The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1882-08-30

Then she sprung, laughing, from his EN-.
brace, for fish was running off with her
rod.
Help me, Lewald help mel !"
He laughed, too, as he caught it--so glad
to be happy, hopeful!
Let me do your fishing, Lady-bird, while
you sit there, like a queen and tell me why
you love me-"
She pulled the gloves leisurely from the
white hands and folded them on her lap.
Because trust you. and Won suit me-
was ali sne said.
He cut a nipple stick, and strung the fsh
in silence.
Your father will never consent" he said
at last.
She turned the rings ON her hands un-
easily.
My father does not want me to marry
poor. He likes you, but You are not rich,
Lewald." f
"No. am poor" he said, bitterly
so am l." she answered. The waves
dashed, and the wheeling white gulls cried.
"But do not despair. If Aunt Dorinda
forgives papa, shall be rich"
81 do not want your rich," he replied,
absently, his brow corrugated
YoE must have me rich, if at ALL" she
smiled leaning forward to interpose her
beautiful face between his troubled gaze and
the water. 81 Let me tell you about it. My
grandfather was poor, and his children had
their fortunes to carve out. Dorinda, the
eldest was wonderfully good, brave, and
capable. She educated herself-taught
school, OF the boys, who were Uncle
Arthur and my father, she made her favor.
lite. She was anxious that he should pre-
pare himself for college she offered to pay,
herself, the collegiate course. But he did
not care for classical education. He
agreed, but wasted his time, took another
course, and bitterly disappointed her. For
twenty years they did not meet or commu.
| nicate. Meanwhile aunt had married Gen.
eral Blenyille and grown old meanwhile
was born. Though papa had not gratifed
his sister, he admired and respected her
He named me for her. IL is only few
years ago since she drove, one day, in her
carriage to call on us and see me. Then
she sent me some lovely dresses, shawls, and
jewels. But papa believes that she has
never forgiven him, aud do not know.
Lewald Llwellyn heard this story in 81
lence. There was no possible fortune wait.
ing for him The times were bad and
growing worse. His importing interests
had failed; his daily business as an art
dealer, was hourly becoming less His
partners letters were daily more diseourag-
ing His leese Of his store and art gallery
only kept him still engaged in the business
It had been congenial occupation, but of
late had become bitterly Improbable,
He told all this to Mr.. Blanchrord that
evening.
1t is very hopeless matter, sir but /
love your daughter none the less"
II will be frank with you, Mr. Llwellyn,"
said Mr.. Blanchford, who was in serene
mood. 81 like you, but my little Rim is not
| fitted for poverty. TO wed her to it would
| be disastrous But, since she so evidently
loves you, l hope perhaps in vain-that a
| egacy from he aunt may facilitate matters.
My sister Is very old and failing, and Little
Rim will spend the winter with her as soon
as she returns to town"
| BY the last of October all the birds of my
tory had flown cityward. Mrs. Blenville's
sity residence was kept quiet during the fall,
for she was very feeble and unable to
receive but she did not object to her niece
entertaining her Internationally. Llwellyn
came frequently to the great rich mansion,
where rich carpets mufiied his steps to
soundlessness. and whose wonderful pictures
haunted his dreams.
Aubrey Villars came, too He was well
known in town, young man of good family,
of French extraction, not as wealthy rs it
had been, but somewhat distinguished. He
was handsome and agreeable, and ct Cape
Comorant Little Rim had enjoyed an idle
hour with him. But now, her heart Deepen
ed, all her thoughts anothers, she cared little
for his visits, and said SO to Llwellyn.
" But he cares for you; assure you he 10
serious" he replied, "and has been since
you became exalted in his eyes as the niece
your aunt. He is my rival"
Little Rim laughed incredulously. But
time proved Llwellyn's words true. Mr..
Blanchford, unstable, and pressed for money,
began to complain to his daughter that she
had not preferred villars.
"villars is of better position than Llweliyn,
and has more money than the latter win ever
have-why are you SO foolish to prefer him p
he said, irritably. "If yea had fortune it
would not matter SO much, but my family
are long-liyed; your aunt may live an invalid
for score of years. let Llwellyn 60, and
marry yillars."
Shocked, grieved, distressed, Little Rim
knew not what to reply. But then com.
menced long winters struggle. The father
reproached, expostulated, insisted, Rim,
knowing him well, temporized, hoping for
better times.
The winter of 1876 passed. The spring,
however, WIS equally shrouded in financial
depression. Mrs. Dorinda pursued the even
tenor Of her way, never asking if her brother
were poor or rich. She was polite when
they met-nothing more. To Rim she was
kind and afectionate.
1t is not necessary to dwell on the general
unhappiness of all parties. Suddenly, in
the early summer, without special warning,
Mrs. Dorinda Blenyille died.
When Mr.. Cuthbert blanchford met with
relatives to hear the will read. he shook like
leaf.
Various large requests to various institu-
tons and personal friends, and then, To
my brother Cuthbert and his daughter Do.
rinda, bequeath, Jointly, the Latin gram.
mar to be found in my library"
| The yellow old Latin grammar that sh'
had pressed upon her brother in his you'll
when life was all before him, lit was bite
satire
| She had not forgiven him, Rims life, too
was spoiled. Must she marry for money
Never" she said, and held out brayely
but her beautiful cheek grew thin. Hel
fathers hair become white. He aged fast