Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 June 1879 — TRAPPED BY AN HEIRESS. [ARTICLE]

TRAPPED BY AN HEIRESS.

A coosier place than the big sittingroom at Hillcrest would have been hard to find, if one had traveled from Land's End to Joan O'Grout's: and this eventful evening, when the destinies of two worthy people were about taking definite form—two people who had never seen each other, and who had heard of each other so often that both were curiously eager to meet —on this important evening the sitting-room at Hillcrest had never looked- pleasanter or cosier. A huge fire of logs glowed like molten carbuncles in the open fireplace; on the table in the center of the floor, whose cover matched the glowing crimson of the carpet, was a silver stand that held as dozen snowy waxtapers, whose beaming light contrasted exquisitely with the ruddy glow of the fire. Beside the table, in a big, cushioned chair, with his- feet thrust, toward the genial warmth on the hearth, his gray dressing-gown sitting comfortable on his portly form, his gold-rimmed glass- | es on his nose, sat the owner and master of Hillcrest, Mr. Abiah Cressington, rich, good-natured, and fond of his own way. Opposite him was the mistress of the little place—little, shrewfaced, sharp-nosed, merry, Aunt Cornelia, his sister, who, since her widowhood, had come to Hillcrest to make her bachelor brother's home as pleasant as she could. That she had succeeded was very evident by the way now in which he tooked up from a letter he had been reading —the confindential. kindly way in which he did it. "Walter writes a curious letter in response to my invitation to come and spend a few weeks at Hillcrest as soon as he gets over his fatigue from his ocean voyage home, after his five years abroad. I’ll read it to you.’’ He leaned near the softly, glowing lights, and begun the short, concise reply that Walter Austin had written from his chamber in the Temple: “You are very kind, indeed, Uncle Abiah, to ask me down to Hillcrest for as long as I wish to stay, and I can assure you that I have been so long a wanderer, that the idea of home is very pleasant to me. But when I take into consideration the peculiar importance you propose attaching to my visit, I am unwilling to accept the invitation. To me, the idea of having my fancies and inclinations put into harness, and to feel that l am on continual duty to . win my way into the good graces of my second cousin, Mabel, whom you are good enough to wish me to marry--". Mrs. Cornelia interrupted sharply: "Abiah, you never surely went and told our grandnephew that yon had in view his marriage with Mabel.” Her tone was energetic, almost re prehensive. Why not? I certainly did. I told him in my letter that it was a chance for him he'd-never get again, and that he needn’t feel under such terrible ob ligations to take a fancy to Phil's little Mabel, but to come down and be cousinly, and if anything should happen, it'd be right all around." Mrs. Cornelia knitted vigorously, | her lavender cap-ribbons quivering in the mellow taper glow. “All I have to say is, you’re—a fool, Abiah! Walter is right. A young man doesn’t like to have his fancies under rein and whip, and the very fact that we want him to marry, will make him indisposed to do it. You’ve made a very great mistake in the begin Mr. Cressington looked aghast at his sister’s determined face. “Why, I really didn’t suppose-----" “Of course vou didn’t. It’s only vour /natural stupitity, you dear old fellow! Men are all alke.’" Don’t I know them like a book? And you've ruined your hopes for Mabel and Walter at the very outset.”’ Mr. Cressington started discomfit edly. “I am sure I meant it all right enough, Cornelia. I certainly wanted Walter to know what a little darling our Mabel is. and what a nice little wife she would make tor any man.” “Very commendable; indeed; only If you had consulled me upon the letter you sent. I should have advised you to say nothing about Mabel, or her charms, or her expectations. I should have simply asks! him to come and see us, and have left the rest to Mabel's blue eyes. You see, Abiah?" His lips comprised slowly. “I think I see And my hopes in that direction are all ruined!" The silver needles clicked rapidly, and the snow-white yarn came reeling merrily oft the ball under her arm. “Not at all. Leave that to me, and I’ll see what can be done. Trust a woman’s wit to get eveu a blundering old fellow like you out of a scrape.” and nodded, and looked so mischievous, that Mr. Cressington became quite excited over her little mystery. Do explain, Cornelia. And when she explained he leaned back in his chair, with an expression of positive awe and admiration on his face. What a woman you are, Cornelia! I declare, it beats everything I ever heard in the whole course of my life!" After dusk a glorious winter day, with here and there a star twinkling in the pale gray sky and the lights and fires in the Hillcrest sitting-room making an eloquent welcome to Wa

