Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 June 1887 — HUNTING LEGACIES. [ARTICLE]

HUNTING LEGACIES.

It was Abigail Varlev’s three-seore-teenth.birthday. She was a rich widow, childless, and with no known relatives save two gentlemen cousins. Never were cousinly attachments more beautifully illustrated, or cousinly jealousy amiably exemplified, than in the daily walk and conversation of these two collateral kinsmen. They bestowed so much affection on their common relative that they had none to waste between themselves. Both were several years younger than the lady, with a fair prospect, according to the course of nature, of surviving her, and how to supplant each other k in her will, which, at least, she had begun to talk seriously of making, was the problem which at present engaged their attention. On the morning in question, wjien Cousin Roger called to wish Cousin Abigail, the usual “many happy returns,” he was not a little chagrined to find Cousin Dick there before him. However he presented his annual gift, and went through his annual speech without missing a word; and seeing Tabby, the cousinly cat, perched snugly on his rival’s knee, by way of not being outdone m cousinly attention, he took up’Pompey, the cousinly poodle, though dogs were his abomination. “Well, Cousin Abigail, I hope your health continues good,” said Cousin Roger, patting Pompey’s head, and glancing suspiciously at Cousin DiGk, whom hedevoutly wished at Jericho. “No, not so good latterly as it has been. The fact is, the old lady continued, “I have been thinking seriously of sending for Mr. Parker, with a view of settling my worldly affairs without delay.” .“Oh, there is no need of haste, cousin,” broke in Dick; “you may have many years before you yet;” mentally adding, “what has possessed the old ninny to put it off so long?” “Well, well, I suppose there’s no hurry about it,” said CousiD Abigail. “And yet,” Cousin Roger ventured to hint, “it’s always well to be prepared ; none of us can tell the minute nor the hour, you know.” “And after all, calling in a lawyer is not so serious a matter as calling in a doctor,” said Cousin Dick," fastidiously. The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a youn<£ and beau- % tifnl girl, at whom Cousin Dick stared with a surprised and troubled look. “Pardon me, ma’am,” said she, in a voice remarkably sweet and gentle; “not knowing you were engaged, I came to see if voir wished me, as usual, to read to you to-day.” ■ “Presently, dear,” Mrs. Varley answered, in a tone that plainly hinted her visitors would not be pressed to stay if they offered to go. After an awkward pause the two cousins took their departure together. is that girl?” inquired Roger as soon as they had reached the street. “You may well ask,” said cousin Dick; and, stopping, he whispered something in his companion’s ear, at which the latter started suddenly, “Good heaven! the resemblance is certainly striking. But what is to be done? Do you think the old—Cousin Abigail, I mean —suspects anything?” “Not yet, I think; out no time is to be lost. I have a plan which it would be well for us to talk over together.” The two hurried rapidly along. Mrs. Varley had occasionally found time hang heavily on her hand, and. so had advertised for a person to fill the post of “companion” to an aged lady. It was thus that Hester Darling had become an inmate of the house. At as early an hour as was seemly on the morning following that on which we have introduced them to the reader, Boger and Dick again pre sented themselves before their cousin. We have thought it our duty, cousin —” began Dick*.“Our bounded duty,” put in Boger. “As painful as it is Imperative,’’ Dick continued. “To put you on your guard, ma’am,” -linger added 4 J—“Against a deceitful and designing person,” exclaimed Dick. “Who is no better than she should be," shouted Roger, indignantly. “Upon my Word, cousins, I do not comprehen-d a syllable-you have uttered,” said Mrs. Varley; nor shall I be likely to, if. you both keep talking at once. Come, Dick, you seem the ; least excited, what is the meaning of all This?” ••What means, may I venture to ask,” said Dick “did you take to ascertain the character and antecedents of the voting woman at present sheltered beneath your roof?” “Why, none,” replied the good old ladv. “Her young and truthful face was recommendation enough on which to give her a trial.” .. "We have ascertained her t» be a most abandoned creature,” proceeded Dick, “and have deemed it proper at once to apprise you of the discovery. Should she deny the accusation, we are prepared with abundant proofs.” *

