Omaha daily bee., 1874-07-11
ENGAGED.

have thought tnOSe evenings, anu
altogether ~intolerable. But they
had a simple charm for the Harmon
girls, and Eta rather enjoyed them
sometimes, and to Jack they were
delightful beyond measure. Sitting
under q great chestnut tree till nine
o'clock looking at the stars and tell
ing stories and exchanging views
about things in general, comprised
all the pleasure, such as it was-and
e one item also, Jacks occasional
performa ace on the fiddle.
This was the sort of life one might
have predicted to go on without the
least change till all who shared it
died. But just at the most monot-
onous point came a change.
It was an evening toward autumn
and a little chill, and the girls were
a little wrapped up, and even Jacks
coat was buttoned. What could De
prettier than Eta, sitting there with
her listening smile, and the tinkle
of her voice breaking in now and
then, and the quaint, roguish poise
of her head?
oh, Jack, Jack . it was no Won
der you loved her with all your big.
simple heart, and wouldn't you
have readily laid down your life to
make her happy, any hour the sac
rifice might be demanded? Yes,
over and Over again.
The subject was one, l am sure,
everybody not Overburdened with
wealth has often discussed: "tVhat
would I do il I were rich?" 1t was
Etta's turn to say, and as she told
them all the wonders she would do,
a plaintiveness came into her voice
and q sadness upon her face, and
Jack learned for the first time that
she was not happy in being poor.
"sWell," said she, in conclusion,
with sigh, "Jack and l have our
expectations, at any rate"
"What are they?" wondered Jack
instantly.
"Aunt Nutwell, you know, she
has an immense deal of money, and
when she dies it will 60 to one OF
us, as we are the only relatives she
has. 1 think your chance is far bet
ter than Lime, though, Jack, because
Aunt Ellenorah never liked my poor
mamma, and you know she is very
fond Of your mamma and papa
both," laughed Eta, a shade sadly.
This set Jack to thinking, and on
his way back with Eta, after seeing
the Harmon girls home, he said:
"Etta, / believe if you were rich
{ YOU wouldn't care for me any
longer"
"Don't be silly, Jack. You know
l shouldn't change, no matter If L
were found out to be an heiress to q
throne"
This he believed, but he liked to
hear her say 1t over and over again,
lust as children enjoy the same
things told twenty times that they
know already. And so when they
parted for the night at the fool of
the stairs, Eta standing there with
a candle in her hand, and her face
SO sweet and smiling behind it, he
| kissed her and whispered:
,UYou will never love anybody
else-never, never, never"
"Never, never, never!" h ech-
! oed, and was gone.
Next day Farmer Dilwyn goes to
market i'm the great wagon, and
Jack goes to the field, and Eta goes
to the village On her toy pony; and
about noon comes a gentleman, very
stout and pompous, and rather hand>
some. Jack is sent for and is much
bewildered, not being able to imag-
inc what is wanted of him; but they
90 into the little dining-rOOm and
, are oloseted for a long hour together.
When Jack comes out he is a
changed being. Not that "his hair
has grown white in a single night"
or anything of that kind, but he is
awed, and quiet, and, upon the
whole, queer.
Eta Houghson-oh, so gay and
sweet upon that dear little pony!
came back much later than usual.
She bad been to the postofice, and
had read several three-vOlume let
tiers from some friends of her own
sex, and had glanced over some
papers, and had paid q visit or two,
and borrowed q novel and lots OF
things more ; all of which combined
to detain her.
And leaving the pony Of the gate,
she welt up the path to the farm
house on foot. The place seemed
strangely silent but presently she
discovered Farmer Dilwyn standing
In the semi-darkness of the small
corridor, staring fixedly at her, and
possibly a little i'll at ease.
She went in, and fresher surprises
awaited her, like so many meta
phorical Jacks-in-the-box.
Farmer Dilwyn, an intensely
practical man, first brushed the
dust from a chair and handed it to
her, and his wife bound as if she
was a stranger, aud the dutiful son
stood altogether aloof. Was il
hauteur, or shyness, or caprice, OF
what
Eta burst out laughing. "How
singularly you all act! Is this q
comedy of mystifcation?
Farmer Diiwyn came forward Q
little, and said, gravely:
"Etta, ! have some some impor
tant news for you. Your Aunt FL
lenorah Nutwell is dead"
II am sorry" said Eta, the laugh
fading into a gentle smile. 81
know that she was prepared, and
believe she was a good woman,
wasn't she; uncle ? And" Here
she stopped, not knowing how tG
get on furthe-.
"Well, Eta" continued Farmer
Dilwyn, plunging in naedids res
"the short and long of it Is that Vol
are the heiress to her large wealth
/ congratulate-we all congratulate
you"
Eta turned pale, very naturally
and felt faint, and even, / think, il
very ill and dizzy-for the in
slant; and she sank into the chat
that had been brushed for her re
ception; and for q minute or two i
was all q kind of gray dream
misty nightmare wholly made up o
pain.
And then the truth flashed upOI
her, and her mind absorbed in /
the instant, and she shed tears.
Gam / rich, then, after all?" sh'
said, the ~pleasanter reaction com
ing. "Oh, Uncle Dilwyn, l dom
believe I ever really wanted to b