Jasper County Democrat, Volume 6, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 January 1904 — ALL FOR A TITLE; or THE BANKER’S WARD. [ARTICLE]

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

By ALBERT H. MODRICKER,

Author of

••John Q. Keiffer * C 0.,” •• Won By Strategy,” •• The Tramp** Stroke,” ‘‘No. 2,001,” Etc. t i Copyright. 1903. By Chicaoo Nswspamm Union.

CHAPTER XlV.—{Continued.) Victor, with the intention of perusing the newspaper, repaired to the drawing room, where he found Edith Stratmore bowed over the writing table in a dejected mood. “Edith, my dear little friend,” he began, hastening to her side, “what causes this sadness?” “Alas, Mr. Raymond, I cannot speak —cannot inflict this new pain upon you,” •he answered, tears comiDg to her eyes. “Have you heard anything concerning Beatrice?” he inquired, and at once the singular silence of Dr. Ralston stole to his memory. “Oh, this deception! And from a girl like Beatrice! I loved her like a sister. No doubt whatever had found a place in my heart, but now I have lost my trust In her and in my whole sex. I cannot understand how Beatrice could abandon you for Count Bozell. Their marriage is sensationally mentioned in the newspapers?” Victor Raymond staggered as a drunken man and finally secured a chair. “Oh, Mr. Raymond, pleas-e forgive me! I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I tried to break it to you as gently as I could. Please forgive me!” Edith repeatedly exclaimed, terrified by his pallid face and helpless attitude. * “Do you speak the truth? I must not doubt you, Edith, I know, but —where is tlhe paper?” Trembling, he grasped the printed page and found his happy future dreams shattered by the actions of a woman, whom he had worshiped, even Hlolized, a* a higher being. It read: “Married —Count Ludwig Bozell, of Westleigh and Barrenhort —Beatrice Albenson, daughter of the late Sir Knight Otto G. Albenson, at London, 20th inat., at St Paul’s Cathedral.” Utter silence reigned for some time. Victor Raymond, with almost superhuman effort, tried to regain his composure. “Edith,” he finally managed to gasp, “even this may be a trick to deceive me. Plgase give me your assistance by demanding a copy of the marriage record from the church register. Only when I see that will I believe it —not until then.” “If I should ever become betrothed to a man, I would wiah that his trust may be as sacred as yours is in Beatrice,” ahe said, solemnly, going to the writing desk and inditing a letter according to Victor’s dictation. After that, feverish and excited, Victor was anxiously longing for the hour that would either remove his doubts or banish the whole structure of his hopes. Two days passed, but his restless mind quickly meaeured this space of time, and he only lived for the moment that would reveal his destiny. He earnestly endeavored to conceal his agony from the loving eyes of his parents and friends. In silence he counted the minutes every morning before the mail arrived and stood speechless when he was disappointed. Dr. Ralston and Edith observed him closely, knowing his great mental conflict by his gleaming eyes and firmly compressed lips. On the third morning the mail carrier handed Victor a letter. Entering the library he hesitated to open it, fearing some dreadful revelation, and stared Into vacancy for a few moments,, but at last the ardent desire compelled him to peruse it. In distinct letters were the words: “Count Bozell and Beatrice Albenson.” It was not a delusion—no, there it was In black and white. Who dared to doubt the truth of the genuineness of the marriage now? Victor seemed to lose the power of feeling and reasoning. Motionless and painless he sat there in the chair, gazing into the vacant future which appeared neither to possess sunshine nor happiness. HE existence was outlived, nothing left to hope for, to desire; he lost the cheerfulness of his soul With the remembrance of Beatrice. How long he remained in this lethargy he did not know. When he lifted his eyes to was to see Edith close at his side. She did not ask any questions, only laid her hand on his shoulder, with a questioning look. “It is true, Edith!” he finally spoke. “But heaven knows I loved her as only a man once can!” Not one word of reproach escaped his lips against the woman he thought had deceived him. “There is not another man In this world who is as sublime as he,” thought Edith. “He would follow her to the end of the world. Would that he loved me so,” was her secreb thought. Edith’s love for Victor was as strong for him as Beatrice’s, and yet his heart would never pulsate any quicker for her. Her love could never find a responsive chord. Neither Victor nor Edith mentioned the contents of the letter. The grieved features of the patient plainly indicated the end of his dream, although he appeared collected while in the presence of friends. One day, a little later, his parents, with Count Stratmore and his wife, were seated before the fireplace conversing. “I think,” said Gen. Raymond, “that my son cannot feel happy at Easton after the past events, and 1 myself have concluded to leave.” “Please locate here,” urged Count Stratmore with great enthusiasm. “Your company would be liked and we could mutually enjoy the long, pleasant evenings.” “Your wishes are pat a little too quick, dear count In the first place, 1 must look for a suitable residence, which is a difficult thing in this place. We require a house with at least ten rooms. Where can I find It here?” “I have K!” exclaimed the count-“ Yon must occupy my residence a little eaet of her* It ts vacant; I could not find a suitable party to occupy It You moot accept It n—ditienaUy, and year wife, the fine, hat new empty rooms, look comfortable sad elegant It ti agreed!”

