Nebraska advertiser. [volume] (Brownville, Nemaha County, N.T. [Neb.]) 1856-1882, 1882-08-03

charged my trust honestly. | was a
great Spectator; | dabbled with thou
sands, and cast down heavy sums every
day, as gambler throws down card
upon the gaming-table; and to me your
mothers little fortune was so insignifi-
cant trust, that its management never
gave me moment s thotght or concern.
AT this time was going on in fair
way to become q rich man; in fact, was
rich man; and, Ellinor was an hon
orable man. | loved you-loved you as
never believed could love-my inno-
cent and beautiful ward; how could it
well be otherwise? ] am not a cox
comb, Ellinor; and if there is one char
acter | hold more in contempt than an
other, it is that of lady-killer; but l
dared to say to myself love, and am
beloved again Those dark and deep
gray eyes, Ellinor, had told me the Sc
cret of n young and confiding heart; and
l thought myself more than happy
only too deeply blest. oh, Ellinor! Ell
linor! If | had spoken then"
Her head was buried in her hands, as
she knelt by his pillow, and she was
sobbing aloud.
There was time enough. / said. This
Ellinor, was the happiest period of my
life Do you remember our quite even
ings in the Rue st. Dominique, when |
left business and business cares behind
me in Verulam Buildings, and ran over
here to spend a week in my young
wards societyP Do you remember the
books we read togetherP Good heavens!
there is a page in Lamartine's 'Odes,'
which | can see before me as | speak! |
can see the lights and shadows which
taught you to put under the cupola of a
church in Munich, you once painted in
ater-colors. lean recall every thought,
every word, every pleasure, and every
emotion of that sweet and tranquil
! time in which hoped and believed that
you Ellinor, would be my wife"
She lifted her face. blind and blotted
by her tears, and looking at him for one
brief instant, let it fall again upon her
hands.
"Your uncle died, Ellinor, and the
fair elevation of this palace of my life,
which | had built with such confidence,
was shivered to the ground. The fortune
was left to YOU on condition that you
married Henry Dalton. Women are
ambitious. You would never surely re-
sign such fortune. You would marry
young Dalton. This was the lawyers an
swer to the all-important question. But
those tender gray eyes, looking up from
under their veil of inky lashes, had told
a sweet secret. and perhaps your
generous heart might count this fortune
a very small thing to fling away for the
sake of the man you loved. This was
the lovers answer, and l hoped still,
Ellinor. to win my darling. You were
not to be made acquainted with the con-
ditions of your uncle's will until you
attained your majority You were, at
the time of his death, barely twenty
years of age; there was, then, an entire
year in which you should remain
ignorant of the penalties attached to
this unexpected wealth. In the mean
time, l. as sole executor (your uncle,
you see, trusted me entirely, had the
custody of the funded property John
Arden, of Arden, had left.
81 have told you, Ellinor, that | was
a Spectator. My profession threw me
in the way of speculation. Confident
in the power of my own intellect, l
staked my fortune on the wonderful
hazards of 1916. doubled that fortune,
trebled, Quadrupled it, and when it had
grown to be four times its original bulk,
l staked it again. 1t was out of my
hands, but was invested in, as thought.
so safe a speculation, that it was as
secure rs if it had never left my bankers.
The railway company of which | was
director was one of the richest and
most fourishing in England My own
fortune. Us have told you, was entirely
invested, and was doubling itself
rapidly. As your uncle's trustee, as
your devoted friend, your interests
were dearer to me than my own. Why
should mot speculate with yourfortune,
double it, and then say to you; See,
EllinOr, here are two fortunes OF
, which you are the MISTRESS one
you owe to Henry Dalton, under
the conditions of your uncle
will the others is yours alone.
You are rich, YOU are free, without any
r sacrifice, to marry the man you love; and
this, EllinOr, is my wOrkY This was
what ! thought to have said to you al
the close of the year of speculation, 1876
"Oh, Horace, Horace, | see it all
: Spare yourself, spare me! Do not tell me
any more"
"Spare myself! No, Ellinor, not one
pang, not one heart-break. | deserve
, it all. You were right in what you said
| in the boudoir at Sir Lionel's. The
money was not my own; no sophistry
, no ingenious twisting of facts and
forcing of conclusions, could ever make
it mine. How do / know even now
t that your interest was really my only
motive in the step took? How do
{ know that it was not, indeed, the gam
bler's guilty madness only, which i'm
| PEELED me to my crime? How do know
I How do know? Enough. the crash came