Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 93, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 August 1900 — Wedded for Gold [ARTICLE]

Wedded for Gold

BY BERTHA N, CLAY

CHAPTER I. “It is true, Kate—every word of it. I wn l like yon, incredulous at first; but X heard the will read, and I assure you that Mrs. Hardman has left me six thousand pounds*” “I cannot believe it, Darcy. See how hands tremble! I have hardly the artrcngth to speak. Tt is impossible. Six thoosand pounds! Oh, Darcy, if there aht'iH be any mistake, let me know it at before I begin to found any hopes -•pan such good fortune—before I take 4t into my heart of hearts as a truth.” “My dear Kate, there is no mistake—there can be no mistake. The money is aw own, and will be paid to us when the mntatr is settled.” "Six thousand pounds! Why, Darcy, that means three hundred a year, does it -aot?” “Certainly,” replied Darcy Lonsdale—- •- "“properly invested.” \ “And three hundred a year means freetom from anxiety, from the constant toil at trying to make both ends meet. It oceans a larger and better house, a governess for the children. Oh, Darcy, how we be thankful enough?” "My dear Kate,” said the lawyer, simtgij, "I assure you that for some time after I had heard it I did not know how I felt. The most pleasant part of it was -coming home to tell you. I knew how delighted you would be.” ♦“Have you told Felix?” asked the anxious wife. “No. I have not seen him yet. I can -*«!.■«> him into partnership now. We have tfc«a a hard struggle together, Kate, but It Is almost over, yesterday T felt that the world was my master, to-day I feel tkat I have mastered the world.” “We must take Vale House; it is to be Sat,” remarked Mrs. Lonsdale. “It is just such a house as I have always longed for; it is so large., so convenient, and lias a much better drawing room than vfhat of the Mertons. What do you think, :l>arcy?” “Yes; I think we might take Vale 'House. I will go out to-day and inquire .about the rent, rates and taxes.” “What will Mrs. Merton say?” mused Mrs. Lonsdale. "Never mind about that,” replied the 'lawyer. “All that we have to do is to enjoy our good fortune. Kiss me, Kate, we will not forget to thank heaven together.” The speakers were Darcy Lonsdale and M. wife. Darcy Lonsdale was the principal lawyer in the clean and well-built o»wn of Lilford in Loomsliire—a man wrko had had a hard hand-to-hand struggle with the world. He had been twice married. His first wife died in her twentieth year, leaving an only son, Felix; and ton years afterward the lawyer married .-again. His second wife was a blithe, ?bonny, rosy girl who loved him with all heart, and thought no one In the -wide world so clever, so great or so good. sFor his sake she took little Felix to her fhaart, and loved the dark-haired, hand<Mßte boy as much as she did her own children. Darcy Lonsdale was a very happy man; he had a charining wife, :beautiful children, a good practice, and 3ie liked work. The one pride of his life -was his tall, handsome son Felix, in -whom the honest, simple-hearted lawyer had concentrated all his hopes and amhitians The “small army” of children swere all under twelve, so that he could snot build any hopes on them at present. Among his clients was an eccentric -widow named Martha Hardman, and •Darcy Lonsdale had for twenty years •been her faithful friend, adviser and She said to him laughingly one -day: * “Yon will have something to thank me tor when I am dead.” “How can I thank you When you are -dead?" he asked. “You will see,” she replied. “You have •done everything for me since you began <to practice; but I shall not let you make my will. Tell me whom you would advise me to send for to do so.” Thinking that she was in a capricious mood, he answered: “Send for George Malcolm: he Is an ’honest lawyer and an honest man. But why not let me make your will, Mrs. Hardman?” “Because I am going to leave you some(thing in it.” He laughed at the time, giving little beed to what she said, and soon afterward he forgot all about the incident. '■•Three years later Mrs. Hardman died, wad her nephew, her heir-at-law, came upon the scene. Darcy Lonsdale had all iber papers, an exact list of all her moneys, her deeds, leases, documents of various kinds—but he had no will. “Did she make a will?” asked the heir-wt-law. “r cannot tell,” replied Darcy Lonsdale. “I have certainly drawn up no will for her.” “Has she ever mentioned a will?” pur«ued James Hardman. Suddenly the lawyer remembered that had mentioned a will, and his face dashed as he thought of the conversation. James Hardman looked at him suspiciously. “She did speak of her will to me once; whe told me that I should not draw it <op for her, and asked me to name some Sawyer. I told her that George Malcolm Ufas an honest lawyer and an honest man, but I never heard whether she sent for , h im or not.” “You know, of course, of what her property consists, and that lam her heir-wt-law?’ “Yes,” was the cheerful reply; ‘we often talked about you. I can give J4U the particulars of the late Mrs. Hardman’s property.” Jkfter the funeral George Malcolm agrae with the will, and the instructions ghat fa* bad received from Mrs. nardIt was read ‘faJP u d> then it was discovered that the lady had left "Wtodburn and six thousand pounds to jLnir aephew, James Hardman, while to tm true friend and adviser, Darcy Loni4g|», in acknowledgment of ins long jfelendsbip and faithful services, ah* had

