Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1876-02-26
F1DEL1A's FORTUNE.

WHO tuHt llhO puSScu ny tUo Mugs
lands fine and brilliantly lighted hous'
on the evening Of Miss Harcourt's fett
could have imagined that an aching
heart, and the dark and unkind passion
that makes aching hearts, existed within
those dazzling walls2
Light streamed through the windows
music poured forth delightful strains
guests were arriving and departing; the
avenue, the grand avenue of the town,
was animated with the concourse; and a
crowd Of eager people, encouraged by
the balmy air of the late spring night,
pressed into the shrubbery under the
ballroom windows, and stood gaping
with unfeigned admiration at the fitting
figures of the dance.
All the windows of the two 10 xer
stories, besides the wing in which the
ballroom lay, were lighted. Above them
interviewed dark space; and over the
third story, in one Of the small round
windows of the Mansard roof, faint
light twinkled. An observer noticing it
would have supposed that some domes-
tic whose duty did not call to active SER
vice had retired betimes. But no!
The dimly lighted chamber in the roof
held in its solitude daughter of the
house.
The figure of young girl, wrapped
carelessly in the folds of coarse gray
dressing robe, was flung at full length
upon narrow bed in an attitude of un-
mistakable detection. Her face was
buried in the pillow, her hands clasped
above the flowing hair that reached in
unbraided tresses to the floor. Her
whole frame was agitated by pitiful
sobbing that could not be controlled.
A step along the uncarpeted passage
and knock at the door had no effect to
arouse the unhappy girl. The knocks
were repeated rapidly and more loudly,
and being unanswered, a woman's voice,
clear and shrill, but agreeable toned,
called from without: "Fidelia Kings
land, are you here2"
3he girl arose slowly, and rubbing the
tears away from her eyelids with q be-
wildered air, moved listlessly toward the
door.
"Who is itg-who calls mea" she
asked, with her hand upon the key.
"a friend of your mother" answered
the quick, clear voice.
/" 1 am dreaming" said Fidelia, not
in reply, but sadly to herself, and turned
away.
"You are not dreaming" answered
he voice.
Fidelia Kingsland cast one glance, be-
wildered yet imploring, at picture
hanging above her bed-a portrait that,
forming the sole ornament of the room,
occupied the only perpendicular space
of walls elsewhere slanted SO sharply
as to make the chamber oppressive, like
a cell.
"Your mothers friendl" If voice
from that other world into which long
years ago the lovely being of the portrait
forever passed had spoken now to her
desolate child, it could not have awaken
ed more complete and wondering sur
prise. Ill cd.
Mechanically she unlocked the door,
and the stranger entered. Fidelia gazed
at the apparition with stupor resem-
bling that of sleep walker.
The stranger returned the gaze not at
all, but walked into the room quickly,
scanned it briefly and studiously in every
part with o manner much like q petted
bird. Her costume added to this
sprightly, pert, bird-like effect. She
wore walking dress of dark blue velvet,
fitting her petite figure with nice exact
ness; q cashmere shawl dropped from
her shoulders so low that its point trailed
on the floor; velvet hatset with narrow
feathers crested her small head. Her
black hair shone in glossy waves; her
quick black eyes sparkled like polished
jet; diamonds glittered at her ears.
She granted Fidelia several moments
10 recover from surprise. Then she
spoke to her in familiar way, as if she
had known her all her life. Sit down
by my side," she said, drawing her to
the foot of the pallet, and taking chair
very near. "Sit down here and tell me
why you were crying"
Because my heart is broken" said
the girl.
=" That am glad to hear" returned
the little lady, briskly. "We are not
so bad off as We feared. When these