Jasper County Democrat, Volume 6, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 October 1903 — ALL FOR A TITLE; or THE BANKER’S WARD. [ARTICLE]

ALL FOR A TITLE; or THE BANKER’S WARD.

By ALBERT H.

MODRICKER, Author o 1

“John Q. Keiffer A C 0.,” “ Won By Strategy,” “ Tho Tramp’s Stroke,’’ »No. 2,001,” Etc. Copyright. 1903. By Cmicaoo Wawararte Vmiom.

CHAPTER I. Herbert Marsden, the wealthiest banker in Easton, stood, one morning, at the famlace of his magnificently furnished ggig adorned dining room ready to open teg letter he held in his hand. His fea{gf«s were gloomy ea he adjusted his gfasiirt and scanned the address. Tuninghis head from the entrance he did fiOt notice the presence of a beautiful girl whose steps had beeu*muffled by the bteVV Smyrna carpet. “From Victor T. Raymond, of course, fee said, Impatiently. "His handwriting It aalte familiar; but I wonder what & the world the young 41*an has written it this letter to my atep-daughter, and Whtt will be the outcome of this affair? jjjither this Mr. Raymond is present iu person or he fills his absence with letters. This must be changed! Were he fat she sou of a millionaire father I Wouldn't object; but now —no! Harold, tey partner, gave him n lucrative position in our banking firm; nevertheless, I prefer to keep him at n distance now. However, Harold, who is an old and experiMoad business man, knew only too well •hat he was doing. But how shall I dispose of this letter? Shall I give it <0 Beatrice? No, it may induce her to Qammlt some foolish net —to upset some of my matrimonial projects for her. As the matter stands, this correspondence teems too intimate —it doesn't suit me at til. I will keep the letter!” Suddenly he was aroused from his monologue by a hand l which lightly, yet tonlj, touched his shoulder, accompanied With the words: “Papa, please give me my letter!” “Who told you it was yours?” asked the banker. “I know it’s mine,” the girl replied, taxing unflinchingly upon him. Herbert Marsden was of a haggard, though robust, stature, with strong, Erring gray eyes and commanding feast. His smooth-shaven chin, under bloodless lips and bristling eye-brows, •Dd his cynical expression rendered his Matures almost severe. Involuntarily his presence exhaled an icy atmosphere, but this did not deter Beatrice Albenson, Who, though young, possessed firmness of trill And character aud the mild luster of her dark-brown eyes revealed such a Warm, deep-souled expression that even the most obstinate anger usually became •OOthed. Not so with Herbert Marsden; he hated his stepdaughter because she always reminded him of the past. Besides he attitude of her form and the beautiful lineaments of her face called to his mind a hated rival. Before the banker’s wife had died — two years previous to the opening of our Story —she entrusted to hU care her IG-rear-old daughter, but she did not realise the full Importance of the trust •he had given the man who had loved her from early youth with an unshaken affection. Marsden had conferred his flnt love upon her and had asked for her hand; but Laura Trevor was then engaged to an artist, whose acquaintance the had made quite by accident, and she eould not oppose tho ardent impulses of her heart. Marsden’s honest proposal, hie prominent and secure position in the •Octal world, vanished before the romantic nimbus of her henrt’s idol, whose future was utterly insecure. Thus she msrried Otto Albenson, the artist, and Herbert Marsden, until then • happy and merry man, became earnest •ad gloomy. Tha change in his disposition wa# at first scarcely perceptible, hut it became fully apparent in tho COUMS of time. He began to avoid the companionship of other people, his previous kindness and warm nffection grew nutty lu consequence of solicitude, and made him a perfect misanthrope. Step by step, Marsden took cognizance •f hit rival’s life-battle to secure an existence free from care, but the artist soon succumbed. Otto Albenson did not aicceed In climbing the ladder of fame, ■ landscape and other sketches did not find a profitable market, and soon he stood with bis wife and child, the little Beatrice, on the brink of misery’s terrible abyss. The words once sweetly whispered were realized: a kiss often being the subetltute for a supper. This condition of domestic affairs naturally undermined the health of the couple, and later, Otto contracted a severe cold, from fanprud ent exposures, and died. Than it waa that Marsden proffered his assistance to the poor, grieved widow and her 8-year-old child, which was finally, though reluctantly, accepted. When one year had rolled by they were fiaarried. Herbert Marsden had still loved his wife with the same fervor as In the past, although from the start he entertained such an aversion toward his stepdaughter that he could not enduro her presence any longer, and had urged hie wife to aend the girl to a seminary; and, notwithstanding he saw his wish fulfilled, he remained gloomy. The death of her mother was a severe misfortune to Beatrice; and, during her stay at the seminary, which was extended to her eighteenth year, nobody felt torilned to comole her. Nevertheless with her last breath, her mother had whispered Beatrice’s name, and had mads her husband solemnly promise to take care of the child. Her last, thought had not lingered on the husband, who had lored her (dike in.misery and affiuence for more than a score of years, and how could be forget this when Beatrice’s pass Sacs constantly reminded him of the past? The only people Mrs. Marsden had loan intimately acquainted with were Oenoral Raymond, Ms wife and their only son Victor, to whom she waa fondly attached, as be always consoled her to endure the separation from her daughter Beatrice. During vacations Beatrice and Titter met dally and aeetaed an inseparable pair. General Raymond was the jiimgset son of William Raymond, who terns of ancient nobility. He had falthS given his services to Ms country hie term had expired, and than took ap hia abode In Beaton, whan he hoped

