Democratic Sentinel, Volume 21, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 January 1897 — LOVE AND MONEY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

LOVE AND MONEY

BY CHATLOTTEM. BRAEME

CHAPTER XIV. Lady Laura Wynyard walked one morning into the grounds in search of primroses, she being very fond of the pretty, simple flower; and Angela followed her. “Mamma,” she said, presently, “how strange it is that you and I have never talked about money matters!” Lady Laura smiled.. “I do not think it strange, Angel,” she replied. “It is not an attractive subject; and we have never had any reason for mentioning it.” “Was my father’s will at all an extraordinary one?” she asked. “Not so much extraordinary, I think, as incomplete,” answered her-ladyshlp. “In what way Incomplete, mamma?” Angela asked. Then her mother told her of making her will in the Captain’s favor. As Angela listened, the truth gradually dawned upon her. “My death, then,” she said, slowly, “would be his gain?” “Certainly. But then it is very improbable that you will die first" The very blood seemed to curdle in the girl’s veins, for she knew how often She nad been near death, and now she guessed the reason. “Then it stands in this way, mamma—if I die before you, and you die before Captain Wynyard, the whole of my father’s property - falls into that man’s hands?” “That is it, Angel.” “Mamma,” said Angela, solemnly, “he must wish ns both dead.” “Oh, no, my dearl He is not so bad as that.” “He does not love us, he does not care for us!” the girl cried, passionately. “Why should he not wish us botlh dead?” “That would be terrible,” said Lady Laura. * “Who drew up that will for you, mamma?” asked Angela. c “Your father’s latter, Mr. Sansome,” was the reply. “He ought to have been ashamed of himself!” cried Angela, indignantly. “My dear,” answered Lady Laura, “he was, and he tried ail that was possible to dissuade me from making it. He was very angry, Indeed, and prophesied all kinds of evil; but the Captain persuaded me.” “It must be destroyed, and yon must make another, mamma. I Shall never rest until it is done.” “It shall be done Angel; but I must wait until we go up to town- I dare not summon Mr. Sansome here.” And, having arrived at this decision, Lady Laura and her daughter left the woods and returned homeward. A black threatening cloud seemed to have fallen over Angela Rooden’s life. For some time she could not recover from the effect of the information her mother had imparted to her. Her accidents were all plain enough now. If she had but known about the will, surely she would have realized the danger to which she was exposed! She shuddered when she remembered how near death she had been —so near that in each case there had been only a space of two or three minutes between herself and eternity. She spoke about it to her faithful old nurse, Jane Felspar, from whom she had no secrets. “I know,” said Jane, who had had her own suspicions and now found them verified by what she heard, “what would be best if it could be managed; and it would save all exposure and everything disagreeable.” “What is it?” asked Angela, anxious to hear, for she had implicit faith in the wisdom of her old nurse.

“You must leave home at once, and not let the Captain or my lady know where you are until the will is canceled and the new one made.” “That would be excellent,” sighed Angela. “I shall be glad to leave him; but I shall be wretched at deserting jay mother.” m a f “I have thought of a plan which is perfectly safe, miss, if you will carry it out” “I will do so, Jane,” she replied, “for every hour that passes brings me great anxiety.” “I have a cousin named Mary Bowen, who has been for more than thirty years housekeeper at Brantome Hall. It is a beautiful place, situated on the Kentish coast, and just now the family are away, and she has the whole Hall to herself.” “Who are the family?” asked Angela. “The Arleighs. The late Earl died some time since, but the Countess is living. She has two children, the young Earl and a daughter, Lady Maud Arleigh. They are all sway in Italy now. They left home more than a year ago, and are not expected back until next year. My cousin Is left In entire charge of the Hall, and yon could find no safer hiding-place than that.” “You are very kind to suggest such a thing, Jane. It seems an excellent plan,” said Angela. “Will your cousin consent to receive me.” “Yes, miss, and be pleased. I should ads ise you, however, to take a new name, so that there may be no possibility of tracing you.” “I shall not like It, but I will do it,” she said. “Oh, Jane, to think that I should have to steal away from my home and assume another name! I will take my dear father’s name, and pass as ‘Miss Charles.’ But what will your cousin say or think?” “I shall not tell her who you are, miss. That wonld never do; it would not be safe. You are hiding because your life is in danger, and we must take every precaution to keep your whereabouts a secret. I will write to my cousin to-day, and tell her that a very dear friend of mine—a Miss Charles—wants a home for a few weeks, and that I should be most grateful if she could receive her as a visitor just for a short time, while the family are away. She will not only be willing, but pleased to do it.” CHAPTER XV. Ob {Thursday evening Angela found on her toilet table a message from Jane Felspar, and knew that the way lay straight before her, that early the next morning

