Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1873-03-13
Which was the Heiress.


hair blown away from the blue-veined
forehead, and a soft violet light shin
ING in her eyes, as she stood there, a
living picture, framed in by creeping
vines and swinging sprays of Gle
matis-that was the last glimpse that
Henry Dalmaync caught Of Lillas
Raymond on the summon evening
when he went away to seek his for
| tune.
He had found it already, in a GER
tain sense-in so far as man may find
treasure trove in the rich abundance
Of Il woman's love; for Lillas loved
and HIM, Lillas' heart was gold mine
in itself.
She turned and went back into the
house, with the glistening dew of
tears upon her cheek a mournful quiv-
er on her lip,
'IIow silly I am" she murmured
to herself. ut will be but for year
or two at the furthest, and he has so
much more to endure and battle with
than L.
And Lillas repined at the fate as
signed her in the great play-bill of the
world. 1t was hard to realize the
truth of the blind poets words, that
"they also serve who only stand and
wait"
If she could have worked to earn
money and help him; if she might al
so have been privileged to bear q wea-
pom in the strife. Alas it is so hard
to sit still and count the seconds
which must elapse ere the crisis Of our
fate dawns upon the leaden horizon Of
life.
So Henry Dalmayne went to Lon
don, and Lillas stayed behind to bear
the separation as best she might.
Engaged, eh ?" growled old Mr.
Peckham, Hcnry's matured uncle,
whose skin had turned yellow with
the reflection of much gold, and whose
heart was harder than the marble Of
which his mansion was built Neph-
ew, you're fool Engaged-at two
and twenty!'
"But Uncle Ralph, she is the sweet
est girl you ever saw
Sweetest girl! Sweetest fiddle.
sticks y roared out the irate old gen
tleman. "There, there, don't talk SEM
timent to me. I've no patience with
it,"
Henry was silent. The glitter Of
the frescoed ceilings-the flash Of sill
yer and cut giass-the exquisite aroma
of the rare red wine, and the velvet
flush of hot-house peaches, became
distasteful to him, all at once. Uncle
Pecham had promised to make his
fortune for him--but Henry was not
at all sure that he wanted his fortune
much, on these terms. One glance,
one smile from Lillas-were they not
worth all these hollow pageantries ?
"Here," said Uncle Ralph, tossing
a card across the table. 'I've got an
invitation to Lady Bruce's party to-
night. You'll meet some people there
that are worth the knowing!"
Henry Dalmayne hesitated; it was
the evening he had set apart in each
week for writing to Lilas. She would
miss her letter--but, after all, it would
only be one days delay. He could
write as well upon the next night !
So Henry Dalmayne went to Lady
Bruce's, under the wing of his uncle,
the wealthy stockbroker
"Well" quoth Uncle Peckham,
when the festivities were over, and
they were sitting once more beside
the bright fire that shone and sparkled
like deep hued rubies beneath the cary
ed arabeSques of the marble mantle in
the rich mans dining room; show do
you like Sarah Esterbrook ?"
Every well, sir!"
"V-e-r-y well!' sarcastically MINI
licked Mr.. Peckham. "Do you know
that her father is worth quarter of a
million 2
"Is he, sir?'
SIS he, sir Ienry! roared the
old gentleman 81 believe you're
fool. Why, there are score of the
wealthiest young men in town who
would give half they possess-ay, the
whole of it, if need be-for the smiles
and glances Miss Esterbrook vouch-
safed to you this very night"
"She was very polite, sir" said
Henry, with rather of n puzzled look +;
"but--"
"Polite !" and pray what would
you have, Mr.. Dalmayne? Do you
won't q woman tO fell Won ont and ont