The Sentinel. [volume] (Trenton, N.J.) 1880-1882, 1880-09-18

one of your mothers Oldest friends"
The gentleman indicated looked from
one to the other-from the mother to
the daughter-then back again. Now
be could realize the lapse of time-now
he could appreciate the changes years
had wrought. 1t was as though he had
brought the past and present face to
face forcing him to acknowledge the i'm
possibility of natures standing still.
The daughter was a fair counterpart
Of the mothers beauty. AS she looked
now shyly extending to him her hand,
as if in depreciation of her unceremon-
ious entrance, 80 had Barbara looked,
when extending her hand in farewell, as
though she would have said, 81 am
forced into it by stronger will than
NINE"
An uncomfortable sensation rose up
in his breast-a dumb warning against
the inevitable-an unacknowledged de-
sire to retrace life's pathway and con-
quer time.
Meantime the young girl pouted the
full. red lips, as she thought her
mothers friend strangely absent; and
when he at last forced himself into
few words of greeting, they fell upon
dull, unheeding ears.
Then she had gone. The lovers were
alone again, but he no longer opened
wide his arms, but instead, drew
chair to her side, that they might dis
cuss more nationally.
You must teach Dora to love you,"
she said to him next morning. "Iwant
first to reconcile her to my second mar
riage before startling her with its pos
sibility. Tell me-do you think her
like me?"
"Your second self"
"Ah. l am so glad! You will love
her, then, for my sake?"
To love and be loved! Over-easy task
set by trail woman in her blindness. It
must be Mr.. Mainwaring who must be
Dora's companion in her daily ride. Mr..
Mainwaring who must teach her 10
manage the cookie boat-for which he
had sent to town-in these first early
spring days. The lovers were seldom
alone now.
Dora looked up at their guest az her
property. She had long ago laughingly
told him how unceremonious had been
his welcome to ner. and he had wooed
and won his absolution.
Sometimes Barbara sighed as she
watched them together, while she sat
alone. but she gave to the sigh no name,
and thought it a tribute to tine vanished
years.
One day came her awaking. Dora
and Mr.. Mainwaring had gone for their
afternoon ride, but it had extended be-
yond its wont, and she had grown
anxious and gone out to meet them,
striking into the forest path which was
their favorite way. Half mile from
her home she met Dora's horse rider
less. Pale with terror, she FASTENED on,
when she suddenly stopped, rooted to
the spot. Almost at her feet knelt the
man her heart had loved always, and in
his arms he held Dora's unconscious
form.
"My love! my life" he said, each
word being borne distinctly to her ear;
"speak to me once-just once! Oh,
Dora, are you hurt? My darling, would
that I might have given my life for
yours!'
Then he stopped and pressed his lips
to hers. A long futtering sigh escaped
them.
Arthur" she whispered Arthur"
81 am here, DEAR" he said.
And then he laid her down out of his
arms, as though, with returning life, he
remembered the duty it brought with
it.
The mother spraug forward.
do not be alarmed Mr.. Mainwar-
ing said, gently, on seeing her. "Her
horse threw her. / think there is no
serious injury
No serious injury! None to Dora,
but Barbara knew that her wound was
past healing.
When, few hours later, they knew
that there was no need for anxiety on
her account, Barbara shut herself up
within her own room to fight her battle.
q cannot give him up" she moaned.
I" He does not know his own heart. He
will forget this child, and she-she can
not love him."
But even as she reasoned came the
remembrance of the one word, ar
thur!'' and the tone in which she had
spoken it.
81 will try her," she said, and for the
first time in her life came feeling OF
bitter resentment even against her
child.
They were sitting together in the IL
| brary as she entered.
Arthur" she said, II think it is
time that we told Dora the truth
The mans face paled. She could al