The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1886-09-09
UNQUENCHABLE LOVE.
Old Aunt Dorothy and Her Ever
Noble Prince.

"What was all that commotion about
Just nowP''
''Oh, nothing. 1t was only some
stupid old man who had not been in the
town for ever SO long going by, and
Mrs. Brown called us to see. What
have done with my gloves? knoso 1
brought them in here. Oh, there they
are, under that chair. What plaques
things are!-Coming, Annette, COM
ing!'
Ibid she say who the old man WASP"
But the words were spoken to empty
air, for the heroine of the gloves was
already flying down stairs in the best
approved costume for the fashionable
promenade.
Her great-aunt, Miss Dorothy Field
ing, bent back, meditating, in her chair.
She was a cripple of many years stand
ing from rheumatism and sciatica, and
could move but little without assist
ance.
She was very old; but although her
face had many wrinkles, there was
abundant play of expression about
it yet, and living evidence that
she had by no means outlived
her faculties. An ordinary face it
never had been, although, equally, she
had never been beautiful. In her youth
some had called her plain, some good
looking, some pretty; but full of life and
expression that face had always been;
full of character, and that no ordinary
one, full of vivacity, the light of which
after four-score years was even yet un-
quenched.
Her eyes were dark brown, sensible,
true and very kindly. Any one with a
degree of Imagination in their brains
would have felt certain her companion
| ship even now would not be dull; so
| sympathetic, bright, and, in the evening"
time of life. SO placidly content was the
countenance that looked forth under the
matronly cap and thick grey hair. She
had been full of love and lovers with
| the brightest, once upon time; she
had dreamt many waking dream, had
been attractive and popular; but she
had never married. She was Miss
Fielding now, as she had been at the
beginning of the chapter.
The young people around her were
on the whole selfish, preoccupied set,
who had few thoughts to spare from
dress and gaiety, and who would as
soon have thought of giving up one of
their pleasures to sit for an hour with
Aunt Dorothy as of tie ng hospital
nurses. When she had come amongst
them some months previously, she had
looked forward to being their confdante
on various points. All her soul kindled
yet over real love affair, and she could
sympathize also with minor matters of
small Irritation and girlish fun. But even
she could make little of these great
nieces of hers. Her innate good taste
recoiled from their fastness, with un-
scrupulous stratagems, their loud
spoken ill-nature toward other girls,
and the utter absence of all love,
worthy the name, from their scheming,
worldly, and unwomanly love affairs.
Their father had taken this house,
which was large and handsome, for the
four months season at Fairbeach, and
as he was very fond of his aunt, and
rooms could be spared for her use, he
had asked her to come to them for that
period. Old Miss Fielding, being very
comfortably off, had never sunk into
the immovable habits that might have
been expected from her age and inflrm.
tiles, and she accepted the invitation
and enjoyed the change. She had long
ago made her intentions plain as re.
garded the money she had to leave; il
was all to go to this, her only nephew.
with the exception only of few lega
cies to old servants, friends, and God
children. One of these last was bel
niece Laura; and whether it is that peo
! pie are by nature like their God-parent:
or not, Laura was very much the nicest
of the four Miss Fieldings. She had 6
happy disposition, and could bear dis
appointment without going into depths
of despair or getting thoroughly eros
until the next diversion dawned, al
her sisters did. 1t was, alas, a very
uneducated character, for Mr.. Field
ing was easy-going and over-indul
s gent to his children, while thei
. mother was a worldly woman o
l Iady-like exterior, and very comfort
able principles as regarded coarse
minded schemes for marrying he
i daughters ''well."
t Laura, therefore, as might have beel
9 expected, was no paragon of perfection
but she was obviously improbable, thai
! which few better things can be said G
0 any human being. Not only good TEN
| per, UuG llGGlo IHOTo 0dTuOSGueSS
aim, little more delicacy of feeling
and greater warmth of affection distir
y guished her from her sisters. Aun
Dorothy took her home to her larg
+ heart and believed in her, and Laur
d was, half-unconsciously, already tn
a better from this sojourning of their aur
t among them. She came into the roor
o soon after her sisters departure, an
s was asked the same questions given be
+ fore.
L 'It was an old Mr.. Picardy, wh
lives few miles off, and had not bee
:, in the town for ages. He has driven i
y an open carriage up Friar's hill
''Then he must return this wayP
10 said Aunt Dorothy.
l, 'Yes, suppose So"
is Humming a tune, Laura went o
rummaging distant table-drawer fo
q something that she wanted-things q
IS mislay themselves in thoroughly vi
% tidy house.
Laura" said her aunt, ''come her
a my dear. 1 used to know this Mr.. P
II cary, formerly, and should much like t
e see him passing back. Do you thinl
without saying any thing to any on
you could manage to wheel me in m
y - chair into the drawing-room?"
= 1t was on the tip of Laura's tongue
raise objections. Aunt Dorothy kel
entirely in her own rooms, and it woul
be quite an innovation to establish hi
in the drawing-room. But she ju
locked at her sunts face and saw thsl