The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1885-09-03
A" MODEL FATHER"
Story Of a Scheming Tragedian
and His Pretty Daughter.
Low Cunning and Selfish Ambition on
the One Hand, and Innocent Purity
and DutifuI Devotion on
the Other.
by DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY.
CHAPTER VI.-CONTINUED.

is it. Bas>ett?" the lad demanded. Il
am sure I'll try to make her happy.
There nothing woman's heart can
wish for that she shan't have. She's
only got to ask for it, and she shall
have it."
I've are signally united, said Mr.
Bassctt, seeing his way to something to
his own advantage here. 1--WE are sig
nally united, my little gyurl and |. The
greatest difficulty | shall experience
dear boy, will be in persuading her to
part from her unworthy father 1t is
chiefly for my sake, as | am well per-
suaded, that she has refused your offer.
She fears to leave the old man lonely"
"You could come down and see US,
You know, Basset, couldn't you?" said
Young Weatherley, rather miserably,
as If he cared little for the prospect
Eyes, yes, dear bov," replied the
tragedian. But would that content
herr"
"Well, by CAD, Bassett," cried the
other with an evident reluctance pull
ing at the skirts of eagerness, $50 far
a, that goes, YOU know. if she won't
have me without it, YOU might come
and stay with us, mightn't you now?
just to begin with, you know"
Exactly, dear boy said Mr.. Mont
gomcry BaSSett- Just to begin with
Exactly" But in fancy's eve he saw
himself settled for life in that handsome
mansion of warm brown stone in which
he had once tasted Mr.. Weatherlev'
hospitality. The old oak, the hquidly
lustrous mahogany, the soft, receptive
carpets, the rich hangings he walked
or lolted among these splendDrs as if
they were ali his own. Perhaps the
earlier vision aof that afternoon might
come true later on, and the admirably
appointed room he stood in might one
day be his own. He began to feel. under
the influence of these hopes, that his
wandering life had left him little bat
tered; that he was not so young as he
had been; that it waS.time to retire from
the stage in the full blaze of fame, and
to make room for younger man. And
all these advantages, to his energetic
Imagination, became so real that he act
ually appropriated them, and felt that
they belonged to him already Mary
would never refuse Il prospect which
looked so rose -colorcd. l. was lovely
and enviable to him, and the natural
conclusion was that it would be lovely
and enviable tt her also. The case he
had to Law before her looked irresistible.
and he was almost easy and happy in
his mind again.
1t was toe late at this hour to find
time to plead with his daughter before
his duties began at the theater. and per
haps it might be as well to allow her a
little rest.
You shall hear from me. dear boy,
tomorrow, he said, As he shook hands
after some further talk. Mr. Weather
ley was little cheercd, but being left
alone became once more respondent,
and held but Il poor visy of his
chances.
Il amt worthy of her." said the
young gentleman, dcspondently. Il
know | amt; and even if she marrieS
me she'll do it because her father per-
suadcS her, and not because she cares
for me. He was not the wiscst of
mankind. and there may have been
men in the world who knew more lOfti-
" hoT 10 love 4 woman, but that re-
Election was unpleasantly bitter, none
the less, though he would have taken
her, if she would have accepted him, on
any grounds whatever.
But while Young " eatherley endured
the pains natural to his circumstances,
Mr.. BaSsett took his evening chop and
his glass of Burgundy in mental com
fort. Mary bad not weighed the mat
ter, or something in the lad woOing
had Jared upon her, or she was out of
sorts. perhaps. There were thousand
reasons to be had in explanation of her
conduct, for the mere trouble Of street h
ING out hand for them. As for the
nonSensical -suppOSition that she had
thrown away five-and-twenty thousand
pounds year-he had repeated those
figures so often that he knew them TO
De true-BaSsett refused to entertain
1t. The very wine he drank rcpudiated
that abSurdty, and protested in his
veins against it
He dined that night at an old fash
Toned Fleet street tavern where he knew
the wine, and where the waiter knew
him, and gave him of the best. That
generous Burgundy was kept for the
old stageIS, and no new arrival at the
house would ever taste it. He finished
his bottle, lit his cigar. drank his one
glass of hot Observation-Disclosures, and de-
manded his bill
What of the night, John?'
Showing pretty heavy, SIR" said
ancient John, but no chance of the
snow lying. sir. Streets'l be full of
slush, sir, that's all Thank YOU, sir
Good. might, sir.
Mr.. Bassett slowly and luXuriantly
built up his pOrtly form in a big over
coat, and drew on his furred gloves.
He was almost due, but vet in easy
time, and with the wine and his own
~contentment warm within him, he
marched comfortably through the night
and the storm. and being arrived at his
room, dressed and awaited his call,
above n second glass of hot whisky-affd-
water. The piece was drawing crowds,
and the house was fairly filled in spite
of the wretched weather. The eminent
traUedian scorned the play, and had
none of that striding and mutteriug to
do between the scenes or in the pauSeS
of his own part which would have been
en- r2gle in legitimate Shakespearian
business, and he had therefore the more
time tn sit beside his dressing rooa
stove snd sip hot whiSky-and-water.
People talked of that growing habit of
his already, and though it had never
vet betrayed him in his business, he
trenched narrowly at times upon
with the cold. airs of the great draughty
! - L, r.