I I m w & v a t y l w" v x x i i i l ti ' m a
VOL. Xtll.
NEW BLOOMFIEL,!), TUESDAY, JUNE 10, 1879.
NO. 24.
THE TIMES.
An Independent Family Newspaper!
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' IT MAY HAVE BEEN.
It may have been a fancy, or It may have been a
dream,
Or the fruit of Idle r.i using by a laughing, sun
light stream.
It may have been a picture In the misty long
ago, Or a strain of witching music sung by voices soft
and low.
It may have been the glory of a pre-exlstent morn,
Or a ray ot heavenly beauty, boru with me when
I was born i
Cut somewhere I have seen It I know neither
time nor place
I have seen the lovely Image of a strangely lovely
face,
Mysteriously beautiful and marvelously fair.
With Its light brown eyes resplendent and Its
wealth of light brown hair.
Not pale and cold and passionless, magnlllcently
grand:
Neither royally imperious, as born but to com
mand; But sweet and pure and lovely, with a modest
grace and nieln,
With a woman's deepest feelings and a girlish
hate of spleen.
A being mirrored In the face, that one would like
to love
With the highest, purest passion that a willing
mind could move.
The face Is ever with me, though I wander where
I will,
auu uie uruwu umr iiums aruunu me, ana cue
brown eyes haunt me still.
I never yet have found It, though I've searched
for many a year.
For the strangely sweet reality I know It's some
where near.
I feel It growing nearer, and I'm thinklng.by and
by.
That the face my fancy Images beneath my gaze
shall lie.
Not only then the Image, and not only then the
sign.
But the lovelier reality shall be forever mine.
A FAMILY SECRET.
" rvORA LYNTON, Dora Lynton-I
U think he loves you."
Although this little soliloquy showed
that the speaker had a good opinion of
herself, yet Diogenes himself must have
pardoned such very justifiable conceit,
and also confess that the unknown,
" he" had been sorely tempted to com
mit the crime of loving.
The pure sunshine was streaming In
through the open windows of Dora
Lyn ton's dressing-room, forming all
sorts of mosaio patterns on the colored
mattings that the whimsical little lady
chose to have instead of carpets, and
lighting up the pink and white hangings
that made the apartments a fitting bow
er chamber for the fairy-like figure seat
ed at the dressing-table.
As a rule, Dora was seldom troubled
with any superfluous energy, but that
afternoon she was more Idle than usual ;
her dinner toilette had been completed,
and her maid dismissed full an hour,and
still she sat in the attitude she had as
sumed when Myers had left the room,
her head resting on one hand, and her
eyes fixed, with something of an admir
ing glance, on the reflection of her fea
tures in the large looking-glass before
her.
At length her reverie was put to an
nd by the sound of the second dinner
bell, and rising from her seat, she re
peated the words :
" Dora Lynton, Dora Ly nton.I think
he loves you."
Dora tripped down stairs to take her
place at the head of the dinner-table,
where her father and Morley Osborne
the " he" of her soliloquy were already
seated. Both gentlemen looked up with
a smile as she entered, and Morley
sprang to her chair, which was already
placed at the correct angle, but Dora
knew as well as he did that be consider
ed it a privilege which a king might
envy.
Decidedly Cupid had led Morley Os
borne In his tolls ; and what was more,
every one at Lynton Hall, from Mr.
Lynton down to the under-kitchenmald
a damsel who was in the habit of
irreverently speaking of Motley as "Miss
Dora's young man" knew that it was
so, whilst he indulged iu the delusion
that it was a profound secret, scarcely ac
knowledged to himself. And all the
time Dora felt that he was her captive,
and was quite content that it should be
so ; but and herein she only exempli
fied the perversity of human nature
she was not content to " take the good
the gods provided" without question or
comment. She must needs analyze the
nectar In her cup of life.
She had lately taken a fancy to com
pare her life and Morley's (for in some
way they had become Inseparable) In her
day-dreams with those of the heroes and
heroines in her favorite novels, and iu
her estimation, they fell far short of the
mark ; it was was all so dreadfully com
monplace, she argued. There was not
an atom of romance in it. Morley loved
her ; of that she felt sure, and .