bequeathed the sum of six thousand pounds. On hearing that, the lawyer, delighted with the intelligence, hurried home to his wife. What a vista of comfort this legacy opened out to them! For the first time in his long, honorable career the lawyer felt some relief —he could meet his expenses now, and when he died there would be something for his wife and children. i. Nor was his wife less delighted.- In her heart she had longed for the same luxuries that the wives of other professional men enjoyed—for -a drawing room like Mrs. Merton’s, for a nursery governess such as the doctor's wife, Mrs. Dalverley, had engaged, for a silk dress like the one that the rector’s wife wore. While she sat dreaming with a smile on her face, her stepson, Felix, entered the room. There was the attachment between these two —kindly liking and respect for his stepmother on his part, the highest admiration and the truest love for her stepson on hers. She was so young when Darcy Lonsdale brought her to the great white square house in Castle street, Lilford, that it seemed absurd to Felix to call her mother, As he grew older it appeared to him that, with her soft Italian beauty, the most suitable title for her was madre. He looked at her now. “Madre,” he said, “you are looking very pleased and bright; what is the good news?” * Mrs. Lonsdale went up to him and clasped her arms round his neck. She drew the handsome face down to hers. _ “Feli*-,” she said; “I have news to tell you—the best you have ever heard. I’ know you will be pleased—indeed, the very thought of the news makes me tremble with joy. You could never guess it, Felix.” “I suppose I never could. Have any of the ‘small army’ distinguished themselves?” “No; it is nothing of that kind. It is this. You remember Mrs. Hardman, of Woodburn?” “I should remember her, madre; some of the dreariest hours of my life have been spent in copying deeds bearing her name.” “My dear Felix, her name must be held blessed among us for evermore. She had left your father a legacy of six thousand pounds—and to us, my dear, that means so much. It means Vale House to live in, a governess for the children, and a partnership for you.” His. handsome face flushed hotly. “And that, madre—that means for me Violet Haye.” A tender light came into Kate Lonsdale’s clear eyes. “I hope so,” she said, gently; “I shall be so pleased if it is so.” CHAPTER 11. Violet Haye! Th6re is something in a name. More than one man murmured this one over and over again, wondering to himself what sweet magic, what wonderful scenery lay in it. Violet Haye — the very sound evoked a vision so beautiful, so full of pitching grace, so dainty, so delightful, that dwelling on it proved too much for minds and brains not overstrong. There was a wonderful charm about the girl. It was not simply for the sheen of her golden hair, for the wonderful light of her violet eyes, the exquisite tints of her face, the beauty of her rosebud mouth, the men loved her so; it was not that she was tall and slender, with a perfect figure; it was not that she had white hands that wove wondrous spells, that she moved with grace that was all harmony, that she spoke with a voice sweeter than sweet music, that, when she laughed, the silvery chime stirred a man’s heart like the sound of silver bells; it was not for this that men loved her. She was not a flirt, not a coquette—she never, by word or look, made any man believe that she loved him; but she could no more have helped the way she had of charming men than she could have helped living. She was the only child of Francis and Margaret Haye, who lived in a pretty villa called The Limes, on the outskirts of Lilford. By kind indulgence the Hayes were permitted to rank with the gentry. They were not poor; they were not “professionals;” they were not in trade. Francis Haye had an income that kept his family in comfort, but it would cease at his death. He had insured his life for the benefit of his wife and child, and the money that wo-uld come to them from that insurance was all that he had to leave them; still they belonged to the gentry. The gentry composed old Col. Maddox and his lady; Mrs. Brownson, a widow with a daughter of uncertain age; the late rector’s widow, Mrs. Baulders; a maiden lady, Miss Stanley, the pride of whose life was that her second cousin had married a baronet, and a few others of the same caliber. Tt Was not a brilliant circle, but to Violet Haye it was a world.

