seafaring man, concluded that, an he know
no little of such things, he had best troublu
himself about them as littlo as possible.
"She's a grand young woman," thought
lie, "and I'm thirty-Jive too old to expect
her to play sweet on mo much. I suppose
it's all right. She's a handsome girl aud
better suited to mo than a younger one
would bo.", i ,
. .. Since the arrival of tho. vessel tie had
made tho Marshall mansion his home, and
had thus been able to pay his attentions at
x short range. Ho had dono this at the earn
est invitation of old Jacob Marshall himself, 1
who owned the ship, mid who had been
particularly polite to Captain John since
the latter found his pockets so unexpectedly
full of money. Thrown thus into tho con
stant company of a beautiful woman, the
captain, to whom, through all his life, a
woman hud been a raraam't, fell immediate
ly and irrecoverably in love. Tho result
was - an engagement, though whether
.Marion Marshall cared most for his heart or
his pocket, the captain found himself in
considerable doubt. And so the wedding
day bad been flked.and :Catuiu John had
begun to debate in his mind whether he
could And it in his heart to give up his ship
' and spa her sail out of port (n command of
smother master, or whether lie could not
tpersuade Marion Marshall to marry hlmj
ship and all. (,,, . , . .
Thinking deeply of these things, he took
his way steadily toward Pock Slip, with his
yos fastened upon the shining sidewalk
and his chin buried in the great collar of
his coat. There were few people in the
streets, for the hour was nearly eloven and
the rain came down in a continuous drizzle.
Therefore it was with no little surprise that
tho captain felt the wet edge of a woman's
shawl flirted into his face by the wind as
its owner brushed swiftly past him.
"Some Water street girl," he thought,
glancing toward her; "a hard lifo, poor
thing."
The woman flirted quickly by, but when
beneath the glare of the next street lamp,
she turned hor head and looked hurriedly
behind hor.
Blast my toplights I" said Captain Bur
rill to himself as he caught sight of her sad,
white features; " that girl never camo from
Watei street. Whore .s she bearing now ?"
The woman, or rather the girl, for her
lithe, supple movements denied tho possi
bility of her being more than eighteen or
twenty at most, patised a moment under
tho lamp and then darted suddenly across
the street toward tho shipping.
"Something wrong there," muttered the
captain to himself, stopping to look after
her as she disappeared among the shadows
on the opposito side of the way. " Now
I shouldn't wonder "
lie left his sentence uuflnished, and re
gardless of the danger from river thieves
and the night prowlers who haunt tho dark
coiners among 'tho wharves, crossed tho
street, also. lie groped his way out on a
long pier extending into tho river between
two hugo vessels which cast their black
shadows over it, and then paused for a mo
mont to listen. There was nothing to be
heard but the steady patter of the rain and
tho washing of tho river under tho piles,
and so he walked softly on ngain toward
tho end of tho pier. As he nearcd tho ex
tremity of tho wharf, however, ho heard a
light step closo by his side, and caught
sight of a woman's figure standing upon
tho Btring-picco, tho dark outlino of her
form revealed against tho lighter sky
above tho river. Stealing nearer to hor, ho
saw that she had removed her shawl and
had stepped back ns though about to cast
herself into tho water. With a sudden ex
clamation he seized horquickly by tho linn.
"jFor Heaven's sake what aro you about ?"
Sho mado him no answer, but sank down
trembling at his feet.
" Were you going to jump to your death ?"
ho asked arising hei gently.
"() sir, let mo go," she said plaintively.
"What I do can be nothing to you. Let
mo go."
" What you do is a good deal to mo,
when you try such things as this," ho re
plied. " Where do you live ?"
"Nowhere."
" Have you no friends?"
"Friends!"
She clasped her hands and looked down
at tho black water, dashing in sad, contin
uous surges against tho wharf.
" No no friends."
"I see," said tho captain picking up her
shawl and wrapping it about her, " tho old
story. Well, I will bo a friend to you, my
poor girl, and if you will give up tho idea
of going to Davy Jones locker just at pres
ent. We can't stand hero in this rain,talk
ing about it. Come with me."
, "O," she eriod, passonately, "you don't
know what I am. You are a good man I
am sure and you would never touch mo,
you would nover speak to me, if you knew
what my life has been."
