Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 August 1891 — Unfortunate Invesment. [ARTICLE]

Unfortunate Invesment.

"Elsie!” - Walter Hartman's tone of sorrowful amazement made his young wife spring hastily to her feet,. She had not heard him come in, and was kneeling beside a great arm-chair, sobbing as if her heart would break. "Oh, Walter!" she said, “Aunt Julia '’ and a fresh burst of sobs interrupted her. _ Waiter's face cleared. It was not sorrow ©f her own. tlien, that, overwhelmed this pretty, blue-eyed darling he had married six months before. “Well, Elsie,” he said, taking her in his arms and caressing her, “what about Aunt Julia? Do not sob so, dear; you will make yourself ill.” “The fire!” said Elsie, keeping her sobs somewhat*under control. “You know I was very much worried when I heard of it, for I could not tell by the papers whether Aunt Julia’s house was in the burnt district or not.” For the great Chicago fire was not a week old, and the whole country watched tor news. “Well, dear,” Baid Walter, kindly. “It is a 3 bad as it can be Walter; Aunt Julia writes to me that her house was totally destroyed, her very clothing burned up, and her insurance papers not entirely made out. She is absolutely without anything in the world except the clothes she had on. Actually fed hvcharity. Oh, Walter!” Here the sobs came again thick and fast,, and Walter could offt ! r no comfort but such as was conveyed by-si-lent caresses. After a time these were so far effectual that Elsie could speak more calmly. “Now,‘little one." Walter said, “tell me why this troubles you so sorely? Do you love your aitut so very dearly?” ' I “She had been everything a mother could be to me since my parents died, j Walter. But while I was with her we : were very poor. Out of her own ! scanty means she fed,clothed and edu- ! rated me until I took the situation of nursery governess to your aunt's children, and married yen. But just before we were married, an old friend of Aunt Julia’s died in Chicago, and left her ten thousand dollars. When she went to claim her legacy, she saw the house she purchased, and liked it so j much she bought it, ber legacy cover- ! ing the expense of house, lot and furniture, while her own little income would support her. But, unfortunately, she was persuaded to draw out; her tiny fortune and invest it in two lots adjoining her house. Now everything is swept away.” —— “She took care of you when you were a child?” “For seventeen years, Walter, deny-1 ing herself to feed and clothe me.” Walter did not speak again for many minutes, holding Elsie close in his arms. At las the said, very gravely: „ “If. 4 were *n rich man, Elsie, I not stop to think in a case like tins, but say atonce‘Bring your aunt here.* But you knnny lit tii>--gcife r liay,, salary. though sufSoient for all our wants, with a margin ‘for pleasnra-a.nA saving a nest-egg, is not yet large. If I invite yoUraunt here, the difference of expense must fall most heavily because I cannot, give you many pleasures you enjoy if I have one more to support. Concerts and jewelry, little gifts and pleasures, will be beyond our means then. But if you will be happier knowingyour aunt has a home. I will go myself to Chicago and bring her hero." “Oh, Walter, how kind, how generous you art 1 ! I will never he able to thank you.” “Then lam to go. All right. I will set a leave of absence tomorrow. In the meantime I will telegraph your aunt to meet me at the depot, if she has sent any address." “The address is the lawyers’ who arranged her legacy for her, and who did not live in the burnt district, Morse <fc Hunter.” A few days later, as fast as steam would carry Walter to Chicago and hack, Elsie was waiting to welcome the travelers. A telegram had informed her that Walter had found Julia waiting at the depot and by xvhat train to expihet him home. The only spare room in the pretty little house at Harlem, where Walter had brought his bride, was iu dainty order. Jennie, the servant, was cooking the choicest supper Elsie could devise, and the little wife herself, neatly dressed,.was running to thedoorevery minute watching for the carnage. It came at last, and Walter handed out a lady. Poor Elsie felt fairly sick, as the euest tottered, rather than walked, into the room. She was white as ashes, her hair, Elsie remembered black as a coal not one year before, streaked with gray, and her eyes sunken as if with long illness. When the water-proof cloak fell from her shoulders, her shabby dress was most unlike Aunt Julia’s habitual neatness. Bpt, the first shock of surprise over, Elsie