If of her numerous lovers she preferred one, it was Felix Lonsdale. It was an old story. He had certainly been her lover from the early age of seven. He had never thought of anyone else; to him the world was all Violet. In the sun’s rays shone Violet; the birds sang “Violet;” no sweet tiower bloomed that was as sweet as she. He had lived with this one thought; he had studied, worked, toiled—all for Vidlet, hoping that the day would come when he would be able to marry her. Now was his opportunity. He was already making a fair income by writing reviews and essays. If his father took him into partnership, his share, though perhaps small at first, would be certain and would increase. Now was his opportunity; he would delay no longer, but would at once ask Violet to be his wife. This afternoon seemed to Felix Lonsdale one of the fairest that he ever remembered. He walked through the clover meadows, his heart singing for joy, snatches of song risingjo bis lips. The hedges were ail pink and white with

hawthorn, long sprays of woodbine twined round the rugged trunks of the tall trees, the clover was thick and odorous. He crossed the path at the end of Oakwoods and reached the fair, green fields that led to The Limes, the home of his love. Presently he saw .Violet Haye. He gazed at her in mute wonder that earth should hold so fair. She carried a little basket filled with flowers, and on her golden head she wore a simple garden hat. She was walking inthd other direction, and he hastened after her. It was no wonder that he loved her; the smiles with which she greeted him would have turned many a wiser brain than his. “Felix,” she cried, “I did not dream of seeing you.” They walked together until they reached an opening in the lawn; there was a bank gay with wild flowers, a hedge full of wild roses, and hawthorns crowned it. Felix took the basket from her hand and placed her on the bank. “I have come to talk to you, Violet,” he said. “You must forget your flowers for a few minutes and listen to me. Such a day as this, Violet, was made for a love story. I have an idea that everything In nature is interested in mine.” “But we are not lovers, Felix,” she said, gravely. “Then I hope we soon shall be. I have a fancy, Violet, that every bird singing in the trees knows why T am here.” “Then,” observed Violet, “they are wiser than I." “No, not wiser- or sweeter or brighter than you; but it was an idle, pretty fancy, Violet. As I walked under the great shady trees every leaf seemed to stir—as I passed, the roses in the hedges nodded; they said, ‘The sun shines and the earth is fair; now is the time for youth and love.’ ” Violet looked up with a resigned little sigh. < ' ■ “Not being either a bird or a flower, I am not in their confidence, Felix.” “I hhve such good news, Violet. Mrs. Hardman, one of my father’s clients, has left him six thousand pounds.” “Six thousand pounds! That is a great deal of money, is it not, Felix?” “Yes, a very great deal. But this is the important thing—my father will now give me a partnership.” “Yes, Felix—what then?” “I have one hundred a year that my dear mother left me; I make quite another by reviews and articles for legal papers—that makes two hundred; then from the business I am sure to obtain *at least three hundred more —that will give me five hundred a year, Violet; and, my darling, there is a beautiful little cottage near Oakwoods, and —oh, Violet, Violet! will you be my wife?” “How cruel of you,” she said, in soft, lingerihg tones; “how very cruel on this sunny day to ask me such a question!” There was no anger in her face, no annoyance —nor was there pleasure or happiness; she looked rather like a child who had been disturbed at play. He was neither anxious nor dismayed, for he well understood the expression on her face. “Why is it cruel, Violet?” he asked. “It is cruel. You know Ido not want to be married, Felix. Tdo not