Democratic Sentinel, Volume 3, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 March 1879 — MY INHERITANCE. [ARTICLE]

MY INHERITANCE.

So Aunt Susan had left me heir to her little all. I had often been to the small house in the out-of-the-way country village, and it must have been that my visits had pleased her. At any rate, in the letter I now held, she wrote: Mt Dear Herbert: I haven't much to leave, aS my annuity dies with mo; but my house and furniture, such aa it is, I wish you to have. Of all my nephews, you have been the onlv one who naa seemed to care for me, and I wish my possessions were more valuable for your sake. You are at liberty to noil the house, if you wish, and all it contains, excepting one thing, and that is the picture of my grandmother, which was loft to me in her will. That I have always valued, and I Would like you to value it also, for my sake. This was part of the letter handed to me by the lawyer, when I camo to my aunt’s on receiving news of her death. I had entered into my inheritance, but, as Aunt Susan had said, there was nothing of much value. The house was old and rickety, and the furniture in the last stages of wear. Before the picture in the sitting-room I paused. It was, as I remembered it before, a fulllength portrait of a very handsome woman, with a dark, haughty beauty, dressed in a rich, old time costume of velvet and lace, and with diamonds around her white neck and wrists. Leaving things in old Margery’s charge, I went back to my office in the city. There I found a little note on my desk, inviting me the following week to “ Oragghead,” Mr. Roscoe’s countryseat, to attend a garden party. I must now describe the girl whom for a year I had loved to distraction (though as I felt) hopelessly. Adrienne Roscoe was a true type of an American girl; tall and slender, her figure possessed that dignified grace distinguishes our countrywomen, with a face fair, proud, delicate, sweet, intelligent—all these adjectives are none too many to do it j ustice. I had become acquainted with her father during one of my business trips, and bad afterward been favored with an introduction to his daughter. Mr. Roscoe was a self-made man, one to whom the “chink, chink, chink” of gold was sweeter than any sound besides, as one could easily see. I had in some way found favor in his eyes, and he had asked me to his house, apparently never fearing in the slightest that the poor, struggling lawyer could dare to look up to his incomparable daughter. Indeed, he had once told me in confidence, “Adrienne is a beauty, and I intend her to make a fine match.”

I took the day boat, and arrived at "Oragghead” late in the afternoon. The party was at its full height, and, after making myself presentable, I sauntered down to find my host and his daughter. Buch a cordial grasp of the hand I had seldom seen Mr. Roscoe bestow, and then, after conversing a few moments, he said, it seemed to me in a very significant tone, “Have you seen Adrienne yet ? ” Just then she came toward us. I had never shown by word or look my daring love; but, as she approached in an ethereal costume (which surely could have been fashioned by none but fairy fingers), I stood rooted to the spot, every emotion merged into one wild wish to then and there throw myself at her feet and declare my love. But, of course, all I did was to take the sweet hand so frankly extended, and utter a few words of greeting. Just then a jp-oup of gay girls flitted toward us, calling “Adrienne I ” and in their midst she was wafted away. My host and I wandered to a grove near by, and under the shadow of an old elm we seated ourselves. Mr. Roscoe had always been polite and courteous to me, but to-day I felt a difference in his manner, and by-and-by something he eaid sent the blood bounding at fever heat through my veins. Laying his hand (with the large solitaire on the little finger) confidentially on my arm, he said: “Herbert, I think a father’s eye cannot be mistaken. Have I not seen for a long time that you have entertained for my daughter a feeling warmer than mere friendship?” In surprise I looked into his face, and then with a sudden wild hope at my heart as I saw the benignant, kindly look with which he regarded me,' I told him all—how passionately I worshiped Adrienne, and that it was through fear Hiat, because of my poverty, I would be no fitting mate for her, I had not ventured to declare my feelings. As I spoke, a rather peculiar smile passed over his features, but it vanished quickly, and in the same kindly tone he replied :

“Mr. Lisle, you underrate yourself. What is money where the heart is concerned?” - Bo I was free to love, and, if possible, to win the “ queen-lady of my dreams.” Not then, while my pulses throbbed so wildly, could I trust myself to express my sentiments in fitting words. Evening came. Surely, such a fairy scene never existed on this prosaic globe before. A flood of golden mponlight paled and put to shame the myriad of colored lights, which made the spacious grounds as bright as day. The fair and young seemed fairer and younger in the magical radiance which inhaloed them. A fountain flung its jeweled spray high into the air; satiny roses and stately lilies lifted their lovely heads, and shining with a beauty far above all was the queen of the sete — Adrienne. It was long before my opportunity came; then, with faltering words, all my fine rhetorical sentences forgotten, I told my darling (what I felt she knew full well) that I loved her, and that, with her father's full consent, I asked for her dear hand. There were snowy flowers in her hair, and with the moon’s pale beams bathing ip an almost spiritual radiance the white robp which fell softly and clingingly about her, aqd disclosing the rapt glow io hey gweet, fond eyes, it ya-8 jjq won-