had no woYds too loving to welcome her aunt, while soft, tender kisses fell fast upon the pale face. “She is very tired, Elsie,” Walter whispered, seeing how vainly the white lips tried to frame words. “Get her to rest, dear, as soon as you cam” ,- So FJsie, tearfully loving, made her aunt lie upon the lounge, and brought her the most tempting of fry »fcraya, stopping the broken words or tnanks by Kisses and caresses. Walter, too, by a hundred delicate attentions and few spoken words made the guest feel that she was most cordially and gladly welcome. In her own room Aunt Julia told EUmo Sonin ljlng of the horrors that had aged her more in one fortnight thin in any previous two years of her life. She had slept upon the ground in a drenching rain for twonights.theu in a tent with no change of clothing, anu the memory of the fire terrors to haunt her. She had begged the paper and stamp to write to Elsie. Then she told of Walter's tender care for her in the long journey, when she, racked by pain, often could not speak for houre, how like a son he had cared tor her comfort. It was a sad story, and Elsie’s tears fell fast. "But n«sw,” she said, ‘‘you are at home. I have put underclothes and loose wrappers in here, Auntie, until we can have some dresses fitted. Let me undress you now." Gently and tenderly the shabby clothes was removed, the weary feet bathed, thegray streaked hairsmoothed. and snoWy linen put on for the night. Then, utterly tired, Aunt Julia sank in the bed, whimpering: “Think, Elsie, J have not been in a bed for twelve nights!” I But alas, she was not soon to leave it. The haven of rest once gained. - Aunt Julia lay for many long weeks dangerously, ill with rheumatic fever brought ou by exposure, while,the tortured brain, in wildest delirium, raved of scenes that chilled Elsie with horror. —All -through those weary weeks Elsie was nurse, while Walter supplied every delicacy that could be found to tempt the invalid, patiently endured the discomforts of a house haunted by sickness, and proved himself, Jennie declared, “the nearest to an angel of any man ever she seed.” Winter was nearly over before Aunt Julia was able to leave her bed. crippled for life. The rheumatism had so twisted the joints of her hands, legs and feet, that they were useless and most of the tune intensely painful. She fretted over the prospect of being a burden upon Walter and Elsie, with all thedespair of a proud woman who had always maintained her own independence, and tearfully begged t o i be sent to some charitable asylum, I where she would be only a public exj pense. Elsie told Walter of this | wish, and he went to Aunt Julia’s ! room. | Taking the crippled, helpless hands in his own, holding them very tenderly, i he said: j , “Aunt Julia, Elsie has told me how | hard these little hands worked for her : for seventeen long years. 1 love Elsie I so dearly that to grieve her is my j greatest sorrow. Do you think I could j bear to see her pained if her second i mother was*sick and alone, nursed by j hired hands while we are able and I willing to give her love and care? Do l not speak again of leaving us. Iha ve not seen Elsie’s face so sad as it is tonight since you came to us.” “But. Walter, I may live foryears.” “I sincerely hope you will.” “And I can never have any use of my hands and feet more than I have now. l ean scarcely feed myself or hobble across the room.”. The more reason you should have loving care. Why,” and Walter laughed while his honest brown eyes proved his sincerity, “do you think all the love here is Elsie’s. I want my share too, auntie, for 1 love you as l do my life. I ask you tostay beeatise I want youTiere. I have not heard ■ E!sie sigh over long, long days since ; you came.” I It took many more loving arguments ; hut at last Aunt Julia yielded. It was ; biljt trnthj liar Walter spoke whcii-.he said she had won his love as well as Elsie’s. She was very patient under excruciating suffering, and very grateful for all the loving care lavished j upon her. When the pain subsided i and she could talk, she was charming company, well read and full of pleasant--- memories - and bright observation. While she felt herself a burden. , Walter and Elsie regarded her as a, blessing. Walter no longer worried at , leaving Elsie alone all day. while he | was at Ins business, and Elsie never j tired of Aunt Julia, whose experience ; proved very valuably to the little j housekeeper. j But month after month there was ! a scarcely perceptible failing of : strength in the sorely tired body,long j past youthful vigor. The rheumatic ! fever had left heart trouble, and disi trussing spells of suffocat ion and palpitation often threatened the invalid’s life. Always patient, she yet. often prayed for death to end her suffering, j while Elsie prayed only that the dear 1 life might be spared, i She had been Walter Hartman's | guest for two years,when her weakness increased to an alarming extent, rapidly and certainly, till she could not leave her bed. It was while she was herself conscious that the end of her suffering was approaching that she received a letter from her lawyer in Chicago informing her that he had received an offer of twenty thousand dollars for ttye lots of land she owned in that city. 1 She had looked uoon her own beggary as so absolutely certain that at first she could scarcely credit the news; bti t Wal t er, in whose hands she pi need the business, soon proved the offer no dream by accepting the terms and informing Aunt Julia the money lay in tho bank in her name. "Now, you can ride in your carriage when you are well,” Elsie said, smiling but tearful. “I am so glad auntie. You will have something now for your old age.” “But no old, age, Elsie,” was the glad reply. “I am glad, too, darling, very glad, but not for that." •. By her own request a lawyer came and Wrota her will, and then Aunt

Julia, as if the cares of life was ended for her, sank rapidly, growing every day weaker and more dependent upon Elsie's loving, never-failing care. It was in early spring, when, one evening, as Walter came in. Jennie met “him, her honest face all disfigured by crying. “Sure. sir, it's asking for you, Miss Julia is.” •‘ls she worse?” •‘Ah, sir, she’s going fast. Th( doctor says she’ll not last the night.” Going fast. Walter could see the -girl’s words Were true when he sofrly entered the room where Aunt Julia rested, her head upon Elsie’s shoulder, her hands clasped fast i:i Elsie’s. “I am glad you came,’’ she whispered. “I think I could not go without thanking you once more and saying farewell.” “What I have done,” Walter said, his heart swelling with emotion, “was gladly, lovingly done. I do not need thanks, Aunt Julia.” “I believe that, but I am not less grateful, because you gave from a full heart, May God bless you andyours. May what you have done for a “poor penniless woman come back to you in your old age laden with her blessing. Kiss me farewell, Walter.” Reverently he bent o’er her, pressing a loving kiss upon the. withered lips, while tears that were no shone to his manhood stood in his eyes. Arfew broken wnrrbrrir j'Hsie; a niurmnred pfayer.an«l the c-nntiespMlAvto-released from the weary, pain-racked frame. Tears of true love fell upon the wasted face, placid in death's sleep. Every kind word was cherish<*d when the lips that had spoken it were mute, and Aunt Julia had two true mourners at her funeral, whin frieiKlsof- years gone-dry came to pav the lastJaabutc-oi respect to her memory. It: did not surprise Elsie when she learned that her Aunt Julia had left her the fortune tnat had come too late to gladden her own life. But she told Waiter, when the will was read to her. “I am glad we never thought of the land, Walter, in t lie years that. Aunt Julia was with us. It would have made me hesitate often to show her all the love in my heart, if I had ever thought she would have money to leave me.” “She knew, darling, it was all lover yet I am glad my Elsie has some reward for the patient, tender care that alleviated the suffering of the poor invalid who rests at last.” And Elsie, nestling close in Walter’s arms, said softly. “If I could love you more, Walter, than I did when I married you, I should do so when I think of yoiir kindness and generosity to Aunt Julia.” , “It was odd,” Walter said, “that the money that Aunt Julia .invested in Chicago should be actually doubled, for I have seen her Weep often when she spoke ot her “unfortunate investment” of her friend’s legacy.