JOYCE DORMER'S STORY.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 11, Issue 828, 19 February 1867, Page 4

JOYCE DORMER'S STORY.

Xf"Xx'i\'X (From 'Once A "Week,) >'';:. &ATER:iift the day Miss Carmichael ar- -.-''• rived£"^ of her till 'bed-time,; for Mr, Carmichaei immecli...^;atdy;afterv^a earned her off to his .•V-'stttdjjr.^^^VHe wished to hear much that >; 'he^ Here X Mr^-tJariiSibliaers face assumed a mbrer sombre expression than usual, relieved -by something supposed to be a faint smile, that attempted.to play round the dorflL-^s ..•pf'His/mpUtii','- _aiid was intended to convey to. the ; observer that melan. chojy and jplea^ure :r Wer'e mingled in the anticipated revelations/, but the smile, signally failing .in ! ks efforts to perform an unusual task, served only to elongate liirVlCarmichaers lips, and display a narro^ gleam of shining white teeth* TOst|verMr..Carmichael, wished to hearj, tever he might have to say, took '.-som_e /time, and when he returned ; from the^ponference there was a look of satisfaction upon his countenance that / was'^ynonieans premeditated, but was, as %c most casual beholder could at once'jWreeiyei the index to what was passing in his mind. Aunt Lotty glanced at him and be- . careless constrained than she generally was^n -.his /presence, "and with a cheerful air she knitted away as though the knitting had to be finished within a limited period,— her senses being pervaded jhy a misty impression that something good was going to. happen to every one. S£ the l evening wore away, and every one Retired to rest, and Joyce sat brushing her hair before the glass. There came a gentle tap at the door leading into .Miss Carmichael's bedroom, arid a voice said ,— 'IMay I como in ?" , "Yes,',': replied Joy ce. Tlie door opened, and Miss Carmichajel entered. . "o*hi" said she, looking round the roqin, ; ?• ; you* have but one easy-chair, and, "as I pant to have a long talk, I may as w6ll bring in one of mine." She darted back arid reappeared carj;yJE[gjn arinj?hair as large as herself.'fit" was a wonder to Joyce how so slight a creature could carry so great a burden ;'but Miss Carmichael was little and well-made, and it was apparently little i exertion to her. She was a slender creature, with large brOwn eyes, and dusky brown hair, and " a clear white complexion without a tinge of col our in it. A fairy -like being who seemed to float about and be here, there, and everywhere at the same moment. She seated herself in the arm-chair and gazed steadily arid scrutinisingly at Jdyce. down. your brush and attend to ■".m'e/'-saidf she, when she had finished her; survey. "What do you want, Miss Carmichiael?" '** Miss Carmichael !" she repeated, with a contemptuous curl of lip, " Miss Carmichael ! Nonsense, my name is Doris, call me sd if you please. What is yours ?"'.-. " Joyce Dormer." "j" Are'you my cousin, Joyce Dormer?" "No, I am Mrs. Cartnichael's niece." "ob, then," returned Miss Carmichael, •-" you have an advantage over . xae,XXyy i. '* do you mean ? ' ' "Mean ? why, that your aunt is in- -- finitely preferable to ray uncle. Have , you; not. found that out? How long have yi?ii" been h6re? Longer than I have, ait any rate, and I came to the conclusion in half a second." J f* Mr. 'Cantiichael is said to be an upright and conscientious man," answered Joyce, quoting from Aunt Lotty's commendations. J '* Said-to-be's don't generally amount to,mu.ch," responded Miss Carmichael • "besides which, I asked for your own opinion." .^•Suppose I don't choose to)giveit?" 7[ "^That's all I want," said she ; " we' shall get. ori capitally • you're to be my instructress, I hear. If you had been an ally, oif my uncle. I should not have paid the slightest attention to you ; as it is, I see that our views coincide withregarjd.to „hin_j arid therefore I am led to conclude that they may agree in other matters^' I've a natural inclination for learning, but there's not been much thrown; in my way, and I should be too old- to learn . from anyone else ; but I like your looks, and, though you can't be so very much older than myself, I don't mind following your directions." J" I am twenty-one," said Joyce. ii'VOf; age," said Miss Carmichael, musingly, j- "do you feel very old and very important;?, lam to come into a fortune/wjjen I am twenty-one, so my ; uncle. Jaas been telling me; but where jtif Jo,come fromis more than I can 7^%y&i-^y[iaihev.left nothing, and my ;;'. motiier and I have had hard work to get along." . r ,.jpyee looked, at Miss Carmichael in 'Sjirprise,; heir hands were white and de)lcate,,.as though she. had never used them fori work. , ; . Miss Carrnichaers eye followed in the dfrcptjon of Joyce -s glance. ! ; :; ',."[l;can make,beauti_ul lace," she said, j; land. spy.. mother could make it even could." her face with her hands , ; yand, t was. silent for some moments, rockX- ing backwards in her chair. Suddenly forth:— r, ... X : X]^^ :^^y^^^^ fortune — it's come y " V :sQj^Jfote> :'' -;Whiy, didn't itjcome sooner ? X'i^%ti^7B\^^y'-y^9^ do something for X;7^^j^S^_-.j^iP.^ i was time ? . ',; yii^'^Butivhe did not know where you v^ should he be t v^s^^&tie; telly you; that;?" asked the yX^ l 0u>& #ercoljr*; ''-did^ he tell you &y*&Ps^? ; -*?R.7<>u nothing of the V^^o^7^^f'^fi^ot}xeify.rote to him !|l^^^^^agW l wh% : 'w6--were. all but ■|ra^®W^'#"«> noticed, them m^^o^^f^^^;^'^ie^lyi -^and - i»^tt^ards;i-he was~ very^il,:!and;'i : -\- About &* ' go,

