Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1879-04-26
o,tey your directions and turn farmer
doctor at once"
Guy, we never will be married."
90 taania ~

II leenie ]"
"S mething has happened to change
all my pleasant hopes, Guy-something
strange and unexpected, yet none the
less conclusive" Then Queenie told
her stry.
"One of the rooms, Guy, have not
touched or altered-an apartment on
the ground f )or, facing the north, fin.
ished with tile, and so cold, dark and
gloomy that l found 1t quite a hopeless
matter to make it healthy and pleasant.
Yet 1t IL handsome room, with inlaid
floor and tiles of such great worth that
] wonder the old mansion has not been
broken into and pillaged Of them. Prob
ably no one about here knows their
worth. But, as l say, l left the tile
parlor unchanged, even from the cobwebs
and yews growing against the windows.
But it Is the only unpleasant place in
the house. and Its neighborhood to the
bright little sitting room l have made
has never troubled me.
Zone chilly, rainy night less than a
week ago, and after wrote you to come,
| sat reading by the bright hearth. fire
OF my sitting room until nearly twelve
O'Clock. Patty was asleep in little
room leading from it, which is directly
beneath my chamber, and the other two
servants, housemaiL and man, were
asleep in their rooms in another part OF
the house. / told Patty not to cit up;
yet when it grew midnight the solitude
of the great house weighed on me little,
and | felt 10th to 60 up to my chamber.
Finally | wrapped myself in my dress-
ing'gown and lay down on r couch before
the hearth, knowing that the great wood
fire would keep the room warm till
morning. l had lain there but moment,
l think, when l heard voice in the
room say, Look under the hearth In
the parlor.' 1t was so distinct voice
that the room seemed to echo with 1t.
| dor't know why did as did do; !
should have thought would have been
afraid but | sprang up, caught light
from the table, crossed the hall and
opened the door OF the parlor"
Poor little Qdeeniel You had over
exerted yourself, and your brain had
grown excited and unsettled"
"But, Guy, 1 knelt down in that
dark room by the hearth and passed my
hands over the smooth tiles. Almost
instantly found that one was loose. 1t
was small, and l pried it open with a
hairpin. Here beneath lay a small,
yellow, folded paper. ] stared at it
moment, then took it out, and seeing, as
l expected, that it was covered with
writing, / only stopped to look once
more around the'silent black parlor, then
hurried back to my sitting room.
"Oh, Guy, it was no coincidence, my
finding n paper in that place. The
paper is of the utmest importance. You
may see that for yourself Here it is,"
. n rising Queenie took 1t from one of
the corner cabinets. secured to the wa |,
and placed it in Guys hand. A bit Of
coarse yellow parchment, the chirogra-
ply quaint, the ink faded; but it was
the written confession of one Gilbert st.
Edgar that the estate of Dead wosd had
been wrongfully obtained, and that he
had wrongfully defrauded the rightful
line OF inheritance; and he furthermore
besought and instructed the finders OF
the paper, which hS declared hidden
under the hearth f'the tile parlor for
preservation few days before his death,
to restore the ill'gDtten estate Of Dead
wood to its rightinl inheritors Guy
B ondtps1cholarly lace < ew grave and
a trhs paler as he read. Anticipating
what it boded for him, he made strong
effOrt for self nresarvation
"Queenie, dear Queenie, you surely
don't mean that you are going to give
up D-adwood and all our hopes for this
little scrap of paper ?"
"Deadwood Is not mine, Guy"
"Oh, Queenie, don't plunge yourself
into after poverty and separate us for
this unsubstantial idea
~ will not, If it Is nn,ubstantial,
Guy. l hope it may prove 20. Let us
both hope 30, and be happy, at least
until we find out" said the girl, making
an effort to s.ave off her own discour-
She was full of pity, too, for
the pain of the heart all hers in its
freshness and strength. Yet nothing
overcame the power OF that honest
blood which had come with the strong
blue eyes. She held firm day after day,
only replyiog to Guys plesdings:
"Deadwood must be mine, Guy. II
it is not mine | de not want it. 1t
would never be home else."
At last Mr. Quill, yho had been sent
for, came.
'Queenie withheld the story Of her |
dream, as Guy called it, but inquired,
as quietly as possible, as to the existence |
Of Gilbert st Edgar
"Oh, yes, my dear, yonr great.great |
uncle. ! never saw him, of course, but |
my father remembers him."
g. have Y reason for wishing TO see |
his penmanship, Mr., Quill, "said Queenie.
Do you think there is any in exist
enceP"
"Oh, yes; / know there is. My un>
Gle, who was friend o his, left q guam
tity of old letters and papers; among
Them are written bills Of this same Gil.
bert st. Edgar I'll look when ] 90
home and send you specimen Of the
Did mans chirography. Very interest
ing, these old relics Miss 6t. Edgar"
And Mr.. Quill partook Of delicious
.ea and rode back to town, never dream
ng OF the strained and anxious young
,earts he had left behind him.
Two days later, inclosed In a facetious
,ote inquiripg when the wedding was to
%. arrived from Mr.. Quill bit OF yellow
,aper signed Gilbert bt. Edgar.
With the color ebbing from cheek and
lps, Queenie and Guy compared II 10
he parchment, taken from the tile par
or for It was identical and the same
There could be no doubt.
"And now, QueenieT
"Now all hore is at an end at least
or long years Guy. But we may get
.ich bye-apd bye, and them
Tried beyond endurance be flung the
,lender hand from his own. The next