Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1874-06-06


it, and that odious gossip had given
the first impetus. l believe my hands
trembled little when | unlocked
the post-bag on that third morning.
There was no letter for Charles, but
a note from Mrs. Dalton, asking me
to call as soon as l could. l gave it
to him without a remark. He put it
in his pocket, and did not open it in
the room. Soon after breakfast l
walked to Furzeham. Dora came to
me in the little study, and again 1
felt how changed l was. Up to that
time we had held out both hands
mutually and simultaneously, and L
had kissed her as heartily and nat
urally as if she had been Anna:
now, my own secret conscience
ness made that impossible and the
something expressed by me, or some
thing which l did not fathom in her,
held her back.
Coloring and looking distressed,
she gave me one hand, saying, it was
very good of you to come so soon,
but l thought you would.
made an effort to be playful,
and rejoined: You knowI have ut
terly spoiled you kitten!
The smile this invoked was poor
pitiful spectre.
Come went on; l know why you
sent forme, so you need not worry
yourself about how to begin. Charles
has told me.
Oh! 1 am so glad. But why did
he not do so before he wrote to me?
1t would have saved me great un-
happiness. l do not know if l ought
not to have kept his secret, though
l should have felt quite guilty hid
ing anything, especially such thing
from mamma; but 1 could not. The
letter was taken to her, and of
course, she has always opened and
read my letters as if they were her
own.
Quite right; the longer she does
so the better. Charles had no right
to make such a request. I am sur
prised that he did not know bet
ter.
But 1 am sorry to have done any
thing disagreeable to any of you. l
am so fond of Anna: and you have
always, aEa0ays been so very kind to
me.
There is no harm whatever done,
Dorothy; circumstances helped you
out of difficulty, as they often do
the innocent.
Then we were both silent. 1 saw
that she wanted to go on, but did
not know how, and for myself, l had
a sort of fear of what 1 should hear
but, 1 helped her.
Well, Pussy, I asked, what are
you going to say to Charles?
I do not know; and she looked
miserable.
Ihave always thought that you
were very clear in your views, and
distinct in stating them.
Yes; 1 knew my own mind quite
well; but she stopped and
seemed about to cry. 1 do not know
what to do, she went on.
Do you mean that you do not
know whether you like Charles well
enough to accept him or not!
o no; but there are SC many diff
fcultles. This was said hardly above
her breath.
Do you mean the long engage
ment, and so on?
She blushed with vexatiOn, and an
swered; o dear! no. But / am so
afraid of hurting your feelings, or
displeasing you. l so wish 1t had
never happened.
But my dear child, what could
there be displeasing to me OF inju-
rious to my feelings, in your being
attached to my son? I think it
would be an an indirect compliment
to me.
She hardly let me finish, but spoke
very earnestly.
Did you ever think that L..
No; YOU never have supposed that;
YOU must have been as much sur
prised as 1 was. If anything of
that kind had been going on. l
must have been the most deceitful
creature possible; but 1 am afraid
of your thinking that Charles would
not have asked me, if 1 had not en-
couraged him. I'm am sure l should
say so of any one in my circum-
stances. 1 hope the lesson will
make me charitable. 1 have really.
never thought about Charles at all.
It no more entered my head that he
thought about me in that way than
that you did.
l WINGED. She had been speaking
SO fast that 1 could not get in a
word. 1 was sitting in what they
called humorously her fathers easy
chair; she was opposite on a low
seat, leaning forward, with her little
hands clasped in her lap, her pretty
brunette complexion heightened, her
eyes sparkling, her countenance ex-
pressing that she was trying to put
ia words.
Dorothy, I said, you will grieve
me very much, if you imagine for
one moment that it would be possi-
Bile for me to doubt your candOr. |
am sure you were as much surprised
as l was. To tell you the truth, my
dear little girl, never gave Charles
credit for SO much good taste, and
it had never entered into my head to
thiHk of his marrying at all.
She looked, however, only partial
ly relieved when she returned: l
am glad you understand me- hope
you always will.
And is that all you have to say to
me, DoraP
No; want to know what I am to
do?
That must depend entirely on
your own feelings. I am quite anx-
ious for your happiness and for my
own children's. Do you love Char
ley?
She only replied by tears; and
began to consider if she had secret
fondness for him, and thought l |
might object to her want of money,
co I want on IF xyo,, 1o 1 oo,,;1 o.. |