Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1883-02-08


: asaae 4e~ eaIeat slIl rrses' kas
"Yep sssmea mlky fhis sveainn' :.
sha eaid. q declare Fnn hahavad
more lika q naiaghty child than ; full
grown up wosnan. Grnen, aad Mg.
Belmont said he was discussed. He
had no idea Jon had snch iealons.
suspicious disp0sitioa, and ha emphak-
ioally sad he wonld nevar link his
destiny with . woman that exhibited
such fearful mistrust Of him.
81 do not care 20 discuss Mr. Bal
monk," ! answered. II am tired and
would rather retire" She swept cut
of the room. and started to her cham-
Der. but hesitatsd. then went 70 the
Library / had been in bed several
hours. but not 10 sleep. Did Lester
Belmont say ell this 70 hsr2 perhaps
he did. ! was not myself at the ma-
nor. ! Was 50 engrossed with my
happiness till forgot 10 be civil. 81
90 do any thing but think We break
tasted alone that morning. Uncle
Horace and /. Oarma's maid came
10 inform Us that her mistress head
ached too much to appear at break
fast. We ate in comparative silence.
Come to the Library, Grace, as
soon as you have finished" said Un-
Gle Horace. slipping his napkin
through the silver ring. and taking up
the Chronicle.
"Yes, Uncle Horace" answered.
What did he want of me I wondered
IS stopped to arrange the flowers in
the vases on the dining-rOOm man
tel.
Come in, DEAR" Twas uncle HOr.
ace who said this, in answer to my
low rap on the library door. and draw
ing O chair, he seated me near him.
"Can my little girl bear some good
and startling news this morning, with
out getting excited ?"
~ can. arm not easily excited,
yon know"
do you remember some property
in California that your father, Clinton
Willard, purchased, and how much
disappointed he was in its value after
having made the purchass?"
"Yes, Uncle Horace"
THAT property has now proven "a
possess the veins of ore that he then
thought only in propinquity to hi.
property, and to-day, my little niece
Is q richer woman than her uncle ID
q man.
could not realize the truth of this
statement. I had never cared foI
wealth. ! had, since my fathers
death, been dependent partly upon
my uncle. / wrote articles for sever.
al leading magazines and rscsived
some remuneration for these. wa.
not extravagant in my tastes. there
fore did not require very much. My
uncle was too kind, too fatherly, e
admit my feeling any dependence
though there were times when / fell
my faculties lying supine and rustinC
in Arcadian luxury in the elegant
home in which / dwelt. "You shall
have half the interest of my money
Uncle Horace" | said, stroking hil
long grey whiskers.
mo dear, / have enough for Car.
ma and I, ail our lives. / want you
to manage your own money, your
own way" He laid caressing hand
on my head, II do so love your un.
ostentatious, innocent way. II rests
me to be near you-I am a world.
weary man; its cares and their con.
comitants corrode my life until some
times | feel, that ali are false and
impure-whited sepulchres-until ]
reach my own home and find thai
loving little hands have ministered
to my comfort, and these acts are
prompted by good, pure heart
find my dressing gown and slippers
and fresh cut flowers to always
greet me, and / say in my heart, God
bless the one that thought of me thus
You are not like Carma she is toe
cold to love her father in your sweet
childish way, and now, darling, don't
get purse-proud or let any Of your
sweet simplicity be eclipsed by money
and its appendages. You would not
be my little sunbeam you know"
clasped my arms tight about bis
neck-dear uncle Horace-and my
fingers futtered in and out his iron
grey hair.
A couple of weeks had passed in
which time / neither saw nor heard
from Lester. He had told me / pro.
baby would not see him for several
days, as there were guests by the
dozen to be entertained and several
excursions, some Of them desired to
make, both aquatic and mountainous
and that through courtesy he must
remain at home, but that / should
remember, / was the sunlight in which
his heart dweit and that the drives
and rambles we would enjoy together
would compensate as for the days oi
separation we endured.
"a letter for Miss Grace" and An
nette, Carmas maid, handed it TO me.
Where did you get it, asked?
"John, Mr.. Belmont's page. handed
it to me down at the door, and said
should deliver il to you" She
stood scanning my face with a mys-
terious. searching look. $50 out, An
nette," for she evidently intended "a
remain while / read the letter. She
went very reluctantly and left the
door ajar after her. With eager,
trembling fingers opened that letter.
/ laid it in my lap, fearing TO read il.
At last. my eyes fell on it. and there
In his own words be told me our en-
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