to paee hie remaining days with his brother Harold. Victor, though destined to follow a military career later on, aaw hia plans frustrated by the low of hie father’s immense wealth, and Gen. Raymond was forced to accept hia brother's offer of Installing him as bookkeeper in the banking firm of Marsden A Raymond. When Beatrice had attained the age of 18 and had finished her studies at the seminary, she returned to her stepfather’s home, and Marsden, who had always closely observed her actions, did not full to notice her intimate friendship with Victor Raymond, and he resolved to terminate this love affair as soon as a proper occasion presented Itself. As a strict business man he had planned his step-daughter’s future; the thought of any opposition to his Ideas had never entered bis mind. Victor Raymond had not allowed the rhort time of Beatrice’s return to pnsa in vain. Repeatedly he had seen the girl—more often alone —and both had soon mapped out their future plans. Marsden had calculated differently. The first thing to do, he thought, was to check further correspondence, so that Victor could readily understand his intentions in regard to Beatrice; but Victor did not intend to be caught by his machinations, and Maraden’e haughty, immovable features flushed at this detection. The two figures standing opposite one another made a moat singular contrast. "And who are you that dare control my actions?” demanded the banker, whose pupils revealed the vehemence of hia anger. “I am Beatrice Albenson, the daughter of ” "Of her first husband,” he interrupted. “But be seated, and let ue attend to our breakfast.” "Yes, papa, as soon as you give me my letter; it Is his handwriting—l mean Mr. Raymond's,” she added, a little Impatiently. “And how long, if I may make so bold ns to ask, has his —this Mr. Raymond's —handwriting been familiar to you?” “Oh, ever so long—for years,” 6he said. “Ah! and —well, we’ll drop this subject for the present Anyway, this letter is addressed to me,” he added, putting the unopened letter In his pocket and buttoning bis coat "Oh, papa, you will not be so unkind. I saw my name quite distinctly—quite sure—on the envelope. Only look once more and you will perceive your error,” sho implored. "I never err; now take your seat” He rang the bell violently, while Beatrice stood trembling from excitement “The hreakfast, John,” ordered the banker, addressing the servant who had responded to his ring. Mechanically and mutely Beatrice sat opposlto him and rcarcely partook of anything. Marsden did not pay much attention to her, and after breakfast read the morning papers. Finally he arose to leave the room, and Beatrice knew her last hope would vanish Jf he were once outside, for then she would never get the missive. "For my dear mother’s sake, papa, please give me tha letter,” oh* pleaded once tnore. The banker was silent a moment and then said: "Beatrice, I demand more common sent* from you. The letter is addressed to me; and, aa we have touched the subject again, let me hell you once for all, such scenes are not pleasant to me. You have ceased to be a school girl,” and turning, ha left the room. Beatrice stood as if rooted to the spot for some time; only the ceaseless ticking of the clock interrupting the silence. Suddenly two arms lovingly encircled her neck. “Victor!" exclaimed the girl, joyfully, and the dark clouds were dispersed as if by magic.

