A LOVE ROMANCE.

Taranaki Daily News, 30 December 1916, Page 10

A LOVE ROMANCE.

"Princess Dorothy's" beautiful body had been dust these three centuries; but •her memory is still fragrant with the romance of the long-gone day when, with beating heart and sparkling eyes, she raced through the dark grounds of Haddon Hall to the strong arms of her lover, to be whisked away to the altar and a happiness such as even she had scarcely dared to dream of. In the years when Queen Elizabeth was fresh to her crown there were nn prettier maids in Derbyshire than Sir George Vernon's daughters, Margaret and Dorothy. _ Sir George was rightly proud of his lineage, for he could point t.o ancestors who were Counts and Barons in Normandy before ever William set foot on our shores; he was proud of his broad acres, for he was lord of thirty fat manors in Derbyshire alone; and he was proud of his power, for bo was an autocrat in his own country, with the right of life and death over his vassals, who always spoke of hmi as the "Kine of the Peak." THE LOVELY DOROTHY. But he was prouder far of his daughters, who were as much beloved through tin; countryside as their father was feared; for each had inherited a beauty at east as great as that of any of the Vernon women famed for a dozen or more generations for their loveliness—who had gone before them. Margaret, the elder sister, was very fair to look upon; but by common coii sent tile lovelier and more winsome of the two was Dorothy, as sweet a blossom as ever grew to flower in the stately, if somewhat grim environment of a feudal home. Haddon Hall, with its towers and battlements, its pannelled walls and oriel windows, its rich carvings and tapestry, had been, through the centuries, the nursery of many a lovely and winsome daughter of the house of Vernon; but never of one so lovely, so full of the joy of life as Sir George's younger daughter, to whom every year that passed over her dainty little head added some new grace or charm. Gambling in the, woods with her dogs, galloping on her pony, with streaming hair, eyes sparkling and soft round cheeks flushed with health; chatting gaily to tenants and villagers, or carrying sunshine into the sick-room of some poor cottager, "Princess Dorothy," as she was known far .and wide through the county, grew to young womanhood beloved of all. -That a maiden so sweet should have no lack of lovers was inevitable. Indeed, she had a retinue of them before she had closed her last school book; but Dorothy was 110 maid to be easily won. She loved her freedom better far than the gilded bondage of a wedding-ring; and, besides, the ''Prince Charming," for whom every pretty maid looks in secret, had not yet come. HER SISTER MARRIES. When he did arrive—well, she had the prerogative of her sex—the right to change her mind; and meanwhile she was perfectly happy with her dogs and her ponies, her many friends and the sweet joys, of youth and living. As for her sister. Margaret, she was less difficult to please, or possibly she was more fortunate in meeting her Prince Charming; for before she had long left the schoolroom wo find her standing at the altar of Bakewell Church with Thomas Stanev, second son of my Lord of Derby, for bridegroom, a. handsome young man, of birth as good as her own. It was probably the first sad day in Dorothy's young life when' she sa\V her Sister and playfellow leave Haddon on her journey, to her new home in the north; andl they were lonely days that followed. But tears never lingered in eyes that were attuned to laughter; and Dorothy, now "sweet seventeen," and in the first blcom of her girlish beauty, soon found plenty to fill her days with gladness until her Prince should come. But Sir George, having lost one daugh ter, became so fearful of losing both that he began to keep a very watchful eye on the "baby," who was now dearer to him than ever. Some day, he knew, she, too, must take wings; but he was anxious to delay the day as long as possible, and to see that the man who won her was worthy to be her husband and sonrin-law to' the "King of the Peak."

LOVE'S THORNY PATH. And as Dorothy was a litte madcap, much less said and more irresponsible than her sister, he thought it well to entrust her to the' cure of a middle-aged duenna, who could be relied on to keep her out of mischief. When and under what circumstances Dorothy met lira- Prinoo we do not know; but we know that before her sister had been many months a bride .'lie'had met him at last—in the guise of John Manners, the handsome soldierly, chivalrous son of the first Earl of Rutland, a lover as high-born aa herself, but as poor as he was blue-blooded, and thus no wooer on whom her aristocratic father would smile. None knew this better than Dorothy herself, as day after day she slipped away from her guardian to some stolen meeting with her lover. And when, as was inevitable, Sir George at last got news of these secret rendezvous, his anger was terrible.

He vowed that no beggarly wooer, though an Earl's son, would wed his daughter; and he not only forbade her to see him again, but took good care, by locking her in her room, that any further esxiapade should be impossible. But Dorothy had a spirit as proud and a will as strong l as her father's; and many a. night, when the, rest of the world was asleep, she would hold whispered converse with the man she loved through her chamber window. Or she would barricade her door, let herself down by a rope of knotted sheets, and speed a-way through the darkness to ,1 blissful meeting in the woods.

Tli'.R UOMANTI'C ELOPEMENT. \Yhei> to nil Dorothy's tears ami pleadings and cajoling her father still turned a deaf ear, the lovers- realised that tliev must take their fate into their own hands: and the plot that should crown their love with happiness was quickly arranged. One August evening Haddon Ilall \vn,B a scene of gaiety and revelry. In the great ballroom hundreds of "feet were gliding and tripping in galiado, voltn and pavane.

When midnight was drawing near ani the spirit of revelry was at its zenith, she stole stealthily past the dancers towards the doorway of the hall.

A moment's glance behind her at the nmze of dancers, to see. that she was unobserved then she was flying, like a frightened hare, across tho terrace and through the darkness, her heart beating wildly, her breath coining in gasps—-

aw ay through the terrojhaunted night, until she came to the -footbridge over the Dorwent and to thqjgtrong embracing arras of her lover, j A moment of ecstas* and then the waiting horses were molted, and Doro thy and her "young achinvar" were speeding away together.;; And while her father her relatives Mere vainly scouring country in starch of the they were standing together, as fewn broke, at the altar of a Leiccsterajlre church, taking the vows that inade;them one.