Well, she liked Morley In return. He
had no relations to please or displease in
the matter, and Mr. Lynton would be
only too glad to welcome him as a son-in-law
; indeed he had hinted at it sev
eral times ; so Dora, depending on her
second-hand experience, that the course
of true loves never does and never can
run smooth, arrived at the unpleasant
conclusion that in her case and Morley's
it was not true at all; an imaginary
grievance that, in the absence of any
real trouble, caused her continual an
noyance, from which sprang a vague
desire to put Morley, or herself, or both
(she was tolerably just on the subject) to
the test ; but how or when said test was
to be applied remained undecided.
Chance, however if, indeed there be
such a thing as chance came to her as
sistance. She had just finished a laugh
ing list of reasons why her father and
Morley should not spend more than five
minutes over their wine, when her in
tention of strolling about the grounds
was frustrated by the reported arrival of
a boy with the information that Mrs.
East was much worse and wanted to-see
Miss Dora. Her face clouded instantly,
though, without a moment's hesita
tion, she expressed her determination to
go down to the village.
" Why, my dear, it will be quite late
in the evening before you can come
back," said Mr. Lynton, iu atone of
mild remonstrance, which was the most
marked reproof he ever uttered where
his daughter was concerned.
" Now, papa, don't try to be disagree
able," returned Dora. " James shall go
with me. I dare say there'll be a moon
and if there isn't, James can bring a
lantern home. You ought to be very
glad, papa, because you and Morley can
have your game of chess In peace."
" Dora 1" said Morley.
"Well, whatever is the matter V" Bald
Dora. "Are you so afraid of being
beaten again V"
" Wbj', the matter is, I do not mean
to let you go down to the village by
yourself in the evening," he replied.
"Gracious me, Morley, don't look so
horrified," said Dora. " I Bald James
was going with me."
" Nonsense," Baid Morley ; " he's less
than nothing."
"Is he?" interrupted Mr. Lynton,
laughing ; " then I should be sorry to
have such a footman. I pay him ten
pounds a year more than the last man I
had, solely on the strength of his being
six feet two, and possessing such well
developed calves."
The declaration caused Morley to smile
and Dora to make a hurried exit from
the room.
It was a very pleasant walk to the vil
lage, and we are not certain that Dora
did not find it more so with Morley by
her side than she. would have doue with
the redoubtable James walking a few
paces behind her, but she was not all
inclined to confess that such was the
case, and forthwith proceeded to set her
companion at his ease by complaining
that he was walking " so slowly."
" I did I not think you fond of such
brisk exercise Dora," he replied, quick
lug his paoe. " By-the-by, what makes
you speak so crossly to me to-day K Have
I offended you iu any way ? Do you
know, I am almost inclined to be Jeal
ous when you treat me so cavallerly,and
yet you are ready at a moment's notice
to comply with the whims of a ser
vant." " Mrs. East Is more a friend than a ser
vant," said Dora, sharply. "Mamma
made quite a companion of her, and I
think the least I can do Is to go and see
her now and then when she is so very
ill."
" I wonder whether you would come
and see me sometimes If I were very ill,
Dora V" said Morley, rather irreverent
ly it seemed.
"I don't know, I'm sure," replied
Dora. " It's not very likely you would
care to have me."
"Dora!" said Morley.
" My name's not an interjection, Mor
ley," Interrupted Dora, " and I do wish
you would not speak iu that silly way,
Just as If you were a Banshee, or one of
those nasty things that come and call
people names when they are going to
die."
Morley could not help smiling at Dora's
far-fetched similes, and tried to find a
more congenial subject for conversa
tion, but without success. Dora was in
a contradictory mood, and would not
agree to anything. She did not believe
it was a nightingale singing in the wood
near them, and even if it were, did not
particularly admire it ; people made too
much fuss about the nightingale; and as
for the Bunset, it was an everyday aflalr
and she had seen plenty of finer ones.
Poor little Dora I she knew she was
cross and miserable ; she scarcely knew
why; and did not understand that she
was committing the folly which most
people are apt to mistake for philoso
phy, In going out of their own rose
strewn path to find the thistles which
they feel must be somewhere, as if it
were wrong to be happy, wrong to take
the good gifts which heaven has provid
ed. As if the thorns and brambles
would not come in their appointed time.
As length Dora and her companion
reached their destination, a pretty cot
tage, situated at the farther end of the
village. Space was of but little conse
quence at Nutbourne, so the smaller
houses were all built one story high.
This was no exception to the rule, and
was in no way different from many oth
er cottages in the village, except that Its
garden was more trimly kept, and the
cottage Itself more completely covered
with climbing roses and jasamlne.
