Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1860-03-26
lQurtester gully Spp.
THE DWARF OF THE OLD OAK CHEST.
Complete I'm Three Chapters.

vi Il colu, gloomy uay at the end of January
In the year 1879, when fair young girl stood
at cottage window, watching with fearful
eyes the retreating form of one who had inst
hidden her farewell for an indefinite period.
She had gone through the leave-taking brave
ly, trying to tighten his heart with cheering
words, though her own was full of heaviness
but when she had lost sight of his tall figure
amid the increasing darkness, she came back
to her place by the ireside, and said in sor-
rowful tone
ooh, mother, it will be a weary summer,
and he away"
eyes, my dear child but let us remember
that it is for his good, and it may not be for
long, after all. Perhaps, Mary, even before
TINS time next year, we may have him back
with us again"
Mary tried to feel hopeful, but strange
foreboding of evil weighed down her spirits
to the lowest ebb, and despite all her own
n efforts and her mothers kind and gentle rea-
- soning, she could not shake it off.
Mary Archer was the only child of a ladv
whose husband had been an officer in the army,
and whose sole means of support were now
derived from the small pension allowed to a
captains widow. She was in very delicate
health, and had been lame for several years in
consequence of an accident SO that She was
wholly dependent on her daughter for the care
OF nurse, as well as for the management of
her little household and Mary discharged all
these duties SO lovingly and faithfully that.
owing to her economy and industry the inya-
lid was afforded many comforts out of their
slender income that, with less careful house
Keeper, she could not have had and the house
though humble, was always so neat and nice
that 1t was more pleasant to look upon than
many grander dwelling
And who was he from whom Mary Archer
had just parted He was her lover--her be-
L..
self in worldly wealth, and was going to Ger
many, with Baron Steinback in the capacity
of tutor to that nobeman's two sons.
Going to Germany was not quite so simple
an affair thirty years ago as it is now, and in
the mind of Mary Archer, the journey was
fraught with thousand perils and dangers
that affrighted her, and when she received his
last embrace she felt as if they were being
separated forever.
He had accepted the appointment because
he could get nothing more eligible for the time
being, but he had better prospect in the dis
lance, which made his present difficulties light
to bear, and had it not been for leaving his be.
loved, he would have had no objection to tenn
porary sojourn in foreign country.
Left an orphan and penniless at an early
age, he was admitted into the school of Christs
Hospital through the interest of an old lady
who had known his mother from her childhood.
AT eighteen he gained an exhibition for Ok
ford where he studied with view of entering
the church and in due time was ordained. Then
his kind benetactress, who had continued to
betriend him throughout his scholastic career,
put a browning hand to her good work by
purchasing for him the reversion of a living
worth from four to five hundred year, the
incumbent of which was an old man and
soon after this she died.
Everard Newton, that was the name of her
protege, had now to struggle as best he might
until the benefce should become vacant and
having vainly endeavored to obtain curacy
or mastership in one of the public schools, he
accepted the Office of private tutor to the sons
of Baron Steinbach, who was about to return
to Germany.
Mary Archer had long been the chosen of
his heart, and he knew that his love was recip-
rocated but he did not know for Mary had
carefully concealed that circumstance from
him, that he had a rival in the lord of the
manor, Mr.. Lonsdale, little grey headed, old
man, somewhat detormed in person, but enor-
mousy rich, and remarkable for his refined
and polite manners.
1t was butt years since he had come from
Italy, to take possession of large property
that had devolved on him in consequence of
the death of his brother, SO that he was but
little known in the country where his estate
was situated, but he stood well with the neigh
boring gentry, and also with his tenantry.
taking care to propitate the former by his
courteous demeanor, and the latter by his lber-
atty. lie always spoke in gentle Tone never
using harsh words even when angry, and there
was generally bland smile on his countenance
that gained him the reputation Of being a
benevolent, kind-hearted man.
The youth and extreme beauty of Mary
Archer had first drawn his notice toward her,
and these attractions being heightened by the
amiable disposition displayed in her affection
ate attentions to her suffering parent, had in
duced him to offer her his hand, in the full
belief that the magic influence of wealth
would counterbalance the objections of age and
infrmity.
Mary said she felt grateful for the prefer.
enoe with which he had honored her, but that
her heart had long been given to another and
then she candidly told him what was her low
ers actual position-she spoke of his present
Strengthened circumstances, as well as of his
future prospects, and gracefully but decidedly
declined the offer of riches and splendor now
laid at her feet; on which the disappointed
wooer, with many expressions of deep regret,
withdrew his suit and departed
Mary had said nothing about the proposal
to Everard, fearing it might make him uneasy
to know that, while he was far away, there
was lover so near, who had the power of
holding out many temptations to induce her
to break her faith.
And so he babe her adieu in happy ignor-
ance of a danger that certainly would have
caused him much anxiety and dsquietude.
He had full mile to walk to meet the coach
that was to convey him TO London, and part
Of his way lay over dreary common, at some
distance from the high-road, but as he had
gone the same way at night several times be
FORE he felt no fear of being moIested, but
walked on at brisk pace, thinking of the love-
ly girl he had just left when, in passing a
clump of trees, he was suddenly seized by the
arms, and, before he had time to make any
resistance, was thrown to the ground, while
the thick stick he carried for protection, and
carpet-bag containing some apparel, were
wrested from his grasp.
He endeavored to call for help, but his voice
was stfed by something that was pressed
upon his face; he felt a sensation as if he were
being Standardization death-Iike stupor
seemed TO steal over his senses, and he knew
no more.
The first momeut of returning consciousness
was like the awakening from long trance.
1t appeared to him as ii ages had passed away
since last he had looked upon the earth and
sky. He felt that something extraordinary
had happened but could not remember what
it was. His mind was confused and he gazed
with wonder on the unfamiliar oblec.s that
surrounded him.
He was lying on low pallet in one corner
OF large, gloomy, ill-furnshed apartment,
dlmly lighted by single lamp that stood on
clumsy oaken table. In another corner of
the room was great wooden chest, and
against the wall were three or four heavy,
hlgh-backed chairs, and that was all the place
contained.
Everard sat upon the wretched couch. which