Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 September 1896 — A LOYAL LOVE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A LOYAL LOVE

CHAPTER XXV. On the morning of the same day that Witnessed the interview between Glitka Eberganyi and the two Daneborough officials, the master of Mortmain drove trona his house at Helston to Woodburn Parsonage. He reined up the high-stepping bays in front of the ivy-covered parsonage, and sending in his card, accompanied the scrap of pasteboard by a request that he might see, not Mr. Langton, but Mr. Marsh from London, if that gentleman would kindly accord him ten minutes for a brief conversation. “Mr. Marsh,” he said, blandly, as soon as he had accepted the chair that was offered to him, “you will be surprised, I fear, at my calling upon you without the honor of an introduction; nor is it probable that I am known to you, even by report; but I was informed that Miss Mowbray’s guardian, whose name is familiar to me through my intercourse with our kind friends at the parsonage here, was on a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Langton; and it is because you are Miss Mowbray’s guardian that I have ventured to trouble you to-day.” Mr. Marsh made a sort of bow, and grunted assent, pricking up his ears the while. He had not, as yet, divined the nature of the baronet’s possible business with him. “The fact is, sir," said Sir Richard, with a frank smile, “that —though it costs me something to make the avowal tn a gentleman who, unfortunately, is a total stranger to me—l am in love with Miss Violet Mowbray, your beautiful young ward, and I have considered that the most straightforward course of proceeding was to go direct to the guardian, who, in her case, represents the authority of a parent, and tell him so, leaving him to decide as to the eligibility of my proposals, as his sense of duty and his knowledge of the world shall dictate." “You have taken me somewhat by surprise,” said Mr. Marsh, hesitatingly. “Miss Mowbray is still very yoqng.” “She is, indeed,” rejoined the baronet, earnestly, but almost humbly. “But would she not be happier, sir, with an assured position and under a husband's care than fatherless and motherless in anch a world as that which we see around us? There has been a long friendship, Mr. Marsh, between Mr. Langton, your nephew here, and my late father, and I was glad to renew the acquaintance some weeks ago, before I knew that Miss Mowbray, whom I have since learned to love, was an inmate of the parsonage. I know, and I am glad to know, that Miss Mowbray has no fortune.” ’ -A® R'K’hard said this, the London merchant could not repress a chuckle, while he rubbed his hair vehemently in an upward direction. The baronet for a moment eyed him with surprise, and then went on, as smoothly as before. "When I say no fortune, I merely speak In the common acceptation of the term. I am myself, as Mr. Langton is aware, a large land owner, so that the three or four hundred pounds a year which I believe to belong to. the young lady can scarcely present any temptation to me. Let it, by all means, be strictly tied up, for her separate use. Quite independently of that small income, I could make a handsome settlement upon my wife, if only I could hope to hail your ward as Lady Mortmain.” ’ Richard,” Mr. Marsh responded, graciously, “I am, as you perhaps know, a quiet city man, leading a life very unfashionable, but I can quite realize the truth that men of rank and fortune —men like you, Sir Richard—are apt to look for money, as well es pedigree, or instead of pedigree, with their wives. And I can appreciate your conduct, indeed I can. May I ask if you have ever spoken, on this topic, I mean, to my ward?” “I have spoken.” answered the baronet, with an ingenious sort of embarrassment which won him the immediate sympathy of Mr. Marsh, himself a shy man, and therefore alive to all the sufferings to whjch bashful humanity is heir—“l have spoken, not in direct terms, but in language which many young ladies would have comprehended, if not approved. Had Miss Mowbray had a father— But, as it is, I come to you, sir, as her guardian, and you will send me from hence a happy and a hopeful man, if I can only feel sure that yo'u consider favorably my suit.” ‘‘Certainly fYI to Ylfllet, and that without delay,” said Mr. Marsh, encouragingly. “And, Sir Richard, you have my best wishes for yoyr success.” When Sir Richard Viortinain had driven off, his well-stepping bays and silvermounted harness producing quite a sensation in the village street, Mr. Marsh remained vacantly gazing out at the window of the clergyman’s study. “That will do!” muttered Mr. Marsh, with an air of satisfaction. “Yes, that will do. Sir Richard Mortmain would be just the husband for that delicate, shrinking little snow-drop of a girl. I’ll do my best.” i ; ,

