Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1882-11-04
he EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, SATURD

pleasure, SO now begin to think he must have
| gwen you" Miss Dillon quite gasped, SO
that l fastened to I'LL in her pause, this time
feeling quite distressed at her trouble.
Iashe gave me very good gges
which will occur now and then. Pray don't
make yourself the least uneasy about ii"
| How very kind you are" she said, again
holding out her hand. which / took, and forgot
to let go till she had done speaking. 'Ifelt
sure it must be that. and then l thought per
haps you would think US impostors, and knew
you would be too much Of q gentleman to men,
| tion 1t, and sO-do you think was wrOng?-I
made up my mind 1 would explain the mistake.
only it was SO dreadful. But don't mind now
that you look so kind about 1t. And then WOULD
you do me great favor, DR.. Merrifeid? Would
you mind not appearing to know anything
about it. or that came, or anything. because
papa doesn't know | am out he is not down
yet; and he would be 80 distressed, he might
never come again. and l should be so sorry, as
| you suit him exactly"
pray dOn'tc this favor" said as gravely
as could. Il think you will believe me when
| say that, without even knowing your wishes
on the subject, should never have mentioned
| the-the lozenge."
Il don't know how to thank you! Now 1
must CO." And then Miss Dillon put that small
glOved hand In her muff and drew it out again.
holding it out toward me once more and this
time felt a little square bit of paper in my
hand. Somehow our eyes met, and in spite Of
the gravity OF the occasion we both laughed,
feeling, | am sure, we should never again be
afraid of each other. as she said:
please, DR.. Merrifield. don't laugh at me. Is
this the right way to give fee because must
tell you this is the first time in my life have
ever had to give one. l suppose some day
shall be i'll and want doctor. but never, never
have wanted to 60 to one before. And it
wasn't for myself this time. was it? you will
bear witness-I mean, hope you won't ever
mention it; goodbye. Now, Brown, l am
ready"
And just as a ray Of sunshine sometimes
comes into ones room, glimmers Dances and
| illunnates the place for a time. and then sud-
denly disappears so Lucia Dillon had come and
! gone, and that noisy four-wheeler took Off my
vision Of fair hair leaving me with golden
sovereign. and new shilling wrapped in a
| small halI-sheet of paper on the top of which
was stamped the address Of their London
house. folded that piece of paper and put it
| away In p0cket-book among my treasures,
such as my dear mothers first letter to me at
school, and the flower that little girl OF seven
years old had dropped when l. nine-year- old
urchin, had fallen desperately In love with her.
There was nothing there unworthy to lie next
to the paper which Lucia DillOn's fingers had
touched.
Later in the day I received a note from Mr..
Dillon, begging me, if | were not too much en-
gagged, to come and see him, as he felt very I'M
well. anu IL WOuiU uO ulLl great FAVOR OF
| dining and spending the evening with them he
would be very grateful. for he saw 80 few peo-
pie on account of his wretched constitution.
Well, went, and spent a very happy evening.
1t was only the first of many more, at least
during this first season. But Mr.. Dillon was as
good as his wOrd from the day of his first visit my
practice slowly but surely increased, and though
there were years of uphill work. yet it is per-
fectly true that zee est que lie premier pas qui
coute." had at last got a chance, and seized
rKnd yyrIfh 6nrph inn hon Mt
bottom of my soul had another object besides
the one OF making the five girls at home proud
OF me; wanted a small, fair. blue-eyed Lucia to
be proud of me; and wanted to be able to lay
at her feet all that is best and grandest in this
life. But she was rich mans daughter, and l
was struggling physician.
1t was not till had freed myself of all debt
and though still poor man was compare
lively rich for had good and increasing
practce-that at last made upmy mind to ask
Lucia to be my wife. l should not have had the
face to do it even then only young good for
nothing aristocrat, was perpetually coming to
the house, and knew that if Lucia so young
simple, and innocent, became the wife of that
man. her life would be miserable. The fear OF
this. and some amount of jealousy, perhaps.
made me speak out one day shall never for
get Lucias face when had said some strong.
earnest, passionate words. She put her little
hand once more into mine and looked up with
her beautiful truthful eyes, as she half sobbed:
"Oh-dO you really mean it? Because, some
how, think have-loved you ever since"
Ever since you gave me my first fee, my
darling" | said, as drew her beautiful head
| on my shoulder and-well, never mind the rest:
"Well, Lucia" l added 81 loved you the first
moment saw you, So you see loved you
long before you cared for me-" But Lucia, who
is just little matter-o f-fact, shook her head de-
cdedly. and said that that was all nonsense
There was still the question as to what Mr..
Dillon would say about it, but our true love,
which had had to wait so long, this time ran
smoothly Mr.. Dillon. who still suffered from
his wretched constitution, was delighted at
Lucia's choice, and said all kinds of compliment
| tary things about my rising fame and my other
qualities. And so we were married. and the
FIVE girls from home were bridesmaids, though
they soon afterward married from our house
under Lucia's care. And though often tell
Lucia that the last person she should have
married was a popular physician, considering
she is never Ill, yet she always shakes her
pretty golden head and says gravely:
But, perhaps Arthur, some of the children
may inherit papa's wretched constitution"
As to the story of the ginger lozenge, Lucia
and kept that secret until Mr.. Dillon died.
He left Lucia all his money-and so ends this
true story Of my first tee.-The Argosy.