St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1886-01-03
CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER Ii.
AS l sighted the gates of Hamerton
Grange nerved myself for the ordeal of
pleasing sensations las heir-presump-
tive-was regularly subjected to.
There was an odiOus moDgrel cur-the
only creature my uncle loved-whose bite
was worse than its bark. which was afro
cious. Hearing the distant music l drew
on the thick gloves l provided expressly,
and prepared for events by anticipation.
i shall struggle to the door. Uncle Dick
enjoying my torment behind some blind; /
stand, warding off the beast with one hand,
pOmmeling the door with the other-the
beil-wire had been broken these two years.
Presently Mrs. Pike, the housekeeper, put
ting her head out of the door as if TO repel
thief, admits me by a chink, under pro-
test Uncle receives me in a chilly sitting
room and hideous dressing gown detest.
Crossing the threshold, trip up in an old
established hole in the carpet. He compli-
ments ME on my graceful department. in
quires when last was fiogged, or plucked,
and so on, with characteristic amiability.
My mothers existence is ignored. We sit
down to comfortless meal of cold pork or
boiled mutton. No wine is served. If a
cigar is offered 1 know it is a perfdious trap
TO convict me of premature habits
of dissipation. After dinner we play
chess. Woe to me if 1 win-I cheat;
if | lose, Pm an idiot rot worth
checkmating. at 10 am ordered to bed.
Should try to forget my ennui over a
novel, his curfew-knock soon warns me to
desist. ......
That bark came no nearer. By some mis-
take they have forgotten to let Fairy loose.
Fearful lest they should recollect. hurry
to the door, hammer away, and vent my
spite on the dumb bell-handle. HorrorI 1t
reused peal to wake the dead. Just my
luck! 1t had been mended.
A parlor-maiden, with a pretty figure,
opened the doors wide. / nearly tainted.
HAS anything happened to Mrs. Pike?"
/ stammered.
''Oh, no; SIR" Phyllis replied. I'm her
neice, come to help clean up"
Thine you did," thought 1, entering. but
stopping short at the spectacle of Uncle
Dick stalking into the hall to meet me. Is
that coat see upon his back, and, gra-
cious powers, what has he got on mis- face?
A smile.
Good day. nephew. glad to zee you," he
says, and walks me into the dining-room.
Am mad or dreaming? Actually, he is
asking after ''those at home"
answered vacantly but instead of rating
my stupidity, he inquiries good-humoredly
what lam looking at.
Il was admiring your new carpet, con-
fessed.
1.-The drugget was getting shabby. Draw
your chair to the fire and tell me what you
mean by arriving on foot, without lug
gage"
He was quite chatty, quite jolly! You
soon get over pleasant surprises, but more
N
ner first-champagne which / declined.
installing it for a snare. He insisted. /
narrated my railway adventure and en-
counter with his fiance, extolling her cour-
age and nerve. He related the history of
his courtship. Ensilage had made the
match. 1t was his fad, then, as Mrs. Pier
pOnt, who had lately rented Hamerton
Court Manor. had discovered. Business
correspondence had led to personal relations,
and whilst the mother discoursed learnedly
of silos, the daughters eyes shot the dart
that disinherited David D'Aubigny. The
evening passed rapidly. A cheerful fire
was burning in my bedroom. Eleven
o'clock found me Longing over 1t. unad-
monished. Out upon the old proyerb about
silk purses and sows' ears Glory to Miss
p. Celia Watson. who had done it-tamed
the tiger, smoothed the porcupine What
angel aunt l.
Suddenly Hopkins letter cracked in nv
pocket, reminding me was here to break
the engagement. Celia was no angel. but a
precipice. Although this marriage impov-
erished me, my feeling was of unqualified
disappointment. What good had my sex
pectations" ever done me? Fifty thousand
pounds worth of worry uncle would get out
of me before realized jot.
What was the obstacle? Why was Celia
unworthy to become my aunt? Consumed
with curiosity, took the leave given to
peruse Hopkins letter. Instinctively I
fastened directly on the fatal passage.
peter Watson of the London police left
the force from ill-health and emigrated to
indianapolis. He opened store and sup
piled the barracks. = y He married
the daughter of baker-Howard. from
Gunter's, London-and they had one daugh.
ter, Celia. Watson died the next year and
his widow married Pierpont, hair-dresser,
since deceased, who deserted her." 1 got
no further. Policeman Pastry-cook
Hair-dresserl tore round the room ex-
citedly. He, the soul of family pride, had
been gulled by two adventuresses, misrep-
resenting themselves as well born. Hideous
conspiracy opp0rtunely defeated. he.
who scorned a D'Aubigny as an inferiorl
Exhausted, returned to my armchair.
Yet. as passion subsidized, felt that re-
gretful pang again. Uncle. soured by dis
enchantment, would become absolutely in
tolerable, foresaw. Next time j came to
Hamerton there would be two savage dogs
to fly at my legs, no servant at all. perhaps
/ should have to make my own bed, dine
off dry bread. or grass, like Nebuchadnez-
Ear. Some day, likely enough, he would
murder me-uncles have murdered nephews
before now-and be acquitted as insane.
Confound Hopkinsl Why must ne I'M
earth family secrets? And why must be
thrust into the role of domestic torpedo?
Next morning at breakfast table uncle
looked mp from reading my tutors report,
forwarded from home, saying unsus-
piciously:
Your mother says you brought a letter
to show"
She had given no hint, not the slightest
preparation.
Il was just going to give it to you," /
said, resolutely. Here il is"
CHAPTER III.
Two hours later presented myself at
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