Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 June 1894 — He Old Lady's Siory. [ARTICLE]

He Old Lady's Siory.

BY MARY KYLE DALLAS. “When I was a girl,” said the old lady—she was a very, very old lady, eighty-five or more,they said, “things were not as they are now, and the post office, here in America, was not managed as it is to-day. Getting a letter was a serious thing, and sending one more so. I’ve reason to know that. ‘ CtJd. lived in the country with my aunt and uncle-—not my real uncle, for he was my aunt’s second husband, and she only an aunt by marriage—but I had no other kin and was glad to have home folk. I had, beside, a cousin by courtesy. His name was Thomas, and that was about all I knew of him for years—he came in and went out without taking any notice of me. His father used to talk about him before me, finding fault with his idleness. Once I heard him say: “ ‘The boy has not the making of a man in him, Cynthia. You wait on him and spoil him, and one day you’ll regret it.’ “Then aunt asked uncle if he wished her to be hard on the only

son out of three. “‘Not hard,’ he answered; ‘only Tom ought to be taught that he will have to see to himself—we have nothing to leave him. If I should die before you, he ought to be able to support you—and he takes to nothing.’ “Tom, by thig time, was a young fellow of nineteen, and I was fifteen. Three years later he had no more idea of settling to any business than he had had before, and I had come into a fortune. It was not a large one, but it was enough to make me comfortable for -life, and I was glad to stop washing dishes and doing the ironing, and ask my aunt to make me a boarder, since I could pay her well. “She was pleased, and that day I left mj 7 little garret-room under the eaves, and had a large room on the second floor given me. “Besides paying my board, I hired a servant for the housework, and my aunt thought that very generous. Hitherto I had worn her made-over gowns. Now I sent for Miss Crabtree, the dressmaker, and had plenty of dresses made, giving Aunt Cynthia a rich black silk and a broche shawl. She made a great fuss over them, and I was not surprised that my cousin Tom should begin to be very pleasant to me, for the first time in my life. “I thought it was because he saw I had kind feelings and was grateful for what had been done for me when I was a little orphan. It was a new . thing to be made so much of as I was now, and I enjoyed it. Even when Cousin Tom began to make love to me I never guessed that it was be; cause I had money, as I know it was now. “ ‘Will you marry me, Cousin Belle?’ he said one day, and my answer was: ‘Tom, I feel as if I did not love you the right way, we are too much like brother and sister.’ “But he teased me and teased me, until I told him that he might ask me again at the end of the year. “ ‘But you must build no hope on that,’ I said, ‘for I think I shall feel just as I do now.’ “And now Aunt Cynthia began to praise her boy to me, and to, say how glad she should be if he had chosen some one she loved. “It might be that I would have yielded to this pressure, but that something shortly happened to turn the whole current of my life. It can be told in a few words. I met Ar-

thur Lorrimer at the house of a friend. He devoted himself, to me that evening, and he saw me home, and I understood from what he said that he was in love with me. Cousin Tom was furious that I had accepted other escort. We had a scene that very night. Tom was very rough and brutal. “ ‘You have no right to accept another man’s attentions,’ he said. ‘You are engaged to me.’ “Of course this was false, and I told my aunt what I had really said to him. She only cried, and told me that I had no feeling for her poor boy, who loved me so well. “I might have believed that he loved me, and felt myself guilty, but that a little later, coming down stairs to find my gloves, which I had dropped, and stepping softly, for I thought the whole house was asleep, I saw Aunt Cynthia and her son still sitting beside the grate. “ *1 don’t care a ran for the oirl

