Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1883-02-15

| aptitude Tor business really nOaPtlUuue.
1T may do very we'll for ladies of
fortune to have whims and fancies, but
you are too sensitive, Dorothy ; really
| too sensitive"
~ suppose it is kind in him to invite
plain body like me to share his Christ
mas cheer, and sit at the table with his
fashionable wife and daughters but
still he is hard-the world il hard, life
| il hard, and | don't know what to do. "
BY this time the blue knot was fast
ened, the hair that was inclined to curl
lttle on the forehead brushed smoothly
down, and Miss Dorothy was ready for
her visit.
As she glanced out of the little win
dow she caught sight of faint ray of
sunshine that hickered moment on
the sill and then vanished sway.
The sight of the unexpected visitor
seemed TO cheer her.
81 know what l shall do" she said
answering her own query.
IN pretend just Tor this one day
that have found my youth again; that
am not poor and lonely ; that some
friendly heart on the earth will grow
glad at my coDliug that there Is no
such phantom as buried hope-and the
morrow L will leave to Heaven.
The great parlors of Slas Pink's
stately mansion were thrown open, and
that august parsonage himself, a stout,
well-iressed elderly gentleman, with
fat hands and beaming smile, stood
before the costly marble mantel, warm
ing himself in the glow OF the Goals, and
chatting and laughing with a group of
kindred spirits.
On velvet couch was seated she lady
of the house-haughty, severe, and per-
fectly attired-while her daughters,
fresher pictures OF herself, famed them
selves with langmd grace, and perform.
ed the graceful duties of elegant hos
pitallty.
Pictures adorned the tinted walls !;
silver mirrors flashed back the sheen Of
silk and the glitter of Jewels.
Heavy hOwer-strewn carpets hushed
the sound OF dainty gliding footsteps,
and the merry sound of music and
laughter filled all the scented air.
Sitting alone-as she thought-in the
library, with the cold marble eyes of
the dead and gone heathen philosophers
looking unwlnkingly down upon her,
and row upon row OF gilt-titled books
staring her out of countenance, was
Miss Dorothy.
The wealth and elegance displayed as
lavishly about her brought no pIesoure
to her beauty loving nature.
Her day-dream was shattered and
broken
She had no place in this little world
OF beauty and fashion.
They were ashamed of her shabby
dress and lack of ornament.
No faces had frightened at her APP
proach, no voices grown lower and ten
derer in kindly greeting.
She was more utterly alone than in
the little chamber under the 6abled
roof, or in the tIuy shop with its meagre
stock of dingy feathers and flowers.
81 will go home." she said aloud.
"Nhen 1 have seen SIlas and told
him of my inability to pay my debt, L
will 60 home.
81 want no rich viands, no ruby
wines. will go back to my lonely
fireside and ENJOY it while | may, to-
morrow may see me without roof to
cover my head, orr spot wherein to rest
my weary feet"
Ia dusky corner, turning carelessly
the leaves OF a portfolio of rare engrav-
ings, was seated figure, entirely hid
den from view by the high-backed cush-
loned chair against which he leaned in
idle, luxrious enjoyment.
When he heard the voice, he started
and rose to his feet, and Miss Dorothy
saw advancing towards her a portly
grey-haired man, clad III a suit of black
broadcloth.
Pardon" he began hastily, "but
Deacon Pink's daughter p
"What can that matter to a perfect
stranger % answered the little figure III
the shabby silk, looking towards the
open door as if to escape.
"She did not want to meet any one
who had known her in youth-the youth
that she had that day buried from sight
forever, poor, lonely, sensitive, heart
sick Mss Dorothy.
"Naught to stranger, but much to
friend" answered her questioner,
bending his face little nearer.
And Miss Dorothy, looking up sud-
denly, found herself gazing intently in
to pair of deep, earnest grey eyes,
VIII ose glance held her, spite Of self,
completely fascinated.
eyes, L am Dorothy Pink" she
managed to stammer, feeling as If a
cruel hand was clutching her throat,
''and yon are, Richard Weatherbee. "
This man, whose simple, loyal nature
| gold and it's possession had not spoiled,
looking down at the face of the woman
he had loved in her fair girlhood, read
printed there III clearest type the story
of her life, and realized that care and
not time had wrought the wOndrous
change.
''1he same Dorothy of old ?" he
asked with meaning in his tones, but
with the smile she remembered SO well,
the smile that alone made him seem
different from other men.
"Nay, not the same," she answered,
dropping her eyes she scarcely knew
why, while the hot blood surged into
the cheeks that had lost their roses
years before.
"In the old days I was proud, and
vain. and boastful.
INV l am"
"What ?" he asked, with little tre-
NOR iD his deep voice.
"What you see" she answered, drop