The old general looked at his better half and observed that her eyes gleamed with joy over , the proposition, and the prospect of being near the counters, to whom she had become deeply attached. “The location is beautiful. As you have shown me through the different apartments, I must say that I am well pleased with them and gladly accept your offer provided the conditions correspond with my financial resources.” “Never mind about that, general. I am pleased at being able to accommodate you. One reason is, Ido not like to see the shutters closed any longer and yonr pleasant company will help disperse the monotony of the endless winter evenings, which have only just begun, and made agreeable, to some extent, by Dr. Ralston’s visits. I will say, confidentially, I don’t like to see the young man on too familiar terms with my daughters. He has an excellent character, but I prefer aristocratic acquaintances. Of course you will consent to take the place. That Is settled! Christmas is near at hand; we will celebrate it as an anniversary of our friendship. Dr. Ralston shall be present, also,” he added to the countess, for ahe took opposite sides. “You cau invite him.” “I will do so; I am greatly In favor of him. I would also invite his brother and Baron Nilsson.” “I have no objection. But the baron may not wish to make the long drive,” the count inferred; then turned to his guest: “You will certainly come; will you not, general? Nilssen is the new possessor of Oakdale. He inherited it from his father a year ago. It is about twenty miles distant, and I believe he would hardly care to travel that distance on a bitter cold December day.” “Nobody will need use force to bring him,” responded the countess, smiling. She was thinking of her daughter, Gertrude. “I only desired to observe the rules of etiquette. 1 ’ “Oh, I understand. Should you succeed in angling the young fellow, why, no one will be more pleased than I. I hate a tedious, monotonous Christmas evening, so the more the merrier.” CHAPTER XV. During the long and cold journey in a third-class railway car, Beatrice realized for the first time what poverty meant. She was mentally and physically enfeebled, but she felt that *he was under the greatest obligations to her faithful maid and Kenneth. So long as she retained full possession of her health she did not fear the bitter fate of poverty. She hoped to earn her own living, but, not having yet experienced the reality, she overestimated her strength. “Dear lady,” said Kenneth, “I hope you do not feel offended at traveling third class? I thought you would not wish to occupy s compartment by yourself, and first-class tickets for each of us would have been too expensive for our limited means.” “Of course not,” answered Beatrice. "We can travel just as fast, and so much the sooner will I become accustomed to my new position. My previous riches very seldom procured for me a happy hour, and an earnest avocation will even be of benefit to me—at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that Mr. Marsden does not care for me and—but should I not inform the Countess Stratmore of my singular situation?” she asked, rather abruptly.

