The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1886-01-15

where cedar panels were let in with
delicate carving. 1t was but dimly
lighted and had q dusky atmosphere,
-solemn-remote. Dolly stood one
side, her hands clasped behind her,
looking up at a portrait OF the wall.
This was the picture OF a young girl,
with blue eyes and high tossed yellow
hair, wearing q dress of blue and white
with much lace about it; an earlier
Dorothy Milton surely, smiling some
what coldly down on the Dolly Milton
gazing SO wistfully up at her. So alb,
sorbed was the young beauty she did
not hear the footsteps following her.
care you come to ask questions of
that sweet facet" said Guys voice.
"Don't. Let them rest, those dead
ones, let them keep their secrets still"
Dorothy shivered: Those old sto-
ries brighten me; ! wish Aunt Helen
would not listen to them"
'"Then come away" said Guy, ca
gerly. "Isshave a sweeter story to tell;
come to the garden and hear it, Dor
othy."
That evening one OF the servants
sent to beg speech of Miss Milton. 1t
was Birket, the housekeeper.
iii you please, miss, she said eager
ly, when Helen came out into the hall.
II found the brocade dress. 1t was
in the old cedar chest, in the big lum.
ber-room. Will you please to boomer"
Her fine old voice quivered; her dim
old eyes caught some of their lost girl
hoods fire from the memorial tears
that sprang tothem. "Do come, she
said, in q pleading tone.
Miss Milton called Dorothy and the
three went to the attic together.
Hand in hand the two ladies walked
along the chill upper hall. with it's
high, narrow windows, the colored
panes of curious small pieces of glass
casting faded tints as of tapestry
across them. Dolly shuddered and
glanced behind her; she fancied pat
tering footsteps a s of feet shodin satin
slippers coming after her; she fancied
pale dead eyes opening on her out of
the evening light,-old voices calling to
her out of a dead, past time, unknown
and unrecorded: "iti is mine; it is mine;
let it bel"
In the attic was a more cheerful
light cast from Birket's candles. The
cedar chest stood open; heavy odors
as from old long sealed-up spices
made the air like that of an oriental
chamber. Dead perfumes, the breath
of faded dust, the smile and blush of
long forgotten beautyl The richly
broidered heavy satin gown lay there,
the folds spread out, the lace unfold
ed, the pearl breach and faded loops
of ribbon In the bodice, with it's dim,
stiff waist, it's short rich sleeves.
An old, rich, dim dressl Beauty
dead and gone, come forth and look
at it nowl 1t was yours! Behold i'll
Where are We? Can We wear it now?
Ye have other robes-cerements.
Dorothy clasped her hands. "Oh!"
she cried out in q low breath. She
touched it reverently. "Ohl OIL ohl'
Was it not a natural result that in a
little whilesweet Dolly was beingrobed
in this wonderful garment,-Birket
and fair Miss Milton helping in the
task?
There camea tap at the door, a SER
want came in with q note for Dolly.
81 beg pardon, but Mr.. Carleton said
/ was to give this direct to you
Dolly read the note with a blush and
then turned to her aunt. Guy says
| am to CONF down In the dress. he
wishes to see me in 1T. The others
wish it too. Shall I? May II"
II don't know. / am not sure.
You might go to the landing, it is not
certainly good taste, but" (But,-
since Guy wishes it,-her shrug seemed
to say.)
A little knot of curious gazers was
on the broad landing and on the
stairs when Dolly came down. Amur-
muir of admiration went round.
ssShall be burn incense?' said q voice;
Guys surely.
But Dorothy was not needing.
What was it she had heard?
Observation-Disclosures creeping gtong
the dim rose walk outside, beneath The
mullioned window; a sigh,-then atap
on the panes. Dorothy Doro-
thy!'
"Waitl" cried Miss Milton, author
itatively, as Guy Carleton turned to
90 In search.
Dorothy flung of the arm her aunt
had put about her. She would accept
her fate. Was it not meet and right
that the dead should come to punish
her for this sacrilegions deed?
A face was pressed against the win
dow, those were living eyes looking in.
Then in a moment those waiting heard
the great outer door open, the unbid-
den, unknown feet come slowly along
the hall. up the few broad steps.
An old man. Yes, certainly old,
and yet an awful something OF youth
about him, and dressed in the fashion
Of colonial times, his spare figure. still
spruce and neat, his powdered hair
the powder above the snow Of years
tied back with a broad ribbon.