The Irish standard., 1888-02-04
THE IRISH sTANDARD: SATURDAY. FEBRUARY a 1889
did not want. me and l hid to keep out OF

y r
did not want me and l hid to keep out OF
ohe;I stght.''
eyes, yes" he said, thouglltfully, and
then without any seeming questions he
drew from me the whole story Of my adop-
ton by Mrs Clayton, my treatment since
my arrival there, and my difficulty with lrv.
ing Barrett that afternoon.
The young man seemed puzzled.
"You are sure you are no relation to Mrs.
Clayton he said, after a few moments
thought.
.ssNone that know Of sir.'' replied,
sscertainly, if was she would not treat me
So"
Mr.. Dudley smiled Perhaps not,'' he
said, sBut" he added, starting suddenly,
Il am going away tomorrow, Dorcas II had
already told him my na,ne), and shall not be
back for years. ! am going abroad to finish
my education. may be gone three, four or
even Ave years. am sorry 1 am going SO
soon for your sake. l would see if / could
not unrayel this mystery, for mystery it
surely is. But, as said before, am going
and have not time now. But now listen to
me, Dorrie: Be good girl; never mind the
sneers and giloes of the family, but attend
to your books. You have a kind teacher,
sou say; that is good. Make as many friends
as you can and :s few enemies Don't run
away, as dare say you are thinking of, bus
stay here. Let me find you here when re-
turn. Will YOU do as wish, little one?''
"I will never do any thing you would not
like, Mr.. Dudley,:'I answered. simply, and
fo,, years l kept that promise.
''That is right he answered, gladly.
'tNow we will go to the house,.
! lie arose and took my hand and 1 trudged
along by his side, feeling, knew not why,
strange safe and glad When we reached
the house he paused:
! ''Gootl-night, Dorrie," he said. 'Remena
| Der what have told you. You were hiding
| tonight, little one. Don't do it again, Dor
cas-. BE open and frank and generous in
member what / have TOLD you and your
promise to me. I shall hold you to that
| promise, Dorcas,'' and he smiled. II am
| your irtcnd," he continued, "anH as q
/ pledge will give you this,n and he pressed
| into my hand something that glittereG
| brightly.
ssKeep this,' he said; ssdon't part with it
unless you can do no other way Now
good-hye." lie raised me in his arms and
kissed me; then, letting me go, disappeared
within doors.
| Hooked at the token he had given me. II
was bright golden dollar that was shining
OH my palm. ! saw and I felt rich indeed,
for had never owned but q single piece of
J money before, and that was a large copper
cert which little Paul at the home had given
me, and which now, wrapped in paper, re-
posed in 1. box. in my room where kept my
few scanty lzcepsakes. I laid this away
with them when / reached my room, and
then crept into bed, feeling quite cheerful
and happy Some one cared for ne some
one was my friend. This thought co1nforted
me more than can tell, and fell asleep to
dream Of Mr. Dudley and his magnificent
| present.
The next day, or morning rather, ! saw
the two gentlemen drive away, and knew
my one friend was going far from me, and
| could scarcely keep back the tears; butI
resolved to try, as Mr.. Dudley had told 11le
TO make the best Of things, and succeeded
very well, though my life was a hard one,
shut out us was from all conpanionship
with children Of my own age. Except my
schoolmates at school ] knew no one, ana
these was strictly forbidden to visit or in,
yite INSIDE the gate Of ''2]le Heights"
My only company, therefore, was the serv
ants of the household and though they
were always kind TO me, often felt was
in the way and considered q nuisance.
At such times { would wander away by
myself and sit for hours on the nlossy bank
Of the lake, or under the shade IT a tree
in some part Of the grounds where no ona
could see rue, and there read and re-reao
the few books I had picked up.
Once a year ylle family went away for
month or SO, and then, unseen, ( would steal
through the grand rooms, feasting my eyes
on the beauties of the costly furniture, pict
,urcs, carpets and statnary which the house
contained. often wondered If the little
-heiress Of Calelon (the dead one I meant)
had ever traversed these rooms, or he1
childish laughter or chatter ever echoed
through the house, or had she died ignorant
of all this grandeur that should have been
hers. I inquired Of Maggie about her, for
somehow l felt q strong interest and sym
pathy for the little girl vino had died when
she had so much to live for. But Maggie
knew nothing about her. She had died long
!before she came there, she said and she did
not even know her name, though she be-
.ieved it was Dolly, or some thing like it.
svThe housekeeper could tell she said:
but dis]iked to ask questions of. this grave
:Dersonage, and so remained in Ignorance
of what might nave been a great benefit
to me.
seldom went to church, and missed the
sermon we mad always been used to hear
each Sabbath and our quiet Sabbath-school
very much. The family went to church in
their grand carriage, and a Hveried coach
man drove their handsome horses for them.
The servants were permitted to attend once
in the day at any church they chose; but
few awaited themselves Of this privilege
preferring to gather in the kitchen and gos
sip. Maggie occasionally went to church. but
the church she attended was Romallisl one
and I did not understand a word Of what
was said; SO I begged to remain at home, 8
request she was only too glad to grant.
Ioften wondered at my strange life, fai
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