The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-11-30

| Maria, when is his engagement to Miss Martelle
| to be consummatedW
"Oh, that was off six months, ago" Mrs. Ar
mold answers. Her father failed disastrously,
and, of course, with Ruperts ideas and tastes.
| she was no longer a suitable wife for HIM. He
seized the first opportunity to withdraw"
In that case, Maria, l must ask you if you
consider a country farmers niece the proper
! person to throw into daily association with
young man whose fancy will be in great peril
from her face, which, l must confess, is the
| prettiest l have ever seen2'
Spare yourself any anxiety on that score,
| Sarah dear. Let me tell you something. That
| girl, although as yet no one knows it but my
| husband and Rupert and myself, is an heiress.
| You remember meeting that old eccentric Hugh
! Heydon at my housel Well he died three
months ago and left my husband the sole mana
ger of his estate, the whole bulk of which he
left, entirely disregarding his only child, whom
he had dislnherited years before, to the daughter
of a woman whom he had loved and been sep
arated from in early youth.
''Of course, as my husband was his lawyer as
well as his confidential friend, no one but our
selves know as yet the tenor of the will l no
sooner heard of it than l saw at once this was
just the chance for Rupert. His father is in
easy circumstances, but by no means able to
shoulder Rupert's extravagances. Do not think
That am disparaging my son; he is only what
his education has made him. and not one whit
wilder than others of his sort. Once settled
down with a rich wife, he will be all that his
relatives can wish
But the girl-you do not seem to think of her
in the matter" Mrs Moore suggests.
"Oh, she admlres Rupert exceedingly. He has
played his game WE'LL
"Ah, see!"
And Rose, listening with flushed cheeks and
indignant eyes, sees too.
A few hours later, in the conservatory whittier
Rupert has led her apart from the rest she lis
tens while IN tones of well-simulated ardor he
pleads his suit.
She waits until he pauses, then looking up
straight into his eyes, she says quietly, with an
emphasis upon the first word:
Cousin Rupert, you surely would not have
spoken you have just now had you known
that the girl you addressed was already be-
trothed. But to counterfeit any disappointment
this knowledge may cause you, let me hasten to
assure you that, although Rose May has recently
been left large fortune, she will be in no wise
benefited by it, for under no consideration could
she be induced to accept farthing that right
fully belongs to another. You look amazed.
Yes, / know ALL"
Ruperts face Of utter establishment and en-
barrassment is study. When Rose rises with
all the dignity of an injured queen, he can only
gaze at her speeches. and when she goes he
makes no attempt to detain her
He is fooled, and his mothers well-laid scheme
is failure-there is no dubt about that. And,
with perturbed mind he seeks the latter to
| confer with her upon the unpleasant surprise he
has just received.
He finds her prepared for with her usual
frankness, the instant she left his side Rose had
! gone directly to Mrs Arnold
| Never before in all her short life has the girl
felt SO outraged in every fibre of her being. She
longs to flee at once from an atmosphere where
| treachery and duplicity Turk beneath the guise
of courtesy and pretended affection.
| AS swiftly as it is possible her arrangements
| for departure are completed
| Mrs. Arnold makes no endeavor to detain her
For once her worldly tact deserts her, for by her
! own words she has condemned herself
| A few evenings later with her hand casped in
| her lovers, Rose relates TO him a part of the
above-only part, for she speaks alone of the
inheritance that has 80 unexpectedly been left
| to her,
She means-oh, subtle Rose-to try this low
| er, who seems everything that is noble and just
| Her recent experience has raised our little coun-
! try maiden from the unsuspicious trust and faith
with which her young eyes have hitherto re-
| garded everything and everybody.
! Johns face grows very grave as he listens.
And is it possible, Rose, he exclaims, that
you, with your high sense of honor, would &C
cept an inheritance that rightfully belongs to
this mans disinherited childl"
! His tone of rebuke and remonstranee is too
unmistakable to be misunderstood
For moment Rose remains silent, then look
! ing up with gleeful laugh, she nestes closer to
| his side
my great hearted John, and l. too quite agree
with you have my fortune-a richer one than
| gold mines could give. What care l for any
| other2"
And so, through the nobility of character of a
| perfect stranger, poor husband and wife in the
| far West have cause to give thanks when, in the
midst of dire straits, fortune, lifting them Tor
ever beyond want and suffering, comes unex
peetedly to them.