The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1885-10-14
THE MESSAGE.

IL was mldnlgnt, anu Two "olneu
awaited different messengers under
one roof. To the elder the slow-pac-
ed hours were bringing death. to the
younger bridegroom. The faded
mistress of the rich parvenu's home
bad laid down to die. facing the
doom of all with the cold stoicism
of the neglected and the unloved.
Ready to take her place, impatient
to clutch at the gauds the other de-
spised, and to parade a triumph
which should have been her dishon-
or was the rival.
She was a young woman, OF course.
Subtler feminine charms than bright
eyes, rosy lips always parting In a
smile, slender figure, and auda-
cious, girlish ways, were hardly like
|ly to fascinate man of John Har-
den's character-a man who had ris-
en- from the meanest ranks of life,
spent his years in money-getting,
and shnnned rather than sought
good company in the true sense OF
the word. To be put out of counte-
nance by no one had been leading
maxim of the money-maker's career;
whilst therefore surrounding him.
self with all the glitter Of opuierce,
he remained the blunt, plain spoken
homely John Harden Of early days.
He was just sixty and the girl bus
led with such affection of demure-
ness on some foolish boarding
school beadwork could hardly be
twenty. The pair sat opposite to
each other by the fire only inter
changing a word from time to time,
betraying nothing of their secret
thoughts to chance eavesdroppers at
the door. Yet, despite such guard
ed speech, a quick observer must
have seen at glance how it stood
with both f; the girls flushed cheek
and sparkling eye, the mans look OF
suppressed satisfaction told their
own story The dread messenger,
whose name is Death, as he passed
through the hushed house, made
way for joyous successor whom
under various guises men call Love.
The hand of the costly timepiece
on the mantel shelf pointed to ~
and the mere sign seemed to chill
the air. Mr.. Harden rose to make
up the fire, as he did SO letting one
hand fall on his companions. 1t
is growing late and cold. Better go
to bed, Constance" he said, IN
voice of tender concern.
The girl allowing herself for mo-
ment to be carried away by the inn
pulse, leaned forward F; her bright
brown curls Just touched his scant
gray locks her softly-rounded cheek
Just came in contact with his own,
lined and corrugated with care.
Should / leave you alone at such
a timer" she whispered. He said
nothing, but, kneeling before the
fire, making it up after methodical
fashion contrived at the same time
to transfer from his waistcoat pock-
ct to her not unwilling fingers min
ute box of crimson leather lined
with velvet. Within cleaned a we'd
ding ring, and as Constance Emery
gazed upon it furtively, her lovers
face showed exultation equal to her
own.
To this shallow girl the first
glimpse of her wedding ring meant
everything that life itself could
mean. She was nothing, possessed
nothing; the ring would give her all
she set store by, and render her
exactly what she wished to become.
1t would throw the responsibility OF
her own existence upon anothers
shoulders relieve her from the odi-
Gus burden of bread winning; afford
ease, luxury social power and the
kind of sway over an ordinary ma
ture that by such women is made to
do duty for affection. The ring, in
short, was to open wide the portals
of career after her own heart with
out it unattainable as crown. To
the man also the ring symbolized
the aspect of life most agreeable to
him. In one respect money making
had not rendered him callous. To
his mind a certain feminine type ev-
er remained irresistible, OF ideal
loveliness, of spiritual or Intellectual
beauty, it was not at all likely that
he should have the remotest concep-
ton; but he owned the sway of
frolicsome girlhood-the easy assur-
ance of young, handsome, reckless
woman. To surface charms of look
or manner he was ever ready to do
homage. But the ring had other
and graver meaning for him. His
first marriage had been childless.
The enormous wealth amassed SO
laboriously lacked an heir. Might
not a young wife make him the
proud father of blooming children ?
The tiny box consigned to its hid
ing place, Mr.. Harden fetched from
the lobby close by carriage-cloak
hned with rare fur, and bestowed it
carefully about the girls shoulders.
He next went to the sideboard, and,
half filling a glass with vine, DO
not let yourself get chill or faint
then," he said softly, standing over
her, glass in hand.
She just slipped the wine and put
back the glass, smiling gratefully.
He returned to the sideboard, swal-
lowed the remainder of the wine,
then sat down in his old place by
the fire. Just then the door was
tapped lightly, and an elderly, home
ly woman-servant made her appear
ance.
"If you please, sir" she said, with
out looking at the girl, mistress is
herself again and asks for you"
C,,ol !, cpv~,xnnDo pn~oloorno a l. /