The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1888-03-24
A SWEET REVENGE
BY HUGH CONWAY.
CHAPTER |.

CHAPTER l.
II will simplify matters IL | say at once
that ] am strange girl. After this con-
fession, you will be more inclined to be-
lieye that my story
is tue one, and, 1t may be. Condemn my
conduct less. If your god fathers and god
mothers think fit to give you strange
name, they can scarcely expect you to be
the same as other people; and the name
some one chose to christen me by is
strange one. Heritage" is certainly not in
common use, although, when one gets
accustomed to it, it sounds rather pretty,
especially go when coupled with my sur
name. Heritage Rivers" is not at all bad.
L am quite sure that in most instances
peoples natures accommodate themselves
to their names. Nearly oil the Lucys |
have known have been fair and romantic;
nearly all the James and Susans homely and
fond of housekeeping. A girls career
seems often to be settled by her name.
So, having no precedent to show me what
the owner of the name of Heritage should
be like, l always plead it as an excuse
for any peculiarities of disposition.
Nevertheless, | am not called upon to dis
sect my mental qualities for the benefit of
the inquisitive, so shall only say that one of
my chief characteristics is that of being
good hater. l like and respect good
hater. No doubt it is unchristianlike; but
1t is SO natural. / am not ashamed to say
that if people iniure me / don't forget or
forgive until feel l am about even with
them. OF course, if anyone who had
wronged me asked forgiveness, | should
forgive freely enough don't see how
that can be avoided-but | should never
be eager to do my enemy good turn I'M
less | felt sure of heaplng Goals OF fire
upon his head Now you know what man.
ner of being | am; and very dreadful the
description looks as | write it, so dreadful
that | am obliged tc comfort myself by
thinking of the reverse ofthe picture-that
l can be as true friend as an enemy.
1t is not so many years ago that /,
Heritage Rivers, a slim girl of seventeen,
left school, and stepped out into the grown
up world to meet what fate awaited me.
For the time, my only idea was to enjoy
my freedom. | was delighted to think
that masters and mistresses were finished
and done with for ever and day. SO
babe them glad adieu, and went down
into the country to stay with IN aunt OF
mine, and for several weeks reyeled IN
sunshine and liberty. Then, in accord
ance with a solemn promise, | spent some
little time with an old school friend one,
like myself, Just emancipated. Her peo-
pie lived at Twickenham, In a delicious
old house with large garden. | was
made heartily welcome. The mother took
me to her heart as her daughters dearest
friend. The father, courtly grayhaired
man. with literary tastes and pursuits, was
kindness and politeness itself; while Clara
Ramsay's brothers were IN an hour my de-
voted slaves and lovers. Surrounded by
such pleasant attentions, l began TO realize
the fact that | was now a grown-up young
lady, not altogether unattractlye, and so
valued myself accordingly.
AS the Ramsays were quiet people and
kept little company, an announcement made
by Mrs. Ramsay that a dinner-party was
projected was sufficient to iutter our
hearts. For several days before it took
place, we discussed again and again the
merits of the guests who were TO be pres
eut. As Clara knew them all except one,
her interest was centered on the probable
appearance of this gentleman. AS even
her mamma did not know him, all infor-
nation respecting him must be extracted
from Mr.. Ramsay, whose friend be was.
Girls being inquisitive creatures, Clara, at
breakfast time, egged on by me, began her
Inquiries.
"A friend of mine, my dear. A very
clever young man, who will one day, |
think, be Q most distinguished member of
society"
So far as it went, this reply was salts
factory; but We wanted a categorical tesh-
| III onial, not general one.
How will he distinguish himself?" asked
| Clara.
/ "He is n rising author-little known as
yet; but all that must come"
80, dearw sighed Clara plaintively; Il
| know exactly the sort of man. / have
seen so many of them here. OF course he
| wears spectaces?"
Il don't think he does-or if so, never
noticed them, replied Mr.. Ramsay.
| you never notice anything you ought to,
papa. But he Is sure to have a horid
beard unkenpt and uncared for They
| all have
"He has no beard, I fancy" answered
| Mr.. Ramsay meditatiyely.
"Is h good-looking and nice?" demand
| ed the audacious Clara.
Mr. Ramsay looked much amused ut his
! daughters questions.
81 find him NICE" he said. But what a
chit Of a girl like you may find him. is
another matter-a very small matter.
should think that most people would call
! him extremely good-looking.
rs he dark or fair-tall or short?"
My dear girl, | shall answer no more
! questions about him. Why don't you
! initiate the discretion of Miss Rivers, who
| seems free uom your failing -curiosity?'
| blushea at such undeserved praise;
while Clara, to show her opinion of my
| false pretenses, nudged me under the
! table.
Although M. Ramsay would tell us
nothing more, we, i'll our idle moments,
which were many, speculated a great deal
as to the probable personal appearance of
| Mr.. Vincent Hope. l had a certain right
to feel some anxiety about the matter, as |