she must leave the dear old home, which was no longer a place of safety for her. i She resolved to spend the few remaining hours with her mother; and, on repairing to her room, she found the unhappy lady weeping most bitterly. She would not tell Angela why, except that there had been some little unpleasantness with the Captain. “I am sure you have been speaking to him of Gladys Rane, mamma,” declared Angela; “nothing else ever causes you such grief as this.” “Never mind, Angel. I repent most bitterly of the step I took. Oh, my darling, if I had but listened to you! My life is obc long martyrdom. Angel, I have never confessed it before, but, oh, how I long to be free! I am tired of suffering, ana the time has come when I desire to be free, to be away from him, to cease to suffer at his hands. I want to be where every day will not bring fresh torture. I long for peace and rest.” With kindly words Angela soothed her unhappy mother. “The time of rest will come,” she said. “All sorrows end, mamma, just as all darkness ends, and the dawn comes at last. Mamma, you will keep your promise to me—you will send for Mr. Sansome as soon as you can, and have that unfortunate will canceled.” “I will; I shall not forget; I am anxious to do It. If he had been kind to me, there would have been some justice in your father’s money coming to him; but as he has been most cruel, ruined my life and broken my heart, it does not seem just.” Friday morning broke calm and beautiful. April was drawing to a close; there was a faint gleam of gold from the labnrnnm, a faint glimmer of purple from the lilac, and the hedges gave promlee of a profusion of fragrant May. Captain Wynyard came down early, and seemed very impatient for the arrival of the letter-bag. His face was sullen, his eyes were troubled, and at times he was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he saw or heard nothing dt what was passing around him. He looked miserable. It happened that no visitors were staying Just then in the bouse, and the Captain had to breakfast alone, which annoyed him, for he abhorred solitude, his thoughts, when he Was by himself, being not at all pleasant ones. Lady Laura never came down to breakfast unless visitors required her presence. “Where is Miss Rooden?” the Captain asked, angrily. “Miss Rooden is still in her room,” was the answer. The Captain seated himself at the table; dark thoughts darkened his face, even as they shadowed his soul. They were Cruel, terrible thoughts that could not be put into wnH-. *— — -i. * geia. mien ne had finished his breakfast he opened the post-bag, which had meanwhile arrived, and took out his letters and papers; and the reading of them whiled away an hour. Just as he was going round to the stables to decide what horses should be taken out he heard quick footsteps approaching. The next moment the door was opened hastily, and Lady Laura entered the room, pale, frightened, with tears in her eyes, and her hands trembling so that she could hardly hold the letter she carried. “Now what is the matter?” he said to himself. “There is going to be a scene.” But Lady Laura was not hysterical. A great sorrow had fallen upon her, which In its very magnitude seemed to swallow np her own. She was hastening to him, when she paused suddenly and wrung her hands with a gesture of despair. “I was running to you in my trouble,” she cried, “but why should I? You care for neither my troubles nor joys. You do not love me; I am less than nothing to you. Why should I come to you?” “Are you In trouble, Laura?” he asked. “What is the matter? Keep clear of sentiment and reproach, and tell me.” “Angela has gone!” she moaned. “Gone?" he questioned, in a low, hoarse voice. “This must be some stupid jest, Laura. What does It mean?” “Read that,” said her ladyship, placing an open letter in his hands. The contents ran: “My Darling Mamma: Only heaven knows how full my heart is of desperate, bitter pain as I write’thia to you. I am going away from home for a time; I cannot tell you why or whither. I have very strong and urgent reason for the atep I am taking, but it is one I cannot explain to you. Do not grieve for me; I shall be safe and well. I shall be happy in every respect, except in leaving you. It will seem to you that I am acting strangely, but I have no other resource.' My heart will be with you until I see your dear face again. I said good-by to you in my heart last night when I kissed you. I say it again, praying heaven it may not be long before I return to you.” The Captain’s face grew even more ghastly as he read the letter. He laid it down on the table, and, looking at his wife, asked; “What does it mean?”

