Smyrna times., 1886-02-24
The Preston Treasure.

was named Dorman-Charles H. Dor
man. He was q good-looking, mild
hammered young man, reticent in speech
and given to solitude. He had briefly
explained on his arrival that, preferring
comfort to style he had chosen the
quiet, sea board village of Covert, i'll
preference to Mt Desert, which lay a
few miles further east, rs a place in
which 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.. Dor
man was not overburdened with this
worlds goods, for the reason that he
habitually wore a suit of tweed which
showed marks Of hard service, and also
smoked brier pipe in his long strolls
on the beach. And Polly considered
shabby clothing and pipe-smOking the
inevitable concomitants of genteel
poverty.
Mrs. Preston and Polly were not
themselves very wealthy. They owned
the quaint. old sQuare-roofed house
built in Revolutionary days. and lived
on the interest of the hfe-insurance of
Capt. Preston, the deceased husband
and father, who had been lost at sea
some years before They had a COW,
some hens. and a vegetable garden cul-
tivated ION shares" by Joe Miller, who
regarded pretty 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 con-
siderable.
The young lady in question was pok-
ing 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 a sort of brown study.
BefOra him lay the harbor with its
anchored vessels. and beyond the far
reaching sea, whose distant sounding
voice filed the summer air like the
murmur of a shell. The soft, south
wind rustled the syringa and the lilac
bushes. and whispered unutterable sug,
gestions in Polly's little pink ear, as she
bent over the quaint-faced flowers.
"Oh. isn't it lovely" involuntarily
exclaimed Polly. standing upright with
a great sigh of enjoyment. Polly meant
the morning, her surroundings, aud the
pleasure of feeling that one is in exist
ence on q charming June day.
But DOrman, who answered, Indeed
it is. " with such fervor as to quite sur
prise the young lady, meant Polly
herself For instead of having been
enjoying the beauty of the sea and sky,
this impOlite young man had been
secretly studying the more attractive
picture Of Polly, whose soft, dark eyes
and piquant face were shaded by a most
becoming garden hat, fash oned and
trimmed by her own deft fingers.
And Polly, who at this reply looked
up rather wOnderingly, blushed like a
tea rose, as she caught his respectful,
admiriDg gaze bent full upon herself,
while Mr.. Dorm4u cOlored like peony
at being thus detected
"I-a-beg your pardon-what "a
very old house this seems to be-" he
stammered, with hasty irrelevance, as
he glanced upward at the Old-time build.
ing with its small windows, and one
enormous chimney at the very apex oI
the roof.
And Polly, who had seen something
IN the speakers eyes that caused a curl
Gus huttering in the region Of her heart,
said yes-it had been built more than {
hundred years. she believed. And then
to cover the momentary confusion of hel
face, she hurriedly went on TO repeat tn,
family legend, devoutedly believed il
by generations of bygone Prestons
which wa briefly to this effect: "OIC
Arnold Preston, the original founder O.
the house, had been q man of Rrea
wealth and miserly habits. He was
sort Of local money-lender in eolonia
days, and kept large store Of none,
by him. But one night Covert wa
attacked by Indians under the leader
ship Of King Philip, and old Arnold
who in dire apprehension had concealed
his gold somewhere about the premises
was shot through the heart by an Indial
arrow, while his family were take
away into captivity. Every succeeding
generation Of the Prestons had mad
vain search throughout the old building
but the hidden treasure had never bee
discovered"
Such IN substance was the story Ii,
tened to by Dorman with eager intent
ness. not so much by reason Of II
absorbing interest as for the sake Of III
iaif narrator. who stood resting he
slim hand on the rose-trellis as n
talked-the fairest flower Of all n
garden-so said the young man to HI
own heart.
Oh, dear, wish We could .fnd Il
remarked Polly with frank simplieit,
as she concluded hor recital; IL muat i
70 nice 70 have plenty Of money. Don
Soa thlnk 20, Mr.. Norman p" she addef
4n'ninkinely, as she lifted her eles
eysz @ her listeners handsome fao,