' CHAPTER XXVI. When Mr. Marsh went bock to the drawing room he found the rector deeply Immersed in his newspaper, and Mrs. Langton evidently excited and inquisitive. Marrying and giving in marriage are topics, be sure, that interested women above all other topics before the first brick of Babylon was baked, and still the subject keeps its freshness and its zest “Sir Richard had a great deal to say to you, uncle,” the clergyman’s Wife remarked. ’“Sir Richard had a good deal to say,” rejoined the dry-salter, who was glad of the opportunity of speaking. “The fact is, he called on me in the capacity of Viojet’s guardian.” “Dear me! of Violet’s guardian!” echoed Mrs. Langton. “A proposal, eh? in the good old form. Have I guessed rightly, sir?” smiled the rector. “You have guessed rightly,” said Mr. Marsh. “Who would have thought it? Poor, dear Violet!” exclaimed Mrs. Langton. There was a little more talk, and then Mrs. Langton promised to send Violet down to speak with her guardian; the rector went back to his library, and Mr. Marsh paced, waiting, to and fro. Violet came into the drawing room in some surprise. “My dear young lady,” said Mr. Marsh, “I do hope that you will do me the justice to believe one thing, that in all that I may consider necessary to te said, and ta all I may find expedient to be done, I •m gpided simply and wholly by a sincere desire to see you happy.”

W. J. BRYAN.

“You were always very, very kind, dear guardy,” said Violet, gently. “I have had an interview, Violet, my dear,” said Mr. Marsh, “with a gentleman who called here expressly to see me. Sir Richard Mortmain, who is, as you are aware, a baronet of one of the eartier creations, and a man of property and position, has been here to-day to ask my consent before making you a formal proposal of marriage. There can be no doubt as to the sincerity of his attachment to yourself, and as little as to the disinterestedn character of his suit. But what I admired was the unselfish and generous nature of the man himself. Indeed, Violet, I should close my eyes, wete anything to happen to me, the more happily if 1 knew that you were under the care of such a husband as Sir Richard Mortmain." “Do not ask me to do it—l could not—could not!” cried out Violet, like a frightened dhild; and then, seeing her guardian's look of surprise, she said, more.calmly, “You mean all that is good, dear sir, and as regards Sir Richard Mortmain, I thank you gratefully. But I cannot marry him. I am pledged to Don, and I do not like Sir Richard, with all his accomplishments and all his good looks.” “You mean, you headstrong girt,” broke out Mr. Marsh, angrily, “that you are caught by a fair outside, and a few specious words; that you prefer a low-born adventurer to a high-bred gentleman like ” “Hush, guardy, dear guardy!” piteously interjected Vioiet, as the color rose to her face and the tears mantled in her eyes. “You are cruelly unjust to Don. He is no adventurer. No one ever had a nobler soul or higher motives than he. And as for his birth ” “Why, the fellow had invented for him even the name he bears, such as it is!” broke out Mr. Marsh, in a rage. "If I saw’ you Lady Mortmain, I should feel that your future happiness was assured. But as for yonder lad, you never can, nor shall you, w’hile I have a voice in the matter, throw yourself aw’ay so absurdly.” “Do not be angry with me, sir!” sobbed Violet. “I may never marry at ail—it will most likely be so. But, if lam not to die an old maid, I will- only marry Don.” And then she went away, weeping, to her room, while Mr. Marsh, wrathful and disappointed, strode out into the hall, snatched his hat, and started for his constitutional walk in no pleasant frame of mind.

CHAPTER XXVII. Sir Richard Mortmain showed no sign of his being tired of Helston. He was, to be sure, often a guest beneath the grander roof of Thorsdale, hut that was at his sister’s request; nor, since Violet had ceased to be a Visitor there, had the baronet been quite as compliant with the countess' wislj ;hat he jhpuid “jnakq things pleasant” for her motley crowd of visitors and her valetudinarian husband. The room in which Sir Richard habitually sat, and undeniably the most cheerful apartment in a somew-hat dreary house, bore the traditional appellation of “My Lady's Parlor.” There the baronet was sitting, near an open window, frowningly poring over a mass of closely written calculations, neatly folded, that lay upon the table. “A message, Sir Richard, please, from Thorsdale Park,” said the baronet’s valet, gliding in like a black shadow, “one of the confidential servants brought it over.” A minute more and Glitka was in the room. Sir Richard Mortmain’s eyes sparkled with an angry -ight, but he restrained himself. “You have come across from Thorsdale with a message from my sister, have you not?” “No, but with a message from myself!” Glitka flashed out, as fiercely as if her next utterance would be accompanied by a dagger stroke; “I am not here, Richard, on an errand from Miladi your sister. What I said was a inere lie, such as is learned bigs too readily among servants, such as I*m now”—she laughed bitterly here—“to insure my not being denied admittance. Ones Glitka had no need of such a stratagem. The handsome English cavalier did not seek then to shun her society.” “If you want anything of me what is it you want?” querulously demanded the baronet; “money is scarce with me just n QW~t=-” “I do not want your money, Cavaliere,” interrupted Glitka, hotly; “I want my husband, pledged and plighted to me in my own distant land, where the betrothal tie is held so sacred that, had I had u brother left living he would have hunted you down with knife or pistol, as he would have done a wolf caught in the homestead. As it is, Glitka Eberganyi must redress her own wrongs. Beware how you trifle with me!” she added, with sudden funy, as slie saw the baronet's lip curl with its familiar sneer; Magyars have blood in our veins that runs warmly, whether for love or hate.”

