The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-07-28
THE CaRp1ICHEL LEGACY.


 afternoon in London city, with torrid sunshine in the streets and heat radi- ating everywhere, while the chief business going on was in fruits and iced drinks; three o'clock striking on the big bell of Bow, and repeated by the bigger bell of Paul's, as Lady Jones' carriage drew up at Gorham House, which is situated in the very vortex of the city whirlpool. Lady Jones was small, thin, and middle aged, but quick and nervous in her movements, and she had alighted and reached the porch of Gorham House before the rosy footman was half way down from his perch. Lady Jones pursued her way with no uncertain steps, for Gorham House had long been familiar to her. It was there that her late husband had his offices, the celebrated Sir Isaac Jones, who had built more town halls, theatres, chapels and jails than any man of his time.
 Lady Jones hurried into suite of offices, where many young men were at work among plans and drawings, half buried among rolls of drawing paper.
 eff MT. Robert is busy, will wait," said Lady Jones, seating herself hum bly on chair in the outer office.
 Presently an inner door opened, and a tall, good looking young fellow, with dark, closely shorn hair, made his appearance. This was Robert Car michel, the young and able successor of Sir Isaac Jones. Ho was clever. He had plenty of energy and go about him; but he owed everything in life to Lady Jones-who had taken him up, adopted him, and pushed his for tune to it's present agreeable height. "My dear aunt" said the young man, coming forward and hurrying Lady Jones into his private room, "they only this moment told me you were here. What brings you into the city this broiling day? And you look so weary and worn." "I am weary" said Lady Jones, with sigh, "weary and sad. have just heard sad news-your poor father"
 "Well," said Robert, in a voice that expressed curiosity rather than emo- tion.
 "He is dead"
 There was no mistaking the sorrow . full accents in which those words were spoken; they expressed something more than ordinary grief. As for Robert, his face retained it's composure. "How did he die?" he asked.
 "Of fever, in some remote part of Africa"
 "You are quite sure?" asked Robert with instinctive caution. "There is no possibility of mistake2"
 My dear, it is official-through the consul and the foreign office, and sent to me-expressly by his dying wish, it seems. Robert," cried Lady Jones, "oh, Robert, don't you see the full sig nifcapce of that2"
 Robert looked puzzled. After all, his father was little more than a name to him he had seen him only at inter- vals of years; for Colonel Carmichel had had his headquarters in Paris, and had been, moreover, an cratic kind of being, often impecunious, and gener- ally full of wild enterprise and ed ventures.
 "My dear," said Lady Jones, still with suppressed emotion, ''I had let ter from him-from your father, only few days ago-a beautiful letter. Robert, believe that if your father had lived he would have come home to ns-to you and me. And, Robert" ;" with faint blush, "I might have been your stepmother."
 "You would have married him aunt2" cried Robert.
 Robert, loved your father-he was my first, my only love; I don't mind confessing it, now that he is dead. But read his letter, Robert; it contains message for you."
 Robert read his fathers letter calmly and critically.
 The only paragraph that referred to him was as follows: "If you should hear of anything happening to us ur the country, tell Robert l can leave him nothing but good name--and a certain responsibility, which I hope he will fulfill as best he caSr
 "Now, what does that n,esn?" asked Robert, reading the passage aloud.
 "Debts, perhaps-I must pay them,s said Lady Jones, hastily. "Well, tha, story is told. Now let us talk of the opening one. When are you going to speak to Clara?"
 Now, Clara was the daughter o1 Lady Jones' friend and neighbor, Nes. bet of the Films. She would have s