Roseburg review. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 1885-1920, 1885-03-20

=
to bless me for my goodness Q repeat
what she said). But my heart was full
of anger toward the man who had so
ill-treated her this Charles Walters,
as he styled himself--for neither Mir
lam nor believed that he had given
he. his right name did not tell her
this. of course. But could not keep
back what felt in talking to Miriam.
Ny face grew hot, and | clenched my
hand as I cried: s'He is a heartless
ira tori
There may be misunderstanding,
madam; the lady trusts him still. =
Il do not believe it. = said; ''he has
deceived her cruelty You see | was
young, and spoke out what felt.
Miriam put her fingers to her lips,
but it was too late. Dolores, from her
couch in the next from. had heard me
and called me to her side.
Nevertheless. sonora. ne is st II my
love and my husband. Think, madam.
if your husband should"
.My husbandr' | exclaimed 1T
could not be- But if it We're possible
that he could deceive me, would never
speak to him again. or desire to be
reconciled.'
She sighed, and took my hand in
hers, and pressed it. How pretty she
was in gray gown of mine, adorned
with bunch of rose-colored ribbons.
Day by day she grew more lovely, and
day by day | discovered fresh virtues
in her.
home, so / went to our old clergyman
1aI L
lores behalf, making inquiries con-
cerning her husband This hedid, and
after some weeks the answers came, all
with the same result. No one had
heard of Lieutenant Walters, and
there was no such name on
the list of officers in his Maize ,ty's Navy.
BY degrees we left off expecting to get
any good news, only cherished a Sc
cret hope that when Ambrose, my hus-
band. came home--in couple of
months She would throw some light on
the subject. Dolores stayed on with
me, and | learned to love her dearly.
The neighbors were all pleased with
her society, and no one knew besides
Miriam that I had found her on that
autumn evening by the Black Pond.
After that there came bitter days for
me. Phoebe Lyncombe. 1t was Easter.
and the good ship "Thunderbolti was
long due at Plymouth, and there was
no news of her. | had thought to have
my husband with me before, the prim-
roses were out. and now the hedges
were yellow with blossoms and he never
came. NV uncle. an old Admiral who
res ded at Plymouth, had long promised
to send me mounted messenger as
soon as he should have tdings of the
s.Thunderbolt, and day after day
stood by the garden gate and looked
down the road in vain. In my trouble
Dolores seemed to forget her own; she
chaered me. bore with my ii of de-
spair, and was in all ways like a loving
sister during that dark season. One
afternoon she had gone to the par
sonage with a message, and | sat try
ing to sew by the parlor window. The
ivy was beginn ng to put forth its
| young shoots, delicious perfume of
volets was waited in from the garden.
The room was tr'm and orderly, bowl
! of yellow cowslips stood on a table by
the side of my inlaid -box--it was
one of Ambrose's many presents.
saw myself reflected in the mirror
hanging on the wall oppos te, sitting
on high-backel chair over my tam
bour frame, with my hair gathered
high on my head. a handkerchief
pinned across my neck, and the pllffed
sleeve of my gown ending above my
elbow. Behind me was the door; even
as looked it opened quickly. There
was step knew, the sound of voice
| loved where are you? Phoebe, my
! w.fe!'' No more signing over the
frame, no more gazing in the mirror,
no more watching for the messenger;
before could well jump from my seat
he was there his face was close to my
lips Well, it is Dolores story that
| am telling you, not mine.
Safe, safe home at last, and there
had been no mishap beyond contrary
winds; he had outridden the messenger
on the road The time passed quickly.
i AS we sat side by side looking out on
I to the landscape, the hills and dales
spring, he took my hand again in his,
and then | noticed that he wore ring
that had never seen before. "What
a magnificent ring, Ambrose!' [ sad
holding his hand up to the light that
might see it better. 1t was of foreign
workmanship, curiously chased, and ir
, the center was flashing stone set il
diamonds. To my surprise, Ambost
|, did not answer at once, but lookeC
troubled; at last he sa d: Il can mol
, tell you the whole story of the rims
! now, dearest Phoebe, it belongs to M
brother Charlford. he is i'll at Plymouth
t tomorrow you shall hear all about it. ;
/ knew that Charlford's mad freak
J and misbehavior had long been caus
of anxiety to Ambrose (Charlford wa
| his youngest and best-beloved brother)
SO forbore to grieve him with anothe
> word on the subject.
: us that our good Miriam at th
| door? asked Ambrose, presently
There was certainly step in the pas
| sage; but when went to seek Miriam
| found her in her own room at th
8 farther end of the house. Afterward
3 / remembered that some one ha
4 passed along the hedge and gone out d
5 the garden-gate. but at that time / too
: no notice of the occurrence. When til
: supper-ben rang | began to wonde
a where Dolores could be. 1t was Ion
r past her usual ho1r for returning. A
q last sent maid to the parsonage bic
: ding her hasten home, Alas! she ha
d left an hour ago. We searched a
n through the house, in the garden an
d the paddock; it grew dark, and coul
Y no longer cone al my distress. An
s brose. too. looked grave. He wer
T with the coachman, and they made II
b quir,es in the Y llage: they even wake
Il as far as the Black Pond, but the
+ found no trace of Dolores.
5 There was9aothing more TO be done
o we could but wait for the morning