like to be teased about love.” “But, my darling, no one can look at you and not love you.” “That is not my fault. And, Felix, you should not call me ‘darling,’ do you know that is harclly proper?” “If I knew a word that conveyed more and sounded more sweetly. I should use it,” he said, looking with admiration at the pure, perfect face. “Oh, Violet, do accept me! No one else in the wide world loves you half so much. I would make you so happy that you would never regret it.” She touched his face gently with her dainty hands. “You would buy the moon for me if I wanted it, and you could obtain it,” she said, laughingly. “But, Felix, I do not want the moon, and 1 do not want to be married. Do talk of something more pleasant.” “Violet, my heart is so full" of this; it seemed to me as I came along that 1 walked on air. I have loved you so long; r have no life apart from you; and I have been waiting so impatiently until 1could see a chanee of making a beautiful home for you. Now I see it—do not be cruel to me, Violet, I implore. You have admirers of every kind, but, Violet, you love me best, do you not?” • The lovely face dropped over a bunch of wild thyme. She did not answer; bat he persisted in his questioning. There was such passionate love iti his handsome eyes, such passionate pain in his fate, that she was touched. "Yes, I do love you, Felix,” she said, gently; and then she looked up in alarm. He had clasped her hands in his and covered them with kisses. *lis dark eyes were diin with tears. “Oh, my love!” he cried, “you hold my heart in the hollow of your hand! If you had said you did not love me, the words would have killed me as surely as ever a man was slain. My darling, do. you not see that if you love me you must be my wife?” “Marriage—(yell, Felix, you will laugh if I tell you that it seems to me like calling a child into a gloomy house from the sunshine and from play.” He took the soft, white hands in his and held them while he made her repeat again and again that she loved him. “You have said that you love me. Violet, make me quite happy, now. Already I am so happy that the air seems to intoxicate me. Say you will be my wife.” She was thinking again, with the same far-off look in her eyes, and she said, suddenly: “A pretty cottage. Do you mean that pretty villa where the Hendersons stayed?” , , The question seemed to him almost decisive. would not have asked it had she meant to refuse him. He could hardly answer her calmly, but he beat back his emotion. “She is so easily startled,” he said to himself —“I must be very cautious what I say to her.” He answered: “Yes, and many of the beautiful things that Captain Henderson bought are there now. To my mind it is the prettiest home in Lilford, and, my darling, I have a vision of you standing in that pretty entrance hall, waking for me when business hours are over. T can see the light from the stained-glass window falling on your golden hair. I can see the sunlight lying outside on the flowers. I can see ray wife’s sweet face grow brighter for ray coming. Do you like the picture, Violet? Will you make it real?” “I would rather not promise," she said; “but I willjtfaink of it. Felix.” “You do not refuse, Violet?"

“No, I do not refuse,” she answered. “Remember,” she told him, “I have not quite promised.” —' - ”1 have been thinking of your wedding dress, Violet,” he said; “it shall be of white silk. You will be such a beautiful bride that everyone who sees you will want to take you from me." ‘He kissed the beautiful face and whispered to her that she was dearest, sweetest, truest, that the world had no other jewel so rare, that he loved her with his whole soul; but she‘whispered: “I have not quite promised. Felix, do not forget that.” “I shall remember it only to love you the more,” he answered, as he left her; and he smiled to himself each time that he thought of the words. (To be continued.)