Elliott's house, had met
her frequently in his morning rambles, and the heart which for
forty-five years had withstood the charms of northern beauties and
southern belles, was won by the modest little country girl, and he
would make her his wife, would bear her to his luxurious home,
where her slightest wish should be his law. With a curious smile
upon her lip, Mrs. Elliott read this letter through, and then
without a word to Dora, carried it to her brother, watching him
while he read it, and smiling still more when she saw the flush
upon his brow, and the unnatural light in his eye.
"Have you talked with Dora?" he said, when he had finished
reading.
"No, I have not," answered his sister. "I thought I would leave
that to you, for in case she should ask my advice, my fear of
losing her might influence me too much."
"_Louise_" he exclaimed, leaning forward so that his hot
breath touched her cheek, "you surely do not believe that Dora
Deane cares aught for that old man. She is nothing but a child."
"She is seventeen next November," said Mrs.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190