Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 32, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 April 1885 — MISS MADISON’S MATCH. [ARTICLE]

MISS MADISON’S MATCH.

Madge Madison was good looking. She was neither too tall nor too short, too plump nor too Bkinay. She had a elear complexion, regular features and a pair of wonderfully attractive liquid grajr eyes. She had also an undeniable knack of so manipulating her sometimea.father shabby clothes that the beholddr ceased to remark their shabbiness in the distinction of the wearer. Not that she likes shabby clothes—she loathed them with a fervor few people credited her with, but she was substantially a self-contained person and endured the minor ills of life with graceful fortitude. The Madisons had never had any money to speak of, and just now things had come to a crisis with them. •What on earth’s to be done with J’ou girl®?” Col. Madison asked, helpessly. of his four motherless daughters that morning at breakfast. It was the Christmas holidays and the three younger ones had, of course, turned up with the Christmas bills, equally important and inopportune to their impecunious father. Three more mouths to be filled, three fine, tall, growing girls to be clad in something, and the school bills going on merrily all the time. No wonder the wretched colonel groaned over his quiverful. “We must said Lillian, the beauty. “We must work,” said Ethel, who took life seriously, and had “views.” “Thank goodness, I’m to young for anything heroic to be expected of me,” said Barbara, the baby,/pouting, “Has anything particular happened ?” asked Madge. “The bank has gone, and with it all I had except my pension,” said the unfortunate colonel, sighing deeply. “When I die you will all of you be paupers, so it will be better for you to set about doing something for yourselves before the bad day comes. For yQpr sake, children, I shall take every imaginable care of myself; but ala6l the best of us is but mortal.” The affecting thonght was too much for tbe unlucky parent. He lapsed into a melancholy taciturnity for the remainder of the meal. At its conclusion, Madge, who had been thinking matters over, said; “Father, you are right abont our doing* something for ourselves I can’t be a governess, I don’t know enough; but old Lady Dumbiedon wants a com-?any-keeper. I’ll ask her to take me. shall be earning £6O a year and at the same time relieving you of one incumbrance.” “You’re a good girl, Madge. lam sorry to sacrifice you, I am sure, but I don’t see any help for it” Miss Madison was a girl of action. Bhe speedily had all the preliminaries arranged with Lady Dumbiedon, whose service she was to enter toward the end of January. Bat before taking up her bow duties shb. permitted herself the relaxation of a vimir to a school friend, row well married and living in Kensington. She returned from this outing somewhat pensive, and, in reply to the affectionate badinage of her sisters, suffered it to be elicited that she had met a man at her friend’s bouse whom in more fortunate circumstances she could have cared a good deal for. Unhappily, as she owned that she suspected, the fav- , orab’.e impression had been mutnal, there could be no result from it. Her too brief visit had come to an end, and she and her delightful fellow gnest had separated; after their three day’s chance acquaintanceship, in all human probability never to meet again. Such is life and luck 1 She had, however, miscalculated the power of her own attractions. On tbe •ve of starting for Lady Dmnbledon’s she received a singular letter ;rom the man whose fortune it had been to so strongly recommend himself to her. “He had been irresistibly drawn to her,” he said, “in the few days they had been thrown together, but be had been* too poor a man to let the dictates of his heart find utterance. He had let her go in silence and had suffered much in so doing. Now things were changed with him. He had most unexpectedly oome into a property of SIO,OPO a year by the sudden death of,a relative, and he hastened to offer himself and his newly acquired fortune for her aoceptanoe. Circumstances connected with his aooession to fortune necessitated his immediate starting for Australia, and would keep him out of England for a year, Would she forgive his precipitate wooing out of charity for the violence of nis passion for Iter, and promise him to become his wife as soon as he returned home ?” This, denuded of many passionate 1

expressions of regard, was the substance of the letter. "What shall you do, child?” her father asked anxiously. “I will take your advice, but I am inclined to accept Mr. Smith-White’s offer,” she added, casting dawn her eyes and growing a little pale, sr, “Yod were always a most sensible girl, Madge, and to be trusted about yonr own affairs. Accept him by all means, if you feel you oan.” “Down on yonr knees, and thank heaven, fasting, for a richman’s love,” quoted Lillian, the beauty, on the matter being explained to her, in the absolute need of her usually self-reliant sister for a confidante. Thus encouraged by her family, Miss Madison accepted her fate. In return for her complaisance she received a raptnrous (registered) letter of thanks, enclosing magnificent diamond betrothal ring. Mr. Smith-White passionately deplored his hard luck in being obliged to embark without snatching cne brief interview with bis betrothed, but his ship was sailing that night, and he had no time to come down to Norwood.

