The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1891-02-01

yards distant.
Mr.. Vincent was a handsome young
fellow Of 26, with refined face, dark
eyes and mustache. He wore light
gray overcoat and derby hat; he had a
dandelicn in bis buttonhole and carried
a cane. There was general air of Lam
guor and disaffection about him this
morning What earthly use was there,
he wondered, in taking the trouble to
come to his office?
During nine months occupancy he
hadn't had dozen clients. In fact,
nothing ever came to the Office but bills
and book agents, and he would gladly
have avoided both. He was beginning
to consider seriously what he was going
to do about it. For the present, how
ever. be did nothing but throw the win-
dow up, and sitting down on the broad
sill gaze over the wide prospect that his
lofty height commanded The wide blue
Charles, the low, misty hills, the thin
white clouds were soothing. He sat and
thought about Miss Marquand's musi-
Gale, and dreaded to turn about and face
the perpetual problem of income and ex-
penses. His reverie was broken by the
abrupt opening of the Office door.
Dispatch for Alex Vincent Thirty
cents charges, sung out the district mes
senger boy who confronted him as he
turned
1t was with a feeling as near surprise
as our philosophical young lawyer was
capable Of that he tore open the yellow
envelope and read:
"Gideon Dane was buried yesterday.
His heirs will meet for consultation on
the 18th. You are requested to be pres
emit
The message was dated Queenstown.
Va, and signed sGwendoline Dane"
Who. then, speculated young Vincent,
was Gideon Dane, and who were his
heirs2 His grandmother, who had died
before his remembrance, was, as he re-
called, Virginian, and her name was
Dane. This Gideon Dane might have
been her relative. He went out and
autographed at the end Of an hours cogi-
faticn for further information, ssAm
one eff Gideon Danes heirs?p and during
the day he received the brief aSswer,
You are. with the same signature as
before.
It was about the middle Of the after
noon on the 18th that Alex Vincent
found himself at the end of his long and
rather stupid journey. He had come
over single track road. by slow train,
In common car. Among his fellow
passengers the women were sallow and
the men slovenly He had had bad
nights rest and poor breakfast. A
good many young fellows of Vincent's
age would have enjoyed the novelty and
adventure Of the journey, but Vincent
was OF q cool, fastidious temperament.
critical and fond of his comfort. Be-
fore leaving home he had taken the pre-
caution to visit an elderly aunt, his
mothers sister, who in response to his
inquiries could only tell him that as far
as she knew the Virginia Danes had
been ruined by the war, and that the
northern branch of the family had never
been able to get along with them, any
how.
They were hot tempered set" said
the old lady, with no manner of reason
or Judgment. according to our notions
But you'd better 60 ON and see to what's
left, since they bid YOU
Vincent, as has been said, was left
standing on the platform at Queenstown
and the train moved on. He was among
the mountains. in the midst of wild
and picturesque scene. A colored boy
whom he beckoned from sunny door
step informed him that the Dane place
was good bit" distant, and that if he.
would wait for him to borrow a fish line
he'd show him the road.
"Were there no horses to be hired?'
The boy rolled his tongue in his cheek.
"There might be mule cart"
Vincent decided to start ON foot. He
persuaded his guide TO give up the fish
line scheme and carry his yalise as a
more profitable investment, and then
together the two struck into the cool,
wide gorge already green with April
drapery, with rushing waterfalls foam
ing down the side of the mountain
around which they pursued their way.
Reckon Miss Gwen would sawn't
for you sho', il she'd known You was
coming remarked Vincent's guide, as
the dark began to close about them and
the mountain fog to obscure the road.
Has she servants and horses IN
quired Vincent with irritation.
LA, yes drawled the boy, "lots
on 'em.
'sAnd is she a-young lady% queried
our traveller.
Didn't you know that?' was the sur
prised reply.
Vincent walked on, rejecting upon
these items of information.
Well, how much further have we got
to go? he inquired at length, tired,
shivering in the cold white mist and
thinking Of the condition of his boots.
"We're right there, sah--here's the
lane, = was the cheering response.
A few moments more and they saw the
lights of the house blinking through the
fog, and then through the windows the
rudy glow Of freight. The house, as
Vincent could dinly distinguish, was
large, old fashioned, with wide We
randa- The door at which he knocked
was opened by white haired colored
man, wrinkled, bronzed, bent and silent
- deaf mute, as Vincent learned after
ward.
A moment later he yyas standinn ~,