Dora Deane | Page 7

which I listened, while the great drops of sweat rolled
down my face and moistened the pillow on which my head was resting.
"But why linger over those days of anguish, which made me an old
man before my time? I knew I could not stand by and see her wedded
to another--neither could I look upon her after she was another's wife;
so, one night, when the autumn days were come, I asked her to go with
me out beneath the locust trees, which skirted my father's yard. It was
there I had seen her for the first time, and it was there I would take my
final leave. Of the particulars of that interview I remember but little, for

I was terribly excited. We never met again, for ere the morrow's
daylight dawned, I had left my home forever--"
Then followed a few more words concerning Dora, with a request that
she should write to him, as he would thus be able to judge something of
her character; and there the letter ended.
For a time there was silence, which was broken at last by Eugenia,
whose active mind had already come to a decision. Dora would live
with them, of course--it was best that she should, and there was no
longer need for dismissing Bridget. The five hundred dollars obviated
that necessity, and it was theirs, too--theirs by the way of remuneration
for giving Dora a home--theirs to spend as they pleased. And she still
intended to have the furs, the pearls, and the silver forks, just the same
as though the money had been a special gift to her!
"Suppose Uncle Nat should happen to come home, and Dora should tell
him?" suggested Alice, who did not so readily fall in with her sister's
views.
"He'll never do that in the world," returned Eugenia. "And even if he
should, Dora will have nothing to tell, for she is not supposed to know
of the money. If we feed, clothe, and educate her, it is all we are
required to do."
"But would that be exactly just?" faintly interposed Mrs. Deane, whose
perceptions of right and wrong were not quite so blunted as those of her
daughter, who, in answer to her question, proceeded to advance many
good reasons why Dora, for a time at least, should be kept in ignorance
of the fact that her uncle supported her, and not her aunt.
"We can manage her better if she thinks she is dependent upon us. And
then, as she grows older, she will not be continually asking what has
become of the money, which, as I understand the matter, is really ours,
and not hers."
Still, Mrs. Deane was not quite convinced, but she knew how useless it
would be to argue the point; so she said nothing, except to ask how

Dora was to get there, as she could not come alone.
"I have it," answered Eugenia. "I have long wished to spend a few days
in New York, but that bane of my life, poverty, has always prevented.
Now, however, as old Uncle Nat has kindly furnished us with the
means, I propose that Alice and I start day after to- morrow, and return
on Saturday. That will give us ample time to see the lions and get the
city fashions."
"It will cost a great deal for yon both to stay at those large hotels," said
Mrs. Deane; and Eugenia replied--
"One hundred dollars will cover all the expense, and pay Dora's fare
besides. What is the use of money, if we can't use it? I shall get my furs,
and jewelry, and forks while I'm there, so I'd better take along three
hundred and fifty dollars, for fear of any accident. We are not obliged
to spend it all, of course;" she added, as she saw the look of dismay on
her mother's face. "And we can bring back whatever there is left."
For nineteen years Eugenia Deane had been suffered to have her way,
and her mother did not like to thwart her now, for her temper was
violent, and she dreaded an outbreak; so she merely sighed in reply,
and when, on Monday morning, Eugenia started for New York, her
purse contained the desired three hundred and fifty dollars, which, after
her arrival in the city, was spent as freely as if it really belonged to her,
and not to the orphan Dora, who was now staying with Mrs. Grannis, a
kind-hearted woman in the same block where her mother had died. The
furs were bought, the pearls examined, the forks priced, and then Alice
ventured to ask when they were going to find Dora.
"I shall leave that for the last thing," answered Eugenia. "She can't run
away, and nobody wants