Little maid Marigold

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"You always think of the poor sailors in a storm," she said; "I suppose that is because you are a sailor's daughter, mother."

"Yes, doubtless. And then, you know, Marigold, I always lived by the sea until I married your father; after that we led a somewhat wandering life for years. Your father was with his regiment, and of course I went with him."

Mrs. Holcroft was silent for a moment, her dark eyes looked troubled, and her hands nervously clasped and unclasped themselves in her lap.

"I want to tell you a little about your father and his people, my dear," she continued, "because I think you are old enough now to know why they were angry with him. It was because he married me, Marigold."

"Because he married you, mother!" the little girl echoed, in accents of intense surprise.

"Yes. I was an only child, and lived with my father in a little West-country fishing village. Father was a retired sea-captain, and our home overlooked the sea. I had such a happy girlhood, and never had a trouble in my life till one day when father told me that he had risked all his savings in one speculation which had failed, and we were ruined. Father only lived a week after that; the shock of knowing that he was penniless killed him!"

"How sad!" Marigold cried. "And it was then you married my father, wasn't it?"

"Yes. He was only a subaltern at that time, though later he was raised to the rank of captain. We had known each other a good while, for he used to stay in our village for the fishing. We were married hurriedly on account of poor father's death, and afterwards I discovered that the step my husband had taken had offended the nearest relatives he had, two maiden aunts who had brought him up from infancy, and who had always loved him very dearly."

"He thought that because they were so fond of him they would forgive his marrying without first consulting them; but he was mistaken. He went to see them, but they would have nothing to do with him, and declared they would never forgive him. He would never go near them again, for they were rich, and he feared they would think he wanted their money, when really he was anxious only to be friends with them because they had been so very good and kind to him in the past. When he died I wrote to them, and they answered me politely, and offered to take you, Marigold, and bring you up as they had done your father."

"Oh, mother!"