The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1875-11-04

and QcdtQS, anu uOLlCcS VI
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2gG From Harpeps Monthly. Hi
Dora Rushton's Romance Z
Bromley is delightful little village,
nestled down peacefully beside broad
river, full of neat cottages, tiny. we'll
kept gardens, and long avenues OF elms.'
No roar Of machinery distracts the ear,
no army of labor is daily marshaled by
the. clang-of the factory bell. Invention
has kept aloof from smiling field and
shady street, reluctant to disturb the
dreamy beauty that fingers in every nook
and corner of the quaint old town.
: 1t is hardly to be wondered at that Do
"a. Rushton loved her home, and believed
that no spot this side of the ,antiPodes
could compare with it for lovelness.
Though it must be confessed that Dora's
experience was somewhat limited, being
confined, outside her native village, to
theneighboring town of Westwood, whose
Eden-like simplicity had vanished with
the entrance of the, serpent, steam. So,
naturally, Bromley and Westwood each
yaunted itself on what the other lacked
progress and quiet.
And if Dora was firm in the faith that
Bromley was the prettiest place in Amer
lea, all the youth of her acquaintance
were equally convinced that Dora was
the prettiest girl in Bromley. The mer-
riesf, best-tempered, busiest little thing
in the world; not bit vain, but simple
and natural as the children who swarmed
like bees about her, she was a general
fayorite and universal pet with young
and old. Every body loved her-eyery
body, that is, with one exception: her
grandmother.
Now of course this. looks as if Dora
turned sunny side to the world at large
and kept shadier one for home. But If
you have painted on your mental canvas
a poor, forlorn, loveless old creature,
lust strike your brush across it, and come
and look at Grandma Gardner. Did you
ever see anything more like the ill-na-
tured old fairy of your nursery tales than
those little black eyes swapping out from
under huge cap border, those yellow,
wfnkled cheeks, and that hooked nose
Aad chin that look as if they would grind
whatever came between them? And,
trust me, nearer acquaintance does not
dispel the illusion.
~34las.for age that is unloyely ! when
Che crown of fssilyer rests upon abrow that
has not gained the peace it typifes, and
no higher love and hope have replaced
those passionate ones youth buried long
agoll
But Grandma Gardner's trials had been
MANY. She had outliyed her children,
the sole compensations of a most unhap-
DIV marriage. Her only son went down
before her agonized eyes in that treach-
erous river now flowing so calmly past
her door; while Lois, her daughter, the
beauty of Bromley, who might have
welded where she chose, who plucked
down hearts to pleasure her, as you
might leaves from yonder bough, per
yersely fell in love with a young good
for-nothing from New York, with moth
ING under heaven to recommend him but
his handsome face.
During the few troublous years OF her
married life, Lois obstinately refused to
laeEe her husband. But when-as the
somfev g5gsibs vi HRsjiSasEsS@ae cam came b;o t.
Is death in some disgracef1 alf -. =,
idow returned to her native village the
HE shadow of the bright-cheeked girl
MO had left it.
And paler and Trailer she grew with
ech,sueceeding year,she fingered on in
tie pleasant Bromley air, while little
Dora had passed from, babyhood into
hYdenhood. and emerged into bloom
irg girl of fourteen, who did not "favor"
hT mothers family at all, but was :.just
Flank Rushton right over," when that
poor patient mother died at last.
Dora never seemed one of her own
Eth and kin to Grandmother Gardner.
Pr children, like herself, had been dark
- black haired so this pretty, roguish
little thing, with her deep blue eye5 and
golden-brown curls, served only as pain
who had robbed her of her daughter.
What does Father Time mean by sha-
king his hour-glass SO vigorously? He
will be putting spectacles on the baby
and furrowing little WHY'S forehead ere
we know it. Can that be Dora, that
plump maiden of eighteen, sitting SO CO.
zily with some one on yonder doorstep
that. orerlooks the river?-that little
"frolic sprite" rehearsing the old story.
Father Time, your hour-glass is cheat
sDora! Dorap calls a pecvish old
voice sI wantyou, child. And you and
Mr.. Lynde II ketch your death out
there" The sentence terminated in a
wheezy cough.
At this summons Dora sprang up with
alacrity. True, it had interrupted a
charming conversation, but that could be
resumed tomorrow evening, when the
moon would doubtless shine as brightly
as now upon the ripping water, the
flower-laden air be just as sweet, and, In
short, everything drape itself in thatrose
color life is wont to wear at eighteen
under certain circumstances. Is it well
or i'll that the young eyes, dazzled by that
soft splendor, do not see that it ist'such
stuff as dreams are made Off
So the girl ran into the house, hum
ming a blithe air, and the young man
looked regretfully after her a amoment,
then turned his gaze upon the river.
Meanwhile Dora pauses to peep from
her grandmother's window at her late
companion, cor with the moon lighting up
the beauty of his unconscious face, mar
hing it look colorless and clear as dus
XIV lily leaf-if such thing exists. That
face seemed just shade too dark for the
fair curling hair, but when he lifts his
ewes YOU see the explanation. At first
thew are a surprise, almost shock, to
yo,i-those large eyes of concentrated
shadow, into whose black depths the
broadest daylight strives in vain to pierce,
nntil YOU see that the hair, full of bright
threads like southern sunbeams, the
onaoue warmth Of the complexion, and
the dusk of the tropic eyes unites to form
a harmony as rare as beautiful. III 81
For three weeks Raymond Lynde had
rof Hroydp,o (tord ORC