LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2342, 5 October 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE MIDLER’S GRAND-DAUGHTER. The summer afternoon waned at last ; the flaming sun declined toward the horizon, and a cool and soft breeze, Inexpressibly delightful after the heat of the day, b=-gau to blow. Since early dawn Lizzy Dupont had been tolling at her needle, but now she threw down her work, and leaving the old mill, stood on the rude plank that crossed the mill race, and looked eagerly over the fields •Oh ! where can Dossy be ?’ she cried. * That dreadful interest which must be got ready by Saturday, has made me forget her. 1 ought not to have listened to grandpa. I am sure something has liappened to her. She never was away so long before. I shall never forgive myself. What, what,’ she cried, suddenly clasping her hands, ‘if she should bo drowned ?’

Lizzie Dupont had not always been a resident at the old mill, dependent on her needle for support. She had once been, and that not long ago, the petted daughter Hof a merchant prince in New York. But her father had failed and died soon after of a broken heart; and Lizzie would have starved, if It had not oeen for her maternal grandfather. ‘Come to me.’ he had written, ‘lam old and poor ; bat we will chare our crusts together ; if you have grown up to look like your dear mother, you will be the apple of my eye. 1 So Lizzio, ignored by her father’s rich relations, had found refuge in this secluded spot. Refuge and peace, but hardly happiness. In the days of her prosperity, she had come acquainted with a young Englishman, the soa of a titled family, and had plighted her troth to him. Just before her father’s failure, Ross Devereaux had sailed for England intending, within six months, to return and claim his bride. But from that day to this, Lizzie had never heard a word about Mm.

At first she thought her letters had miscarried, and Jin the faith and trust of her young heart had continued writing. But, at last, and after discovering the heartlessness of her father’s relatives, she began to believe that even Ross might be selfish also ‘I am poor now, and he deserts me,’ she said. ‘ God help me I But it is, I suppose, the way of the world.' Lately a now trouble had come upon her. Her grandfather had been failing all winter, go that a man was hired to work the mill, and this had brought them into debt. Already there was a mortgage on the mill, for the grandfather had never been a prosperous man, and now the interest had fallen in arrears for nearly a twelvemonth. The holder of the mortgage was a cruel, avariciouajjman. Ha had often threatened to turn out the little family if his interest was not paid; and two weeks before he had served a written notice that, if the arrears were not forthcoming by the next Saturday, he would be as good as bis word. Every day since, Lizzie had risen by candlelight and worked till bedtime.

* If I can only get this embroidery done for Mrs Watson,’ she said, ‘by that dreadful day, I may raise part of the money at least, and perhaps then he will wait for the rest, ’

But this afternoon a new and greater trouble had some. Dossy, her little pet sister, had been miaaiog all day. The child often spent the mornings playing in the woods, bat invariably returned to the noontlrto meal. On this occasion, however, she did not make her appearance. Lizzie was alarmed, and would have gone to seek her ; but the grandfather took it more coolly. ’She has stopped at some of the neighbors,’ be said, ‘ she will be home for supper. Don’t fret, dear.’

Lizzie, thinking of the coming Saturday, had allowed herself to be persuaded that all was right, and had gone back to her work. Bnt as the afternoon wore on, and no Dossy came, she grew seriously alarmed. At last, throwing down her needle, she came out, as wo have seen.

‘Oh, Dossy, Dossy!’ she cried, when she had scrutinised the landscape vainly in every direction, ’ where are yon ? If God will only spare you, dear, I will never repine again at anything I’ But where was Dossy ? Was she really lost?

To explain thia we must go back to the afternoon before, and look at Dossy as she sat In the old-fasbioned garden, swaying to and fro in a grapevine swing, puzzling over the troubles of the family. She was watching a bob-o-link that sung in the heart of a lilac bush, and talking to herself the while.

