The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1910-03-16
WHOLE NO. 1850

Dornda laid the letter aside and
went about her household tasks with
strange pressure on her heart
The Maples-how bright and sun
shiny that sounded. She knew how
strong and vigorous the naples grew
in Gilbert's new dooryard-just like
Gilbert himself-protecting and shield
ing. letting the warmth of the sum
shine filter through upon her starved
existence
As the spring advanced Dorlnda
grew restless under the close confine-
ment of city life, and she thought
wistfuly of the budding countryside
where she had always lived
When she could no longer withstand
the call Dorinda begged holiday and
took late afternoon train for Little
River Dusk was falling when the
train drew Into the familiar station,
and. pulling her veil closely about her
face TINT she need not be recognized
by old acquaintance, Dorinda hurried
down the long yellow road toward the
Cedar House. II some one was living
there she might stay among the trees
for few minutes, inhaie their fra
GRANGE and listen to the throbblng call
of the whippoorwill back on the hill
Side After that she could catch the
evening train to town.
II the house was vacant she would
steal inside and spend one night among
the old familiar rooms, now empty
and untenanted save by memories.
Dorinda uttered stlfled sob as she
came near the house and saw the cedar
trees pointing black against the even
ing sky, She passed Gilbert Fanes
new house without noting the bright
lights In the windows. Home was be-
fore her, the only home she had ever
known.
Up the familiar path under the ce-
dars and then-nothing! Dorlnda star
ed with unbelieving eyes at the empty
hole In the ground vaguely outlined IN
the semidarkncss. Where was the Ce-
dar Housef What had become of her
home?
The burn In the rear was intact. She
could see the black vertical line of the
weather vane on the cupola, but the
house was gone, probably burned to
the ground She might never buy back
the home now.
She threw herself down on the dry
needles under the cedars and cried bit
terly. The trees seemed to bend pro-
tectlngly over her, and she chung to
gnarled trunk with passionate affec-
ton.
| \ strong hand lifted Dorinda TO her
feet and drew her from under the
shadow of the trees into an open space
flooded with the pale radiance of
rising moon
'Dorinda-Dorinda," Gilbert Fanes
voice was very tender as he looked
Into her tear wet face; you must
have known ! wanted you. have
been to the city to bring you home
and found you had gone an hour be-
fore have just got back again and
came here first | knew | would find
you here"
The color flooded Dorinda's pale
face as recollection returned, and she
shrank away from Gilbert's embrace.
You must not! Let me 60 away,
please! First tell me when the house
was burned did not known
Gilbert held her closer in spite of
protest. ''rhe house did not burn,
Dorinda. sweetheart Come with me.
and ! will show 1t to YOU
I Wondering, she went with him
across the yard and through the fence
into his own large domain. house
crowned a little eminence, larger
house than her old home, yet with
strangely familiar outlines. Soft turf
starred with dandelons was under
foot. and little breeze stirred the
thick leaved naples. Every window
sent forth welcoming light.
There Is your home" said Gilbert
Fame.
at is YOURS faltered Dorinda
Where Is the Cedar Housei"
1T is here have bought the old
place and moved the house up here
and added II wing on either side. We
viii need more room some day. All
your furniture Is In the house. dear.
and today went to the city determin-
ed to marry you and bring you homo
tonight. This Is home for us both
to me, 1t is nothing without you, Do
rInda WIN you stay? | will send
for the minister" He paused and
took Dorlndn's answer from her trem-
ulous lips
As they moved toward the lighted
house Dornda looked back toward
the dark ccdars that had always
marked her home. II am glad you
did not cut them down. Gilbert" she
said softly
81 shall rever do that" the man re-
piled gravcly when tree has stood
for sixty years and sheltered score
Of human lives from cold and heat,
who am | to lay it low from pure
wantonness or caprice? | am ashamed
that ever considered doing so. The
cedar grove shall always stand there.
Dorlnda. tc mark your old home. The
birds will haunt the branches as they
ever did, and you shall so there and
sill whenever you wish. The hole Is
being Gllpd up. and will make sum-
mcr hotise for you-a veritable Cedar
House i:ut here. among the naples,
In the sunshine you will live, Dorinda.
AMI crow strong aud sweet ana beau
tifu and forget the gloom OF the house
under The trees"
Gilbert paused and looked up at the
thick folls.e Of the naples. 81 planted
those naples when | was boy, Do
rinda and I've been trying to live up
10 them al these years. Their noble
proportions make me feel very small
ana mean
Then as they reached the house that
was to be their home Dorinda spoke
softly. ~ have always likened you to
a tree. Gilbert"
"rhank you. sweetheart" be said.