" I don't care what you are,',' said tho
captain, decidedly. "I know you'io a
fellow-creature without a shelter, and I'm
going to find a dryei lodging for you than
tho one you proposed engaging. Now
put your hand on my arm and come with
mo." ,
Sho obeyed him passively, and without
a word followed him down tho wharf and
out into tho street. As they reached the
street lamp again, Captain John stopped to
look at his companion more closely, aud
oould not help giving utterance to an ex
clamation of surprise when he found what
manner of woman it was who leaned upon
his arm.
It was no plebeian face that turned
toward him as ho did so. A pale delicate
complexion, with features Anoly cast, and a
pair of wide, soft hazel eyes, deep and lus
trous as those of a fawn, were what Cap
tain BurriH saw, as he turned back the
girl's hood to look at her. She was young,
not more than twenty, and her brown hair,
loose aud wet with tho drizzling rata enoir
clod with a shining halo a face that, though'
livid with mental suffering, was beautiful
even now.
. "Thoie's more of('a story here than I
thought," ho muttered, taking the girl's
arm again and moving on. " I shouldn't
be surprised, Jack Bun-ill, if you had put
your foot into somebody olse's history to
night, too."
He led hor quickly around several corners,
and Anally stopped before a building at the
lower end of Frankfort street and knock
ed upon tho door.
"I have a friend hero," ho said, to tho
trembling creature at his sido. " Ho was
once an old shipmate of mine, and if ho
wont be kind to you, nobody will."
In a few moments there was heard the
approach of heavy footsteps, rather ram
bling rather discursively towards the door,
and directly tho bolt was drawn back and
a rough-featured individual, with a beam
ing red nose, presented himself for Captain
B u mil's inspection.
" Well, Saddler, how are you ?" exclaim
ed tho captain.
" Tol'able thank yo. What fetches you
down here in this weather?"
" I want a lodging for this young woman,
Sadaler. Sho's had a notion of bunkin' iu
the East Iiivcr, aud I told hor I could find
her a better place, don't stand thoro look
ing at us. Lot us in and fix up a room
and a lire."
"All right," quoth Saddler, slowly re
volving a quid of tobacco in his cheek, "all
right. Tho best in tho houso belongs to
Jack Burrill and Jack Burrill's friends.
He swung the door open and led tho way
to a littlo, dingy parlor at tho end of tho
hall, and then without another word disap
peared up stairs, leaving tho captain and
his charge alone.
" Now," said tho captain, "my girl, I
want you to promise mo two things. I shan't
ask you for your history, or for tho reasons
which led you to this attempt upon your
life, unless you choose to tell mo. I am
going to provido you with a comfortable
night's lodging, and to-morrow wo will seo
what ought to bo dono hereafter. In tho
meantime you will be well taken caro of
hero, but you must give mo your word that
you will try no more to destroy yourself,
and that you will not venture away from
Tom Saddler's house until I seo you again
to-morrow night. Will you promiso me
that?"
The girl looked at him with her wido,
brown eyes for a moment, and then, bury
ing her faco in her hands, burst into tears.
" I will promiso you anything sho said.
"1 know that you, at least, are my friend.
If you knew what I havo suffered, you
would know that I am too happy to find
any place of icfiigc, to leave it against your
will."
"Well," said tho captain, "whatever
you are,or whatever yon have done,you aro
safe hoio until to-morrow, at all events.
Here comes Saddler again, and ho will tell
you what ho will do with you."
The rubicund visage of tho individual re
ferred to appeared at tho head of tho stairs
aud beckoned to tho visitors to ascend, but
tho captain, shouting that it was so lato
l hat ho couldn't stop.aud admonishing Tom
to take caro of tho girl, took leave of his
protege and passed out into tho street.
With his hands in his groat pockets ouco
more, Captain Burrill, ns ho wended his
way homeward, cogitated more deeply than
over. At first, he conceived tho intention
of relating tho whole of his singular ad
venture to Marion on tho following morn
ing. Then tho thought crossed his mind
that it would be well to ascertain some
thing of the character of his chargo before
ho mado known any details of the aflalr,
and this, with the condition tliat the girl
had evidently desired to keep hor story a
secret, brought him to tho determination to
say nothing at present about the matter.