Morley preferred waiting in the gar
den, was at liberty to smoke a cigar
and study a new phase in botany in the
shape of the herb bed, where he found
mental employment in wondering what
was the difference between pennyroyal
and peppermint, or horehound and sage,
and thinking that an impromptu couch
of wild thyme might be poetical, but
would most certainly not be pleasant.
The doctor was with the invalid when
Dora entered the cottage, so she had to
wait a few minutes in the sitting-room
until he made his appearance when he
spoke a few words in au under-tone to
the woman who acted as servant and
nurse to Mrs. East, bowed to Dora, and
told her the patient was anxious to see
her, coupling the information with the
injunction that she must not be excited ;
smiling acquiescence to which, the young
heiress entered the room he had just
left.
Something like a shade of pleasure
crossed the invalid's face as her glance
rested on the new comer. Mrs. EaBt
might or might not have been possessed
of claims to beauty in her earlier days.
Illness and suffering had done so much
towards altering her features that it was
difficult to judge; only a keen observer
would have seen that her eyes, though
dim and sunken, were of the Bame rare
blue which gave such a charm to the
bright young face beside her.
Dora sat talking for about half an hour
and then rose to depart. She had said
truly, Mrs. East had been much more
than a servant. Nominally the house
keeper at Lynton Hall, she had really
been its head.for Mrs. Lynton relied im
plicitly on the strong mind and good
common sense that was always hers at
command ; and, to do Mrs. East jus.
tice, she was not insensible to this kind
ness ; thus, the Interests of employed and
employer seemed the same. Mr. Lyn
ton, too, treated her with respect that
sometimes almost bordered upon defer
ence, whilst for Dora she exercised the
maternal care which Mrs. Lynton's del
icate health prevented her from mani
festing. .
Thus things had gone at the Hall un
til about five years before the period at
which our story commences, when its
gentle mistress had passed away from
earth. For four years after that, Mrs.
East kept her place In the Lynton
household. At the end of that time she
had a severe illness, and like many peo
ple who have enjoyed unbroken health
all their lives, she was completely pros
trated under it. From the first she felt
convinced that she would never recov
er ; but, strong-minded to the last, she
kept the knowledge to herself, only in
sisting that somo one should be Installed
In her place at the Hall, begging that she
herself might go and live in a vacant
cottage belonging to Mr. Lynton " for
a time," as Dora said, when she tearful
ly agreed to the change; and the woman,
looking into the sweet young face, had
not the heart to tell her that the parting
was forever that henceforth strangers
must fulfill the duties that had been her
pride and pleasure to perform, and that
In a few short months the old places
would know her no more.
As the weeks went by without any
change for the better, Dora began to
have some vague presentiment of what
the end might be ; but this evening her
hopes had risen tenfold, for Mrs. East
seemed less feeble than she had been for
many days, and Dora had not sufficient
experience to know that such a change
is often the precursor of death.
" I am glad to find you looking bet
ter," she said cheerfully, as she drew on
her gloves. "Do try and make haste to
get quite well. I shall come to Bee you
to-morrow or the next day. But I must
go now, or Morley will be tired waiting
for me."
' " To-morow t " the wistful eyes said,
as plainly as eyes could speak, that they
had looked on their last sunset , but
Dora did not understand their mute
language, and, with a bright smile and
nod, she turned to go, and had reached
the door, when she was startled by the
sharp cry, "Dora I "
"Tbatis the matter?" exclaimed
Dora, springing to the side of the bed,
where Mrs. East had raised herself to a
sitting position, her arms extended, and
an expression of severe pain on her
features.
" I cannot let you go like that, my
darling," was the reply. " Oh, heaven.
ly Father, forgive me if I have done
wrong ! but I cannot. All these weary
years I have watched oyer, and tended
you, and loved you, as few mothers love
their children, without daring to claim
a mother's privileges ; but it seems as if
I could not die without telling you
all."
" There, there," said Dora, in a Booth
lng tone, gently trying to force the
invalid back on the pillow, " I know
you have been very good to me, and I
love you very dearly ; but you must not
excite yourself, or they will not let me
come to see you again ; and what could
I do without my second mother, as
mamma used to call you V
" Dora, she was the dupe of a decep
tion, as you are," replied Mrs. East
" There is not a drop of her blood in
your veins. Her child was born dead,
I am your mother. Don't turn from
me," she continued, pitifully, for Dora
had Btarted back in amazement aud fear,
lest the speaker were delirious.
