The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1889-06-11

able wstering-place. He was in a corner,
hidden by dropping, vines, and his face
| expressed deep and apparent painful
| thought. The refrain of his sad musing
was:
"Only one person in the whole world
to love me, and I shall lose even that love
nowI"
On the other side of the summer hous Sc,
divided from the side the old man occu-
pied by a rustic partition, two ladies,
young and fair, rushed in, and taking out
| some fancy work, settled down for a chat.
One was tall, and dressed in a pretty
costume that was at once youthful and
matronly the other was petite, blonde,
and not more than eighteen. Mrs. Court
land spoke first.
Embroidery, Alice!" she said. GA
handsome handkerchief corner. For your
trouseau 2"
eyes," and the sweet voice faltered,
while a burning blush crimsoned the fair
cheek. Is it not pretty? ?"
Every. I want to talk about your
prospects, child. Your Aunt Marcia tells
me you are making a splendid match"
"Did she2 I think so, Blanche. NAL
colin is so noble and good, and a true
Christian"
"But your aunt tells me he is the
faVorite nephew of the great oil merchant,
Hiram Bates, whose wealth is something
enormous. You have only to help him
play his cards well, and he will probably
be heir to a magnificent fortune. But
what ais you? You look as if l was
telling you q piece Of news"
Il think Aunt Marcia has been misin-
formed, that is all"
"Then he is not Hiram Bates's
nephew?'
~ never heard him speak of a rich
uncle, and I am quite sure he has no hope
of inheriting money. He has a good
salary, and my little fortune will buy and
furnish a small house; so we can make a
comfortable, and, 1 hope, a happy home"
odd he never speak to you of his
uncle2"
"Never of a rich uncle. He has told
me of a lame uncle, his uncle, his mothers
brother, who has been very kind to him,
given him an education and a start in
business. He always talks of him with
the deepest love and pity"
"Pitty p
"He suffers torture from the effects of
a fall that has famed him for life, and
often causes him weeks of agonizing pain.
Malcolm tells me, with tears in his eyes,
of his fear of losing this dearest friend
and kind uncle, and l think he hopes
may be useful sometimes in nursing him"
al wonder if she is the same?'
The old man leaning upon his cane was
thinking.
"Can it be true? Does Malcolm think
so little of my money, that will be his,
that he has never ever mentioned it to
his promised wife? Can it be that l shall
gain a loving, tender niece, instead of
losing my nephew, when Malcolm mar
ries 2"
Loving his nephew SO deeply, Hiram
Bates had felt a keen pain at the news of
his betrothal. He had never seen Alice
Hunter, but he knew she had been
brought up in a circle of fashion, and was
the orphan niece of one of society's gayest
votaries, Mrs. Marcia Hayden.
He had ascertained by inquiry that the
young girl had inherited $1,000 from
her father, and that her winters were
spent with her Aunt Marcia, her summers
with a maiden sister of her father. She
was quite a belle, although only in So
ciety n seoson, pretty and accomplished,
and the old man grOaned in spirit Owe
his nephew's choice.
A belle, and with a head full of fash
ionable ~frivolity, he was convinced that
the girl had been won by the prospect of
Malcom's heirship to his own fortune.
He had seen in the future his nephew
estranged from him by the influence of a
dressy, empty-headed woman, or, still
more appalling, his niece to-be making
false protestations of affection, with a
hope Of winning golden favors.
While he unused upon the conversation
he had overheard, the silvery voices of
his young neighbors still sounding beside
him, there was a sudden crash, something
struck him upon the head and he lost
consciousness.
Cries from the summer-house, from
groups of people collected in the grounds,
brought a party Of men speedily to the
spot. The rotten posts supporting the
roof upon one side had given way and
the side and roof had fallen in. Mrs.
CORTLAND and Miss Hunter were buried
under the fallen timbers, but were unin-
jured. Not so the old gentleman, who
had been their unsupported listener. He
was taken out pallid and senseless.
Nobody knew him. He had come by
the morning train, had taken breakfast,
but no room, and asked the hour for the
return train. A surgeon, summoned as
speedily as possible, announced a broken
arm and an injury to the head, making a
likelihood of a long, tedious illness. There
was some animated discussion, some sug-
geStions of hospital, a search through the
pockets of the unconscious victim, result
ing in the discovery of a small sum of
money, but no letters papers or cards, and
finally a desertion Of one and another,
each going his w way, with the COM
forting reflection:
"Its none of my business"
But when they had all deserted the in
jured man the surgeon, still busy binding
up his arm, as he lay upon a bench brought
from the ruined summer house, felt alIght