She  was  at  length  roused  by  her  uncle's  affec-
tionate kindness,  and  retired  to  her  chamber,  where
a  passionate  burst  of  tears  relieved  her.  Youn^.
inexperienced,  and  perfectly  ignorant  of  the
world's  ways,    Dora   Hay   might  have  been  trul)

called  the  child  of  nature:  she  had  lost  her  mothei
at  the  moment  Bhe  entered  into  existence,  and  her
uncle  adopted  the  friendless  infant  (her  father  had
died  some  months  before),  and  poured  on  it  the
affections  ^(  a  heart  that  yearned  tor  an  object  on
whom  it  could  bestow  especial  low.  Dora  cer-
tainly deserved  all  he  could  give,  for  never  was
child   more   devotedU   attached   to   parent   than   she

was  to  her  ancle;  when  he  was  at  home,  she  fol-
lowed his  footsteps,  listened  to  his  words,  and
treasured  up  his  instruction  with  the  greatesl
eagerness  and  attention  ;  and,  when  absent,  she
thought  almost  only  of  what  she  could  do  to  pro-
mote his  happiness  on  his  return.     He  was  indeed

her    sole    instructor,   and,   as    he   had    received    the

p  2


316  FATHER    MIKE.
advantages  of  a  more  polished  education  than  falls
to    the    lot   of    the    priesthood    generally,    having
resided  at  Paris  during  the  old  regime,   his  niece
had  the  full  benefit  of  all  his  advantages ; — although
it  must  be  confessed  he  was  not  very  competent
to  give  lessons  in  the  usual  female  acquirements.
