Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1886-04-24
DISAPPOINTED.

1luUH DCNCEItI lcNtl LIttiHb W lhdii
H. had been of that way OF thinking for
ten years or more now, and he was at
present six-and-thirty.
His sister, Mrs.s Valentine, was
therefore quite safe in counting so
confidently upon his portion of the
Beverley property going to her two
little bows, one of whom was his bach
elor uncle's godchild and favorite.
Hugh Beverley had no earthly objec-
ton to her thus counting Only he
sometimes wished she would not make
her anticipations 50 visible. 1t would be
i'm bette. taste to veil them more.
However, poor Clara had always been
rather worldly. And with this reflection
Beverley folded that lady's last letter
and walked down the stairs of the
little Tyrolean inn, where he was tenn
porarly stopping in his wanderings,
and out upon the covered balcony,
which commanded view of the quaint
ly picturesque village street.
He had been sitting there with
meditatve cigar some little time when
| hurried footsteps reused him from
his reverie, and he saw slender slip OF
girl, very young. aAd looking very
| frightened and white, hastily accost
the landlord and speak to him.
The man gave some reply, and the
| girl turned quickly, almost running up
the street. Mine host sauntered into
the house and presently re-emerged.
"A bad business-a bad business y
shaking his head. That lady is
= very ILL.,"
1.-THE mother OF that young girl?"
asked Beverley, putting two and two
! together.
" Yes they've been here some weeks.
The mothers been going rapidly. Bad
| business--bad business The girl, poor
| thing did not seem to fear anything
serious. Guess there isn't much money,
| either" concluded the man, evidently on
| his own interests intent
" Who are they-Americans?" queried
Beverley.
| Yes they were countrywomen of his,
or, rather, the young girl was for in the
course of the night, very suddenly, the
mother, whose name was registered
upon mine hosts books, Mrs. Robert
Yentnor, New York" passed away, leav-
| ing her daughter alone.
Beverley did not learn OF the death
until the next morning.
| He was leaving his room when, In the
hall, he came upon the landlord and his
wife, talking in slightly lowered voices
and with expressive 5hrugs Of the
| shoulders. ~
A neighboring door stood open, and
a stark form covered with a sheet,
| within, told the tale. Near the bed sat
| the young girl of neutrality-suspicious.
less, with clasped hands and q rigid
face.
There's no money to do anything
WITH said the landlord, with another
shrug of the shoulders, to Beverley.
Good heavens y the latter stood APP
Dllled; " don't let that stand In the
way. I'll do anything that is to be
done"
Tho landlord made a sign to the
girl inside the room. and before Bever
Icy could divine his purpose, she stood
before them.
This gentleman says he will pay
| everything for you" announced the
man; " there's something left on the
| bill, too" he added in lower tone.
Beverley looked at the girl with
sudden deep pity. She stood tall and
straight in her shabby black dress.
Thank you, she said. No muscle Of
her face moved.
Poor childl She Is stunned, ,
thought Beverley.
On the next day all that was mortal of
Mrs. Ventnor was laid to rest in the
little graveyard with it's fantastic iron
crosses and Grotcsque beaded wreaths
village street, thousands of miles from
| her native land
The slender girl, who now turned
away from the new-madc mound, had
been familiar with the make shifts of
| genteel poverty ever since she had
grown from childhood into womanhood.
She had not spoken word as she
walked back to the house, and Beverley
knew not how to breach the question
OF her plans and movements for the
| future.
At length he spoke to the landlady:
You must rouse her from her leth-
argy. young girl like that can't stay
on here alone in this strange inn. You
must ask her whether she has no friends
| to whom she can write and whom she
| Gun acquaint wi h her condition"
But when the girl was spoken to she
answered: No. There is no one
| no one"
| Beverley went out upon the balcony
and smoked another meditative cigar,
in sight Of the blue Tyrolean hills, and
came to decision. -
Clara Valentine was living in Paris
since her husbands death, and she had
the means to give this girl home.
No sooner thought Of than done.
Beverley had himself announced to Miss
Nentnor, and in few kind words offered
her his sisters protection.
" am going to Paris myself to-mor-
row. If you will be ready l will take
you directly to my sisters home"
Well, this is about the most utterly
| preposterous thing l ever heard of In
my life! And Hugh, Of all men, to be
mixed up in anything of the kind"
This was Mrs. Valentines first excla-
nation when left alone after her broth
er,s arrival with Lucille Ventnor.
He had telegraphcd to his sister in
order to take the first edge off her sur
prise and then, when Lucille had been
| conducted to her Ew u, had stated the
case briefly.
| Someone else might have taken charge
of the girl, she said with irritation.
| " Who2" inquired Beverley. "She is
absolutely alone in the world, poor
childl And she was there penniless
among strangers"
Good heavens, Hugh! What IL she
were? Do you think it was making her
lot easier to compromise the girl?"
| Compromise herr What do YOU
mean?"
| OF course tits compromising to her
to have brought her here with YOU"
| She is about twenty wears younper