"You distress me, and will make
yourself worse," she said, at length
" Shall I call Mrs. Hunt ? "
" Not until you have heard my story,"
replied Mrs. East, evidently struggling
hard to mulntain her composure. "You
may think me delirious ; but I know I
am dying, and that I have very few
hours to live. With that knowledge,
I should not dare to tell anything but
the simple truth. I was Mrs. Lynton's
lady's maid before her marriage. About
a year after she left home, I also was
married. Some months after, my hus
band met with an accident, that result
ed in his death, and I was left unpro
vided for.
In my trouble, Mrs. Lynton sent for
roe, aud finding we should both become
mothers about the same time, it was
agreed that I should stay with her ; and
and if her child lived which, from L?r
state of health, seemed extremely im
probable that I should nurse is as
well as my own. At that time Mr. and
Mrs. Lynton were living In London,
but in a few weeks he urged her to come
down here ; and she, always ready to do
as he wished, consented. He said that
the place would be more quiet for her ;
but I think that even then he had a
deeper reason."
Here the speaker paused from fex-
haustion and asked for some water.
Dora gave her some cooling drink that
stood near, too painfully Interested in
the narration to urge upon the narrator
the expediency of silence, and after a
few moments Mrs. East continued,
' My only Bister had married the
Burgeon here, a clever but unscrupulous
man. He was with me when you
were born, Dora; and on the evening of
the same day he was called in hastily to
attend Mrs. Lynton. A child was born ;
but, as might have been expected, it
was dead, and for many days its mother
seemed scarcely more life-like. I never
could quite understand how it was ; but
my sister acted as nurse, and then I
learnt that if Mr. Lynton died childless
the estate would go to a branch of the
family for whom he had a particular dis
like. I gave you up to them my treasure,
my darling, over whom in secret many
and many time my heart has yearned
in a mother's tenderness."
" And did my mother did Mrs. Lyn
ton know this V asked Dora, convinced
against her will.
" No ; she was far too truthful to take
any part in such deception," replied
Mrs. East. " Now I can Bee the sin of
which I have been guilty; but tben,
believe me, Dora, I only hesitated for
fear of the suffering it would inflict on
myself.
I will not ask how you will act in this
matter ; you will choose the right, I
know. Mr. Lynton gave my sister and
her husband a large sum of money on
condition of their emigrating, which
they did ; but I have letters from them,
proving the truth of what I say. These
letters are in a small box on the table in
the sitting-room. They are my legacy
to you, Dora ; but do not take them un
til I am dead. Now go, and may God's
blessing always go with you, my darling
daughter!"
Like one in a dream, Dora left the
cottage and joined Morley, who was
waiting for her at the gate. The very
current of the girl's existence was
changed, and she scarcely seemed the
same thoughtless, wild creature who
but one hour before had despised the
nightingale and found fault with the
sunset ; for she said, almost humbly, " I
am sorry I have kept you waiting, but I
could not help it."
"Never mind," said he; "I would
wait twice the time without a murmur
for the pleasure of walking home with,
you."
Morley offered Dora his arm which she
declined ; for how could she, the daugh
ter of a lady's maid, whose education,
and even her name, had been obtained
under false pretences, claim acquain
tance with the well-born Morley Os
borne V The bitter lesson bad taught
her one thing the strength of her love
for him ; but the idea, which might
have occurred to some minds, that of
concealing from him the knowledge she
had so recently gained, never presented
itself to her. He might shrink from
her, might even reproach her harshly
for the wrong of which she was the in
nocent instrument. It would be very
hard to bear; but woman-like, she did
not think so much of that as of the
pain it would cause him.
Morley did not speak again until they
were some distance from the village, and
then he said, gently, " Is Mrs. East
much worse, Dora ?"
" Yes," she replied ; and in spite of all
her resolutions, Dora burst into an hys
terical fit of tears."
Morley felt himself somewhat in a
predicament. The place was lonely
enough, but some oik- might come by,
and be had no wish that he aud Miss
Lynton should form subject-matter for
village gossip; so he led her away from
the road into the shade of some trees,
and finding an impromptu seat at hand,
supported her with his arm until she
grew somewhat calmer, when she would
Lave gone away in a humilty that was
very much like pride.
" Stay w here you are, Dora," be said,
peremptorily. " I don't believe you
could stand alone ; and now tell me the
cause of all this."
' You will hate me, when you do
hear it," said Dora with something like
a moan.. Concluded in two weeks.