“Upon mv word, Glitka,” coolly rejoined Sir Richard, “you give yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble. 1 never regarded our old love passages and romantic talk with such seriousness as you did, and as for marrying you ” “Why not? If you are noble, am I not nobje too? Or is it only because I was podr and have left my native country and bedome a servant—l, in this frigid England of yours—for your sake?” she exclaimed. “As for mayrying you,” went on the baronet, with unruffled composure, “I might, quite as prudently, have noosed a cord at once for my own neck. lam not rich. And I eannot afford expensive luxuries, such as a marriage for the sake of love would be. The idea is absurd.” ,4 Richard,” said the girl, stepping forward, and laying her hand lightly upon his arm, “I know you are not happy, and I know yqu are not rieh. Why not renounce yo»r plots and wiles, and the struggles of your life in England here? Glitka would make you a true wife even now. What remains of your fortune, gilded beggary here, would go far in Hungary, where life is cheap.” “Upon my word, my dear creature,’ scornfully replied the baronet, “you draw a very pretty picture of some Arcadia of the backwoods. But it won’t do, and I desire that I may be spared further annoyance. I have no wish to complain to my sister, Lady Thorsdale, but ” “Speak to Miladi, your sister, if yon dare!” hissed out Glitka, her handsome face almost disfigured by rage. “Say a word to the countess and take what follows! Again I forbid you to sell yourself for gain—ah! that treacherous face of yours changes color, does it?—l forljid you to wed Miss Violet Mowbray, even though she be rich.”

"But she is not rich, as it happen*,” quietly replied the baronet; “nor bare you the least authority for coupling her name, more than that of any other young lady, with mine." “No other young lady,” responded Gljjtka, stamping her foot passionately, “has seventy thousand pounds to bestow upon the dissembler who woos her for his wife. Ha! you wince again; and again, traitor, your false lip trembles. Listen. There is the bell; you have visitors. I go, but heed what I have said. Oh, if you are wise, heed me!” fthe left, but not to return to Thorsdale. She went straight to the village hotel, to the ladies’ parlor, and sat there patiently until a gentleman appeared with whom ■he had an appointment—Mr. Marsh. “Mademoiselle Glitka?” he said, with an awkward bow. GHtka bent her haughty head as some savage princess might have done. “You are Mr. Marsh? Good! I have much to aay to yon. The innocent must be protected, and the guilty punished. Sir,” said the Hungarian girl, “I believe you to be a good man and a just man. la it true that Sir Richard Mortmain—Richard the Cavaliere—is to marry this ward of yours, this Miss Violet?’ “I hope so—l trust he will; but why?” began the dry salter, wonderingly; but Glitka cut him short. “Because I wanted to be sure—quite Mire,” she cried out, furiously, “before I set my foot upon his bead to crush ft, gilded snake that he is! Ah, traitor, traitor! when will you barn that it is wisest for a man to be tree? Hear me. sir! You would give yoar ward, your charge, to this baronet because he is rich, high in the world’s regard, honorable, good. Is it not so? But how if I tell you —I that have loved, and now hate—that it is a fair outside, and all within is false and evil? How, if I say that this titled suitor is not only ruined, not only a spendthrift, but a knave that has broken the law, a rogue that conspires with a ruffian to cheat your Miss Mowbray of the concealed fortune for which he seeks her hand—a wretch destined to chains and the prison Chat await the forger and the thief?” (To be continued.)