The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1870-02-17
THE LOST LETTER.

THE LOST LETTER.
Dilly-otherwis Miss Amelia Turner, was
an orphan niece of Penelope Turner, q dear,
sweet old maid, who overhowed with love
and charity for everybody, and called each
individual thief and rascal in the neighbor-
hood "poor fellow!" always insisting that, if
it was not for some opposing circumstance,
he would be a most worthy person. OF
course she dotted on Dilly, and saw in the
pretty young creature all the charms and
virtues under the sun. Undoubtedly Dilly
was loveable; she was bright, good temper
ed, and very winning; but she had one fail
ing-she was a most thorough coquette. A
cynical person once remarked of her that she
would have coquetted with her great grand
father if no one else could be got, just to
keep her hand in. But as this cynic was one
Of those whom Dilly would not coquet, his
severe judgment might be classed with those
coming under the term OF ''sour grapes"
But be it understood that, although Dilly had
a wonderful amount Of knowledge in the
art of using eyes, smiles, pouts and Wiles,
she used it without any bad intent; for though
as subtle as y serpent in coquettish ways, she
was as innocent hearted as child-or Aunt
Pen. She coquetted before she could walk
OF talk-putting her baby head on one side,
glancing up through her long lashes, and
then finishing the matter by turning up her
rosebud of IL mouth for Il kiss. DO you
wonder she continued it as a girl-continued
it till stern experience gave her a lesson that
touched the center Of that Willful little heart
and rent away the network OF folly and tritl-
ing that enveloped it.
Dilly could not remember either the father
or mother whose hearts had clung tondly to-
gether in life, and now rested side by side in
the far-distant India. Brother and sister she
never had but when the little creature was
brought to Penelope by her faithful nurse
Susan, under the care of an old friend of her
father, Aunt Pen took her to her warm heart
from that time forth.
All the little boys with whomL Dilly came
in contact, suffered more or less from her be-
witchments. Many were the offerings laid
at her shrine; and Susan who remained with
them, had often to put a positive veto upon
pet squirrels, tame mice, and very choice
specimens Of animated nature. Aunt Pen
would have allowed the house to be overrur
with them, but fortunately for her, Susar
possessed more force OF character, and
though loving Dilly dearly could make
stand at times She was, in fact, the ruling
power in the house, and Jenny, the maid-of
all-work, looked up to her us n superior be
ing.
Among Dilly's youthful captives was ONT
dark-eyed little fellow, who remained faith
full through all the ups and downs of childisl
love. Others withdrew, or quarreled, o
formed violent attachments in other quarters
but he never changed; and so when she wa
seventeen and he twenty, Stephen Whitmor
loved. her even as her father had loved he
mother. But the time had not yet come TO
her to either value or understand this love
Therefore, when Stephen came to her on
day, blushing and trembling like girl, t,
tell her that it was decided that he was to g
out west with his uncle to remain a year, ant
would she-could she?
Dilly looked in his face with laughing eye
and asked, would she-could she-what !?
And when Stephen stammered out some
thing so very much confused that no one bu
q coquette could have understood, she re
piled that she neither would nor could
Whereupon Stephen turned and left he
without another word, but with a look in hi
dark eyes that haunted her for days. Blu
the night before Stephen left he drew Dill,
out under the old chestnut trees and repeat
Ell the question more steadily and withou
stammering. Her heart thrilled little a
his earnest tone, but she refused him, sayin!
| sWeetly, that she would miss him much as ;
dear friend; upon which Mr.. Stephen Whit
more started aside as though stung and the
taking her hand he pressed it to his breast
and with broken "Good by, Dilly!" disap
peared from her sight.
Aunt Pen was doing in the parlor, whel
poor Stephen reused her. To her amaze
ment she found herself clasped in a pair O
stout young arms, and warmly pressed to
throbbing heart In a second more she wa
| r,oct fanInplx- 1-iscaI fo14 4
on her cheek and then, before the words
"Good-by, dear, dear Miss Penn! - ha,
ceased to sound in her cars, she was onc
more alone.
Susan was standing at the gate, metlitatins
in the moonlight; Stephen Whitmore wruns
her hand hard as he passed her. She watch
ed him sadly as he hurried up the hill.
"Miss Dilly has given him q sore hear
this night" she thought. "Ah, well
fear her time will come yet" And so it did
Stephen did not return in years time
his parents never failed to receive letter
from him each week, and many u token 0
fond remembrance was sent them, but he re
manned away until three years had passed
and then he came. As far as outward ap
pearance went he was different Stephel
from the blushng, awkward boy that lef
them; he was now a tall, we'll developed
iiit1h' VIII d lftCo lldt Iltu lOTcc anu cllfacte
in every line, and yet with certain toucl
OF tenderness about the mouth and kindly
glcam in the eyes that won the liking ant
good will of those he looked on But if hi
feelings for Dilly were the same, he conceal
ed them so well that, although they were
often together, the little coquette could no
discover whether he still loved her or not.
am sorry to say that the three years had no
altered Dilly in respect to coqueting-in fact
she indulged in it more than ever, and o