Year: 1859

ed me, and bowling low, passed out at the
open window, and went away. For the
next six weeks had an attentive listener
to my music, and a critic as well. for Mr..
Everett had highly cultivated taste. and
pointed out my faults as faithfully as ]
could wish.


1t was very pleasant to see him coming
up the garden path every morning--very
pleasant to the poor orphan to meet his
bright smile, and listen to his kiud words.


Mr.. Everett had never spoken of leaving
the city after our first meeting. wonder
ed often why he did not 60 and ioin his
aunt and cousins in their tour, but l was
glad he did not. Sometimes he would have
me go out in the garden with him, and
pace up and down the narrow path. He
said needed fresh air to bring the roses
back to my cheeks / was, indeed, sadly
white and thin when he first saw me but
from some cause which l did not care to
inquire into, the color freshened in my cheeks
and new lustre came to my eyes was
really growing pretty, l tho't without a
shade of vanity


At length the travellers returned and
heard from Mrs. Barnes that DR.. Everett
came at once to pay bis respects to them.
They had attached foreign count with q
long, high-sounding name to their prey, L
Julia the eldest of the family, was the chief
object of his attractions.


had also heard that Mrs. Etheridge
had selected her nephew. years ago, for
Maria, and although did not believe he
would make snch choice, still | thought
it best to discontinue my visits to the
school room. | began to fear that | had
allowed my fancy to get the better of my
reason and although knew he came eve
ry day, for week, and waited there for
me, l was firm in my resolution to meet
him no more.


One evening as sat in the solitude of
my own apartment, was not little sur
prised TO receive a message from Mrs. Ethe-
ridge, requesting me to come to the draw
ing room, to play for little dance


Without glance at the company, gil
ded to my seat and commenced the music
they wished for, but my cheek was burn
ing and my fingers trembled as they shot
over the white keys-the mirror that hung
over the piano showed me the dancers
they were gay, rich, happy l, sad, poor,
miserable +! | saw Ernest Everett gliding
through the graceful mazes of the Spanish
dance with Maria she looked radiantly
beautiful in her light robes, and listening
to every word he spoke with delighted at
tention, while Frs. Etheridge looked on
with matronly pride and satisfaction.


Ihnxv 81,
me but led on by an impulse l could not
resist, / played one of my own pieces, the
music of which, silenced even the giddy
trifers who stood in graceful groups about
the room. l saw the eyebrows of Mrs
Etheridge rise in ill-concealed disrleasure
and | saw with triumph, Ernest Everett
leave the seat he had taken beside Maria,
and draw near the piano, where he stood
spell-bound, until just as I finished Then
he whispered eagerly


Dora dear Dora, meet me once more in
the school-room, tomorrow. l must see
you'


| smiled, but made no answer, and while
the other guests were making there COM
ments on my performance, left the room,
with those earnest words still sounding in
my ear.


1t was not my intention to do as he re.
queSted, bnt when the morning came l
found myself opening the door, and seating
myself in my old place


Mrs. Etneridge, from her apartment just
below, heard my first touch of the keyes
and came up stairs, her usually passionless
face ruffled and frowning. She did not sit
down, but, as rose from my seat, said,
bitterly


Miss Dean, forbid the use of the pi:
ano to you for the future. have support
ed you for more than year, interfering
in no way with your plans, and now you
come into my parlor to make display Of
the talent you possess, for the pleasure Of
creating sensation. l have heard from
the servants something about your amusing
my nephew while we we're away from home
with your music bnt you may rest assur-
ed that your schemes will be of no avail
Ernest Everett is too wealthy too proud
to choose poor dependent for his Wife


Oh, how my brain reeled, as these cruel
words struck like singing Serpents upon it,
| don't know what l answered. only
know that l fled from the room, down the
stone steps into the garden, along the path,
almost blind with passion. I.had no thought
whittier was going-only to get away
from that cruel voice.


And, thus, in my anger, Ernest Everett
met me. He saw my quiVeriug lips, my
fiery eyes, and with one word stopped my
fight.


Dora =


That calm, grave voice, the penetrating
glance, the grasping of my cold hands in
his, where they were held so firmly that l
could not wrench them away, quieted my
passion. lost my fierce strength, and
trembling to every limb, burst into food
of tears. l knew that / was drawn to a
low arbor seat, my hands still held-and l
knew that my poor, aching head found rest
against some sure, kind Support-but not
one wosd was spoken, until quite worn out
and exhausted, / sobbed like timid child.
Then came the voice of my friend again, in
words which / cannot repeat, although every
one is written in my heart.


1t is enough to say that he loved me, and
asked to give me the protection l might
claim as his wife, and this was kind and no.
ble | felt it would be the comfort aud Joy