Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1883-10-20

"Much obliged, old fellow. I should
hate to be kissed-by a man."
"Sly dogH' laughed Cowper.
BESIDES, [ have not travelled" added
John, with a touch of irony in his tone.
why do you not travel?"
81 have not the time, and would
rather save the money!" said John,
CURLY.
Cowper shrugged his shoulders and
entered the house He had studied tho
gesture before the glass. ..You
always were an incomprehensible fell
low, John"
Commonplace is the term," echoed
John, steadily.
Greetings of welcome were over at
last. Mrs. Bemrose, Iris Gordon, Cow
per Debenham and John Cleaver had
dwelt beneath the same roof in har-
mony for many years, linked together
by circumstances, while claiming no
mutual relationship. Their history was
not devoid of interest, at least to Cor
donvllle and the surrounding country.
Each newcomer learned it speedily.
The fathers of Iris and Cowper respect
lively had met on an emigrant ship OUT
ward-bound from Liverpool-two shah
by young men, with a few shillings in
their pockets, and heads full of intelli-
gence. Chance had thrown them to-
gether, and mutual sympathy cemented
a lifelong friendship, taking the form
OF partnership. Gordonville, the noisy
factory, the large house built of wood,
with a wide piazza in front, were the
results of their industry. Henry Cor
don and Thomas Debenham had not
lifted their eyes above axes and ploughs
in their day, and glad enough they were
to be able to fashion them. Cowper
wore Poole coats and Paris boots in his
time, while Iris had a phaton, a grand
piano, and had learned French at a
fashionable boarding school. The wheel
OF fortune had turned a trife for these
young people in the muscular grasp of
their seniors. Both parents had mar
ried and lost their wives. When the
cashier, Mrs. Bemrose's husband. was
crushed in the fall of machinery.
the widow had become an inmate of the
Gordon house, and was given IN inter-
est IN the manufactory which had so
cruelty despoiled her. When John
Cleaver's father, the manager, died, he
said: '.Let my savings remain invested
in the business until John is a man,
and can choose for himself" The part
ners had consented, and John Joined
the family circle. The years had swept
away Henry Gordon and Thomas De-
benham, ever as the night wind swept
the leaves which fell from the maple
trees planted by their own hands before
the door. Faithful to each other in the
firm tenacity of an upright and honor
able manhood, they had schemed that
their kingdom should remain undivided
in the marriage of their children. The
arrogance of prosperity had character
lied their projects.
"We shall never be moved, our name
will endure" they had reasoned, bend
ing over the fire, two hale old men; and
the night wind, death, had swept them
away. The youth and maiden loved
each other, and when the terms of his
fathers will were fulfilled, in education
and foreign travel, Cowper Debenham,
whose mother had been an invalid, fond
OF writing verses, was to become the
head of the house, with Iris as his
wife.
Mrs. Bemrose presided at the supper
table, wearing her best cap, which i'm
parted to her head a curious resemblance
to a caulitiower, and surveyed her young
companions with maternal benevolence.
Mrs. Bemrose, by nature hazy, had al
ready evinced extraordinary aptitude in
getting all C%owper's descriptions wrong,
and hopelessly muddling facts. Oppo-
site sat Iris, slim, erect, her cheeks
flushed in proportion as the strawberry
short-cake before her had acquired q
brown and crisp aspect. She was a girl
of nineteen, whose gray eyes, ~lustrous
b ack hair and mobile features had
gained her readily the reputation of be-
ing the beauty of the region. Heiress,
leading lady of Gordonville, high-spir-
tied and impulsive, Iris was seldom
characterized by that somewhat vague
term, ga sweet creature" She wore 3
white dress and a crimson rose in her
corsage. A diamond engagement ring
flashed on her well-shaped hand. Cow
per sat on the right, tall. slender, pale,
with features of a beautiful regularity,
save for the defect of small ewes placed
too near the bridge of the nose, and a
thin voice with languid intonations,
WHICH, ptllcIIdUCu u 1lSGCucl > edF uk0
steel. On the left was John Cleaver, q
square-set young al with a good head,
a %close-cut brown beard, and a pair of
hazel eyes, keen, brilliant and frank in
expression. Mrs. Bemrose placidly con-
templated this trio as she poured the
tea and ate the short-cake.
"Lucky young people to have such q
home," she meditated, little realizing
that the heart of each rebelled at the
chain which held them.
The room was low, dark and old-fash-
toned; the stiff portrait of Thomas De-
benham on one wall confronted a stiff
portrait of Henry Gordon on the other,
a tall clock licked in one corner, the
house cat purred, with a bland express
sion of ~countenance, and surveyed. the
table. The open windows admitted The
summer breeze, perfumed by the roses
of the garden, and a ray of the setting
sun gilded the brass ship on the
clock.
The luggage of the traveller afforded
as much excitement as a Christmas
stocking hung in the chimney in antici-
patton of the gracious visit of Santa
N1oro Co1Unor had hOuoht with tho