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Holmes, Mary Jane, 1825-1907

"Dora Deane"

At the village inn where I stopped for a moment
ere going to my father's house, I first heard that her hand was
plighted to another, and in my wild frenzy, I swore that my rival,
whoever it might be, should die!
"It was my youngest brother--he, who, on the sad night when our
mother died, had laid his baby head upon my bosom, and wept
himself to sleep--he whose infant steps I had guided, bearing him
often in my arms, lest he should 'dash his foot against a stone.'
And _his_ life I had sworn to take, for had he not come
between me and the only object I had ever loved? There was no one
stirring about the house, for it was night, and the family had
retired. But the door was unfastened, and I knew the way upstairs.
I found him, as I had expected, in our old room, and all alone;
for Richard was away. Had he been there, it should make no
difference, I said, but he was absent, and John was calmly
sleeping with his face upturned to the soft moonlight which came
in through the open window. I had not seen him for two long years,
and now there was about him a look so much like that of my dead
mother when she lay in her coffin bed, that the demon in my heart
was softened, and I seemed to hear her dying words again, 'I can
trust you, Nathaniel; and to your protection, as to a second
mother, I commit my little boy.


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