News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1889-12-26
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ding! Before another hour struck, tn
unknown girl, picked from the gutter
stood up in that handsome room, il
the cheerful light of the Yule-tire, ant
was made the wife of the rich gentle
man, Adam Brockholt.
Christmas Day dawned on a WorlC
shrouded in snow. While old Haga1
was plodding along over the whit,
roads, Esther, dazzled, amazed, stood
in paneled chamber of the stone
tower, surrounded by garments of vel
vet and seal-skin, brocades stiff with
| richness, wonderful satins, silks from
/ far foreign looms, cobweb laces, boxes
of jewels-family heir-looms in part
and in part the magic result of a full
purse and swift messengers, but all
| Christmas-gifts from Brockholt to his
| bride.
She put on Medici gown of black
satin, bordered with grebe feathers.
a ruff of finest Mechlin lace encircled
her dazzling throat; a corde1tere of
antique silver cleaned at her side.
The dress CHANGED to fit her perfectly.
She filled the corsage with yellow
roses, and thrust golden arrow
through the lustrous coils of her hair.
Was it not her business now to delight
the eyes of her new owner?
Brockholt, reclining by his Christ
mas-fire, looked at her earnestly before
he spoke.
~ called a lawyer at daybreak.
Your future is provided fort does
not matter now how soon die; indeed,
the sooner the better for you"
She did not answer.
els it not sop he urged, whimsi-
cally. "Do you not wish me to make
haste in the matter?'
Her dark eyes expanded.
"Wish you to die, sir?" she replied
in shocked voice. Certainly not !
that would be monstrous."
"There are others who have not
your delicacy of feeling. AT dinner to-
day you will meet a guest who has for
months been impatiently waiting my
demise mean my cousin, and fail
ing heirs of mine, the next master of
Brockholt. He always dimes here at
Christmas, and brings his debts to me
for payment. We hate each other
struggling his gaunt shoulders
Though we manage to preserve the
outward decencies of life. He will be
furious to hear of a marriage, where
he was ardently looking for a death"
''He must be a very dreadful per-
son, sir" said Esther, gravely.
eyes, decidedly bad lot" answer
ed Brockholt.
Shortly before the dinner-hour
struck, Godfrey Argent, the expected
guest, appeared at the stone house.
He was a graceful fellow, with a |
Spanish cast of face, soft, draw ling
yofce. and sleepy gIances. He
auntered into the Brockholt drawing
DOM, and found his cousin pacing its
ength leaning on the arm of a valet.
81 wish you a merry Christmas,
Adam, " he said, reaching to pluck
from one of the chande-
ers. "By Jove! the seasons come
nd go, but you still live, poor fellow"
ayes, still live" answered Brock
olt, with a curl of the lip; ''and you
till wait for your Inheritance"
Don't mention it, dear boy-take
our timel AS l came through
he town, 1 heard some trumpery
ak about a wedding here. Of
curse, did not believe it; dying
nan would never make such fool of
limself."
"'There are many ways in which
nan may make himself fool"
Brockholt, dryly. "Does
he close of this year find you as deeply
involved as ever? Are you still in the
lutches of the money-lenders? l dare
ay you have brought your bills to me
Is usual?'
"Certainlyl | could not think of
departing from such a delightful GUS
omI 1t cannot matter in the long run,
Adam, since | am to have Brockholt
after your death"
providing that / die childless."
A footman appeared at the door.
Dinner was on the board. Godfrey
offered an arm to his cousin.
sEDo we dine alone to-day" he ask
ed.
mo-" replied Brockholt, holding
back. '|Wait one moment-there is
another person.
Then Argent heard rustic of femi-
nine draperies, and saw standing on
the threshold, a snow-white girl, in an
antique satin gown, with beautiful |
Marechal Mel roses in her bodice.
"rhe story which you heard in the
town was quite true, Godfrey" said
Brockholt. Il have the honor to pre-
sent you to my wife!'
For one dreadful moment the two
stood staring at each other in swift
recognition.
"Great God!" cried Argent, and at
sound of his voice the girl swayed
backward, tried to grasp support, and
failing, fell her shining length upon
the floor, and lay there like one dead.
White as chalk, Argent cast one
strange look at his cousin, then sprang
for his hat, and as if pursued by a
legion of demons, rushed out of the
house.
Adam Brockholt was compelled
to take his Christmas dinner quite
alone. But he had ample food