der that she seemed to me, not a mortal, but like unto the angels. Tha following day we parted, and Mr. Roscoe himself drove me to the station in his stylish dog-cart, drawn by a spirited team of bays. “Truly, how different he is,” I thought, “from what I have always judged him to be!*' “ Come again soon, Herbert,” Adrienne had whispered, as I pressed a kiss upon her lovely lips. My office seemed meaner and duller than ever before when I entered it, and, sitting down, I tried to realize what a change had come to my future within the last few hours. Then I settled down to business again. No hanger-on upon a rich father-in-law would I be, and, if I meant to have a home and a wife, I must work. The days passed laggingly along until the time came in which I intended tr visit “Cragghead” again. But tb*t morning the postman handed me e letter. A large, cream*tinted, monogramed envelope, with my nan>> —Herbert Lisle—in a bold hand. I opened and read. Then how long a sat there in the same position 1 know not; but when I came back to myself, and chanced to glance up into the dingy little glass hanging over my desk, I vaguely wondered if that pale, drawn face could be my own. “ I was deceived,” the letter ran, “ and my daughter was, too. We heard of an inheritance left to you by a deceased aunt, and have only just ascertained its amount It is out of the question that Adrienne should marry a poor man—” and so forth.

“I was deceived, and my daughter was, too.” Could it bo that Adrienne was mercenary? In sudden fury I cast the cruel letter from me. Then a man’s hard, bitter tears rose to my eyes, and, leaning my head on my desk, I fought them back. A gentle footfall came up the stairs, through the narrow hall, and paused at my door. Some one tapped. “ I am engaged,” I cried, in a voice I tried in vaiu to render calm; but the door opened, and there, enveloped in a dark mantle, with a veil covering her face, was a slight figure. It was Adrienne! She flung back her veil and sprung to my side. “ Herbert, my love, I have come to see you. What care I for riches? Make me your wife now, for then nothing can part us!” I clasped her convulsively to me; we kissed each other, and then, Holding her away, I looked into her tearful eyes. “ Adrienne,” I said, solemnly, “do you realize that you will leave a life of luxury to be a poor man’s wife?” “ I have made up my mind,” she answered, resolutely. “It is the only thing I can do. My father declares that in a week’s time he will expect me to marry one he had chosen for me before he formed such a mistaken idea of the extent of your inheritance.” We left the dingy little office, and in less than an hour’s time we were man and wife. Adrienne wrote to her father, telling him of what she had done, and pleading for forgiveness. The answer said: “ When I can visit Mrs. Lisle in a home as handsome as the one Adrienne Roscoe enjoyed, then, and not till then, will I forgive my undutiful daughter.” We were happy, my wife and I, in the little home which was my heritage, and after a while a visitant strayed from paradise to fill our hearts with her childish grace and beauty. Tho Ki tie one used to sit for hours before the portrait of my ancestress. The dark, haughty face seemed to fascinate her. One day, as I sat quietly with Adrienne by my side, on the piazza, a sudden crash brought us both to our feet. Then came a child’s cry of distress. We both ran to the sitting-room, whence the sounds had proceeded. There on the floor lay little Addie, almost concealed by the great picture, which had fallen fastenings. After Addie had been picked up and consoled, I turned my attention to the mischief which had been done. As I raised the heavy picture, the broken frame fell apart, and a long, narrow, oblong package dropped at my feet, Adrienne stood with wondering eyes as, after removing the wrappings, a leather case was disclosed.

“ What a strange hiding-place! and what can it be? ” she exclaimed. It was opened, and there before our dazzled eyes flashed a necklace of diamonds. Three rows of large brilliants, each having one magnificent gem for its central ornament; and a pair of oldfashioned bracelets, studded with the same priceless stones. I could not estimate the value of this discovery, although I knew it must be immense. In the case was a paper, and on it was written: My wedding jewels. Susan Dinscomb. And, as I read, I remembered hearing of the great fear of robbery, amounting almost to a mania upon the subject, which my ancestor had always labored under, aud of the strange places from which the family silver and other articles of value were unearthed after her sudden death. So Adrienne and I found ourselves rich people. The jewels realized far more than I had imagined they would; and, by buying more ground, on the spot of the old house I built such a home as Adrienne was fitted to adorn. Then came a telegram to my wife, telling of a fall her father had received, and that his life was in danger. We found him sadly changed from his former self, and when, in a feeble voice, he called “Adrienne! ” and held out his weak arms to my wife, all my anger vanished.

We did not tell him of the difference in our fortunes, but, after he had sufficiently recovered, we brought him by slow stages to our home, which Adrienne had named “Ingleside.” Then he was told the wonderful story of the treasure-trove we had found through little Addie’s desire and attempt to kiss “the pitty lady.” The old man held out his hand to me. “Herbert, I am almost sorry for this. I had thought to prove my changed feelings by sharing with you the wealth, which has only been a burden to me since, in my pride, I refused to listen to my daughter’s request for forgiveness.” “Say no more, sir; ” I replied. “Let bygones be bygones—but for you I would never have had my wife, my dear Adrienne—” Nor ’ittle Addie, papa,” cried a sweet, small voice, whose owner had come unnoticed to my side, and overheard my words. Looking around me, I sometimes sigh as the memory of old Aunt Susan comes back to me; of how she pinched and struggled to live within her sm all means and keep her little home, while all the time the legacy which had been loft her by her grandmother, and which-would have made her beyond want, wus, all unknown to her, within her very reach.

The hind-hearted publisher of the Little Rock (Ark.) Gazette prinked this announcement one day last week: “ As our printers wished to join in the Mardi-Gras festivities yesterday, and requested that but little original matter be given to set in type, we prepared no editorial for this morning’s issue of the paper.” Employes of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Company have been notified that drunkenness and frequenting of liquor saloons will be considered sufficient pause for immediate discharge,