The Council Bluffs nonpareil. [volume] (Council Bluffs [Iowa]) 1857-1867, 1858-01-16

i MAYNAHU ~ LONt1. VI
TNCIlL|.. q. BLUFFS, N D + IS SAT'JR ! J.
sedss'of duty ythe conscientious boy began 70
1--we his cousin u sassss'gi #tss aRsi- fatf
IA few days Che Pussy. had become quite
tame and domesticated, and whole family
loved her dearly, she Ms % active md han.
dy, and could do many things Tor each OF
them, that she seemed more than ever Ike
some good fairy, excerpt that instead OF
coming in the form of an ugly old woman,
she was ! lovely littls Dora . ss ea2l,lt.
Never had aunty's caps had such tasteful
trimmings, never had the children been told
such pretty stories--and then the lamp mats,
and cricket covers, she had begun to grace
cousin Margaret's new parlor with; the hard
pussles she had laugh Tommy, and what he
valued more than all the rest, the happy
hours she gained every day 70 romp ant play
But for this pleasure the jealous boy had
every evening to do ample penance. dis
like to say anything about it-but the truth
is, Hardy had attached himself strongly to
the orphan stranger. Perhaps it was from
principle, as Tommy loved her. don't
know, but certain it is, every evening he
was BY her side, and when there, he had
neither eyes nor ears for any one but Dora.
An st aonce he, became passionately fond
of sllknds oflight singing, though Ne had
no taste for any thing but sacred music
The pretty school songs that Dora sung
were perfectly enchanting to the fine ear Of
Hardy, and he was able to get up bass
for each Of them, beside the rolling out Of
the deepest accompaniment to her bird like
waltxes. Once or twice had Tommy felt
hot blood mount to his forehead, as he had
seen the hard fingers Of Hardy twining in
Dora's curls as they hung over the chair
Those dainty curls! which he had never
dared touch. But we will do Tommy the
justice to say it was for his sister he was
jealous. 80 .H'.2s
I Sometimes Hardy would bring up his new
wagon and ask Dora to ride. To be sure
Margaret was busy, but when did she ever
refuse to take little ride or walk with him?
But now it was many days since he had
scarcely spoken to her. True, his cheerful
good svsnning' was more cheerful than ever,
for Hardy's manner was strangely altered,
y
and though she lifted her head and smiled,
as she always did, when she heard his voice,
it was to see him seat himself by Dora.-
Was Margaret Jealous and did she blame
him, or her cousin? No, she did neither
Her affection was too pure and unselfsh for
her to doubt his. Besides, she had too little
knowledge of the workings Of the human
passions, to fear that another could come
between them. Margaret only missed her
lover, and her heart was lonely. She miss
ed those little interviews in which they were
wont to talk over their future plans. Deli
cious moments they were, none the less so,
that they had nothing new to say to each
other. And now, when he seemed so es-
tranged from her, she was ready to vindicate
him to her complaining heart. stIt is con-
siderate," she said to herself, ssfor him to
be so kind to my little consin. ! dare say
she would be homesick, if it was not for
him." When her active labors for the even
ing were done, she would take her sewing
and sit with her mother, a thing she had
never done before when he was present. The
family began to stare; poor Mrs. Hastings
grew nervous and anxious, and the father
fretful and peevish. Tommy became des-
perate, and was downright rude to Hardy
and shy to his cousin. Dora began to be
less petted by all the family but Margaret.
She did not abate one particle of her ten
derness to her, for she Judged rightly Of her
Innocence, gentle reader, though you may
have shared Tommy's indignation. II never
occurred to the thoughtless child that she
was wronging her cousin Margaret. She
liked Mr.. Hardy very much; for when she
stood on that crowded deck of strangers,
with but one shilling in her pocket, faint and
he had found her out, and placed her in the
carriage,-how tenderly he wrapped her
shawl about her, when she trembled from
the mingled effect Of cold and exhaustion.
When she asked him if he was uncle Has
tings' son, how socially he acknowledged
that he ras to be. in a few weeks, having
been long engaged to her cousin Margarek
the most wonderful girl in the world. For
this confidence Dora asked him, in the most
timid manner, if he thought she would be
welcome to her uncle's, confessing she had
no friend in the wide world but those whose
protection she was now going to claim. He
assured her, in the most cordial manner, that
she would be as child to the old people,
adding, with the most affectionate earnest
ness, that were it not depriving Mrs. Has
tings of her society, he would be delighted
to have her make her home with Margaret.
Dora was SO happy and grateful that she
would have fallen at his feet and done him
homage. But she was afraid of falling from
the chaise, 80 she lust leaned her forehead
on Hardy's shoulder and burst into tears.
How natural it was for him to nut back
the clustering curls, and, winding his arm
around her slender waist, promise to be her
good friend all the DAYS Of her life. With
such strong, pleasant associations connected
with his broad, bensv olent- boxing face, do
you wonder that Dora was very much at
tached to him? Now will YOU exonerate
Dora from blame, gentle reader? !? or must
tell you another secret, namely, that q pale,
consumptive artist had carried of Dora,s
heart wear ago, when he went to the South
to seek health and fortune. Don't tell
this thing to farmer Hastings. or he will sav
the girl Is lust like her mother. - =
Having established Dora's innocence. I
wish to saw a few words about Hardy. !
should like to rive YOU an excuse for this
strange neglect of Margaret, but l am not
able. There il no excuse for the man who
wantonly triaes with the happiness Of be-