Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser., 1868-05-14

[emphatically-"that don't bring the very
best Of references. She came to me from
the Hartstein's. Mr.. Britton-one of the
first families in the city. Her father was
q minister; she's an orphan. Her only
fault is, that she's inclined to be little
above her business. but I shan't be trou-
bled with that. As tell Mr.. Gibson
when | hire anybody and pay them with
my money, just give them to under
stand that they and their time belong to
me-"
There was harshness underlying the
smile on Mrs. Gibson's horid face as she
spoke. that made Guy shudder at its pos
sible connection with the delicate. refined
face at the window.
''Just walk into the music room NJ.
Britton; I would admire to have you hear
her."
Il hope I shall not intrude upon Miss
Deane r answered Guy. rising with some
hesitation.
''Intrude 2" Mrs. Gibson raised her
eyebrows in surprise .of course she will
be pleased to do whatever I wish r.
Laura Deane stood at the piano patient
ly following the slow movements Of little
Flora Gibson's weary fingers over the
keys.
''Miss Deane." said Mrs. Gibson inn
periously. and without deigning any other
introduction, Il want you to play and
sing one Of your very best pieces for my
friend. Mr.. Britton."
Miss Deane's cheek flushed family as
she returned Guys bow, and sat down at
the instrument She struck few chords
and sang 1.-The Captive Knight" At
first. like Tennyson's Leila. she ..struck
such warbling fury through the words %
that Guy saw the gleam Of the spear and
banner. heard the peal of the trumpet, and
the rush and clamor of the host; then
came the wild. impassioned longing Of the
captive. and at the last wall of despair
over his dead hope of liberty.
Guy had never before been more pro-
foundly stirred. This girl sang her very
soul into her words. Such expression. it
could not be mere art. he thought-it
must be an outgrowth of her own expert
ence
''You have given me wonderful plea
sure, Miss Deane," he said. in low tone,
as she finished. and Mrs. Gibson, in the
'nll tide Of yoluble discourse, led the way
Sitting alone that evening in his pleas
ant library, Guy was conscious of vague
sense of lonliness quite at variance with
The soft light and warm coloring of the
room.
Miss Deane's face seemed to mingle it.
self inde6nably with his unrest; and the
words and melody he had heard sang them
selves over and over in his memory. He
rose and went out of doors, and looking
over the hedge, saw her slender figure
pacing slowly to and fro in the moonlight.
She moved YEARLY. he fancied, and he
thrilled with longing to speak to her and
comfort her. Some great sorrow had set
it's seal upon her face, be thought. Had
not Mrs. Gibson called her an orphan ?
What sad fate to be thrust out homeless
into the great world-a nature SO fine as
hers must be subject to the coarseness and
caprice of an employer like Mrs. Gibson
The very idea was revolving. Then there
Aoated in a vision of face like hers op-
posite him at his solitary meals, or beside
his steady fire in the long winter evenings
"a face from which all traces of sadness
should be gone, and in their place the
brightness Of new hope and trusting love.
But while he dreamed an unconscious
smile softening his features. the figure
disappeared in the shadow Of the tall man
sion; and the voice of his housekeepe1
broke the unwonted spell.
The next day he saw Miss Deane walk.
ing in the garden with the young Gibsons
He hoped she might come near enough
for him to speak to her; but she did moi
seem to see him, busy with his pruning
scissors at the hedge. He could only look
on from a distance, noting her graceful
quiet mien, and her gentle patience with
the wayward children.
Yet he found that as time passed, ever
such transient CLEANS had wonderful pow
er to brighten his days. Occasionally
there was bow of recognition, a word OF
two of courteous common-place-once :
longer conversation which charmed Guy
by its revelation of mind richly stored
no more than that, until one morning
strolling down to the waters edge, b.
came suddenly upon Miss Deane, sitting
with her portfolio on her laps. making I
little sketch of the river and the opposite
bank.
"Pray, don't rise, Miss Deane. Yo'
sketch, I see."
"Only little-I am quite untaught.
She held out the unfinished pencilin!
as she spoke.
Guy looked at it in the light.
"You have native aptitude in that di
rection then,'' he said; ''but if you vii
permit me a suggestion, I think I cal
show you a better position than this
Here. that group Of trees hides from yo'
one of the finest points of the landscap
but just inside my gate is a rustic seat
from which the whole view opens up mos
charmingly. Will you come ?"
Miss Deane accepted the invitation wit
unaffected pleasure, but scarcely was be
paper adjusted again, under Guys super
lintendence, before Mrs. Gibson appcare