Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1886-02-14

he had aot his fathers spirit ana
cleyerncss, was . hard worker ana
very careful--too careful, some peo-
pie said, for whereas his iatner
was only keen and saving, ne was
as mean and hard as miser. But
| in matchmaking these are not defects
TO make q party ineligible, and best OF
all. thought Adam, "thereH be no
no need to divide the money and ac-
cordipely he spared no effort to enforce
his will, so that poor Kitty had hard
tine of it, what with her uncle's
threats and the no more agreeable per-
suasions of her money-grubbing sutton.
Yet she was far too spirited to yield,
and in her inmost mind was resolved to
have both the sweetheart and the mo.
ney, for who needed it if not careless,
squanderipg Willie?
II was no fault in her eyes that her
lover cared nothing whatever for her
fortune, though she would scold aud
rate him well for his indifference. One
winter night, as she was returning from
Q neighboring village about three miles
off, to which she had been sent by her
uncle, Willie quite accidentally met
her, and they had happy walk home
ward along lane, on the snow cover
ing Of which the moonlight fell fair and
softly, making the hard wheel-tracks
glitter and silvering the half-black, half
whitened hedgerows. Willie never be-
fore had seemed so true and earnest
and loyal as Kitty poured into his ear
the story of her persecution.
"Neyer mind, lass" he said let
him keep the money. I've little, but
I'm not in debt, and if you'll but
promise to come to the croft I'll--yes,
Kitty-I'll sell every live thing | have
and work day and night for you."
"No, no, Willie, there's no use for
that; but do you think I'll give up my
rights TO please that wretched Aleck?
It's just what he wants, for me to
marry you and leave everything to him.
lie would be pleased to see me quarrel
with uncle, for it's not me but the
money he wants. But, if he proposes
again, do you know I've a good mind
to take him at his word, Just out Of
spite! That's the worst | could do to
him"
"Wbist whist !" Willie interrupted
her with "you're jokin', lass but |
dnna like it. Say anything but that.
| You would never leave me for a bit of
dirty gold"
"Would l mott" queried Kitty,
who was an incorrigible tease "you'll
maybe see me make runaway match
of it 4; aye, and glad you would be after
a while to get quit Of me. But here's
the door. film not away, I'll maybe
be in the wood on Sunday night ~; and
she was off, leaving Willie to go home
SO thoughtful that he quite forgot to
feed his tame fox until Weakened in the
night by its yelping, thing that had
never happened in his life before.
Business was very dull in the "Red
Lion next afternoon, and Adam re-
tired to his attic room, where Kitty had
a cheerful fire, before which she sat
knitting. Meg, the celebrated black
and-white greyhound, of which Adam
was very proud, stretched its aristo-
cratic body out on the rug, while be-
side it reclined very different looking
dog. The rough, short, curly hair Of
the latter was that Of terrier, but its
long face and limbs and slender contour
demonstrated its relation to the breed
of which Meg was, pure and beauti-
full specimen. Jack, as he was called,
was the very mongrel for poache-.
Adams conversation did not relate
to his hounds, however, but to his son.
He referred TO Willie Allan with mo-
deration and impressiveness his niece
had not expected to find.
d" BARN." he said, "ye'll rue life
time if We marry man like that. 1t
might be fine twelvemonth, but after
he'll get worse than ever, and the work
and anxiety'll all fall on you. Better
take man like Aleck, that you can de-
pend on to keep you comfortable, than
one hike Allan, that'll expect you to
take care o. him.
"Ah. :" replied Kitty, chad Aleck
been the man his father is | would never
have looked to another, but | cannot
trust him."
That's where you're wrong, lass.
Sandy's a well-bred lad, both on the
mothers side and the fathers. There's
not better-bred lad in Blackford, and
blood is sure to tell. He may be quiet,
but he's game, i warrant you. ! could
trust him with all have"
You'd better not, uncle ; and as to
breeding, do you mind Meg's last pups
that you expected to be so good, and
still had to drown for, says you, she's
bred back? Well, | think Sandy's
been bred back, and that's why want
nothing to do with him.
"NO, no, Kitty. If Aleck was what
you say, | would have kicked him to
the door sooner than let him marry
you. But he's a true lad, for all his
backwardness, and has strong notion
for you--a strong notion for him."
Adam repeated.
But if Aleck was a bad, treach.
erous man, and didn't care bit for
me, would you leave me free to take
anybody | like?" queried Kitty.
"SaItainly, sartainly," answered her
uncle.
swell, if thought his blood as good
as his breeding I would take him to-
morrow" began Kitty, but she stopped,
for Adam was not listening. Some
thing had caught his eye outside, and a
stranger to his habits might have thought
him wrapped in contemplation of the
winter sunsets Redeemed clouds or the
snowy landscape. The window COM
manded a view of forty-acre field
which stretched away from the village
gardens to a great thick wood, from
which it was separated by brook. In
the very middle Of it stood solitary
tree, the boughs Of which shone like
dark tracery in the evening light.
"Look yonder," said Adam, point
to the foot of this tree. A timid,
limping, hungry hare, probably tempt
ed by the remembrance Of the 'vegeta-
bles it had sometimes on moonlight
nights found in the gardens. was