CHAPTER XXVIII.

Lake County Press, Issue 1065, 21 May 1903, Page 6

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WHEN THE SUORM HADPASMED. Acoupleof days after that last interview with her false lover, David blandford chanced to learn that Doris bonsdalo was absent from work through illness, business of some kind had taken him into the wcaviug-shed, and the sight of Daisy I,'ay's bonnie dark face had reminded him of her friend. In a moment he had glanced round to allow lih tycs tons! a momml delightedly on DoriH, and t-.i his uiua/.e had encountered a strange lace.

•• Where's your friend, Doria ?" he had whispered in Daisy's ear. " What's wrong ':' How lone has this other woman been on her looms Y" ■• Doris is poorly, Master David," the girl whispered lack. "She's been otl since Wednesday, she's very bad. too! Can't tell what's amiss with her. But I'm hoping she'll bo well enough again to start next week." It was Friday afternoon then, an hour or so after dinner, and half-aiihour later David had left the mills. Striding out at a good pace he passed through the town, and when he paused he was knocking at the door of a cottage in llamptonBtreet. Presently the door swung back and Mrs. Fletcher stood on the threshold, her-tout arms bared to the elbow, and a look of wonder on her comely face. " (iood afternoon, Master David," she cried. "An" was you look in'for somebod v now ?" " Good afternoon. Mrs. Fletcher, he answered i/lrusantly grave. ' 1 have just called to inqune about your friend and lodger, Miss Lonsdale. I only hear I half-au hour since that she is ill and oil work. May I hope to bear that it is nothing serious, and that she ie improving." '• It's riothin' serious. I think, sir, but the lass is right poorly, an' I can't say as Dorrie's mendin' much aythcr." " What does the doctor say r" " That's just it, Master David. She wouldn't let me bring a doctor at any price till this niornin'." " And now r"' he demanded, keeping down his irniatience with an eflort. " Well, now we're not much wiser, an' the wench seems no better nor no worse. Dr. Bradbury reckons the lass is low like; (.ays licrrie's some thin' on her mind; or it's the work in the shade; an' he tells her to take all scrts o' strengthenin' food —such as grapes, port wine, an' the Lord knows what—never thinkin' how poor folks are to get 'em." " Do you think she would care to see me for a few minutes, Mrs. Fletcher ?" " I don't think she would, sir. She told me that nobody was to see her—only Daisy Bay. That's her companion, you know." " Well, you can cay that 1 have called —if vou think (it. Give her my respects* please, and tell her that her place will be kept for her no matter how long she is away. Perhaps t may call again in a day or so. Good day, Mrs. Fletcher." " Good afternoon, Master David." He raised his hat in his quiet, gentlemanly way, smiled in his rare, grave manner, and walked quickly away. As for the buxom widow, she watched Divid till he turned the corner; then she closed the door and marched straight up the narrow, steep staircase, and with a look of vast importance on her face went to Doiis Lonsdale's room. " Guess. Dorrie, lass, who has just been to ax ever so many kind questions about you." "How can I guess, Mrs. Fletcher ?" waß the quiet iespon.se. " Someone I know . Perhaps Mr. Beaumont or his wife ?" " Naythcr on 'em. But you do kr.nw him weel, wench; an' its rigid Kind o' him to come here, jU3t like my or'nary poor body. "What do you thini>, Dorrie, when 1 say it was young Mesler Blandford himsel' ?" " Geoffrey Blandford!" fell in a hoarse whisper from the ailing girl's lips, and a momentary look of deep pain rested on her white face. " Not him!" the good dame cried. " it were Mester David; an' he " Then the big-hearted woman proceeded to narrate at great length all that had been spoken on her doorstep only a few minutes before. Presently Doris was left to herself again, and then she lay there staring at the white-washed ceiling, her thoughts dweilingon the two brothers. How kind and thoughtful David was; how hour ut and manly contrasted with his brother. She felt "almost sorry now thbit Mrs. Fletcher had sent him away without seeing her. But he would come again, and then she, might be strong enough to meet him. The girl's ailment was mental rather than physical. That night after leaving Geoffrey so dramatically ahe had hurried home iu a perfect whirlwind of confusion and horror, bred of the unspeakable deception she had discovered in the man Lo whom she had surrendered her heart, and reaching her humble lodgings she had at once gone to her room pleading head-a'che. Five or ten minutes after that the widow and her daughter were startled by hearing a thud on the floor above. The lass ran up the stairs, after shouting and receiving no response, and fouud Doris lying senseless near her bed. She had swooned away under the stress of the bitter (rouble miming riot in her brain; and when she came to herself again she was packed snugly between the sheets, and was being tended like a loved child who was sick. Mrs. Fletcher was on the point of sending for a doctor when Doris regained her senses. Sin; shuddered at the idea of calling in a medical man to minister to her mental trouble, but next morning was still too upset to make work desirable or possible; and po she had lain there, eating out her aoul in mute agony for a couple of days. Lying in her room, white-faced, a little haggard and quite apathetic, the lassie's rare face seemed more refined and spiritually beautiful than ever. At that moment she was bitterly pondering the irony of fate which nominated her own aflairs of the heart. She was trying to crush down in her aoul—obliterate from her thought"!, rvery vestige of love for Geoffrey Blandf >rd, and was torn with self accusing remorse to find that, although she hated him beyond words, she loved him blindly still. Once or twice iu the depth of her agony she had prayed to God to change her so that she might learn to worship the nobler brother and despise the ignoble one. Slowly the heavily-abod minutes drifted away, and wearying of her thoughts, and that never-ceasing internal conflict of afleet ion and hatred, Doris tried to dispel her distressing reflections by reading. She was turning the pages oi a dull book Daisy had brought her on the previous evening when again her landlady came shullliug into the chamber, and < n< e more that look of vast import shone on her good-natured luv. " What is it now, Nancy r" " There's a lot o' things just come. Deine two boiCH an' a big basket an the chap says they're u' for you. An' your name's on 'em a'too! What mil I to do, wench r"' "(Jive the man something lor his trouble, and bring them to me, Nancy." A few minutes later the widow hud lugged basket and boxca upstairs and Dorm, sitting up in bed, a little Hushed and bright-eyed now, wan watching Mrs. Fletcher open them, First she- loosed the cords fastening, the lid of a round hamper, and next moment she was placing on the bed great hunches of manylined Mowers, and low ejaculations of surprise and delight were welling from the girl's lipH. Then- were gical hunches of roses of various colours pink, deep red, while and yellow, buds and lull-blown II iWers, banked against sprays o( cool green ivy and sweet, fein bonds. There were big bouquets ol many other blossoms, anil all fresh and beautiful and delicious to the senses, an if just gathered in Home great conservatory. Doris buried her face amidst the roses, and drank deepof the rare perfumes they exhaled, touched the rarer buds with her soft lips, rubbed tin; velvety petals of the damask roses on her own satiny cheeks, laughed lowly, sweetly, with sparkling eyes, and handled the floral gems daintily a- a woman will. Then amidst a duster of tea-roses ahe spied a i alip of cardboard.