Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1883-01-04

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asleep in an old-fashioned oak-pan-
elled room that would have seemed
very ghostly 10 her but that she was
too fatigued 70 take much heed Of her
surroundings and, besides her maid
was in the dressing-room and within
call.
The next morning Dorothy was
down for half-past nine breakfast.
and was shown into q bright little
morning room. Mr.. Lambert met
her, and was 50 kind and anxious 10
make her happy and at home that
she very soon found herself talking
to him as if she had known him for
years. instead Of his being An &C.
quaintance Of few hours only. 8he
was rather an unconventional little
person, and by no means stiff or cold.
She had warm hearted Irish manners,
and looked as the worked in a trustful
way. believing people and trusting in
them firmly, unless she found that
they were not TO be depended upon,
instead Of proving before trusting, as
colder-natured and perhaps wiser
folks do. She had been brought up
by an old uncle, for whom her elder
sister kept house. They had no
brothers, and their parents had both
died years before. Mrs. Newton was
their mothers sister-in-law but her
husband had quarrelled with the
girls uncle and guardian, Mr.. Nay
ton; so it was not till after the death
of the latter that Dorothy and her
sister had been allowed to 60 to Pri-
arton. Now, however, they hoped to
spend a good deal of time there; but
this was Dorothy's FIRST visit.
Mary Nayton. her SISTER, was about
twenty-seven, and exceedingly placid
and sensible; but she took things so
quietly that Dorothy was always al
lowed TO go her own way and do
whatever she liked consequently, at
twenty-three, she had learned to
think and act for herself, and, as her
nature was impulsive and warm
hearted, she INDUCED in a great many
theories of her own, hated convention
alities, believed firmly in Platonic
friendships and not unfrequently got
into trouble in consequence.
1t very soon struck Hugh Lambert
that she was different from most of
the girls he had met, and she interes-
ted him accordingly.
1t was with feeling of relief that
he found the road would be impas-
sable for some days; so he wrote to
Mrs. Newton, begging her to let Do
rothy remain with him, instead of re-
turning home, and asked an elderly
cousin who lived a few stations off to
come and act as chaperon.
The old lady accepted the invita-
tion and the post allotted to her +;
but, as she was a great invalid, Doro
thy and Hugh We're constantly left
alone together. He liked to sit in
the dusk and hear her sweet voice
singing to him, to watch her arrang-
ing flowers, and to consult her about
the garden. The girl felt supremely
haPPy-he Was so kind to her, such
an agreeable companion in every way, +,
that she thoroughly enjoyed his sOcie-
ty.
A fortnight went by, and the road
was pronounced perfectly safe: even
the floods had subsided. So Hugh
had no excuse for OBTAINING his fair
guest longer; and, though very re-
luctant to part with her, he drove her
ever to Priarton.
She was standing in the hall as he
left that night. after dinner, and held
out her hand TO say goodbye.
i cannot thank you enough Tor all
your kindness, she said softly.
Nay, my child, cannot tell you
what pleasure it has been to me
but perhaps you will know some day,
he replied; and she went upstairs
wondering what he meant.
She believed so firmly in Platonic
friendships that she would not let
herself think that her feeling toward
Hugh Lambert was anything else ;
and. although she knew he disbeliev-
ed IN her theory in the abstraction
they had argued the subject very
warmly-still she thought that his
sentiments were well defined in her
case.
Hugh Lambert felt as if something
very bright had come into his lie
since he mad known Dorothy. She
was 50 quaint and naive in speech,
new and fresh with her ideas and
theories. so free and unaffected in
manner, and yet so womanly withal,
that during those few days they had
spent together she had completely
won his heart. But he was not likely
to act on the spur of the moment he
was 50 much older than she, how
could he ever expect that bright lit
tie body to regard him as anything
but steady going friend.
Butstill, day after day, he would ride
over tosee her at Priarton, andwhen he
returned would sit and think of how
she used to look in the rooms that
now seemed so desolate. How he
longed IN the evenings for the sound
OF her voice singing to him The Land
o the Leaf or Aud Robin Gray.
And Dorothy began to watch for
his coming, and if By chance some
thing detained him at home, how
long the day seemed and how unin-
teresting everything wasl At first
she justified it to herself BY the
thought of her friendship for 6im-a
friendship which had ripened quickly
IN the peculiar circumstances of their
meeting; but little By little, as time