The Hartford herald. [volume] (Hartford, Ky.) 1875-1926, 1878-11-06
Was 1t Folly.
by W. T.

liest of her sex-the last of grand and
proud old race of which Clare Vernon
> was the grandest and Woudest.
Her face was Grecian in lis outlines
lofty, yet womanly, in its express.
ion, and perfect in its patrician beauty.
, Her hair was like heavy rift of wo.
ven eboney. her eyes deep and dusk.
Truly, fate and fortune had been kind
to her, and iven her more than her
share OF this earth's good things.
Among her few remaining relations
was a distant cousin. Irene Melton,
whose mother had been Vernon, and
when she died. old Rupert Vernon,
Irene's grandsire, adopted her as he
had done Glare. for she was an orphan.
And then, when Clare was twenty-four
he died, leaving his enormous wealth
TO the two girls, and they buried him
in the family vault, where all the Yer
mons were sleeping forgetful of their
honor and their pride.
His death occurred in the early
spring, before the soft breezes began
their chanting amid the trees, and
when the summers sun began TO paint
the sky with its lucid crimson, and
from respect to their dead relative, the
two orphans decided to leave the town
house, and went far away to leafy
Warwickshire.
Silverbrook as they called the town
confirmed scarcely more than n humid
red houses, the handsomest of which
was a gothic structure situated direct
" opposite their home. 1t was the
property of Mrs. Wharton, the late
physicians widow. who resided there
with her two sons, the eldest, Hilton,
a sort of literary recluse, an amateur
artist and an embryo astronomer, and
the younger, Reginald, a physician,
supplying the vacancy his fathers
death had made.
| He was graduate of London, and
strikingly handsome man. The last
was Clare's addition to the information
their hostess gave them, but where
and how she saw him We do not know
but we have reason TO believe she stood
in the yard unsheltered from the rain
for purpose, and that purpose to be-
come Reginald Waltons patient. If
our suspicious were correct her ruse
was eminently successful. for the next
morning she was unable to leave her
room and he was sent for and came.
Irene surveyed him as though she
had been cOnnoiSseur, and found him
tall and well formed, his face hand
some and crowned by gold-darted
brown hair and lighted by bronze
brown eyes.
He pronounced her suffering from a
severe cold, which, unless attended to
might terminate in bronchial atfec- !
ton.
Remain with her as much as posi- |
Bile, Mss Melton he said, after he had
finished his call and stood in the par
lor ready to depart, 'and l will call
again this evening"
She laughed heartily after he had !
gone-so heartily, in fact, that the
echo of her mirth must have reached |
his ears, for he returned to ask if she |
had called, but she had not, and SO
they parted, and that evening, true to
his promise, he called. But possibly
Clare thought her soft silks and creamy
laces more becom ing than her loose
wrapper. for she arose late in the after
noon and dressed herself in deep en-
erald silk, and received him when he
came.
What passed between them Irene
never knew, but he stayed until after
ten, and, when he did 90, she accom-
panied him to the gate. Think of it
went down the narrow rose bordered
path with Il e lOwly country physician!
She, that proud, regal woman, through
whose veins the buest blood in Eng
land was fowing-Clare Vernon-she
whom men had heretofore loved and
worshiped from afar.
She was strangely silent that night,
and Irene did not seek her confidence.
The following day the orphans had
another caller in the person of Mrs.
Warton, DIR. Reginald's mother. They
found her bright, chatty and pleasant
greatly superior to her neighbors. She
brought Clare several books which she
thought they would like. They were
her sons favorites, and believed their
tastes were somewhat alike.
Clare read them through and voted
them splendid, while Irene began them
and gave them up in disSair They
were dry and metaphysical, and that
kind of fiction she hated. Clare read
them. returned them, and borrowed
more, and each time she went across
the road Reginald Warton brought her
home.
At first Irene did not understand,
did not dream thae she could love him
but at last her eyes were opened. She
saw it all, and trembled for her-for
them both. She was high, he was low
ly; surely this strange courtship
would prove fatal folly. She stood
upon high pedestal, he was in the
dust. Would she, could she 60 down
to his level, or lift him up to hers.
Irene watched them closely, noted
the glad, happy light that rested upon
her face when he was near, and saw it
die away when he was gone. The
browning traits of the Vernons was
pride, and Clare had more than her
share.
Would her pride trample her hearts
great love beneath the golden sceptrs
of that love7 These were the questions
that made Irene tremble for her safety
and to them no answer came.
One night Irene sat up and waited
for him to 60 and her to come. She
meant to sound her on that subject and
see as well as she could how it would
end. At last her soft silks swept un-
needed over the stony path, and he was
going. Ten minutes later she swept
into her foster sisters presence like a
beautiful vision.