’ What a nasty, ugly old man that landlord is, ’ she said ; ’ and he made poor Lizzy cry so the other day when ho was here He says he will drive us from our home. Why, then,’ with sudden consciousness, * we’ll have no place to live in, and I shall never hear yon sing, birdie; nor have my flowers, nor my kittens. Oh, me ! oh, me !’ She sobbed a little, then shook off her April tears, and then fell to thinking in earnest If they only had some money. What if she could get some ? She puckered her brow into a frown. Jnat then some market carts rolled by laden with produce, on their way to the neighboring town. On the front seat of one sat an old woman, with a basket of flowers on her knees. A sudden thought flashed on Doasy, and the puckered little brow cleared up. Why couldn’t she sell flowers ? Her garden was full of them, especially of pansies, such pansies as were not often seen.

She jumped from the awing so quickly that she landed headforemost in the grasses below. But, nothing daunted, she regained her feet, and began picking off the goldenhearted pansies and English daisies by handfulls. She would do it; yes, indeed, she would, and make ever so much money, and they wouldn’t have to leave the mill, and then sissie wouldn’t cry any more. She fell to work, arranging her bouquets for the morrow, her eyes fairly dancing with delight. She put them together quite tastefully, and by the time the summer moon stood over the pines she had a low row set up amid the evergreens, that the dews might keep them fresh. In the morning, as soon as breakfast was over, she would set off.

Dear, Innocent Dossy! she had not the least doubt that she would succeed, and she slept but little that night in her excitement. Over and over she rose from her little bed and stole on tiptoe to the window to look down on her treasures.

The morrow dawned cloudlessly. Breakfast over, Dossy ran away down the garden, crammed her posies into Lizzie’s market basket, and taking it on her chubby arm, trudged away, fortunately unnoticed. On she sped, past the long, long lines of fences, and down into the very heart of the town. Her cheeks were crimson, her breath came In gasps, she almost stumbled from fatigue ; but at last she reached the market place, and stopped in a little corner, where the shadows fell cool, and where an old blind woman was selling laces. Here, feeling a sense of safety and companionship, from the presence of the old blind creature, she sat down and began with deft bands to arrange her posies in front of her. What a picture she made, in her white frock, with its short puffed sleeves ; her eyes ablaze, her amber ringlets blown about by the morning breeze, framed, as it were by a border of yellow daisies. At the silvery call of her sweet, bird-like voice, piping, ‘ Who’ll buy my pansies?’one and another pedestrian look back, a few smiled and some stopped and purchased. Presently a farmer, who had just such a little one at home, bought one of her nosegays, and paid for it with a half dollar. Dossy was in raptures. Then another gentleman came along, this time a comparatively young one, but tall and dark, with a bronzed face.

‘Won’t you buy a bunch of pansies, sir, please?’ said little Dossy,

The stranger stopped and looked for the little piping voice. ‘Please, sir,’ said Dossy, holding up a posy, ‘ Only twenty-five cents. ’ The young man flashed a keen glance at Dossy, and drew near, smiling. *To be sura I will,’ he said, pleasantly, ‘if only for the sake of your bright eyes. Twenty five cents, you said, I think,’ and he drew out his purse. ‘Yes,’ said Dossy, apologetic oily, imagining he thought the price too high ; ‘you see I have to ask a good deal,’and she shook her curly head with a grave, important air, ‘lor Lizzy must have the money by Saturday, or we shall be turned out of our pretty homo.' As she finished, she tendered to her auditor the prettiest of her posies, which she had just selected for him out of her store. The stranger, all this time, had been looking curiously at her. The color went and came on his face, his lips trembled, and he •bowed other signs of emotlorj

‘ Tell me,’ he cried earnestly, *my dear, what is your name ?’ He drew close to Doasy as he spoke, and seemed to be looking in her face, as if for some halfTemnmbered, or half-fancied likeness.

1 Bossy,’ she answered ; ’ Dossy Dupont.’ His answer was to catch her in his arms, and kiss her again and again, his voice trembling with excitement, as he cried, * Doasy ! My little pet Doasy, don’t you know who I am ?’

