Rensselaer Republican, Volume 22, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 August 1890 — HIS WIFE’S FORTUNE. [ARTICLE]

HIS WIFE’S FORTUNE.

“Have you heard the news about Min Tempi*, Ned?” said Charley Ashton, as he sauntered leisurely up to the desk which Edward Farnham occupied in Messrs. Smith & Jones’ office on Wall street. The warm blood colored Ned’s cheek In spite of all bis struggles to prevent it, aadhe replied: “No; I hope no harm.” “Well, I should guess it wasn’t. Gome, put up your books, and as we go up town I’Ll tell you,” “No-, I can’t leave yet. I have not_ finished my balance.” “oh, pshaw! finish that to-morrow before ten o’clock. Iwouldn’t work aa hard aa. you for &oy man living, much lees hankers, who think that ail a fellow is made for is to work and make money for them. Come along.” “No I can not go.” " ■ Well, then, the tale in short is she’s had a big fortune left her, some-say ■ — — An involuntary sigh escaped Ned, and he rather muttered than spoke: “I’m eorxy to hear it.” ‘ ‘Why, what’s got into you, you ninny? Sorry P Why, I haven’t heard aay thing to please me so much in many a day. I always liked the girl, but I’m not philosopher enough to marry for love alone. My doctrine is when poverty comes in at the window love goes out at the door.” in all things, but t have no time to discuss it now. Miss Temple, in my opinion, would be a fortune to any man did she not possess a cent of money.” “Pshaw that's old fogy. Love is a cottage! Ha 4 ha! Well, I liked her pretty well before, but can’t help thinking her attractions very considerably enlarged since I heard that news. Niver should have thought of anything but a pleasant acquaintance; guess I’ll go in for her now. Goad-bye. old fell, and don’t hurt yourself working over those books.” Ned made no repiy, but he felt as if he would like to grind beneath his heel one who could speak so irreverently of her, who, to his idea, combined •vary grace of heart and mind and perfection of form and feature which should make up a perfect woman. His thoughts turned to action and he caught himself stamping his heel on the desk stool with such force as almost to dent a hole in it, and looking up saw Mr. Smith’s steady gaze fixed on him. Back to his work he tried to bring his thoughts, but they were not subject to his wRI, and he found himself in great clanger of writing the thoughts passing through bis mind. “She is lost to me now. Oh, how I wished it had never happened!” He shut the book, hut put away his papers, and with that dreary, lost, far-away kind of look passed unbeedingly among the throng on the money mart of the new world. Charley Ashton lest no time in improving his opportunities, for that night found him seated tete-a-tete with Miss Temple in a cosy little room in Twenty-first street. Miss Temple was an orphan, and had for years lived with an aunt—her father’s sister. Anincome of S4OGa year had been left her, which at least supplied all absolutely necessary wants. She was not ashamed to assist her aunt about many things some would call menial; undin form and feature, heart and mind, all her acquaintances said, fully sustained the high opinion Wft havegfiftn Ned Fn.rnhn.rn hsad 6f her. Ere the evening was over Charley Ashton had suceeded in appearing deeply in love, and not many days passed ere he had proposed and was accepted. OCall her acquaintances Miss Temple had always preferred the two young men we have mentioned. It was YTue she had rather leaned to the quiet, steady, Mr. Farnham, but of late he had ceased to visit her, while Mr. Ashton’s presence had been almost constant. Hence she had persuaded herself that she loved and had accepted him. Charley urged a speedy marriage, why, came in a conversation too long for me to detail, wherein it appeared that some of the “boys” on the “street” were fixing up a pool to buy up a certain stock, and our friend Ashton wanted some oFhJie $500,000 to put in it. Anna Temple preferred a longer time, urged that time would make,them know each other better, especially in the intimate relation they now stood. Charley vowed that he would never change, and he knewrjhat time could never develop any fault in her.

“But,” said Miss Temple, “here is another reason, and I think I can be free with you now. 1 have spent bo much of my little income and aunt has no spare money, to that I have no means of defraying the necessary expenses.” - •. “But you have the fortune left you by your Australian uncle, and even if you have not received it your agents will certainly make an pdvance.” “I have no fortune, dear Charley. Some thought it was mine, but the fortune you probably allude to was left to my cousin. Miss Anna Thompson Temple. to whom I introduced you to at the Philharmonic.” “Ah, it was, Indeed! She is a favored young lhdy; and how much does she receive?” “Report said (500.000, but cousin Nan has been informed by the agents that there is but (10,000 In money and the rest hi houses and lots in Melbourne, valued at (90.000.” • ‘Ah, well, really, how these things do spread. But to our matter; I guess. Miss Anna, you had best have your way.’'* • The houip of that evening dragged heavily along, and as they lengthened Mr. Charles Ashton’s manner became more and more formal. He \ptt, and Anna’s warm heart was sad as she ■ f .'f>/ : ' . •• t

