Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 April 1883 — HOW KATE WENT HOME. [ARTICLE]

HOW KATE WENT HOME.

BY ETTIE ROGERS.

“Papa is not like himself. He never -was harsh to me before,” murmured poor Kate. “Yet you must not be unmindful that your poor father believes he is acting for your best interests,” was the rather doubtful remonstrance of Mrs. Scott. ‘Tapa is acting entirely under the influence of Percy Talbot,” the girl asserted excitedly; “if he were not he would understand how grievous it would be should I marry a man whom I detest—how utterly impossible it is when my whole heart is given to another. Oh, mamma! surely you can not blame me?” What could the gentle wife, the troubled mother, say? She loved her husband, unreasonable as he might be, she idolized her only child, and she shrank rom holding either blamable. So she remained silent, while two big tears rolled slowly down her fair, faded cheek. “Mamma, my dearest, you do not blame me, do you?” pleaded Kate, crossing the room and throwing herself on her knees beside her mother. “It would break my heart to give up Robert! I love him so dearly—oh mamma, so very dearly! You like Robert, too, and so did papa, before this Percy Talbot came here to make nothing but trouble for us aIL And I have fancied sometimes that you distrust him quite as much as I do. You do not really wish me to marry him, do you?” “Your father is determined that you shall be his wife, Kate,” said Mrs. Scott, winding a kindly arm about the slim, kneeling figure, and drawing the pretty brown head to her bosom.

“I know. And if I disobey him, he declares he will no longer recognize me as his child,” returned Kate with a gasp of anguish; “he will send me away from him, from my home, and from you. Oh mamma, it is hard! And yet if you will not blame me, if you can trust me, I had rather go. After a time papa might relent, and wish me to comeback to him. * The mother sighed, but she clasped the pretty pleader more closely to her tender heart, and fondly kissed the sweet, bright face. “I do trust you, Kate,” she answered with much earnestness. “Always remember, darling, that wherever you may be, I will trust my daughter to do right, f you choose to go rather than become Mr. Talbot’s unloving wife, I shall not judge you too harshly; and it may be thht some time the storm will pass over, and that this trial will end happily for us all.” After such a concession the mother could scarcely refuse to acquiesce with .anything her child might decide to be best And so Kate took her lasfregretful look of the dear familiar room; with -quivering lips she kissed her weeping mother; and then in the early, quiet morning she left the pleasant house, the doors of which, as it might be, had been ■closed upon her forever. “She has made her choice,’ - her father said briefly in grim anger; “and henceforth she is dead to ma.” From his home, his heart, his lips, he had banished her; and he forbade the mention of her name in his presence. And for Percy Talbot he began to manifest a singular partiality—a special liking that was frequently shown by considerable monetary favors. Perhaps he fancied that he owed some sort of reparation t<, the luckless individual who . had been so signally disdained by his handsome and refractory daughter!

“Yon know nothing about such matters Maria,” was the sharp response, “Talbot can be trusted with anything. He is a shrewd man, too, and if our last speculation succeeds, I shall be as rich as he-te.” “What speculation, Peter?” his wife inquired uneasily. “I doubt if you would understand it if I should tell you,” he answered testily.O ‘lt seems strange that a rich man would borrow such sums, and so often,’ Mrs. Scott once ventured to observe. He had yet to learn that his own . understanding of the speculation into which he had been persuaded was somewhat deficient It was the “oft-told” tale of the credulity of one man and the duplicity of another. And there came a time when Peter Scott knew that he was beggared—when he discovered that all his little fortune, earned by years of honest seal, had been by some manner of chicanery transferred to the possession of Percy Talbot. “My dear sir, it is one of the freaks of and it is neither curious nor uncommon,” Talbot said blandly to his victirh. “In my career as a speculator I, too, have sometimes lost, even to my last farthing. I have been left with nothing, absolutely nothing but my debts. But I never lost courage; nor must you do so now. Besides, if you will bring back your pretty daughter and induce her to become my wife, I Will ma>e yon a free gift of the property that once was yours.’ “My daughter,” at length he enunciated with a dignity that was majestic, “was wiser than I —she could not be de-