But Doasy struggled from his embrace, smoothed her curls, and answered haughtily, * I asked you to buy my pansies, sir, and not to kiss me. ’

The stranger broke into a joyous Laugh. ‘ And I will buy them,’ he replied, ' every one of them. But don’t you really know me, Doasy 7 IJamJKoss Devereaux. Why, you have sat on my knee many a time,’ Dossy. at this, stared at him curiously, i hen she uttered a gleeful little about and sprang into his arms. *Oh ! I know,’ she cried. ‘ I remember you. Won’t Lizzy be glad 7 Won’t she stop crying now ?’ Ross jDovereJux’a swarthy cheek crimsoned. ‘ Take mo to your home,’ ho said, *to your sister. Is she here ?’ ‘ No,’ answered Dossy; 'we live at grandpa’s, at the old mill, out of town, yon know.’

• Let us go at once, then. No need to sell pansies any longer,’ cried Ross Devereaux, eagerly, setting the child on her feet. Lizzy Dupont stood, as we have said, gazing across the meadows, heart-broken about Dossy’s prolonged absence. Suddenly two figures appeared emerging from the woods beyond, in the direction of the town. She gave a great cry of joy, for one was certainly Dossy. But who was the other ? Who was the tall, handsome man who held Dossy by the hand ? Could it be—no, it was impossible—and yet— At this moment, while she was still uncertain ; while her heart leaped into her throat, and then stopped beating ; while she felt dizzy and about to fall, and had to clutch at the railing, Dossy ’a companion dropped the child’s hand, darted forward — for he had recognised Lizzy—and came hurrying over the meadow waving his hat, He reached the stile, was over in a bound, and the next instant was at Lizzy’s side. ‘ Thank God, I have fonnd you at last!’ he cried, olasplng her sinking form. Poor, timid darling I Did you think I had deserted you ?’ What Lizzy would have raplied, if anything, wo do not know ; but he gave her no chance. Hurriedly, as if life and death depended on It, he went on to tell his story. ‘ Not one of your letters ever came to hand,’ he said. • They were intercepted, as I discovered at last, I wouldn’t mention how, under other circumstances ; but you, af least, ought to know the whole truth The fact is, darling, that while my parents were eager to welcome you as a daughter, I had a cousin, an ambitions gir), who bad always lived with us ; and who, it seems, wished to marry me; not, of cjurae,’ he said, quickly, ‘ that she loved me, but merely to secure the title and position. Well, to make a long story short, she bribed the postmistress at the village to give her your letters, so that I never heard a word from you, or about yon, till, at last, in despair, I oame over, before T intended, to solve the mystery—’ * Oame over?’ said Lizzie, faintly and guiltily, conscious bow she had misjudged him.

‘To be sure, ’ repeated Rosa Devereaux, frankly. •Ah 1 little sceptic, you doubted me, did you P’ ‘ Indeed, indeed’—began Lizzy, But he stopped her with a kiss. “ Then it was,’ he wont on, ‘ that I heard for the first time of your father’s death. But no one could give me any information of your whereabouts. I did not know your relations in New York, but I found out their names, bat it was some time, and one was at Newport and another at Saratoga, and a third in Virginia Springs. Before I could do anything, came the news of my father’s sudden death, and a summons homo, for 1 am, you know, his heir as to both the title and estates. When I had been at Devereaux Hall for a week or so, the postmistress oanM up, trembling and penitent, for I was now Sir Boss, and she had discovered, by this time, that my consin was not to be Lady Devereaux. Then the vile plot was revealed. Darling, ever since I have been wild to discover you. I hurried up my business and left England at once. But for a long time I was foiled. Your city cousins, on whom 1 had relied, could not tell me where you had gone. All they know, and they told it with evident confusion, was that your mother’s father had sent for you, and that he lived in this State, and they thought in this part of it. So I have visited every square mile of thia and four other counties, and only lighted on Dossy by accident to-day I didn’t even know your grandfather’s name.’ There was much more to tell, details with which we will not tire the re-ider, eager questions and as eager replies. Dossy danced around, shouting in glee. If you ever visit England, and should ever go to the neighborhood of Devereaux Hall, yon will hear everybody talking of the beautiful Lady Devereaux, whom Sir Rosa brought home from America, Should you see her, you will recognise, as we did, in the gracious matron, the miller’s granddaughter.