CHAPTER 11. “Yes, it Is I, darling; your own Victor,” ha assured, embracing Beatrice fondly. “Did you expect me? But you look so agitated. Has something happened ?” “No, Victor; I waa only a little frightened. It must have been the surprise of seeing you so unexpectedly.” “Unexpectedly? Did I not write you I would be at liberty today? Did you not get my letter?” “No, Victor, I did not; and you shall hear why. We must henceforth write with more caution. Your letter, Victor, pasrsd through strange hands. It was received by Mr. Marsden, not by me. I contended for it, but he declared positively it was hia." “Can be be mistaken in the address, Beatrice?’ “Not In the least. I stood only two feet distant and overheard his remarks concerning the letter. He kept it intentionally.” “I hope lie will not make uncle rebellious. Those who would not hesitate at opening lateen may commit other deeds.” “Victor," replied Beatrice, laying her shapely white hand upon his shoulder, “I am sun he has, ax yet, not read it Perhaps he lx only trying to hinder further correspondence and will return it” “Maybe, but doubtless he will now forbid my vtaiting yon. Marsden knows I do not possess a fortune, besides he favors the Kit of Count Bozell. Everybody la expecting you to become a countses.” “Oh, Victor,” Interjected Beatrice, “you are certainly joking. I Countess Boselir “Bat it lx true. The count commands high rank and an exalted position, for which, my darling, you would repay him with wear wealth—that la, I mean, your step-father’s design. , Your marriage would come up to tee standard at modarm matrimony—you cancel his debts sad h«aamx a isautsss, while I— Oh, Bea-

trice, my angel, my only Joy, tt this should be my fata, it would kill me. Oh. if I only bad the power to aare yon! Would you be happy to be my wifsl” ha asked passionately, and then ha press ad her to hia heart and looked into her eyas. "I cannot offer more than an humble home.” “What more do I need If I bare yonr true love ?” “But you are only 18, and Herbert Marsden ia your legal guardian. Three years yet to wait —three endless yean. What may not happen during that time ?” • “Do not get excited, Victor,” ahe consoled, “we are both young yet and can well afford to wait Of course, three years seem endlees, but if we are faithful to each other, the burden will not seem half so heavy.” “You are right, always right, darling. Patiently and faithfully we will wait And now, let a kits be the seal of our compact,” said Victor, tenderly, and embracing his beloved. “Nothing shall separate ns, and if I may never become your wife nobedy else shall ever call me his own. You, and only you, will I marry.” “Bravo!” he rethumed. “Come what will, we will find comfort and courage in our mutual love. We mute now think of a plan for the future. Our case requires a certain amount of consideration, for if Marsden ha# read that letter, in which I hinted that the rumor of your approaching marriage with the count is becoming more known, he willnot only forbid my entrance into hia house, but will also take steps to prevent us from corresponding.” “Alas! how bad would our existence be then?” responded Beatrice, bowing her head; "but, Victor, I can etiU «es and greet you from the window.” “Of course, darling, but Marsden would stop even that, as soon as he detected It, and perhaps discharge- me from his employ, so that I would lose the only chance of seeing and communicating with you—not to know anything about you, nor to hear—even the thought ia unbearable! Therefore, let us see how we can keep your guardian in ignorance ax long as needs be.” “Yes, yes, but how?” Inquired Beatrice. Suddenly an idea came to her mind. “I hare it!” rhe exclaimed, Joyfully. “Papa himself shall lend us a helping hand.” “What! would yon intrust our letters to his care?” he Inquired, gazing incredulously upon her. “Why, he would never consent to It.” ■ “It is not necessary that he should; only listen; Is It not his daily custom when he goes to and from the bank to be assisted In getting on his coat by one of the employee?" “Yes; I have assisted him many a time myself.” “Well, then, listen,” and involuntarily she lowered her roice aa if fearing to betray her secret. “I will loosen a little bit of the collar padding of his overcoat, sow in a small pocket, and in the morning, before he awakens I will write you a letter, show great attention to my step-father in helping to don his overcoat, and carefully watch that all lx right You must also bestow the same attention upon him at the bank. Thus we can write as often as we choose, and can even meet occasionally after having made a written appointment. Is it not a good plan, Victor?” “Yes, darling,” agreed Victor. “In addition to this,” Beatrice continued, “I will not keep my love for you a secret any longer, as it would be useless. I will tell my guardian that I can only become your wife, which, I hope, will have the devired effect upon him—not to force Count Boaell’s company upon me.” Just then the door opened and Herbert Marsden came toward them, his features pale as death and disfigured by wild anger. (To be continued.!