The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-05-01

p DEAD LETTER.
The Year Round.l
PART /.

thankful I was when Duncan Ferrars
asked me TO be his wife. Audrey and I
had lived with Uncle Andrew ever since
when, in my seventh year and Audrey's
ninth, our father had died in Canada
first in a small house in Holloway, then,
after our uncle grew rich and was
knighted, in a large house in Bedford
square, which was, believe, the dullest
abode in all London
Our mother had died soon after our
father and, as Audrey and / did not get
on well together, it may be easily imag-
ined that good, true-hearted mans love
though that man was but poor strug
Cling young doctor-was a real blessing to
me.
Uncle Andrew was, have often heard,
one of the cleverest and most influential
railway contractors OF his day. He and
my father had started in business when
they were both young, with small joint
capital, which had gradually grown into a
colossal fortune. ! do not wonder at this
for Uncle Andrew was careful of money
almost to miserliness. Audrey and / had
a small allowance and throughout the
whole establishment any luxury of furni-
ture, food or culture was sternly forbidden
ss extravaganza.
How my father had bequeathed his in
terest in the business he had helped to
build up, or why, in default of a will, some
legal settlement had not been made on
our behalf, were questions which occurred
70 md lor, hor
we began TO consider ways and means.
But to these questions could give no
answer at all. The only person who might
have thrown some light on the subject
was nv mothers cousin, Cyril Holmes,
who was a great friend of both of us, but
especially OF Audrey. However, Cyril,
though he had been in the employment
OF Alison Brothers for many years, was no
better informed than ourselves. AS to
asking my uncle directly, that was an ex-
treme measure not TO be resorted to
lightly.
1t was because of Cyril Holmes admira-
tiOn OF Audrey was no secret that Uncle
Andrew frequently took the opportunity
OF telling US that he was a lazy, worthless
fellow, who would never make his way in
the world or be worth the salary he drew.
To these attacks Audrey always listened
with Indifference. which would not have
been the case had she really loved poor
Cyril.
My uncle also took great pains to ac-
quaint me with the extremely low estima-
tiOn in which he held Cyril's friend, Dun
can Ferrars. but this carefuily-instilled
knowledge did not prevent us from decid-
ing TO ask his consent 10 our speedy mar
riage.
My lover obtained but brief audience
in which to plead our cause. From the
sitting-room window, in which Audrey
and / spent our mornings, | saw him
come TO the front door and soon after I
saw him go. 1t was not difficult to fill in
the hiatus of that ten minutes.
The front door had hardly closed be-
hind Duncan when Lee my uncle's conf
dental man, came to tell me that Sir An
drew wished to speak to me in the library.
II Audrey had cared for me as elder
sisters sometimes care, she would by that
time have been comforting me little and
trying TO keep up my courage As 1t was,
so soon as l told her that Duncan was
coming across the square she began to
practice the noisy part Of the Moonlight
Sonata" and only stopped playing when
Lee brought his message, to say:
"My goodness, Sylvia, ! wouldn't be in
your sboes-you're going to catch il"
81 don't care If l am" l replied def
antly. 1T will soon be over"
He'll forbid you to see Mr.. Ferrars
again
Il shan't be forbidden"
You'll do yourself very little good
by defying him4"
Il shall do myself less by throwing Dun
can over" | returned.
Audrey raised her eyebrows and twisted
round on the music-stOol, which gave a
horrid creak, as il it were jeering at me.
Then Lee tapped at the door again.
''Sir Andrews message was for Miss
Sylvia to come directly" and he held the
door open for me to pass. Lee was no
friend of ours. He looked almost glad
to have TO hurry4me to hear my fate.
My uncle was sitting in his big easy
chair with his back to the light, holding
the Times newspaper before him. AS he
was a small, thin man, he was completely
hidden from me until such time as he
should choose to lay down the paper,
which he could not have been reading
very intently, though he let me wait five
minutes by the clock, pretending not TO
have heard Lees announcement or my
tremulous: "You sent for me, Uncle
Andrew-hereI am"
Presently he emerged from behind the
paper which he had laid down and looked
at me. He had a small, thin. clean-shaven
face, with resolute lines round his large
mouth; his eyes were more piercing than
any human eyes | have ever seen, and
their keenness rarely softened, never en-
tirely gave place 10 any other expression.
] sometimes used to wonder if my father
was or ever would have grown like his
brother. The thought crossed me now,
as taking off his heavy gold pince-nez and,
looking straight at me, he said:
"Ah, Audrey-I mean Sylvia-there
you are. Now, what is all this nom
sense"
"What is all what nonsense, u c e2 Pm
afraid don't understand"
EYES, you do, miss; don't waste my
time with silly prevaricatiOns
saw that I might as well put away any
faint lingering hope l had ventured to
bring into the room-'you understand me
perfectly. repeat: What is all this nom
sense 2"
perhaps, Uncle Andrew, our ideas of
nonsense are not the same. Perhaps what
YOU are calling nonsense Is not nonsense
TO me-" / tried TO answer with compos-
ure, but my words rushed out in the most
undignifed furry.
"Humphp returned my uncle. 81 have
no doubt that your ideas of sense are
~ tho axfrarno cr oro pofUrr EorUu.