The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1872-05-04

| Wnere WaSWOnC TO sleep Inc steep Oh tns
sluggard, until saw the day break, for the
first time in my life, think, and the new.
city put me to sleep, and thence into 4
dream, from which was awakened by a
tremendous humping at the office-door
and the shrill voice Of my Phil, in commu
nication with the person outside.
Il shan't open the door for nobody, that
faithful janitor was announcing, 'and il
you don't stop knockin' on it, I'll come out
and make ye. He's asleep, l tell yer
goin' away to-day, and wants to get up in
time for the stage, but shall let him over.
leep hisself, and he'll think better of it by
! tomorrow. Come this afternoon if you
want to see him; that'll do for you.'
But l tell you it ,con't do returned a
sruff voice, which recognized as that Of
! Colonel Marstons hired man. Miss Dora.
sick with pleurisy, she catched her death
of cold yesterday, tishin' her puppy out Of
the river. DR.. George was in it, too, and
you'd better let me in, for he'll he ravin'
when he knows she is out of her head with
. fever this mornin', and Mrs. Marstou
sent me herself, and told me to bring him
back, and no excuse
| sprang out of bed, and was down stairs
questioning the messenger before Phil
could invent any more excuses for keeping
him out. Dora sick of fever, and call
ed in g? my pride rebelled at entering the
/ house again, after the treatment had re-
ceived from its inmates; but had prom
/ ised Mrs. Marston to return whenever sent
for professionally and my promise was
! sacred; the other doctor was worse than
useless, and if Dora should be dangerously
ill-lovely, brave Dora, who perilled her
! life for mine yesterday-for mine and the
| dog's-but never mind that now, she was
| heartless, but could l find it in my heart
to turn away from her in her sorrow p
Alas. 1 was still so weak, that my love
drew me more than my pledged word,
along the well-known road that yesterday,
had vowed never to tread again.
My aunt met me at the door. was
breathless and agitated, but she seemed
more cheerful than 1 had expected; her
eyes were full of tears, for she had just
come from the sick room, but there was a
smile on her kind face as it looked pleas
antly into mine. is she very i'll l stam-
mered.
Not very she said, coolly; come here
moment, Georgy,' and taking my hand,
she drew me into her own little sitting
room, and shut the door. MY dear boy,
she continued, placing both her soft hands
on my shoulder, sent you rather an ur-
gent message, for fear you wouldn't come
back in spite Of your promise, and l want
this settled about you and Dora; you have
tormented each other long enough, you
with your exactions and jealousy, she with
her flirting and all that; don't say she
was not the worst of the two, but that's
over No, she's not very sick-don't in
terrupt me! she caught cold yesterday, as
l thought she would, in that foolish, wick
ed business you were all engaged in,
tempting of Providence call it, but hope
it will do you good, and learn you lesson.
What, Georgy! you expected wild, shy
young girl to show you her heart without
asking? you expected a spoiled, fattered
child, whom you have done the most to
spoil and fatter, not to tease and torment
You when she had it in her power, and
could you not bear it better from your lit
tie hayward favorite, who, you know, was
always true-hearted after all? Phaw, my
dear boy, needn't plead for our dear baby.
Poor Dora has a sore heart, for she thinks
you have gone away in anger forever, and
her sins against you are all badly punished
already. I think you'll forgive her, and l
won't tell you if it's worth your while
She looks dreadfully, and feels badly, and
as she has hardly been sick day in her
life, thinks she is going to die, or she never
would have told me what she did tell me.
I'm her mother, it's not for me to betray
her; but you're my son, too, and wish
you both happy. Go in now and forgive
your old aunty's long speeches; do what
you can for my poor little girl, and don't
ever give me reason to repent putting so
much power into your hands. Georgy, my
dear, bless YOU
She gave me an affectionate kiss, under
more excitement than had ever seen her,
and fluttered into an inner room, just as the
stage rolled by the door; to be saluted by
a burst of sobs, and strange muffled voice
asking, hardly lntelligibly, wasn't that the
coach, mother!'
Yes, dear
Then he's gone, mother; George is
gone, and he'll never come back-do you
think he ever will? treated him SO bad
ly; have been so hateful to him you don't
know, even when he nearly drowned saving
Rover's life.
Poor Rover he wants to come in and
see you
Don't let him in, don't you, mother;
hate the sight of him, ugly, awkward fell
low! he nearly drowned poor George, yes
terday, and l never can bear to see him
again, now. George is gone; beside, be-
lieve only loved Rover to plague poor
George. Oh! oh, feel so dreadfully,
mother; do you think I'm going to die''
Not just yet, my dear. Shall send
for the doctor9'
No, ma'am, I don't want any doctor.
I had as lief die as not, I'm SO miserable;
beside, if I hadn't, DR.. Coachy would kill
me, poking and preaching over me. Oh,
if George was only here!'
George is here, Dora
'Oh, is he really?' and she cried harder
than ever. well, can't see him, moth
err; after pause: Does he want to see
me-?
NO, l sent for him professionally.
can tell him to go away
No, wait a minute, mother; do look
so cery badly Please make the room
darker; oh, l don't want to see him at all!
Pm ashamed to see him, but l will.
must beg his pardon for all my wickedness
before get worse, or he poisons me with
his dreadful drugs; he hasn't had a patient
yet, and he'll he glad of the chance to prac-
tice on me, know; he will dose me with