The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1883-10-30
A MAN THAT SUCUEEDED

"My only daughter, Mr," SAID Colo
mel Monteagle. "And, as l venture to
hope, accomplished in the way. We
are not much in her way of schools or
academies here, but have been her
instructor myself and she is a thorough
mathematician, an excellent musician,
and a linguiSt of 10 mean capacity.
We arc studying Hebrew now every
day, she and |, and she devotes her
evenings to comprehensive reviews Of
her Latin and Greek. She will be a
scholar, sir, if live to complete her
cQucatiOn."
Mr. CroftOn looked curlOuSly at the
oddly assorted pair---the silver haired,
shabbily attired old gentleman, with
his bald fore. head, eagle eye and deli
cately white hands; and the dark
browed, sullen looking girl, with Il
gipAy skin, untidy frock and patched
boots.
Pretty? Yes, she might be pretty
under some circumstances. The dia-
mOnd itself is not an attractive stone
before the lapidary's art has polished
its rude angles into glitterng facets of
white fire. But she certainly possesses
no sweet. feminine graces now.
GLOW old are you, Miss Monteaglepn
lie asked, finding it imperntively nee
cessary to say something.
And Mary Monteagle answered in
words, seventeen" while her looks
replied plainly, "None of your busi-
neSS.'
500, my child, and gather some
flowers TO deck our rlumble board" said
the old gentleman magniloquently,
while he conducted the son of his old
friend into the tumble-down old stone
house, where the carpets were moth
eaten, furniture mildewed, and every
trace Of decayed gentility told the sad
story of better days.
Mrs. Monteagle, who had been a
beauty once, and had her portrait en-
gr:aEe.! il q "Gallery of American
Rosebuds, was sitting up in state in u
battered boudoir i'll Il black silk dress
that must have been quite 4 quarter of
a century old, with Il flower in her sill
ver sprinkled hair, and still preserving
the girliSh attitude in which the ell
graver's pencil had immortalized her,
oddly contrasting with the sharpened
outlines and haggard abruptness Of
her sixty odd years.
And this was the way the old couple
lived, III the dead past as it wore,
Colonel Monteagle starving contentedly
Oh the recollection Of his past grandeur,
and his wife fondly fancying that time
stood still since the days in which she
had been counted worthy to be one Of
the "American RosebudS."
Mrs. Monteagle sweetly welcomed
her guest, and touched the title hand
bell at her side.
1--WE will dino, Sarepta," she said to
; the maid.
"Please, ma'am," broathlcssly ut
tered that young person, ''there ain't
! nOthin' FOX dinner. We eat the last Of
| the cold beef yesterday, and the dog he
tipped over the pan Of oysters, and
THAT will do, Sarepta," said Mis-.
Monteagle, with red spot mounting
to each of her cheek bones 81 said
wo will diner'
And Sarepta withdrew with jerk.
The dinner was served presontly-arl
instance Of the magnetic power Of
, will-but there was no cold beef,
neither were there oysters. Fruit, a
i thin, watery soup Of herbs and pars-
| ley, tastefully garnshed salad of let
tuce and may0nnaise, and u dish of
peaches and cream formed the meal.
"Quito Arcadianl' said Mrs. Mont
eagle, with giggle.
"And very badly served" secretly
| commented Mr.. Crofton to himself.
| ''But the salad was nice,"
"Where2" is Mary the colonel asked.
"Drinking in the beauties of the sun
set, l presume" the lady answered air.
lily. 1.-The poor child has an artists
soul, and we do not tie her down to
any hours OF rules"
The colonel fell asleep in his chair
after dinner, Mrs. M0nteagle and her
painted fan withdrew themselves into
the boudoir, and Mr.. Crofton, lnwardly
bewailing himself that he had promised
to stay week at Monteagle manor,
sauntered out upon tho heights which
| overlooked the valley below.
AS he stood there a rusLling sounded
in the bushes and the dark browed
gypsy sprang up the hillside.
You have u tine place here, Miss
Monteagle," he said, by way of making
himself agreeable.
II hate itl' said Mary, darkly.
"I-beg your pardonl" exclaimed
Mr.. CrOfton in amaZeIneet.
II dol'' flashed the girl; 81 hate it
ALL The learning and the poverty, and
the grand pretenses and the miserable
make-shifts.
But
"Ahl" said Mary Monteagle, "you
J don't know it all. You never heard
the tradesmon bowling at the back