The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1883-10-16
THE PRESTON TREASIRE.


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THE PRESTON TREASGRE.
The Widow Preston's new boarder
was named Dorman-Charles H. Dorman.
He was a good-looking, mild-mannered
young man, retcent of speech and given
to solitude. He had briefly explained on
his arrival that, preterring comfort to style
he had chosen the quiet sea-board village
of Covert in preference to Mt Desert,
which lay few miles further east, as a
place to spend his summer vacation.
Pretty Polly Preston had an idea of her
own, that money considerations might
also have influenced his choice. For Polly
had decided that young Mr.. Dorman was
not overburdened with this worlds goods.
for the reason that he habitualv wore a
suit of tweed which showed marks of
hard service, and also smoked a briar
pipe in his long strolls on the beach And
Polly considered shabby clothing and
plpe-smoking the inevitable concomitants
of genteel poverty.
Mrs. Preston and Polly were not, them
selves, abounding in riches. They owned
the quaint old squareroofed house built
in revolutionary days, and lived on the
interest of the life insurance of Captain
Preston, the deceased husband and father,
who had been lost at sea some wears be-
fore. They had COW, some hens. and a
small vegetable garden cultivated " on
shares" by Joe Miner, who regarded
Polly with admiring eyes, as, indeed,
did all the eligible young men in Covert.
For Polly was as good as she was pretty,
and as capable as she was good-which is
saying considerable.
The young lady in question was poking
about the pansy bed, on a particular
bright June morning, about fortnight
after Mr. Dorman's arrival. The young
man himself was standing irresolutely
about the porch in sort of brown study.
Before him lay the harbor with its an
chored vessels, and beyond the far-reach-
ing sea, whose distant sounding voice
filled the summer air like the murmur of
a shell. The soft south wind rustled the
syringa and lilac bushes, and whispered
unutterable suggestions in Polly's little
pink ear, as she bent over the quaint
faced flowers
"Oh, isn't it lovely. involuntarily ex-
claimed Polly, standing upright with a
great sigh of enjoyment. Polly meant
the morning, her surroundings, and the
pleasure of feeling that one is in existence
on charming June day.
But Mr.. Dorman, who answered, i" in
deed it is,' with such fervor as to quite
surprise the young lady, meant Polly
herself. For, instead of having been en-
jOying the beauty of sea and sky, this i'm
polite young man had been studying the
more attractive picture of Polly, whose
soft dark eyes and picturesque face We're
shaded by most becoming garden hat,
fashioned and trimmed by her own deft
fingers.
And Polly, who at his reply had looked
up rather wonderingly, blushed like tea
rose, as she caught his respectfully admir-
ing gaze bent fully upon herself, while
Mr.. Dorman colored like peony at being
thus detected.
"I-a-beg your pordon-what IA
very old house this seems to be-" he
stammered with hasty irrelevance, as he
glanced upwards at the old-time building
with its small windows and one enormous
chimney at the very apex of the roof.
And Polly, who had seen something in
the speakers eyes that caused curious
tluttering in the region of her heart, said
yes-it had been built more than 100
years, she believed. And then, to cover
her momentary confusion of face, she hur-
riedly went on to relate the family legend,
devoutly believed in by generations of
bygone Prestons, which was briefly to
this effect Old Arnold Preston, the origi-
nal founder Of the house, had been man
of great wealth and miserly habits He
was sort of local money lender in colo
NAL days, and kept large store of money
by him. But one night Covert was at
tackled by Indians under the leadership of
King Philip, and old Arnold, who il dire
apprehension had concealed his gold
somewhere about the premises, was shot
through the heart bv an Indian arrow,
while his family were taken away into
captivity. Every succeeding generation
of the Prestons had made vain search
throughout the old building, but the hid
den treasure had never been discovered.
Such in substance was the story lis
tened to by Dorman with eager intent
ness, not SO much by reason of it's absorb
ing interest, as for the sake of the fair
narrator who stood resting her slim hand
on the rose trellis, as she talked-the fair
est flower of all the garden-so said the
Young man to his own heart.
"Oh, dear, / wish we could find it," re-
marked Polly with frank simplicity as
she concluded her recital, " it must be so
nice to have plenty of money. Don't you
think so, Mr.. Dorman ?" she added un-
thinkingly, as she lifted her clear eyes to
her listeners handsome face, instantly re-
GREETING her needless question, as a slight
flush crossed his cheek.
"Yes-sometimes," was his rather enig-
matte answer, and then he changed the
subject by saying that if the Wave, Mrs.
Preston's scat" boat, was not engaged
he thought he would have sail, as the
morning was 80 fine. Now Polly, who