thought over the cool manner and cooler parting. No sleep came to her eyes that night. f •Can it be?” she said to herself a thousand times; “and yet it mußt, for his manner changed almost from my telling him of Nellie's fortune.*’ The next night and Charlie was not* In his usual place, and the next, and still more. About a week a’terward a short note informed Miss Temple that “having lost all his Bavmgs in a bad speculation, he could not think of holding her to an engagement which would be out of his power to consummate in years.” To say this did not grieve her would be false, but it required not many days to teach her that she had not loved Charles Ashton as she should the man she was to marry. , T Again our two young men met, this time on Broadway. Charley, gayly sauntering along, hailed Ned in his -old fgtaitiaT way: ~ “Weil, old bpy, off early to-day?” “I’ve been promoted, aad am not obliged to 'work so late, though I do often; then I think of taking a ride in the park; my head has ached much of late, and I am more nervous than formerly.” “Shouldn’t work so hard; don’t get aay thanks for it. By the way, that fortune of Miss Temple’s turns out to be all in my eye.” “How—what’s that?” was the eager reply. * “Well, a Miss Somebody Temple had about SIOO,OOO left her, but it wasn’t our pretty little friend.” • ‘But I heard you were very attentive—some said engaged.” ■ ‘There’s no telling what might have been but for that fool of an uncle making a mistake in names. However, it’s all over now. You know uhat I, at least, can’t afford to marry a poor woman, no matter if she is a Peri. I know you entertain some sort of foolish notion that love, etc., will do, but it’s all bosh. Give me the dimes, my boy. When poverty comes in at the' window, eic., you know. Take my advice and droy all such foolish ideas.” Ashton might as well have talked to tbe lamp post for all the hearing Ned Farnham did. What he was thinking of we cannot 6ay, hut he did not go to the park that afternoon, but the evening found him in the little parlor which had been so often graced by Charley’s presence. Ere the evening was over he had explained his long absence, told of his better prospeets, and had offered her his heart and hand. She asked three weeks to consider; he to visit her as often as he pleased. At the end of that time he was accepted, and Anna learned what true love was. Here the story might end, but there is a sequel. Some months after the engagement Mr. Smith tapped Ned on the shoulder and motioned him to the private office. “Going to marry my niece?" said that gentleman “I am engaged to Miss Anna Temple, sir, and we expect, in a quiet way, to be married one month from to-day. But I was not aware that she was your niece.” “Neither was I until a few days since. As for your quiet way, understand me, sir, the child of my only sister can be married nowhere elsq but in my house. Come, now, no flinching. I’ve heard all about it; But she’s poor—poor as Jbb’s turkey; and I’ve too many children to give her more than a decent wedding.” Ned did not understand the expression on Mr. Smith’s' face, but felt a little angered, and replied: “I should never have addressed her and I would release her this moment if I know she were an heiress.” “No you—don’t; no you don’t. I know you and I know the whole story. You can go.” Ned pondered long over this singular conversation, but got no satisfaction from his own thoughts or from Anna. .She replied only by a smile and a kiss. Notwithstanding all the urging of her new-found undo Anna refused to leave her aunt until the time for the wedding. That event came and the ceremony was over. Then Mr. Smith called the young couple into his library. and, drawing from his safe a strong box, said- “ Now, young man, you’re har d and fast, I’ll tell you; you’ve got an heiress, and a rich one, too. A foolish brother of her father, who would go to Australia, took it into his head to die not long since and left a botched'up will that it has taken over six months, to get at tho straight of it. We were his agents and kept the matter to ourselves because it was a large sum and might create impostors. We soon disposed of the smaller legacy of SIOO,000 to MiS9 Anna Thompson Temple, but the contents of this box, £H)O,000 In consols, we useff more scrutiny in assigning, and in theeourse of our investigations I not onty found the rightful owner of our trust but the child Of my only sister. Sir, you are worthy of her and what is of less value, her fortune. The morning papers will announce you as a partner in our house.” —Boston Globe.

The writer was talking to Clerk Peacoek at the Hoffman House the other day when a messenger boy came to the desk and left a package for one of the guests. The package was from a well-known confectioner. Mr. Peacock gatre a receipt for the package and when the boy had gone said: “Now, I know that the gentleman for whom that was left is going away. I can always tell when a man is going away by those packages. It is a sure sign. Men don’t buy candy for themselves, and when they get it to take away with them they always wait until just before they go. Thai guest’s room will be vacant probably this/evening, but be is certain not' to. remain after to-night.”-—New York Letter.