The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-10-15
NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.
Blu MRS, OLIPHANT,
COPYRIGHTED, 1898, BY THE AUTHOR.
SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

his daughter. Dora. i've alone lOgetler IN a
little house in Bloomsbury. He is hard
working but not very successful clerk at the
British Museum. Dora makes the acQuatnt-
ance Of Mr. and Mrs Hesketh, dodgers at
the same house. and an intimacy springs up
between Msr. Hesketh and Dora The latter
discovers in one of her father secret draw
ers miniature OF a lady. young and inter
estlng looking. and she wonders whether III IS
that of her mother but has not the courage
TO ask her father.
CHAPTER i'll
There was one remarkable thing in
Dora Mannering's life which 1 have
omitted to mention, which is, that she
was in the habit of receiving periodically,
though at very uncertain intervals, out of
that vast but vague universe surrounding
England, which we call generally
''abroad, - a box. No one knew where it
came from. or who it came from at least,
no light was ever thrown to Dora upon
any possibilities of knowledge. 1t was
despatched now from one place now from
another, as if it was desired to heighten
the mystery, and not a name or a card,
or scrap of paper was ever found to
identify the sender,
This box contained always a store of
delights for the recipient, who, though
she was in a manner monarch of all she
surveyed, was without many of the more
familiar pleasures of childhood. 1t had
contained toys and pretty knick -knacks
of many quaint, foreign kinds when she
was quite a child; but as she grew older,
the mind of her unknown friend seemed
to follow her growth with the strangest
certainty of what would please these ad-
vancing youthful years.
Tho found "a ion of the hoy If that word
may be employed, was always a store of
the daintiest understandings delicately
made. which followed Dora's needs and
growth, growing longer as she grew tall
er; so that underneath her frOcks, which
were not always lovely, the texture, form
and color being chiefly decided by the
dressmaker, who had made for her as
long as she could remember, Dora was
clothed like princess and thus aCCus-
toned from her childhood to the most
delicate and dainty acceSSories-
linen, fine wool, silk stockings, handker-
chiefs good enough for any fine lady.
Her father had not, at first. liked to see
these fine things; had pushed them away
when she spread them out to show him
her treasures, and turned his back upon
her, bidding her carry off her trumpery
1t was so seldom, so very seldom, that
Mr.. Mannering had an objection to any
thing done by Dora, that this little eXhi-
feet but the interval between one arrival
and another was long enough to sweep
any such recollection out of the mind of
child, and as she grew older, more intel
ligent to note what he meant, and, above
all, more curious about everything that
happened, he had changed his tone. But
he had a look which Dora classified in her
own mind as 1.-The face father puts on
when my box comes"
This is a sort of thing which imprints
itself very clearly upon the mind of the
juvenile spectator and critic. Dora knew
it as well as she knew the clothes her
father wore or the unchanging habits of
his life, though she did not for long
time attempt to explain to herself what il
meant. 1t was a look Of intense self-re-
sJralnt, of a stOical expression. He sub
mitted to having the different contents of
the box exhibited to him without a smile
on his face or the least manifestation of
sympatny-he who sympathiged with
every sentiment which breathed across
his child's faCile spirit. He wound him
self up to submit to the ordeal, it seemed,
with the blank look of an unwilling
spectator, who has not word of admira-
ton for anything, and, indeed hates the
sight he cannot refuse to see.
"Who can send them, father? oh who
can send them? Who is it that remem-
bers me like this, and that | am growing,
and what | must want, and everything
! was only a child when the last one came
You must knOw-yOu must know father!
How could anyone know about me and
not know yOu-Or care for me-" Dora
cried with a little moisture springing to
eyes
Il have already told you don't know
anything about it." said Mr. Mannering
oh, with such shut-up face; closing the
shutters upon his eyes and drawing down
all the blinds, as Dora said.
al an a
must guess; YOU must imagine who it
could be. No one could know me- and
not know you. | am not a stranger that
you have nothing to do with You must
know who is likely to take so much
thought about your daughter Why, she
knows my little name. There is Dora
on my handkerchiefs.n
He turned away with a short laugh
"Vou seem to have found out great deal
for yourself. How do you know it is
'she' 1t might be some old friend of
mine who knew that my only child was
Dora-and perhaps that l was not a man
TO think Of girls wants.
1T may be an old friend of yours,
father II must be, for who would know
about me but friend of yOurs2 But how
could it be man? 1t couldn't be a man.
A man could never work Dora"
you little simpleton, He would 90 to
shop and order it to be worked. l dare
say it is Wallace, who is out in South
America
Such practical suggestion made Dora
pause; but it was not at all an agreeable
idea. MIR. Wallace, an old, selfish dried
up Then with a cry of triumph she
added: But they came long long be
fore he went TO South America. No-I
know one thing-that it is a lady. No
one but a lady could tell what girl
wants. You don't, father, though you
know me through and through and how
could any other man! But l suppose you
have had friends, ladies as well as meu2"
His closedup lips melted a little Not
many he said, then they shut up fast
again. 1t may be, he said, reluctantly,
with a face from which all feeling was
shut out, which looked like wood, "a
trlend-of your mothers"
"Oh, of m3mma's =" The girls counte-
nance lit up, she threw back her head
and her waving hair conveying to the
man who shrank from her look the i'm
preston as Of "a thing with wings. He
had been Of opinion that she had never
ought upon this subject. never CON
sldered the side Of life thus entirely shut
out from her experience. and had Won
dered even while rejoicing at her inseusi-
bultE. But when he saw the light on her
face Doc shrauk, drawing back into him
self. ooh. cried Dora, "a friend Of my
a.