The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-01-02
CHAPTER XXXTII..

I CHAPTER ANAIIl.
Vernon was seated few days later in
the wicker chair of his garden, with a
volume of Terence on his knee, and the
dog at his feet, shen the old woman in
cotton kirtle and coal-scuttle bonnet who
served as letter-carrier for some. twelve
miles round, brought him a packet OF pub
fishers letters, and newspapers, and
pamphlets, and one other letter in hand
unknown to him, and inclosed in the
thick blue paper which usually bespeaks
a legal correspondence. When he read it
ne found himself the master of a modest
little fortune. A very distant relation in
the colonies, whom he.had had no COM
mnnication from for twenty years, and OF
whom he had scarcely ever known. any,
thing, had died childless, and had left him
the proceeds of long life OF sheep-farm-
ing, ''because be is the only honest man [
y have ever heard OF, said thi New Zealand
DiQgenes in his testament.
The letter Of these lawyers, who were
total strangers to him, moved him TO a
mingled emotion. He could not but be
thankful that his future wears, brief as
they might be, would be freed from the
atrGe carCe of reliance on precarious liter
airy labors; but his heart ached that this
good news had not come earlier. A re-
luctant consent had been wrung from him
! to Gladys marriage, principally because
| he knew that the state OF his health
might any day leave her without pro-
tectOr, and that he had not means to be-
| queath to her any ease or elegance OF life.
4 This knowledge had made him conscious
| that be had no right to stand between
| his daughter and the brilliant and secure
/ position offered to her, from mere roman.
| tic apprehensions which the future might
realize But if this little fortune had
/ come TO him before tine visit OF Guilderoy,
/ he would not have hesitated to place the
| test of long probation betwixt him
/ and his desires. Alas! when fortune
! stretches out full hands, it is so often too
/ late for her gifts to be of much use. Still
/ he was thankful, as he sat in the pale
sunshine AMIDST the honeysuckle aud
| sweetbrier of his cottage porch.
lie loved learning with all scholars
1 tender and delicate devotion, and it had
! often seemed to him almost prostitution
/ of it to turn his command of its treasures
into a means of making money. 4 SEN
/ timentalitv the world would have called
/ It, as 1t always calls every better emotion
/ in us.
As he sat thus he heard the rapid trot
/ OF horses feet coming up the shady lane,
sunk low between high Towering hedges
and banks which were in spring purple
with violets.
"Some one from Ladysrood, ne thought
Ladvsrood had become full of guests,
/ and Vernon never consented TO 90 there
when there was house party; he pleaded
utter disuse OF society. artd dissFste Tor It.
and, indeed few OF the associates OF
Guilderoy had much in common with
him. And he mad an Interchangeable reso-
luton never to give any human being the
right to say that he had gratified his own
ambitis - and secured his own interests, by
/ his daughters alliance.
"Nhv should vOu persist in remaining
aloo. from us?' Guilderoy had said to
him that same morning; and Vernon re-
piled.
"Why should [ renew acquaintance
with the great world when it and | have
been strangers so long? My life must
seem to YOU like that OF a snail or a mol
lusc, fastened under cabbage-leaf or
ribbon weed. But it is contented one.
Can you say as much for yours?
Guilderoy was at a loss what TO answer.
you are the only contented person l
have ever met, he said evasively.
Il am content because have done with
expectation, - replied Vernon. What is
discomfort? Only desires which are in
capable Of fulfillment. quite understand
that the whole tenor of modern life inev-
itably produces it; that is why live chiefly
with the dead.
a waste of your great intelligence, and
a deprivation TO those who appreciate
your society" said Guilderoy.
"Mv dear EVELYN" said Vernon, Il am
not vain enough to believe in your fat
terry. Whatever my intelligence may be
worth l can put on paper, and if any
really care for my society they can come
to Christslea-as you come"
Guilderoy colored little. He was SEN
sible he came but seldom there. And yet
he had great affection and admiration for
John Vernon.
at is a very great pity that he remains
such recluse," he said once to Aubrey,
who replied:
''You think my life distressingly wasted
on the country. You think Nernons dis
tressingy wasted on solitude. He and
think yours distressingly wasted on pleas
ure. Which of the three of Us is most
right?"
Probably we are all three extremely
unwIse to judge OF, and for others.
"Ihat NAV verv we'll be. Possibly, too
all life is more or less wasted, because
men, with all their studies, have never
studied the secret of truly enjoying it,
Possibly, too. Vernon in his hermitage is
nearer doing so than either You or ].
But though he had never gone thither,
those OF the guests of Ladysrood who had
| learning enough to appreciate it often
sought his society, and the little cottage
under the apple orchards had become a
sort of intellectual Delphos TO those men
of genius and learning who were num-
bered amongst Guilderoy's friends 1t
was no one OF these now, but Hilda san
bury. who lifted the latch of the little
wooden gate and came under the wild
rose boughs to him.
Having begun by hating him as an ad-
venturer and an eccentric solitary, she
had ended in admiring and esteeming
him. "The only really sensible man |
ever met" she often averred.
Vernon, on his part, liked her; he ap-
preciated her strong attachments and her
strong common sense which yet so denied
her those true charms-symDath and the
power of silence. She had now driven
over alone, ostensibly to consult him
about one of her sons, but in reality for
another purpose. When she had spoken
OF her son, of politics, and of the weather,
she hesitated a moment, and then said
"Mr Vernon. you and have one COM
mon object and desire, the happiness of
my brother and your daughter"