The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1877-12-27

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opened it; but it's something in q red
morocco case, for saw that through a
hole in the paper" said Nelson.
(Which you tore, young shaver y
said the elder boy, in whisper.
Mrs. POmfret had hurried down
stairs, Miss Moss, pale and trembling
had sunk back in her chair. She was
leaning her arms upon the desk, and
her face in her hands, and was weeping
silently. She said to herself: "Why
should care for Mrs. Pomfret's un-
kindness? He has been heard of. He
is well-perhaps he has sent kind
message to Cousin Rose. He never
was ashamed to own me, Heaven bless
himr'
The children were all to 90 to the
play. Poor Rose had dressed them,
and they were gone to dessert. She
was just sitting down to her weak tea
and toast when Dahlia Domvile, the
belle of Bloomsbury, came in.
20 Rose," she cried, lido help me
with these plaits and curls-I can't
make them feel safe-and then fix this
wreath for me, and l am sure that
great stupid Ann has laced my dress
awry-I feel quite crooked"
missed. While Rose set it right, Dab
liza said: 1--we such news to tell you,
Rose-Sir Harry will be here to-mor-
row."
Rose, in her turn, missed a hole. She
turned pale and red, and for moment
felt very faint.
You'll never guess what Cousin
Harry is coming for" said Dahlia.
ITO take a wife back with him, and
that wife no less a person than the
belle of Bloomsbury"
But thought" said Rose, "you
intended to marry Mr.. Philip Floun-
der
II did, poor fellow; but 1 must bowl
him Ovcr-he can't make me my
lady, and Sir Harry can. But, oh,
Rose, called on Phils mother to-day,
on the sly, and he's been called to the
bar Called! There's an honor!
Think of that! As his very gifted
mother says, people are not called if
they are not wanted. l saw him in his
new wig and gown. He looked lovely.
Sir Harry" continued Dahlia, sis an
ugly old bore compared to Phil, and
when Phil is Lord Chancellor, his wife
will be my lady indeed. But Knight
have so long to wait, and a bird in the
hand is worth two in the bush.' And,
oh, Rose, Sir Harry has sent such a
lovely set of pearls and emeralds as a
wedding present for his bride-elect. l
couldn't refuse them, though 1 could
him, and they must 60 together, sup
pose. How they'll set off my Lady
Pomfret! All, you handsome flirt,
your she added, shaking her curls,
while addressing her own blooming
image in the toilet-glass; "you were
born to be my lady-you know you
were. How well the title suits my
style of beauty-now doesn't it, Rose?
But isn't it a pity Sir Harry Pomfret
hasn't Pills handsome face and fine
form, and Pills wit and genius, too?
Don't you think SO, now?'
Rose did not-could not-speak.
II say, Rose, are you ill?'' said
Dahlia. "How pallid and bad you do
look"
mo, am not i'll, thank YOU"
30, perhaps it's only the contrast of
my complexion and yours. That's not
my fault, nor yours, either. Here's Sir
Harry's letter to Mr.. POmfret-do read
it,
Carriage at the door, MISS" said
Ann, at this moment.
Coming" cried Dahlia. "Light
me down, Ann and without even a
THANK your or ''Good-nightr' she
hurried away.
Rose Moss did not even remark her
rudeness. Cousin Harry's letter was in
her cold, trembling hand-the letter in
which he offered himself to his lovely
cousin, the belle of Bloomsbury.
mo wonder that he chooses Della, !"
she said to herself, "she is so hand
some."
She glanced at herself in the mirror,
which reflected very slender form,
robed in deep mourning; small, delicate
features, a very pale complexion, dark
eyes full of tears, and a profusion of
glossy black hair, simply braided and
coi.ed round little Grecian head.
What a contrast to Delia's masses of
golden hair and ringlets floating down
her back, her brilliant complexion, her
scarlet lips and her turquoise eyes.
"HOw handsome she looked tonight,
in that green velvet and white satin,
with all that point lace, and those gems
setting off her white shoulders, fine
bust and lovely arms; but how will
Cousin Harry like such low dress and
such short sleeves? He used to be so
very fastidious, so particular. Oh, that
she were worthier of him! Can she, the
admired of all, ever love him as 1, the
sighted of all, haved loved-alas! weak,
wilful heart-do love him still?''
Poor Rose Moss sat down by her fru-
gal fire, poured out her weak tea, and
nerved herself to read Sir Harry's let
ter. 1t ran as follows:
DEAR BROTHER-I am on the way to your
hOspitable abode; hope to dine with you or
New Years Day. Poor, dear old Culpepper has
left me his estate in Cornwall, and &lO, in
the funds. The house and grounds are let al
three hundred per annum for the next fifteer
years. l can now pay all my old tOrmentinf
debts, and as am sick to death of my lonely
grandeur here, have made up my mind t
| marry. Now, there is no enc here at all to m.
fastidious taste, and my hopes center in Ger
| tain lovely cousin and belle Of Bloomsbury
who viii not, think, say "No" to Cousfl
had no idea could ever pay my debts, o
| make settlement on my wife, and / Onl,
fancy she rather likes me. Perhaps your kim
wife will prepare the dear girl for my arriva
and proposal, for have but week to stay II
town.
Don't forget that I can now "make m
Jean a lada," as Falconbridge says. 1 wa
half in love with my pretty cousin when 1 LEI
England, but not only thought it best to AZ
certain what the climate and mode of lif
here were, but to pay off my old Oxford an
London debts, and secure some little capital
before asking her to leave your home. fin
no fault with the climate, and like the place
and, as said before, dear old Culpcpper ha
made me rich. am compelled to give gran
dinners here; "but what's table richl
spread without woman ut its heads" l ca
bear my solitude no longer; SO, II all gOe
we'll, you will zee me tomorrow. l am mo-
ut Southampton, after six weeks at sea. Som
months ago sent over some fine pearls an
emeralds to be set by CARAT. They are to b
. wedding. present for my bride-elect. Garrat
is to eet them, and send them to your Office o
New Years Eve. Take charge Of them till
arrive. l have no time to say q word, exceI
love to al. Your very affectionate brother,
HARRY POMFRET.
| The cold, weak tea remained ur
| kas+o1-nO did tho drxy %ooc< tn,