Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1884-12-31
Gales aud sketfhes.
Sor so BAD, AFTER ALL.
Continued from yesterday

Continued from yesterday
Five minutes after he was sitting in the
daintiest of boudoirs. Emily before him IN
the most recherche of French morning
robes, fragrant with the subtlest OF French
perfumes.
..You look dreadfully tired. Con. Have
you been walking very far?" she asked,
sweet sympathy perceptible in her voice
and tender anxiety in her luminous eyes.
Not particularly far, but | have had
bad news and, as general thing, that is
more harrassing than the effort of walk
ing"
Con had W, OF plunging into diff
culties, and now he wanted to be over
with it.
why, what news have you had? Moth
ing very serious. hope"
s-Oh, not at all Only that I've lost
every penny of the fortune my uncle left
me-"
He now noticed with great satisfaction
that her fair face grew very white, and
that she instantly put on an indescri oable
expression of Withdrawal.
Lost, en- /? Oh. mo- How?"
'Oh, in a romantic way, of course. 1t
seems that my supposed bachelor uncle
was in reality Benedict, but as his mar
rage was a secret one, and the girl was
not of his own social status. nobody knew
anything about it. so he told her the cere-
mony was false, and left her. She died
heartbroken, but left an heir or an heiress,
don't know which. This child takes the
silver spoon out of my mouth. and l, as
you see, lose 100000, and am ruined.
Plain and lucid. isn't itp"
But Emily didn't answer; she was
grieving over her fallen castles, musing
over her unpaid bills, and wondering
whether her father could stand this last
stroke of misfortune.
"Of course. Emily, | came to you at
once to release you, if you wished, from
our engagement. Reared as you have
been, | could not expect you to marry
poor man and. indeed. fear that, in my
changed circumstances, would be no fit
husband for you"
Then Emily Cummings showed that,
girl as she was, she was equal to the &C.
casion.
Standing fully before him. where the
light fell directly on the beautiful naughty
face and slender, graceful figure. she as
sisted him out of his difficulty with an
ease and grace that was almost superb.
II can readily perceive. Mr.. Creighton,
that it is your wish that our engagement
should end, and, knowing this, shonld
be the last one to oppose your inclinations.
AS regards your loss. | sympathize
with you sincerely, but | cannot fail to
rejoice that it happened before | awoke
to the fate of an unloved wife"
She paused for breath, and then, as Con
stood in shameful, and, it must be con-
tessed, slightly disguised silence, she
went on: ''And now, rather than prolong
an unpleasant interview, had we not better
say good byep"
So, for the last time Con went down the
marble stairs. saying to himself, "At any
rate, shall have two thousand, and Ma
bel.n
He walked along the streets, feeling his
spirits considerably lighter, his troubled
conscience comparatively at rest; but just
as he reached his mothers residence,
GRAY once more encountered him.
"Ah, here you are, again! The very
fellow want. Your cousin has arrived
and il anxious to see you. Could you 90
to her at once? She is with some relatives
at the Grand hotel"
-
wreathing his handsome face.
Look here. Gray. Isn't it enough for
a fellow to be left penniless without max
ing him play lackey to the girl that's got
his money? As you're so desperately in
terested, you can tell my cousin that am
very much engaged to-day, and can't 90 to
her If she wishes to see my mother, |
presume she can find her"
Arthur GRAY whistled as he turned his
back upon his late client.
He was young man, and still unmar-
ried, so it may be presumed he didn't
feel very badly as he returned to pay his
devoirs to the heiress.
But Con felt tar from comfortable as he
passed the massive portals of his mothers
door. and strobe impatiently down the
stately halls that were theirs no longer.
As he stood inside the lofty room that
his imagination had already peopled, and
looked around on the velvet chairs and
lounges, in every nook of which he had
already ensconced, in fancy. Mabel's
slender figure on the softly yielding
carpets that he hoped her little feet would
press; on the heavy silken cur
tains from between which he had dreamed
of seeing childish face and golden head
waiting and watching for him. he did
feel very, very badly and, after all,
don't think any of us can blame him, al
though we may all have raised supercil-
ious eyebrows at the truthful nominees
of the old proverb, "When poverty comes
in st the door, love flies out at the win
dow"
After his passion had subsidized he wrote
to Mabel, and. to give him his due, took
infinite comfort in SO doing.
He told her all his mistortunes and
asked if she would in reality become his
wife; told her how he hoped by his own
exertioas to climb the ladder, and asked
the aid of her small hands to help him in
the struggle. Then he stamped the letter
and sealed it with the Creighton seal, af-
ter which he went in search of his mother.
She was out driving. the servant said.
and would not be home until dinner. So,
with feeling of half relief, he was de-
scending the stairs when the servant
called. Il forgot to give you this note Mr.
Creighton. 1t was LETT here about five
minutes ago"
Con took it up and glanced carelesslv
at it. dainty little envelope. whose deli.
cate address he did not recognize, broke
the seal and read:
miss Creighton's compliments to Mr..
Creighton, and desires his Immediate