Miss Madison-’s circumstances having undergone this startling change, the position of humble companion, even to a lady <jf title, appeared inappropriate to her. The Dowager Lady Dumbiedon, being appraised of recent events, graciously released her from her engagement, and furthermore, invited her to spend a few days ou a friendly visit Being a Kind old lady, with romatic proclivities, the dowager even gave the bride-elect many pretty little presents out of sheer benevolence toward a girl about to do so well for herself. It was Madge’s first realization of the great truth, that to those who have (or are going to have) much shall be given. The months Hew by. Each mail brought long, loving letters from the enamored Smith-White, who counted the days when his hateful business should be accomplished, and he should be at least able to return and claim his bride. He began to give very delicate and practical hints about the trousseau neoessary to be got together, which be wished should befit the position which his dearest Madge would occupy as his honored and cherished “wife, ” let no scruples, he begged, on the score of economy restrain her in her preparations. Tho paying of the bills could bo a matter of future consideration between himself and Colonel Madison. He particularly desired that his wife should come to him handsomely equipped for the found of countryhouse visits he meant to take her immediately after the first few weeks of her honey-noon were over. Miss Madison, upon this, weut to the best people and ere long had ordered a trousseau of modest and recherche magnificence. The letters of her lover became more ardent. He begged that the mafriage might take place at Easter, when ho calculated he would have just reached England. Let no.false delicacy, he implored his dearest prevent her acceding to his wishes on that point. Miss Madison had no false delicacy, and the point was conceded. Expectation in the bosom of tbe little circle at Norwood rose high, for Mr. SmithWhite was on his way Lome via India, whither his miserable affairs dragged Jjim. In a few weeks * letter came announcing that he had reached Paris, where he was just stopping en passant to buy a few pretty trifies for his bride. Then came a break of three days iu the correspondence, followed by a letter of an English friend of Mr. White’s who had met him at his hotel, telling of his sudden illness, brought on by overtravelling and over-excitement. After this came a short telegram announcing his death. Terrible, terrible downfall of high hopes. Was ever any girl to be so pitied? Madge Madison turned white to her very lips with the shock of the news. She walked blindly out of the room, up the shabby stairs, and locking herself alone in the bedroom sat down to face the awful collapse of her bright expectations. The next day brought some amelioration of the situation to Colonel Madison, though his poor daughter could hardly be expected as yet to take comfort in it. Ihe same friend wrote-to say that his unfortunate fellow-country-man’s last act had been to sign a hur-riedly-prepared will, leaving everything he possessed to his betrothed for life. He had expressed a wish that the whole Madison family should provide themselves with proper mourning and be present at his funeral, which was to take place at Kensal Green the follow* ing Thursday. The writer stated that he was making all necessary .Arrangements, and Bhonld start for London with the remains that night. The widowed bride-elect seemed stunned by the extent of her misfortune in losing thus cruelly the best and most generous of men. Her pitying sisters procured her mourning, and their own, from the same celebrated artists who had executed the wedding order. Tbe fabrics were of the riohest. Severe and elegant simplicity in woe is expensive, but what is that? Was this a time to haggle over the price of needful garments to do honor to the memory of a noble-hearted benefactor ? Thursday morning saw the whole family arrayed in their sables ready to set out on their journey. A coach from the nearest jobmaster’s, the driver being in decent bAck, so as to be jn harmony with the melancholy .occasion, palled, up at the door. The four black robed young figures, with CoL Madison, took their places iu it, Barbara sitting bodkin—her eves bright with excitement—for even a funeral was something to her, as she had but few distractions. They arrived punctual to the minute at the cemetery, and waited for the funeral cortage to appear. Time went on, but it did not oome. One hour, two hours passed in anxious expectation, and still the fnneral lagged strangely on the road. CoL Majdison interviewed the oficials. No notice of Mr. Smith-White’s interment had been given. Other groups of dark-robed figures came weeping, buried their dead, and went away, and still the oolonel and hia daughters lingered, unwilling to be accused hereafter es any lack of respect. A cold, oatting northeaster whirled *. niockingly among the headstones, seeming to deride ahd insult the mourners with its bitter cheerlesanees. At length it be-

