Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1869-11-18
g Gapital Story.
[FRoM FRAzER's MAGAZINE.
LITTLE MISS DEANE.

suburban square on the outskirts of the noise
and traffic of the great city and yet 1t is
not in the couatry. The fields about it are
mostly brickfields, the streets which open
into it are paved London streets, and the
quiet which pervades it is not the murmuring
peacefulness of a country lane, but rather the
stiffness OF highway, where only those sit
down to rest who are too tired to go farther.
We are most of us middle-aged people; we
have for the most part done with the hustle
and excitement of life; in our own square
we find shut in our greatest interests and our
closest ties. We pass out of 1t on our little
missions of charity and kindness; but as for
our social pleasures, they are chiefly such as
spring from intercourse amongst ourselves |;
there is slender, invisible chain running
round the square which connects us with
each other, and the links are rarely broken.
The houses are generally inhabited by
portions or remnants of families. There is
n brother and sister in No. |, and an old lady
next door. There are tive maiden sisters in
No. 5, and widow with little lame boy in
No. Z. There are two brothers, who in o
quiet way carry on solicitors business In No.
TO-; and there is doctor at the corner
Then in the big house in the middle of the
square, old MIR. Deane has lived for the last
twenty years; only one or two people can
remember when he first came to live there.
The big house must have been there long
before the square was built, for it is an old
house, much older than those which have
sprung up around it. II has large walled
garden behind it,where apricots and peaches
rpen In the autumn, and where children
might have hedged round their little gardens
and worn the grass with their little aimless
pattering feet, and young people might have
read and worked and played croquet through
the summer afternoons, in spite of the Lon
don smoke which is driited overhead. But
as it chanced, there was no little children to
pick the daisies, and there were no young
people to wander about the walks In the
summer twilight.
People had often wondered why Mr..
Deane lived alone in his big house, keeping
his riches, and comforts, and feelings to
himself; we sociable people pitied him for
the solitary state in which he lived and if
he would have allowed us we would have
been very ready to welcome him to our fire.
sides, though he was rather an aarmlsg
person in some respects. He was nearly
seventy years Of age, believe; tall, thin,
stately man, with overwhelmingly polite
manners. The expression OF his mouth was
severe and cynical, his cold blue eyes were
piercing and relentless; and moreover
beneath his polished exterior there were
sometimes startling flashes of nervous ex-
citement and irritation Some people who
used to declare that it was plain he had
something upon his conscience, but, for my
part, liked the old gentleman. He gener-
ally made his way up to me when we
happened to meet in society he could be
agreeable when he chose: and l think he
liked me.
was then no longer young Indeed, do
not think that ever had been young. Mine
had been hard, struggling life; had never
| loI c@, 3 tla, ,.l,.a 4
: certain hopes which hang around the youth
a of most girls. Perhaps it might have been
different if had been particularly clever OF
beautiful but my practical difficulties had
occupied my whole thought ut u time when
| should have been acquiring knowledge
{, and as to beauty, no one ever paid me a
@ higher compliment than when my old nurse
:, consoled me by the assurance that l was
" Every passable." dare say she was right
for certainly passed through life without
:, attracting much observation.
e After my parents death | took small
house, one of the smallest,i in Belfied Square
When that little house is once more to be
i, let or sold / shall have dropped out of life
l. altogether. Once only have left it since
" first came to live here,-once for year; bu
!, it was an eventful year in my quiet life, ant
y as l look back upon it, it stands oul as {
y distinct portion of my existence.
Q How well remember my surprise wher
J. | received Mr.. Deane's letter. / remember
every word of it,-the old-iashioned phrases
e and the stiff, cramped handwriting.
e brother of his had died in very distressed
y circumstances, leaving an only daughter
d Her other relations were too poor. to bring
Is her up in befitting manner, and he pro
posed to take this charge upon himself
st Would lend my valuable assistance?
,r The offer was couched in the most delicat,
T. and ambiguous words, but the upshot of !
'e was that he proposed to engage me at fixe'
ct and most liberal salary as resident governes
t. or companion to this young lady. Well,
ID offer. | was somewhat weary of my soil
" tude; felt curiosity to see something
s. new; it was November, the weather wa
De dull, and was dull and finally, had
" friendly wish to be Of service to Mr. Deane
in Looking back upon it, l can hardly tel
Ut what determined me, but must determined
te and closed with the offer
ct confess that when went to establis
n myself in my new home my heart failed m
so a little. felt as if the servants despised mt
RS and knew that was only Miss Ford froI
ne the little house over the way Mr.. Dean
ed was alarming, with his courteous welcom
n and formal hope that would make myse
,r- at home. felt as if he, too, knew that
to was an unwonted luxury to find fire bla:
th ing in my bedroom, and / covered over i
IS. feeling shy and miserable, and glad to tur
ed from the reflection OF my own sacred iat
Die in the large pier-glasses.
b. AS glided softly down the stairs l thoug
1t, somewhat compassionately of my futul
lar charge. How strange it would seem to he
re entering upon a new life in the constraint
III. atmosphere Of that house, which seemed
at if il never could have echoed to the sour
les of childrens feet. But upon the other han
IN, she would be at once placed in a higher p
rk. sition; Mr.. Deane would Of course make h
ch an heiress, and coming from the painful stru
A. giles of a poverty-stricken home, 1t mig
, it well be that the elevation woule dazzle h,
ing for time. thought it all over as l S
,pe upon an ottoman in the middle Of the larg
by formally furnished drawng-room, awaitil
ing her arrival.
ith There was sharp ring, hustle in 7
BILE hall, then the door opened and little Mi
er- Deane stood before me- She looked abo
the sixteen, and was small of her age. Her f
h." lures were regular and delicate, her ey
less brows arched and clearly defined, her col
plexon perfectly colorless, her expressi
uld very grave. had looked for little shrin
sti- ing from the new scene, and from some N
to ural diilidence at first meeting with stra
gers bnt she came forward at once, app
emily without the least shyness, and he
out her hand to me, not cordially but wi
ETY instructive courtesy.
"You must be cold and tired" 81
81, rather nervously, for her composure mu
me feel little shy, "Won't you come
tied the fire, and will you have some tea p
lred "No, thank you. But if you please
Neil should like to go to my own room"
ID a There was composure in her manner.
Mr.. the voice that answered me was very sw
!, to and childlike, and now, when see lifted
be deep brown eyes TO mine, / began to I
rye drawn towards her. She had taken off
nted hat, and the soft wavy locks Of dark h
Zach which clustered low over her foreh'
oon shadowed the somewhat too severe outl
n Of of her face.
med Apparently it was not the first constra
ang- of her arrival which made her words SO I,
as and her composure so repelling. With
ties. uncle she was equally unembarrassed, q,
was and undemonstrative she was very gr,
had full to him, and she said so; but whet
the her outward calmness proceeded from in
4 I m