So ho dismissed tho occurrence from his
thoughts, aud, reaching tho Marshall man
sion near midnight, found his room without
disturbing tho family, and rotired to his ac
customed couch of feathors and down in a
most tranquil and undisturbed framo of
mind. i
The next day was a long one to Captain
BiiiTil', His interest in his acquaintance
of tho previous evening and his curiosity to
know her story ."whatever it might bo, eil'uc
tually occupied his mind to tho exolusion
of all ulso. The magnetism of her eyes
bad taken possession of him, and ho await
ed the end of his day's business with all
the lmpationco of a schoolboy. At last the
evening closed in upon the city, and making
his excuses to Marion he left the houso
and hastened again "to tho tenement in
Frankfoitstiect. '
"What word, Tom?" he inquired, of
that semi-nautical personage, as the door
swung open to givo him entrance;'1 '
"Well, nothin' Special," replied Saddler.
"The gal's doin' pooty well" She aint no
ordinary customer, sho aint. ' There's been
some trouble there, and it's my private
opinion she's been used to good clothes
and bavin' things nice."
" Has she been out ?"
" No. She had a good cryin' spell after
you went away last night, but I mado up a
good Are for her in tho best room and my
old woman lent her some dry clothes to put
on, and to-day she's been pooty cheerful.
Pleased with this report in brief, the cap
tain passed up stairs and knocked at the
door of the room indicated by Saddler as
the "best ono." It was opened at once by
his last night's acquaintance. So marked
an improvement was thero in hor appear
ance that Captain John retired a step in
some surprise. Sho had employed the day
in drying and ironing hor wet dress, and
this was neat and clean. Her hair, gather
ed up into a light, braided coil, was bound
in place by a bright ribbon which set of her
white, delicato complexion to Ane advan
tage A snowy apron, loaned by Saddler's
"old woman," completed her plain attire,
but although the garb was simplicity itself,
the real beauty of her face and form ren
dered it nlmost queenly. At least, Captain
Burrill, as ho took her hand, could not de
ny as sho looked timidly up to meet his
own, a vague feeling camo over him that
thoro was in this girl an indeflnable some
thing worth having, which Marion Marshall
did not possess.
"I am glad you kept your promiso," he
said.
" O sir, that was a small return to mako
for your goodness. You have shown me
moro kindness than I havo had dono mo for
a long timo. How can I over thank you ?"
" Sit down," said the captain, "and let
us talk about it. What is your name ?"
" They call mo Mary Marsh," sho said
taking a scat on tho opposito sido of tho
Are from him, "but I will not deceivo you
into believing that to be my real name. It
is not."
"Never mind tho roal namo," ho said.
" Any namo will do. I don't ask youMo
confide in me entirely, but if you will tell
mo something of what your life has been, I
shall bo better able, perhaps, to help you,
And let what you do tell me be tho truth."
Sho bridled somewhat at this, and rovcal
od a littlo of what might havo been the
half-conquered pride of a better period of
her life.
" Do I look liko ono who would tell you
an untruth ?" sho said.
Tho captain looked into tho frank, brown
eyes which were opened upon him to their
widest extent, and then repliod:
" No. I do not think you do. Forgivo
mo if I havo hurt you. There is some
thing strango about you that I do not un
derstand. What led you to attempt your
your own destruction?"
She rose from her chair and hor faco
Hushed with oxcitement.
" What led me ? Toll mo whether you
would not havo taken tho same course
Suppose that you had been liko mo, a
woman. Supposo that you had been
reared, as I have been, in a happy and lux
urious Initio, the spoiled pet of doting pa
rents, the willful, capricious child whose
will was law who had but to ask iu order
to reccivo whatever you most desired. Sup
pose that when you were budding into early
womanhood, with all your sensitivo nature
ns yet unguarded by tho hard foils which
contact witli the world learns you to uso at
last, with all your generous, impulsive
heart open to recoivo impressions, whether
for good or for evil suppose, I say, at this
most critical juncturo of your being, thoro
camo across your life ono to whom all your
affections opened as a flowor to the sunlight
one who threw around you a lustrous and
magnetic halo, within which niagio circle
you learned to And your supremo and crown
ing happiness Supposo you gaveyourlifo,
your heart, your very soul to this man, and
he cruelly betrayed the trust. What would
you do then?"
The captain was silent. Tho excitement
of hor manner and tho vehemence of her
passionate words had heightened the flush
upon her cheeks, until sho appeared to him
royally, divinely beautiful. Standing grace
fully by the chair from which sho had un
consciously risen, her soft eyes grown hard
and sparkling with unnatural Are, sho look
ed at him steadily as she continued:
' "Supposo that another woman your
sister, whose comforting ministrations
should have soothed and healed tho heart
less, cruel wound which his band had given
you had loved this man in seotet. ' Sup
pose she exulted in your disgrace, rejoiced
in your fearful fall. Suppose, when tho
worst camo, she oast you out from all claim
upon hor sisterly love and reviled you in
terms selected for the refinement of their
cruelty, and when, at last, broken-hearted
and bowed down ; with grief 1 and shame,
you fled from the houso which was a homo
no more, her jealous hatred followed you
until you could And no resting-place for
your poor, weary, aching head, except
among tho haunts of the low and vile,
where you found at least some sympathy
from the lost creatures who had half for
gotten memories of similar sorrow. Tell
me, had those things happened to you,
would you havo borne them with more cou
rage than I ?"