came apparent tft every one; that' some inexcusable mistake had been made, and the uselessness of further waiting was obvious. Col. Madison/ slowly withdrew his little cohort from the field, anathematizing the wind, the officious friend of the deceased and every available subject for displeasure. He went that evening to Kensington, to see the lady at whose house his daughter had first met her betrothed, but only to find, to his dismay, that the house was to let, and no trace of Mis. Bigley was to be found. Nothing, therefore, was to be ascertained from that quarter. He was at u loss where else to apply for information, and so waited patiently with the hope that,the post would bring him some explanation. But no such explanation came. Puzzled and furious, the colonel telegraphed to the hotel in Paris for particulars of Mr. Smith-White’s death and the subsequent disposal of his remains. An answer came back that no such person, nor anyone answering the descriptjbn, had visited the hotel, and the proprietor denied that any one h ,d died suddenly under his roof. It then began to dawn upon the unfortunate family that they had been made the victims of an infamous and cruel hoax. The dowager Lady Dumbiedon, filled with pitv for the poor girl thus heartlessly made a fool of, carried her off to Brigh ton, charitably trustin g the change of scene might assuage the acuteness of those agonies of shame and mortification that the deceived and deserted young creature must be experiencing. The little circle wherein the' Madisons moved and had their being was shaken to its foundation with indignation at the heartless cruelty of which poor Madge had been made the victim. The tale of her woe leaked out in Brighton and awoke a perfect furor of sympathy. Her behavior was pronounced as perfect, she was so quiet, so dignified, so patient, under her unmerited suffer ings. s, Lady Dumbiedon became quite proud pf her young friend, who was undopbt*edly the success of tbe moment, and received the greatest possible attention. After a few weeks it was semi-offieially given out that Sir Beginald Dacre, a yoiing man of family and fortune and irrepressible character, had successfully sought Miss Madison’s hand, though no formal engagement was to be entered into for the present, so that the poor girl might have time to recover her shattered feelings. Meanwhile, Col. Madison was receiving a great deal of sympathy, too. He became a feature at his club, aud enjoyed a notoriety he well could have dispensed with as the father of the young lady who had met with so extraordinary and unpleasant an adventure. Every one offered him advice in the matter. “Hang it, Colonel, the blackguard ought to be discovered and made to pay for it,” cried one of his old friends, energetically. “Set a detective on his track, man.” The Colonel considered his friend’s advice, and after considerable hesitation, concluded to act on it. He therefore went to Scotland Yard, and, on the suggestion of an experienced officer, ho decided to take the gorgeous betrothal ring to the jeweler’s whose name was in the case, in order, if possible, to ascertain something about the purchaser. Here a shock awaited him. The ring had been ordered by a lady, with instructions that it should lie placed to Madison’s account. ; “Goodheavens, Koder!” he stuttered, “you dared to put a ring like that to my account without any authority of mine! Could not you see that it was a vile, infamous, disgraceful hoax?” Mr. Koder stood high in his calling. He was sorry for the colonel, and so at once took back the ring, expressing his regret that lie should have fallen into the error complained of; but as soon as Col. Madison had leit his shop he went down to the Scotland Yard, and then made a' certain communication which he had refrained from volunteering to his agitated customer. A few days after this Sir Reginald Dacre’s younger brother ran down from London and walked into his rooms. “Look here, Regy. You say von are going to marry Miss Madison,” he said slowly, “Well, take my advice, and—don’t^ Sir Reginal’s cheerful face paled. “What do you mean?” he asked, in a passion. “I mean that she is too clever for poor, stupid fellows like you and me. That hoax was all a plan got up by herself, from beginning to end. The man never existed. He was a myth. She took in her own people, she took in old Dumbiedon, and she all but took in Scotland Yard, into whose hands poor Madison at last put the affair. The only person, fortunately for you, that she did not take in was old Koder.”