“I would not do it if I were you, Miss Albenson. Perhaps the counted did not invite you at all, or, Mr. Marsden declined the invitation. Yeu will be better protected by concealing your abode for the present from everyone.” “But they have always been very kind to me, and I should grieve to lose their friendship and esteem.”,^ “Dear Beatrice, please let the whole affair in Kenneth’s care; he is usually correct in his ideas,” interrupted Julia. “The countess may consider herself in duty bound, to inform Mr. Marsden of your non-arrival, providing she received hi* acceptance—and should you ever come in his power again it would be worse than ever.” “But, Victor should be informed.” “Certainly, dear lady. I will eend your letter to my mother and she will personally hand it to Mr. Raymond, in order to avoid any error,” Beatrice, highly pleased at noticing Kenneth’s esteem and attachment, smiled gratefully upon him; then she began to take a much-needed rest, her excited mind continued its functions—representing the future in dark colors and rendering the present colorless. She scarcely understood the low conversation of her two friends, who, encouraged by her slumber, confidentially discussed their next actions in regard to arranging domestic affairs. A few hours later the train thundered into the great railway station at London. Kenneth conducted the ladies to an hotel, where he had beforehand made arrangements to secure lodgings temporarily only, as the hostess had insisted on letting rooms by the month; and, as her rooms had not suited Kenneth in the least, he secured apartments in a house a short distance from there on a narrow by-street. They repaired thither in the morning. Upon her entrance into the dismal room, Beatrice shuddered, and the moldy scent of the walls seemed to suffocate her. Kenneth compared the place to a Paradise; the simple design of the wall paper corresponding to hia uncultured taste; while Beatrice thought of the richly decorated elegance of her previous mansion. Kenneth questioned himself whether the expanses for this luxurious dwelling would not overtax his moons, wfclla Julia made the noceesary arrangements aad Beatties wrote a few Haw to Victor BayThis letter was never gives by Mrs. Lathrop to Victor Raymond. The last rcowt that *s lady mat dastnyed Be*-

trice’s fins) hopes, and forced bar already enfeebled body to seek an invalid’s bed. 'Her condition became truly alarm* Ing. The district physician was summoned, but be sent a young pbyside* la his stead. Dr. Paul Debano was a roan of f««* less, manly physique, and descended lWm a noble family. He was greatly enrprif ed at finding a lady of Beatrice’s refinement in such surroundings, and being attracted, he beriowed upon her the utmost attention. But, in spite of Me heroic efforts to master the nervous ptwetration, more than a week elapsed be-, fore Beatrice waa able to leave her bed. Her first thought was to write a second time to Mrs. Latbrop, beseeching her to venture again and attempt to visit Gen. Raymond’s residence and deliver a letter to Victor personally. The lady’s failure in tills made Beatrice hopeless; the more so, as Mrs. Lathrop informed her that the general bad changed his abode, but where be bad gone she was unable to find ont. What did this mean? What had become of Victor and his parents? These were n few of the many questions she'asked herself. . Upon his next call Dr. Debano found his patient greatly excited and plainly noticed tears. Deeply affected, he tried to gain her confidence and offered his assistance and friendship. Seated on the low sofa, he took her small hand to note the pulse, retaining it in his palms. “Miss Trevor,” he began, addressing her by her mother’s maiden,name which she had assumed to hide her identity, “I may have presumed, if so, l crave your pardon, but the rorrow that sits upon yonr face tells me that you are pining under some great trouble —a trouble Which I would gladly remove, if possible, and if you would commit your grief to me, be convinced of my sincerity—of my sympathy, for I must be blind if I did not understand your position, perhaps deserted, without relatives or friends.” Beatrice’s trembling lips betrayed her emotion; slowly tear after tear fell from her pale, beautiful cheeks. “Your kindness affects me deeply,” she replied, “but I am not quite so deserted as you may think. Julia and Mr. Lathrop are my true friends,” and she endeavored to smile. “You cannot deceive me, dear lady. I will admit that the persons with whom you live are good and honest, but by the word, ‘friends,’ I had reference to those in your own sphere.” “I will not deceive you,” she began, after a short pause. “You have manifested such sacrifice and kindness during my illness that I would gladly prove to you my implicit confidence, were I permitted to do so. Indeed, I have troubles of which I cannot tell you. I hop* brighter days will come.” “I wish the time would speedily come, Mi;« Trevor. I desire to ask a favor of you. Will you grant it to me?” “Certainly, if it is in my power to do so.” “I wish to be your friend.” “That is a favor I should have asked of, you, for I am in this great city almost friendless. Alas! our paths can only run together for a short time, as I must leave London In a few days, and scarcely believe I will see you again after that.” "I will hope to see you again and often." Paul Debano’s visits offered the only pleasant change in the girl’s monotonous, cheerless existence, and she would have welcomed them the more were it not for the ever-increasing medical bill. “I wijl greatly mi-SB your company,’* she said, frankly, “and I fear I have already claimed yonr services too much. Your time is valuable; beside?, I am compelled to ask leniency to fulfill my obligations towards you. I am at present financially ” “My dear lady,” be interrupted, “I am too happy at having made your acquaintance; and I am more than richly rewarded. While you remain in London, will you please accept me as your friend and as yonr medical adviser? Whenever you need my assistance will you call for me?” (To be continued.!