Miser Farebrother (vol 3 of 3)

t few months in Parksides produced a dangerous illness, and for many days her life was despaired of. How tenderly was she nursed! What treasures of love surrounded her! She was not left alone a minu

doctors proclaimed he

provided for. It was all done cheerfully and with full-hearted affection. Sacrifices were made; money was raised upon such small articles of jewelry as they possessed, even Uncle Leth's old-fashioned watch went, and not a murmur passed their lips, not a regretful thought a

olonged for a few weeks longer, would have brought death or madness to her. When she was convalescent her actions were pitiful: she clung to her friends; her hands were for

uld have occupied an hour to deliver. When Ph?be was sensible and strong enough, these messages, in a reasonable form, were conveyed to her, and her relatives were surprised at the grave pleasure with which she received them. The heavenly deligh

to her. "Oh! you should see him, Ph?be. Except my dear f

t Mr. Cornwall is a good man, and my e

h?

, de

!" Ph?be did not reply, and Fanny continu

, and she told her mother privately that she was convinced

r the sufferings she has endured, and leave it to herself to c

to see Fr

; she told me so; and I have written a

mma, is it not strange that we do not hear from

wrote to him, but I ha

ly ours, and will live with us all he

in the afternoon, and Aunt L

e, Aunt Leth?"

e you alone. You must be ver

Here is some jelly, th

in the dining-room. Fanny is wit

was sitting. She looked at him gratefully and tenderly;

r hand; and then he was overcome by her delicate, fragile appearance, and

disengage

, Ph?be? Let me hold it. Give i

said, in a low, sweet to

ll"! He looked at

me, Ph?be, that you are

to pause before sh

ly to that question," she t

gentle with you, and here am I forgetting! But Ph?be, dear Ph?be, my Ph?be-consider! I implore you to

ng," s

o strange to me? Why

tered to you

ove me stil

hen myself for this meeting, and you must not weaken me. No; do no

ing-mine, and no other man's.

ot aware that she had

he said. "Go

she would not marry without his consent, and said that, with that o

spiritually breaking the oath I have sworn. It would make me feel guilty;

ely relieved, but at the same time perplexed, by the revela

did not know what was in his. It is not for me to say, and you must not press me. I am striving to do what is right. Help me to do it! I am bound by my oath. Without my father's consent I cannot marry you; he will never give it,

ger, more devoted, more complete than it is; nothing can make it so; and nothing can weaken it. 'Give me your hand, Ph?be.'" She looked at him pleadingly. "Give me your hand, Ph?be." She gave it to him. "I swear to you solemnly

her a solemn pledge. He had a r

may be parted for life, I will be true to the love I have given yo

, with his face averted. Presentl

her unresisting hand, "we will not meet as love

kissed her. Thus the fa

d, Fred wrote the following

our sanction. I ask, I implore, you to give it. I am not a rich man; but I have a good position and the prospect of a prosperous future is before me. My family is a family of standing, and is honoured and respected. If you will permit me, I will send you credentials of my character, with which you cannot fail to be satisfied. Into my union with your daughter the question of money does not enter. We shall be satisfied to work our way

ick Cor

y after day Fred looked eagerly f

r Ph?be, in her father's writing. It was not signed, no

th him. This I will never do, nor will I ever release you from your oath. In that oath was comprised a daughter's duty to her father-a duty you have wilfully and systematically negle