Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1885-12-05
SELECT STORY.
HONESTY WINS.

The hour hand of Philip Acres
old-fashioned silver watch was point
ing to the figure eight; the snug red
curtains shut out the rain and dark
ness Of the March night, and the fire
cracked and snapped behind the red
hot bars of the CRATE in 4 cosy and
comfortable way, casting rosy shine
into the thoughtful brown eyes that
were tracing castles and coronets in
the brightly burning Goals.
''If | were only rich ~ he ponder,
ed to himself. "Ah, if! Then good
by to musty old law books, good-by
to mended boots, turned coats and all
the ways andm cans that turn mans
life into a wretched bondage.
Wouldn't | revel in new books and
delicious paintings and housekeeping
horses. Wouldn't | buy a set Of
jewels for Edith-not pale pearls or
sickly emeralds-but diamonds, to
blaze like links of fire upon her royal
throat. Wouldn't What nonsense
am talking, though y he cried sud-
denly, to himself "Philip Acre,
hold your tongue! l supposed you
were man Of sense. Here you are,
neither rich nor distinguished, while
Edith Wyllis IS as far above your
moon-struck aspirations as the queen
Of night herself! She loves me,
though-she will wait-and the time
may one day come. If DR.. Wyllis
was not SO distrustful of fellow.
Halo. Come in, there, whoever you
aren
1t was only the serving maid of the
lodging-house, carrying letter in
the corner Of her apron, between her
finger and thumb.
"Please, sir, the postman has just
left it,"
"All right, Katy. Now, then,' he
added, as the door closed behind
Katy's substantial figure, "let's see
what my unknown correspondent has
to say. A black seal, Ell? Not hav-
ing any relations to lose, | am not
alarmed at the prognostic."
He broke the seal and glanced at
the short, business-like communica-
ton within, with u face that varied
from incredulous surprise to sudden
gladness.
"Am | dreaming?" he murmured,
rubbing his eyes, and shaking HIM
self as if to insure complete possession
of his senses. "No, | am wide awake
am in my right senses; 1t is no de-
lusion-uo part Of my wakening
visions. But who would ever sup
pose old Thomas Mortimer, whom l
have not seen since | was a boy of
sixteen, and picked him out Of the
river half dead from cramp aud
fright, would die and leave me all his
money? Why, | am not the shadow
ofa relation but then, | never heard
the old man had any kith or kin, so
that can't imagine any harm in
taking advantage OF his odd freak.
Rich-am | really to be rich? Is
my Aladdin vision to be an actual
fact: Oh, Edith, Edith !"
He cl;sped his hands over his eyes,
sick and giddy with the thought that
the lovely, far off star Of his alteration
would be brought to him at last by
the magnet, gold, All these years of
patient waiting were to be bridgcd
over by the strange old miser's be-
quest, and he might claim Edith
now.
How full OF heart-sunshne were
the weeks that fitted over the head
of the accepted lover, frightened by
Edith's smile, made beautiful by the
soft radiance of Edith's love. There
was only one shadow-the almost
imperceptible touch Of distrust and
suspicion with which stern old DR..
Wyllis regarded his future son-in-
law. All, he feared to trust his only
child to the keeping of any man who
had not been proved in the fiery fur
mace Of trial.
1t was precisely week before the
day appointed for the wedding, as the
soft lights, veiled by shades of glass,
were just lighted in DIR. Wyllis'
drawing-room, where Edith sat
among her roses and heliotrope, work
ing on bit of cambria rutfle and
singing to herself. She was q slen-
der, beautiful girl, with violet eyes,
veined forehead, and glossy,
abundant curls of that pale, gold