Dora Deane | Page 4

right source, and
hastened to ask numberless questions about Dora--"How old was she?
Did he think her pretty, and hadn't she better go to the funeral the next
day and bring her home for a waiting-maid?-- she wanted one sadly,
and from the description, the orphan girl would just suit."
"No, Ella," answered her lover; "the child is going to live in the country
with some relatives, and will be much better off there."
"The country," repeated Ella. "I would rather freeze in New York than
to live in the dismal country."
Again the shadow came over the gentleman's brow, as he said, "Do you
indeed object so much to a home in the country?"
Ella knew just what he wanted her to say; so she answered, "Oh, no, I
can be happy anywhere with you, but do please let me spend just one
winter in the city after---"
Here she paused, while the bright blushes broke over her childish face.
She could not say, even to him, "after we are married," so he said it for
her, drawing her closer to his side, and forgetting Dora Deane, as he
painted the joyous future when Ella would be all his own. Eleven
o'clock sounded from more than one high tower, and at each stroke
poor Dora Deane moaned in anguish, thinking to herself, "Last night at
this time she was here." Eleven o'clock, said Ella Grey's diamond set
watch, and pushing back her wavy hair, the young man kissed her rosy

cheek, and bade her a fond good-night. As he reached the door, she
called him back, while she asked him the name of the little girl who
had so excited his sympathy.
"I do not know," he answered. "Strange that I forgot to inquire. But no
matter. We shall never meet again;" and feeling sure that what he said
was true he walked away.
* * * * *

CHAPTER III.
DORA'S RELATIVES.
There hundred miles to the westward, and the storm, which, on New
Year's eve, swept so furiously over all parts of the State, was
perceptible only in the dull, gray clouds which obscured the wintry sky,
shutting out the glimmering starlight, and apparently making still
brighter the many cheerful lights which shone forth from the handsome
dwellings in the village of Dunwood. Still the night was intensely cold,
and, as Mrs. Sarah Deane, in accordance with her daughter Eugenia's
request, added a fresh bit of coal to the already well-filled stove, she
sighed involuntarily, wishing the weather would abate, for the winter's
store of fuel was already half gone, and the contents of her purse were
far too scanty to meet the necessity of her household, and at the same
time minister to the wants of her extravagant daughters.
"But I can economize in one way," she said, half aloud, and crossing
the room she turned down the astral lamp which was burning brightly
upon the table.
"Don't, pray mother, make it darker than a dungeon!" petulantly
exclaimed Eugenia, herself turning back the lamp. "I do like to have
rooms light enough to see one's self;" and glancing complacently at the
reflection of her handsome face, in the mirror opposite, she resumed
her former lounging attitude upon the sofa.

Mrs. Deane sighed again, but she had long since ceased to oppose the
imperious Eugenia, who was to all intents and purposes the mistress of
the house, and who oftentimes led her mother and weaker-minded sister
into the commission of acts from which they would otherwise have
shrunk. Possessed of a large share of romance, Eugenia had given to
their place the name of "Locust Grove;" and as Mrs. Deane managed to
keep up a kind of outside show by practising the most pinching
economy in everything pertaining to the actual comfort of her family,
they were looked upon as being quite wealthy and aristocratic by those
who saw nothing of their inner life--who knew nothing of the many
shifts and turns in the kitchen to save money for the decoration of the
parlors, or of the frequent meager meals eaten from the pantry shelf, in
order to make amends for the numerous dinner and evening parties
which Eugenia and Alice insisted upon giving, and which their frequent
visits to their friends rendered necessary. Extensive servant-hire was of
course too expensive, and, as both Eugenia and Alice affected the
utmost contempt for anything like work, their mother toiled in the
kitchen from morning until night, assisted only by a young girl, whose
mother constantly threatened to take her away, unless her wages were
increased, a thing which seemed impossible.
It was just after this woman's weekly visit, and in the midst of
preparations for a large dinner party, that Mrs. Deane received her
sister's letter, to which there