Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1884-05-02
LUCY'S FOE.

every fisher-lad between Jersey City
and Cape May.
Lucy was delicate little thing, with
wild-rose color. golden hair, and
deep, dark eyes, that had 4 trick of
dropping shyly beneath their long
lashes whenever young Mr.. Thornhill
rode by the cottage on his thorough
bred horse, and bowed low to her as
she sat by the op0n window at her sew
ing; and Mr.. Thornhilrs bay horse
seemed to turn that way so naturally,
that Lucy's father at last took the
alarm.
They were Friends quiet, we'll
meaning people, who, if not rich, had
at least been respectable all their
days.
And George Thornhill was ''of the
worlds pcople"-his life was one long
holiday Of pleasure; his great marble
house on the hill was II very temple of
luxury, over which his only sister
reigned rs mistress, though only Mt his
pleasure.
Friend Peter Gray, and his good
wife, Lucy, shook their heads over
their young landlords evident admira
ton Of their one eve lamb. And be-
tween them, in solemn council, it was
arranged that Peter should speak to
him civilly but seriously, the very next
time that he passed by.
The same evening, rs the old folks sat
by the kitchen fire, which the cold sea
breeze rendered needful, summer
though it was, great surprise came to
them.
Lucy, who had gone on IN errand to
the next house. came in. earlier than
they had expected. The Young
Squire" Gas the fishers generally called
him) was with her. He led her to her
parents, bowling his handsome head
revcrcntlv before them.
IL love your daughter dearly" he
said. "Will you give her TO me for my
wifep"
Our Lucyr' cried Peter Gray. rs
soon rs he could speak for astonish-
ment. "Why, thee might marry the
daughter of the President, Friend
Thornhill, if thee liledn'
But don't like" said the young
Squire, with smile in his deep blue
eyes. IL have never seen the girl, cX
cept Lucy, that could love; and she
is fond Of me. though you may not
think so. Why. ! have looked forward
to marrying her ever since | first saw
her sitting ut Wonder window, with n
cluster Of apple blossoms in her hair. "
IAN eternity, indccd!' said Friend
Gray. 81 waited seven years for her
mother, and loved her dearer every
moment Of those seven years. | think. "
But there Is no need of such de-
lay in our case, said the young Squire,
looking frightened.
Perhaps not. But under one year
wo cannot give our consent" said
Friend Gray consulting his wife by
look. "At the end of II year thee may
tako her, Friend Thornhill-not be-
fore"
In vain the young Squire fumed and
frettcd. The quiet Quaker was ''set in
his way and Lucy. knowing the great
concession that he had already made.
dared not plead for more, For it had
been the dream and hope of her par
ents to see her tho wife of some steady
young Friend. who would dwell with
her on II small farm near their own.
Such young Friend indeed existed,
who would willingly have carried out
his own part of that peaceful pro-
gramme; but Lucy, who had always
been so gentle to Charles Dcanc before
her own heart was touched, had scarce
ly n civil word to offer him during the
long year of her conditional hctrothal
to the young Squire.
Yet Charles Dcanc came to the brown
cottage all the same, talking chiefly to
her parents during his visits, but east
ing long, sad looks ut Lucy that it
tried her patience terribly To ignore.
That summer dragged on wcarily
enough for Lucy Gray. Throughout
each week there was only the weeks
work TO do, of mcnding. making, wash
ing. baking, and attending To the eggs,
the fowls, and the butter.
At dusk on Saturday evening, the
whole house was in the neatest order,
and al signs of labor done away.
On the Sabbath no cooking was done
and food was eaten cold. while the
family spent most of the day in the
solemn silence of Il Quaker meeting;
and on the Monday there was the same
dull round for Lucy to begin again.
1t was not dull to her parents, They
enjoyed the perfect calm. They were
happy in their home. in each other,
and, in their only child, and life had
nothing better to offer them than this
over-recurring routine Of domestic and
religious duty
But Lucy had listened from her ear
lest remembrance whenever the neigh
bors talked about "Thornhill Hall. " as
most of them called the great house on
the hill.
She had never entered its doors, yet
she understood perfectly how different
" existence went on there. She knew
ali about tho magnificent carpets and
furniture. the curtains over the great
bay windows sweeping to tho floor,
velvet for the winter months, costly
lace lined with rose-color for the sum-
mer.
She had heard of the marble statues,
the costly chandeliers, the grand circu-
lar staircase that went up aud around
to the very roof. the stained-glass win
dows ON every landing.
Miss Thornhill's imported toilettes,
all aglow with color, might be seen by
anyone who chose TO be in the one
street of SaltiSh when the barouche-
landau rolled slowly by.
AS for the greenhouses, lighthouses,
and forcing-pits, was not the hill at
Thornfcld all one glitter in the sun
shine every day with the acres OF
glass" over which McClcary, the
Scotch gardener, presided?
The poor little Friend looked sadly
out through the summer from her drab
colored life upon this luxury and SPLEEN
dor. longing TO share it, but only be-
cause it all belonged TO George"
Her head and heart were full of her
betrothed, and she so seldom saw him
now, except for y few brief moments
in the presence of her mother, before
whom they were both naturally tongue
tied and abashcd.
She saw how these restraints annoy.
c,i and worried him. and she did no;
wonder that he came less often when,
in the bright midsummer, his sister
filled the great HOUSE with her OWL
friends bright young bellies from the
city, before whose gay and fashionable
presence Lucy shrank away timid ana
afraid.
George Thornhill was forced to play
the host TO all these fair guests. he told
her, when he came to excuse his alb
sence. She acquiesced; and she heard
OF the riding and driving parties, thC
sails upon the lake, and the stroils by
moonlight, with perfect composure,
- q n, fnrt. INHr hsnr,