Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-10-02
y want me and hid to keep out Of


then without any seeming questions he
drew from me the whole stSry Of my adop-
ton by Mrs. ClGyt~ n, ny trc-,taient since
my arrival there, ami my G.flicaity with lrv-
ing Barrett that M .ocnJon.
The young M! seemed puzzled.
"YCu aGc ..i."c W: q. = :. lc.2iion To Mrs.
Clayton" he said, after few moments
thought.
"None that / know of, sir" replied,
certainly, if was she would not treat me
So"
Mr. Dudley smiled. perhaps not" he
said. 'EBut" he added, starting suddenly,
81 am going away tomorrow, Dorcas Il mad
already told him my namel, and shall not be
back for years. am going abroad to finish
my education. L may be gone three, four or
even five years. am sorry am going SO
soon for your sake. Iwould' see If could
not unravel this mystery, for mystery II
surely is But, as said before, i am going
and have not time now. But now listen to
me, Dorrie: Be good girl; never mind the
sneers and gibes of the family, but attend
to your books You have a kind teacher,
YOU say, that is good. Make as many friends
rs you can and as few enemies. Don't run
away, as dare say you are thinking of, but
stay here. Let me find you here when re-
turn. VIII you do as wish, little one?'
II will never do any thing you would not
like, Mr.. Dudley answered, simply, and
for years kept that promise.
'sThat is right" he answered, gladly.
SNOW we will go to the house."
He arose and took my hand and trudged
along by his side, feeling, knew not why,
strangely safe and glad. When we reached
the house he paused:
Goodnight, Dorric," he said. "Remem-
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
tic fhn hoe xx-u,- 81
member what l have told you and your
promise to me. l shall hold you to that
promise, Dorcas," and he smiled. Il am
your TREND" he continued, land as
pledge will give you this and he pressed
into my hand something that ghttered
brightly
sKeep this" he said; "don't part with it
unless YOU can do no other way. Now
goodbye" He raised me in his arms and
kissed me; then, letting me go, disappeared
within doors.
looked at the token he had given me- 1t
was bright golden dollar that was shining
ON my palm. / saw and l felt rich indeed,
for had never owned but a single piece of
money before, and that was a large copper
cent which little Paul at the home had given
me, and which nov, wrapped in paper, re-
posed in n box in ray room where kept my
few scanty l1ecpsalles. l laid this away
with them when l reached my room, and
then crept into bed, feeling quite cheerful
and happy. Some one cared for me-some
one was my friend. This thought comforted
me more than can tell, and 1cll 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; but
resolved to try, rs Mr.. Dudley had told me,
to make the best of things, and succeeded
very well, though my life was a hard one,
shut out as was from all conpanionship
with children of my own age. Except my
sChoolmates at school l knew no one, and
these l was strictly forbidden to visit or in
vite inside the gate of ''The 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 nuisance.
At such times l would wander away by
myself and sit for hours on the messy bank
of the lake. or under the shade of a tree
in some part of the grounds where no one
could sec me, and there read and re-read
the few books had picked up.
Once year the family went away for q
month or so, and then, unseen, l would stea
| through the grand rooms, fcasting my eyes
ON the beauties Of the costly furniture, pict
urcs, carpets and St&,Ga"y which the house
contained. 1 often wondered uif the little
| heiress of Caleton (the dead one mcant)
had ever traversed these rooms, or hel
childish laughter or chatter ever echoed
| through the house, or had she died ignorant
of all this grandeur that should have beer
hers. inquired of Maggie about her, fol
somehow felt a strong interest and sym
pathy for the little girl who had died wheI
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 die
not even know her name, though she be
lieved it was Dolly, or some thing like it,
'"The housekeeper could tell ye," she said
but dislil1ed to ask questions of this grav,
parsonage, and so remained in ignoranc,
of what might have been a great benef
to me.
seldom went to church, and missed tn
sermon we had always been used to heal
each Sabbath and our quiet Sabbath-schoo
very much. The family went to church il
their grand carriage, and a liveried coach
Tran drove their handsome horses for them
The servants were permitted to attend ono
in the day at any church they chose; bu
few awaited themselves of this privilege
preferringt to gather in the kitchen and gos
sip. Maggie occasionally went to church, bu
the church she attended was a Romanish on
and / did not understand a word of wha
was said; so begged TO remain at home,
request she was only too glad to grant.
aFt OF efr 81