“I do not know,” she answered. “That is what I have come to ask you. What does it mean? Where Is my daughter gone? Have you quarreled with her? I hope heaven will pardon me if I misjudge you, Vance; but I feel sure that you have something to do with her going away.” “You were never more mistaken in your life,” he cried angrily. “I know no more about the cause of her departure than you do. I have heard nothing to lead me to suspect that she contemplated such a thing; and you cannot be more surprised than I am, or more astonished. What in the world has she done It for? What does it mean, Laura?” he exclaimed; “you must know something about it.” “The one great mystery to me is why she went, what drove her away from home.” She looked at the Captain as she uttered the words, “what drove her away from home.” She noted his livid face, the great fear in his eyes, the trembling of his hands. “Vance,” she cried, suddenly, “you are in a state of fear!” “How ridiculous, Laura!” he returned, quickly. “But I confess lam startled. I never dreamed of such a thing happening.” After a brief pause the Captain began to rally. A faint show of color crept Into ; his lips and cheeks; the deadly terror feted : passed. He had had time to ask himself H . ■ y

- - _ wbetter Angela had gone in eemeqnenen of something she had discovered concerning him. He decided that ib eonld not be eo, for In that case she would have left some written record against him. Lady Laura Wynyard had shown her hnaband one letter. There was another and more explicit one which the carefully hid from him. It ran thus: “Dearest Mamma: I know that my leaving yon in this manner will be a great sorrow and a great surprise. I cannot tell you why I am going, bat you know that yon may most safely trust me. Remember this, that my return depends entirely on yourself. When that unfortunate will which the Captain persuaded yon to make la destroyed, I will come back at once, but not until then. I have thought of many plans by which you could let me know when this takes place, and the best, the safest, is by advertisement. I shall contrive to see the Times every day. When the will is destroyed send the following words for insertion in the advertisement sheet of the Times: •Return without fear; I have done what you wished.’ The hour in which I read those words I shall begin my Journey home. Do not let any one see this letter: and above all things, do not let the Captain learn that I know about the will. I shall aoon see yon again, my beloved mother, and then I will explain all that now must seem like a cruel mystery to you. From your loving child, “ANGELA." Lady Laura wondered even more when ahe read that note. What could It mean? What connection could there be between the will ahe had made and Angela's leaving home? Fortunately for her, not the faintest suspicion of the truth occurred to her. CHAPTER XVI. Brantome Hall was neither ancient nor even altogether modern; is waa simply a large, pleasant, old-fashioned, rambling house, with great well-lighted, lofty rooms. A broad rlter wound ita way close by, and in the distance waa the long line of the sea. i By the banks of the Rinn at Brantome waa Angela's favorite walk. She had been three weeks at *he Hall, and day! after day she had acanaed the Timee, but the longed-for advertisement had not ap-l peared. It had been agreed between Jane! Felspar and Angela that they should not| write to each other unless there was some great need. , Angela had been meet kindly received by the housekeeper, Jfrs. Bowen, as a, friend of her cousin's who required rest! and wished to be alone as much as possible. Mrs. Bowen’s piactical eye detected the fact that Angeli was a lady, and, although she marveled just a little how' such a one could be tie friend of Jane Felspar, ahe was a sensible woman, and did not allow her cuioslty to interfere with her desire to pleme her cousin Jane.' She saw there was gone mystery, but, as ft did not concern he; in ahy way, she was wall content to lave It alone. Her! mlstrees had given ler permission to have a friend to stay vith her when she wished, and she was )ut taking advantage of her offer. { (To be cortluued.) t u 1