Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1890-06-20

one mad hardly time to say Good morn
ing" before he began: 81 have just had
letter saying my mother is very sick.
must go home Cousin Nathaniel is going
to drive me to Dayton, and l am going
right on. He is out here waiting. But
couldn't 60 without seeing you. May
write to you, Dorothy?" Dorothy very
softly and blushingly told him how sorry
she was that his mother was sick, and that
he might write to her if he wanted to.
Then, with an earnest, lingering look and
gentle pressure of the hand, he was gone,
leaving Dorothy in a very bewildered state
of mind.
She stayed in the house for several days,
and then she began to go to the postoffice.
At first she asked the good old postmaster
if there was any mail, demurely with
happy, conscious little blush. Then, as
the days went on, and no letter came, she
would ask with an anxious, nervous man
ner. Poor little Dorothyl Although she
was faithful in her visits to the postoffice,
she received no letter, and after while all
the pink went out of her face and it grew
pale and had pathetic expression. She
always cherished faint hope that she
should hear from Robert and although
one of the most well to do young men of
Framleigh was urgent in his proposals of
marriage, and the squire would gladly
have welcomed him as son-in-law, she
told them it could never be.
It was a bright June morning Miss
Dorothy, now nice old lady of 60, was
picking roses off the large old cinnamon
rose bush at her back door. Although her
face was not so youthful looking as it was
that afternoon when she gathered May
flowers with Robert Deane forty years be-
fore, yet it was still very attractive, with
its clear, kind eyes, its sweet mouth and
just a trace of the roses that used to bloom
in her cheeks. Perhaps it was partly her
kindly face that made all the children of
Framleigh love Miss Dorothy-Aunt Do
rothy, as they called her-and no real aunt
ever had more regard and love than she
did. Her life was not an unhappy, lonely
one, for it was so full of kindness and
blessing to others that she was happy and
content.
A few years after Robert Deane had gone
from Framleigh she had heard that he had
married rich Boston girl. Only about
year after she had read of his death. While
practicing at the hospital he had taken
some contagious disease. That was all she
huCW otOOuU ulIl fd1UuOuSA dU iIlSU ACI
heart had been bitter toward Robert, yet,
as time went on, her feelings had softened,
and now she thought of him in a fond,
tender way as one she had loved.
This morning, as she was picking the
roses, little Tommy Chaplin, one of her
most devoted cavaliers, came out of the
back door and said, IT left letter on the
table in the sitting room for you, Aunt
Dorothy"
''Thank you, Tommy. Don't you think
YOUR mother would like these rosess
They're about the last there'll be, guess,
and if you'll come in I'll give you one Of
my ginger cookies"
So Tommy followed Miss Dorothy in,
and she gave him a large round cooky out
of the stone jar which she always kept full
so that she might have something to give
the children when they came to her.
When he had gone, with large bunch of
roses in one hand and cooky done up in
brown paper in the other, Miss Dorothy
went into the sitting room and opened her
rather official looking letter. There were
letter and note inclosed in the envelope
She unfolded the note and read:
SALEM, June, 1SS-
Miss Dorothy Field:
In reftting the boxes of this postoffice it was
necessary to take down the high baseboards be-
hind the receiving box. There we found this old
letter directed to you On ascertaining that you
still live in Framleigh we at once forward it. Re-
spectfully yours. POSTMASTER.
There was another envelope, yellow with
age and with postmark of forty years be-
fore. Miss Dorothy opened it with trem-
| bling fingers and read:
SALEM, June, 1874
MY DEAR DoRorHy-I have thought about you
| great deal since I left Framleigh, and now that
my mother is better must write to you. could
| not bear to come away without telling you that
| loved you, although think you must know it. /
never supposed that could care for any one as l
| care for YOU Now, dear Dorothy, if you return
| my love at all, let me know, and will come at
once to Framleigh. If you do not and cannot
| care for me- do not pain yourself and me by say
ing so, but do not write at all Hopefully yours,
ROBERT DEANE.
| As poor Miss Dorothy read this mist
came over her eyes. This was the hardest
moment of her life, harder than those
weary weeks Of suspense As abe thought
of Roberts weary, restless waiting, of his
heartache and sorrow, and Of the sadness
which had come into her own life, 1t seemed
to her that very cruel fate had guided the
course of that letter.
But Miss Dorothy's trusting heart could
not be bitter long She believed that some
how all things must be best as they were,
and after few quiet hours spent alone,
she came out of her room with her usual
sunshiny manner. Then she went out into
the garden to pull some of her nice radishes
to send to unattractive, old Miss Dunn,
whom she pitied very much, for she firmly
believed that she had never had a lover
| Springfield Republican.