herseW,’ Tom was saying. ‘I know many a one I admire more, but I like her money, and it would slip into my pockets without any trouble. I hate work, And it seemed such a soft thing to get a rich wife.’ “ You shall have the child,’ said the mother. ‘I can keep that jackanapes away. Fine clothes and city ways have caught her fancy, that is all. Besides, how do you know the man means anything. “ ‘By his looks.’ said Tom, ‘I kept wondering what he saw in her pale little face to roll his eyes for. Why, I think she is very nearly plain.’ “ I went up stairs without my gloves, but my heart was very light. I could have no pity for a fortunehunter, and the words I had heard made me happy. “To cut a long story short, lest I bore you, it was not long before I was engaged to Mr. Lorrimer. My aunt had permitted his visits, and told me that she hoped I would not leave her until I was married. I knew that the money I contributed to the household was valuable, and agreed to stay. Tom I seldom saw nowadays; when I did, he was sulky. “I had known all along that my betrothed husband was going to Baltimore for a few months before our marriage, but when the time came, it was very hard to part, and when he was gone I was very sad and lonely. As I told you, in those days the mails were very slow there were no steam cars. “For a long time I was not alarmed, but at last a terror beyond words fell upon me, and I expected nothing but to receive tidings of illness or death. What came to me, however, was this: “A paper in which was marked in pencil a notice of the marriage of Arthur Lorrimer to Augusta, daughter of Everliegh Turner, Esq., and a note in an unknown hand. “ ‘Madam’—it read—‘As one of Mr. Lorrimer’s closest friends, I am charged with a message to you. You will see that he is married to his love with whom he quarreled two years ago. That love will have its way, is the only excuse he can offer. He prays that you may be happy, and begs you will forgive Ijim. “ ‘A. Appletow.’ ” “I did not faint, I did not weep, when I received this letter, but I felt the shock in every nerve. My cousin had brought the mail from the post office, and as I sat gazing into the fire he touched me on the arm.

“ ‘Cousin Belle,’ he said, ‘I read the paper on my way home. See now what a false heart you have been trusting in, and setting aside a love that would have lasted you for life.’ “ ‘Do not utter falsehood, Cousin Tom,’ I said. ‘You care nothing for me; you want my money, for I heard you tell your mother so. But I will marry you and show this deceiver that I am not pining for him. Only remember, I do not love you any more than you do me; and I will never give you even a kiss.’ “ ‘Oh, Belle, Ido love you! I said what I did out of pique 1’ cried Tom, ‘and lam sorry you heard me. We shall be a very happy couple yet.’ “ ‘Never!’ I said. “ ‘l’ll write to this fellow,’ said Tom. ‘Pretend we have not heard the news, and tell him you’ve found out you like me the best, and want to be off with me.’

“ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you may do that, I hate you both; but tell any lie you like.’ And he ran away. “Silting in the room where I stood was a looking-glass which reflected a portion of the kitchen. As I happened to turn my eyes that way, I saw my aunt standing near the open fire reading a letter. As she read, she seemed to watch and listen. “In those days we used both black ink and red for correspondence, and Arthur had a fancy for red. This letter was written in that color. The writing, too, looked at that distance like his, and the secrecy of Aunt Cynthia’s manner awakened my suspicions. I took a step forward, and she flung it into the fire, and I saw her run out at the garden door. The next instant I was in the kitchen. “The paper had not blazed up at once, f<JT it had fluttered behind the back log. I caught up the tong's and brought it safely out. It was scorched and yellow, but I knew I could read it; and running to my room, bolted myself in and examined the paper.

“It was a letter from Arthur, and from I learned that he had written many times, and having received no reply, had grown so anxious that he had resolved to come back again. “ I am greatly irritated to-day,’ he said. ‘Some rascal has thought it a good joke to publish a false marriage with an unknown, probably imaginary lady. It is unlikely that you will ever see a Baltimore paper, but I cannot help troubling about that, too. However, we shall meet in a few days. The stage should arrive at next Thursday.’ “I saw it all —my cousin had played a deep trick. The advertisement was his work, and he had forged the letter, but I was master at last. “As for my aunt, the cruel creature had destroyed the letters for which she knew I was longing—sht would willingly have broken my heart in order that her son might have my money. “I believe from what I saw that she had not been able to finish the letter, and was not aware how soon Arthur would arrive, for this day was Thursday, I remember, and night was coming on. “I went down to tea as though nothing had happened. My cousin took my hand and kissed it, my aunt advanced and kissed my cheek. “ ‘Here are true hearts,’ said she, ‘and we will compensate you for what false ones have made you suffer.’ “ ‘Marry me to-morrow, my darling,’ said Tom, ‘and I can write to that man, not that we are engaged, but that you are my wife.’ “‘A good idea,” said I; and just then I heard the rumbling of wheels. A vehicle stopped before the house, and some one rapped heavily with the knocker upon the outer door. “ ‘lt is he!’ I cried, and in a moment more I. was clasped in Arthur’s arms. “Ask me no questions,’ I cried, ‘but take me away from these terrible neonle who would stop at no

crime in order to win what litth wealth is mine.’ ‘ ‘That very night old Parson Partridge married us, and I left the town with my husband. At my prayer, he forbore to punish Tom, and we have never seen any of those people since, and have lived happily foi years amongst my husband’s kinsfolk here in Baltimore.”—[Family Story Paper.