" Is that your history ?" asked the cap
tain, after a moment's silonoe.
"It is only a part of it," sho replied.
"The worst blow of all came to mo last
night. Throughout tho whole, I had loved
the man who destroyed me. He had de
serted me, left me heartlessly to meet the
discovery of my shame alone, but, though
ho sailed for distant lands and I knew he
would nover como back to me, still every
chord of my nature clung to him with a de
spairing devotion such ns a woman whose
heart has been robbed of all its dearest ties
and racked with a hopeless misery, alone
can feel. Last night I heard that he was
dead. She had known it long ago, but the
news camo to me with the crushing force of
a death-blow. What was left for mo then,
but the dark and glistening river, that would
take mo upon its soft and yielding bosom
and bear me gently away to my death ?"
Sho sank into her seat again nnd Jeaned
her head wearily against the mantel. Cap
tain John, half-frightened at herpassionato
eloquence, gazed wonderingly at her for
several moments before ho ventured to
speak.
"Poor child 1" murmured tho captain,
softly, as if to himself.
Sho started at the words and, rising from
her seat, camo to his chair and dropped up
on her knees at his feet.
"O sir," site cried, " I know that you are
my friend. Savo mo from a fate that I can
not escape alono. Tako me away from this
lifo that my sin has brought upon ino and
givo mo ono chanuo to beconio moro worthy
of your goodness to mo. I eau work if you
will help mo And employment. I will do
anything to deserve your confidence in me,
and to regain any part of what, I have lost.
Help mo."
She bowed ner head upon his kneo and,
bursting into tears, sobbed as though her
heart would break ; and Captain John Bur
rilT, with tears in his own honest eyes, pas
sed his groat, rough, kindly hand back
wards and forwards soothingly over the soft
brown hair, and gently whispered to her
words of comfort. Thi n, bidding her bring
a cricket and sit by his side, ho took her
hand in his own, and tried to lead her
thoughts away from her pastMifo aud direct
them towards tho blighter and more hope
ful future. And as she becamo moro quiet
nnd the peaceful influence of the flickering
firelight onwrnpt thorn both, ho ceased to
speak, lest ho should disturb the reverie
into which she had fallen, and, heedless of
the flight of time, they sat thus before the
glowing coals, while between them a human
sympathy was cementing a mute, invisible
bond which future events were destined to
bind moro closely about them both. And
thus they were still sitting when the shin
ing flgure-head of Tom Saddler inserted it
self at tho door to inquire as to the necessity
for moro coal upon tho Aie. Then Captuin
Burrill, warned of tho lateness of the hour,
and somewhat abashed at being discovered
thus by his nautical friend, quietly rose to
tako his leave.
"You shall havo tho clianco to rodcoin
yourself, Mary," ho said, taking her hand.
"I will do what I can to And work for you
and for the present you eau give mo no bet
ter proof of your, gratitude and sincerity,
than by making this your homo and accept
ing and enjoying whatever poor little ar
rangements I may be able to make for your
comfort." . ;
And now, noxt to getting married,,, pro
viding a means of rescue tor Mary Marsh
becamo tho chief concern of Captain Bur
rill's daily life. Between tho . houses in
Frankfort street, his ship aud the company
of Marlon Marshall, he divided ' his timo
pretty equally. Tho more he thought tho
matter over, the moro strongly he became
convinced that there was no necessity lor
mentioning his interest in the girl to be
his intended wifo. A false construction
might bo placed upon his relation of the
affair. His frequent vist4,miglit bd viewed
uncharitably, and on tho whole he was not
sureMaiion would sympathize wilji- his
feelings in the matter. ' She .was a proud
girl, and disposed iu general 'to restrain
those little benevolent descontrf from dig
nity 'on the captain's' port. I Therefore,
from fear lest his coursol niight .: offend,
Captain Burrill resolved for the present to
keep his secret to himself. . Concluded next
week. ... : ... ..f ... ,, . ,