Mrs. Varley was a lady of the strictest propriety, and severest morals. Much as she pitied the poor and friendless girl, she must be promptly freed from this foul and dreadful charge, or cross her threshold never to return. She went directly to Hester’s chamber. “You must tell me your past history, child,” said Mrs. Varley in a determined but not unkindly tone. “0, madam, I pray you pardon me, but I cannot tell it.” “Then it has been one of shame and guilt?” “For a time shame, madam,” gnswered the young girl, with flushed cheek, “but never of guilt.” What was it that caused Mrs. Varley to sttirt so suddenly, and stagger, half fainting, to a slat at Hester’s dressing table? “Who—whose likeness is that?” she exclaimed, in a scarcely articulate voice, pointing to an open miniature on the table. “My mother’s,” Hester answered. I “Then you are Florence Marvin’s I child?” “That was indeed my mother’s | name.” More—you are the daughter of my ! only brother, George Haywood, for i Florence Marvin was his wife.” With a stifled cry, she who had be- | lieved herself alone and friendless in the world fell on her kinswoman’s neck, and wept tears of mingled sadness and Sorrow. Her story, which Hester refused to conlide to a stranger’s ears, she now willingly imparted to one from whom she felt that she had no longer a right to withhold it. That her brother had married in opposition to her father’s wishes, and had been disinherited in consequence, was already known to Abigail Varley, but what distant spot he had selected for his home, and what had befallen him there she had never learned. The story was sad enough. After a few toilsome but not unhappy years—for they were spent in loved society of his wife and child—a dire calamity had fallen upon George Heywood. He came under suspicion of a fearful crime. A network of circumstances too intricate for man’s wit to disentangle environed him, and he was condemned to die. The stern judgment was carried into effect, and the executed murderer’s widow sought concealment for herself and child in a change of place and name. Hong, long years afterward the truth was discovered; but the judicious murder had passed among the things irrevocable. The poor widow died at last—-broken-hearted, but with one consolation—she had lived to see hqr husband’s innocence vindicated. “And this, mv poor child is the shame of which you spoke?” “My life has known no other.” Not many days after Hester w r as sent to one of the first seminaries of the land, for she had yet time enough to avail Herself ot opportunities of culture hitherto beyond her reach. Her aunt and she kept their own counsel. Cousin Roger and Dick only knew that the ooject of their solicitude had disappeared, and probably congratulated themselves bn the success of tneir virtuous stratagem. After a time Mr. Barker, cousin Abigail lawyer, came, and after that the good old woman seemed wonderfully revived in spirits. At the next birthday the prospect of “many happy returns,” produced anything but a hap- j py effect upon the two expectant; cousins, who .began to think that, i after all, the life tables might not be infallible. But her time came at last; and, .within a decent period after the sad event, cousin Roger .and Dick were summoned to attend the reading of Abigail Variety's WTU! They were a good deal startled at the sight of their old enemy, the j strange girl. Boor Tabby, as if seeking consolation in her bereavement, leaped upon the knee of her old friend Dick, who stroked her back pathetically, but a j little nervously. Pompey, who took j things more philosophically, stretched ; hi,mself out for a snoose at the feet of Roger. Mr. Parker, drawing from his pock- j et the document, proceeded to read it. The introduction is long and formal. But hark! there’s something coming j now: “To my cousin, Richard Fig-gins—* ' j Richard looked at Roger in triumph “I give and bequeath—” You bould have heard both hearts beat. “In consideration of the love and as- ! feetion 1 have observed between them—” Dick looked puzzled. ‘•My favorite cat Tabby.” Dick gave Tabby a furious stroke the wrong way. “And no more of my estate.” With a fling that betokens a most emphatic renunciation of tho legacy, Tabby was sent mewing and spitting to the other end of the room. “To my cousin Roger Smith—” It.was Roger’s turn of triumph. “In consideration of the like natural love and affection—” Roger began to feet-suspicions. “I give and bequeath my dog Pompey, and no more of my estate.” : With a violent kick Rompey was sent spinning afterthe cat; and the fear of her who had so long kept the peace between them being no longer before their eyes, the pent up enmity of years found vent in.an uproarioii3 fight, in the noise of which the voice of the lawyer was almost drowned; but the words, “rest and residue of my j estate—niece, Hester Heywood,” were j sufficiently audible, and cousins Dick and Roger stayed to hear no more. Bonanza Flood has enclosed his San ! Francisco palace with a $30,000. bronze fence, and is putting up two big j bronze gates at a cost of $15,000 more. A $190,000 cotton-mill is about to be built &t Louisville, Ky.