ceived by your pretensions as I have been. I may be a pauper, sir, but I shall still be honored that I have a child who would prefer death to marriage with such as you.” He turned away haughtily and went back to the home that was no longer his. But the shock had been too sudden, too overwhelming; and an hour later he was writhing in mortal agony at the very gates of deatb. In his delirium he raved piteously of his folly, and of the man whom he had so trusted only to be fooled robbed and insulted. And to his disordered senses his bonny Kate was everywhere present. He would listen for her gay voice and light footsteps; he seemed to behold her bright aud beautiful image and he would pathetically entreat her to forgive him for his harshness and his great mistake. Meanwhile, Kate was far away, and not altogether unhappy. She felt that somehow, in a blissful time to come,she would providentially be guided back to content ment with her loved ones. One morning a visitor was announced, and with much surprise she turned to stand face to face with her old suitor, Percy Talbot, as ever sleek, smiling, insignificant. “You wish to see me?” she queried, coldly, startled by something oddly assured and exultant in his aspect “I wish to discuss a matter of business with you,” he resnonded glibly, as with great nonchalance he appropriated a cosy chair. “Will you not be seated, too? Where are the roses of your cheeks,Kate? Are you ill, or has my coming disquieted you?” She was pale with anger at his insolence, at his stare of ardent admiration; and she trembled with vague alarm at his strange look of triumph; but she stood quite still and regarded him with calm inquiry. “You may not be aware of what has happened at home,” he pursued, still with the honeyed voice and hateful smile.

“No,” was her simple utterance. “My mission is not a particularly pleasant one,” he continued, cautiously; “and you make it harder for me, Kate, you seem so indifferent; and I have only come to serve you. Your fathre is very ill; he may not recover.” Yet she remained silent, watching him with her scornful, questioning eyes. “And beside,” her visitor went on, with a semblance of the sympathetic, “he has been unfortunate in business, and everything he possesses will be sold at once if there be no friendly interposition. I alone have power to aid him, and I will do so if you—oh, listen for I love you Kate! If you will be my wife, I will stop this sale, and your parents shall still have their home.” He had risen and approached her with outstretched arms; but at that instant the door opened to admit one whom he had not anticipated meeting precisely then and there. “Ah, Mr. Merle,” he articulated, with extreme politeness. “This is indeed a surprise.” “A mutual surprise,” Robert amended, drily. “My wife and I had scarcely expected a visit from you.” ' “Your wife,” he, stammered, in swift confusion. ? . i , . “With mamma’s approval, Mr. Merle and I were married the day I lett JidiAei? 7 Kate explained, civilly. “Ah! then I have come only to congratulate you,” he succeeded in saying, even, as he recoiled discomfited before the

temptu n us scrutiny of Kate’s handsome But he had no ~esire toprolong so unsatisfactory an interview, and he speedily departed. _ . “Be comforted, my dearest,” Robert enjoined her when the guest had gone. “I have forseen this day of trouble for your father, and providentially I have been given means to help you. Would you care to be back in the old home, Kate?*' Would she care? Had she not longed every hour tor months to behold the dear old place? and the beloved, familiar face? And while the train that bore her homeward was rattling across the white wintery world, her parents were making ready to leave the house where they had lived all the years of their wedded life. Everything had been sold. The ominous red flag yet waved over the entrance, about which was a melancholy and suggestive litter. Inside, in the only apartment safe from intrusion, lay the unfortunate man, sufficiently convalescent to realize that all his gains had been taken from him, and sjill weak enough to hold valueless the life that had been regiven him. “We are not yet so old, Peter—you and L that we need fear beginning life anew,” his wife lovingly reminded him. ‘ But what will give me back my child? he asked fretfully. “What will restore to me her affection, just as fond and just as trusting as it was before I drove her from her home by my severity?” “Our Kate will never reproach you, Peter,” was the soft reply. “And all is well with her. I have hidden something from you, dear—something that once would have angered you, but that now may comfort you instead,” Just then a carriage rumbled to the door. The purchaser of the property that had been bought by proxy, had arrived, and directly was admitted to the room.

But the sick man was greatly perplexed when he beheld Robert Merle standing before him. “A little legacy, not altogether unexpected, came to me just in time,” explained the generous young gentleman, “and I bought the old place as a gift to my wife.” And then, like a bright spirit, Kate glided in and dropped on her knees beside her father’s couch. “Oh, papa, forgive me,” she cried, with her sweet face pressed noon the yearning hands that clasped her quickly. “Forgive you, dear child?” ejaculated the father, like one amazed. “It is I who should beg to be forgiven. But I scarcely understand what it all means. Does it mean that you and Robert and mamma were all leagued against me?” “I am afraid so,” wis the roguish confession. “But Robert had a little secret of his own, though,” she added, with a happy glance toward her manly husband. “He kept me quite in the dark about his legacy and his purchase of the old place until he had brought me here—brought me back to the old home that shall still be yours, papa.”