ter Austin, as he stood in the midst of the home circle, tall, gentlemanly, handsome, and self-possessed. Old Mr. Cressington was in his richest humor as he led forward two young girls. “Come, don't be shy now. Walter this is your cousin. Mabel Cressington, and this is her good friend and inseparable companion, Irene Vance, come to help entertain you. My nephew, Mr. Walter Austin, girls. And this is Aunt Cornelia—you remember her well enough, hey?” And so the presentation was merrily gotten over, and Walter found himself at home in the most pleasant family he had ever known. They were remarkably pretty girls, with blue eyes, although Miss Vance's were decidedly the deeper blue and more bewitching, and lovely yellow gold hair.Walter found himself admiring the style of Miss Vance’s coiffure before he had known her an hour, and when he went up to his room that night he felt as if between the two, roguish Mabel and sweet little Irene, he never would come out heart whole. For Mabel is a good little darling, " thought he, "and I will take Greatuncle Abiah's advice and fall in love with her, and thereby secure a gener ous slice of the Cressington estates Egad! that’s a happy thought!” But the handsome young gentleman went to sleep and dreamed, instead of Mabel's laughing eyes, of Irene's gentle, tender ones, and awoke somewhere in the middle of the night, unahle to get to sleep again for thinking of her. And the after days were not much better. Despite the golden value of Mabel, there was something lerne Vance that made this headstrong fellow very foolishly iudifferent to the advice he had sworn to follow. “Because, by Jove! a fellow would have to he made out of granite to resist the sweet, shy ways of such a little darling as Irene. And I’ll marry her if she’ll have me, and the money and property may go to the—dogs. I've a head and a pair of hands, and the blueeyed Irene shall not suffer.” It was an hour latter that he met her in the hall, carrying great bows of holly, with which to festoon down the walnut staircase. “Give me your burden, Irene,” he. “Why did you not tell me you were going to gather it, and let me go with you? It is altogether too heavy a burden for your arms to bear.” He managed to get the lovely sprays from her arms, but it required an immense amount of tardy effort on his part, and shy, sweet blushing on hers. “Answer me, Irene. Why didn't you let me go with you? Wouldn’t you have liked it? He demanded her answer in the most captivating, lordly way, and she dropped her eyes in great confusion “Y-e-s.” "Then why were you so cruel to me?” "I am not cruel to anybody. Indeed I must now go.” Walter placed himself squarely in the way, and was looking down on tier rose-tinted face. “No, you can’t go yet. Irene, you are cruel, or you would never deprive one of the opportunity to enjoy the blessedness of your society.” His voice lowered tenderly, and he dropped his head nearer her golden curls. “You know I think it cruel in you to be so distant and shy and reserved with me you, Irene?” She shrank away, her lovely form drooping like a lily, her cheeks hanging out their signals of distress and confusion. "Oh, please don’t talk so to me. (Indeed I must go! Mabel is waiting for the holly, and —they won’t like it if—” But she was a prisoner in his tight clasp. "If.-what? If they find you and me talking so confidently together?” “No! I mean if I don’t take the holly at once.” Walter put his arm around her waist before she knew what he was doing ‘‘lrine, look up. You shall not go until you let me see in your eyes if you love me as well as I love you! Irene, my dear little girl, I love you very dearly.” She was silent for one second, and he saw the quiver of her red lips. Then she raised her head slowly, shyly. “You love? Oh, Walter, what will they all say? Don't you know it is Mabel you should say that to? I am nobody, Walter, and Mabel is an heiress." Walter had both arms around her by this time, and was looking ardently in her glowing face. “I know Mebel is an heiress, and a nice little girl; and I also know you are a darling-my darling--and the girl I ever asked to be wife, or ever shall ask! Say yes, pet." his tones were low and tender, but triumphant. "And you can deliberately give up so much for only just me ?” r wondrous eyes met his bravely now, and thrilled him with the love light in them. "Only just you, my own darling! Why, you are more than all the world to me! Come, we will go tell Uncle Abiah at once. Just one kiss first you must!” And, he had more than one or two before he led her, blushing, with trembling on her lashes, like diamonds on a golden thread, to Uncle Abiah, who sat in his library with Mrs. Cornelia, industriously looking over a receipt book. They looked up in surprise as Walter marched in, Irene on his arm, a picture of confusion. “If you please, Uncle Abiah, I want your blessing and cordial consent to receive this little girl for your niece. I love her, and she loves me.” Uncle Abiah looked shrewdly over his. glasses at Mrs. Cornelia. “Well, sister, what shall we say to this youth’s demand?” A broad smile of perfect delight was on her merry face. "Say’? Why, tell them yes, and welcome, and let them know their Aunt Cornelia isn’t a fool if their Uncle Abiah is.” Walter looked astonished, and felt Irene’s hand tremble on his arm. “What is it, dear?” She smiled through her tears as she looked into his inquiring eyes. “Oh, Walter, I am afraid you will be angry. I am Mabel, after all, and—and—” “And you have made love to your cousin, the heiress, in spite of yourself, my boy! So Hillcrest is a forgone fate, after all, eh?” “Don’t scold, please, Walter?” Mabel

pleaded, in a low voice, with her bine eyes looking into his. "As if I could scold you, my love! Since I have you, what need I care?” And Mrs. Cornelia turned over the leaves of the receipt book until she came to “wedding-cake.” and avers that she made the match herself.