The San Antonio light. (San Antonio, Tex.) 1883-1886, 1885-03-30
HER REVENGE.


duct less. II your godfatherS thtuk III
to give you strange name, they can
scarcely expect you to be exactly the
same as other people,. and the name
some one chose TO christen me by is
strange one. Heritage Is certainly not
In common use, although, when one
gets accustomed TO 1t, it sounds soft
and rather pretty, especially so when
coupled with my surname. Heritage
Rivers" is not at all bad.
am quite sure that In most instances
peoples natures accommodate them
selves to their names. Nearly all the
Lucys have known have been fair and
romantic; nearly all the James and SUI
sans homely and fond of housekeeping.
A girls career seems often to be settled
by her name. So, having no precedent
To show me what the owner of the name
of Heritage should be like, | always
plead IL rs an excuse for any pecuiari-
ties of disposition. Nevertheless, | am
not called upon TO dissect my mental
qualities for the benefit Of the inquisi-
tive, so shall only say that one of my
chief characteristics Is that of being u
good hater. | like and respect n good
hater. No doubt, 1t is unchristianlike;
but IL Is 50 natural. i am not ashamed
TO say that If people iniure me, don't
forget or forgive until feel am about
even with them. OF course, If any one
who had wronged me asked forgiveness,
| should forgive freely enough don't
see how that can be avoided--but should
never be eager to do my enemy good
turn unless ! felt quite sure of heaping
Goals of fire upon his headl Now you
know what manner of being | am; and
very dreadful the description looks as |
write it; so dreadful that | am obliged
TO comfort myself by thinking of the
reverse of the picture-that ] can be as
true friend as an enemy.
IL Is not so many years ago that |,
Heritage Rivers, slim girl of seven
teen, left school. and stepped out into
the grown-up world TO meet what fate
awaited me. For the time, my only
idea was to enjoy my freedom. 1t was
delightful TO think that masters and
mistresses were finished and done with
forever and n day. So | babe them
glad adcu, and went down into the
country to stay with an aunt of mine,
and for several weeks reveled in sun
shine and liberty. Then, in accordance
with solemn promise, | spent some lit
tie time with an old schOol-friend-One,
like myself Just emancipated.ller people
lived at TwiCkenham, In Il delicious old
house with large garden. was made
heartily welcome. The mother took me
to her heart rs her daughters dearest
friend. The father. a cOurtly grayhair-
ed man, with literary tastes and pursuits,
was kindness and politeness itself;Yhile
Clara Ramsay's brothers We're i'm an
hour my devoted slaves and lovers. Sur
rounded by such pleasant attentions, |
began to realize the fact that | was now
a grown-up young lady. not altogether
unattractive, and so valued myself ac-
cordingly.
AS the Ramsays were quiet people
and kept little company, an announce
ment made by Mrs. Ramsay that din
ner-party was projected was sufficient
to ilutter our hearts. For several days
before it took place, we discussed again
and again the merits of the guests who
were to be present. As Clara knew
them all except one, her interest was
centered on the probable appearance of
tlils gentleman. AS even her mamma
did not know him, all information re-
speeding him must be eXacted from Mr..
Ramsay, whose friend he was. Girls
being inquisitive creatures, Clara, at
breakfast-time, egged on by me, began
her inquiries.
"Who is Mr.. Vincent Hope, papa?"
"a friend of mine, my dear. \ very
clever young man, who will one day,
think, be a most distinguished member
of society"
So far as it went, this reply was salts
factory; but we wanted a categorical
testimonial, not a general one.
"llow will he distinguish HIMSELF"
asked Clara.
ale is rising author-little known
rs yet; but all that must come"
"Oh, DEAR" sighed Clara, plaintively;
81 know exactly the sort of man.
have seen so many of them here. OF
course he wears spectacles%
81 don't think lie does-or if so, Inev-
err noticed Them" replied Mr.. Ramsay.
"You neyernotce anything you ought
to, papa. But he is sure to have hor-
rid beard-unkempt and uncared for.
They all have"
lie has no beard, fancy" answered
Mr.. Ramsay, meditatively.
as he good-loOking and nice?" de-
manded the audacious Clara.
Mr.. Ramsay looked much amused at
his daughters question.
II find him nice" he said. "But what
a chit of girl like you may find him, is
another matter-a very small matter. |
should think that most people would
call him extremely good-looking."
rs he dark or fair-tall or short?"
my dear girl, shall answer no more
questions about him. Why don't you
initiate the discretion of Miss Rivers,
who seems free from your failing--curi.
osity?"
l blushed at such undeserved praise;
while Clara, to show her opinion Of my
false pretenses, nudged me under the
table.
Although Mr.. Ramsay would tell us
nothing more, we, in our idle moments,
which CnnRtIlutaI n
deal as to the probable personal appear
ance of Mr.. Vincent Hope, had a GER
tain right to feel some anxiety about
| the matter, as | was informed that il
would be my lot to be taken in to din
ner by him; therefore, it was q great
comfort to me to hear he wore neither
| spectacles nor beard.
81 know he will be delightful!' cried
Clara. 81 feel sure the whole matter
was arranged by fate. OF course he will
fall in love with YOU at oncel Who could
help doing so? You will look so nice,
| lleritagew
This is the way in which foolish young
women chatter at times.
1t would be my first dinner-party-an
| ordeal always trying to a young girl
Any way, dreaded it. In spite OF
| Clara's well-meant compliments, my
mind was not easy. | mistrusted the
appearance | should present. My new
dress, fancied, fitted me badly, and
was haunted by a presentiment that my
hands and the backs of my arms were
destined to grow crimson. So distress.
ing were my fears, that, as the hour APP
preached, | would much rather have
| Joined the boys, who, not being admitted
To the feast, had gone off for jolly lonl
row on the riyer-"to get out of it all
they said.