know that it did her much good ; at any rate she never was the same again, She had grown weak through not having food enough, though I did not know it; at the time, and she never recovered her strength, but drooped and faded until--—" but Doris bent down her head, and her sobs prevented her continuing her speech. " Joyce Dormer," she suddenly exclaimed, "would you not think a fortune a mockery if you were , in my place ? When I think how small a portion would have kept us from the misery we have suffered— when I think that — oh, Joyce ! it cannot give me back my mother. And yet. I believe that that letter had even more to do with her illness than our privations ; there must have been something dreadful in it, or it would not have shaken her so. I have it carefully sealed up.; and sometime I shall open it ; sometime, she said I might, and then you shall read it, and then we shall learn more of my Uncle Carmichael," Joyce was silent. Mr. Carmichael had practised deception even at the outset ; but she could scarcely understand how so shrewd a man should have so blundered. Had he not foreseen that she and Miss Carmichael were likely to compare notes? True, he might re-gt-rd his niece as having been too much of a child at the time of his correspondence with his sister to be capable of making any very important revelations ; indeed he evidently looked upon her as so much of a child even at the present time, that he would probably not give her credit for understanding much of her mother's affairs seven years ago. Still, Mr. Carmichael had deceived her. Joyce felt ifc, and Miss Carmichael appeared to have strong misgivings of his integrity, from her next remark. "We must stand by one another, Joyce ; we shall perhaps need a friend in this house." "My Aunt Lotty," suggested Joyce. Miss Carmichael shook her head. " Aunt Lotty is too much afraid of Uncle Carmichael." "How do you know that ?" inquired Joyce, in some surprise. " Can I not see with my own eyes ? Poor people watch a good deal, Joyce ; their eyes get sharpened," said she, half smiling and half sighing. " Poverty improves some part of the mental machinery, but I am not learned enough to tell you which portion. But we will not go into that, or I shall keep you sitting up all night. I see that you are just on the eve of a disquisition that I am nofc quite up to yet, though I have thought more on such subjects than you would imagine. Good-night," and she rose, lifting the chair with the same ease tha r t had so much surprised Joyce before. "I shall see you again," answered Joyce, " for I sleep in the little bed in your room. Have you any objection ?" " None in the least, I suppose they thought I should be. frightened in such a large room. Is it haunted ?" she added, jestingly. " I thought— l heard ? " Well— what did you hear?" " That you were a little timid," said Joyce, hesitatingly, Miss Carmichael clapped her hands. "Joyce," said she, when she could speak without laughing, " you must not believe all you hear ; just take me for what you find me. lam not more afraid than you are." " But I am a little afraid sometimes," replied her companion. " I never am, so I can take care of you ; I am as bold as a lion, and have need to be, for I have come into the lion's den. My uncle has no fear either ; there is that much of a Carmichael about him, but not much else. See," said she, leaving the chair, and unfastening a locket thafc hung by a black velvet round her throat, "here is a likeness of my mother ; it was taken many years since by an artist who lived in the village where we were living ; not the one that I came from, but one where we were happier. We removed to the village where my mother died, on — on account of work," finished up Miss Carmichael, with a great sob. Joyce took the locket, and opening it, discovered the miniature of a fair woman, with the sweetest expression she had ever seen. Certainly it bore no resemblance to Mr. Carmichael : the eyes were blue, the hair very light ; neither could Joyce trace any likeness in it to Miss Carmichael. " I am not like my mother," observed Miss Carmichael, noting Joyce's look. " No." " We had no likeness of my father, and I was but a baby when he died, so 1 don't know if I am like him either," said Miss Carmichael, "my mother never spoke of him, and so I never heard what he was like." She took the locket, which Joyce was still examining. "It is a curious locket," said Joyce. " Yes, it was one of my mother's few remaining treasures, and Gabriel painted the portrait to put into it." " Gabriel ! Who was Gabriel ?" "The artist I was speaking of; his mother was a friend of my mother's ; she was very kind to us, but she is dead now." Again she turned towards her own room. "We are firm allies, Joyce," said she, looking back. "Yes, Miss Carmichael." " Doris," said she, somewhat impatiently ; " you cannot think how out of place Miss Carmichael sounds." " Doris, then." "Thank you," rejoined Doris, gravely ; " good night," and she closed the door. And then Joyce opened her diary and wrote until a late hour. Wheii she retired to her little bed, Miss Carmichael was asleep.