The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1892-05-07
Select 9tOrg.
AN IMPOSTOR.
From Belgravia.
CHAPTER l.

heart and Others familiar to my childhood.
I have considered myself the only repre-
sentative of the Heavyhand since my faith
ers death, which took place in India when
[ was boy at school, leaving me-so far
as | know-relationless.
My guardians were responsible Tor me
and my money until came of age, when,
to the horror of those worthy gentlemen,
nv first act was to rush off to Paris to study
art, scorning the sedate paths of law, in
which | was supposed to follow my father s
footsteps to the pinnacle of fame, an Indian
Judgeship.
Art, and many things besides, did study
during the years that | knocked about that
gay capital of the "beaux-arts, and behold
me now, man of twenty-six, pliding my
self on the sensations-or loss of such-oi
fifty. .
Having suddenly developed fancy to
return to my native land, am now settled
in Kensington studio, which | have dec,
GRATED on the most artistic principles and
fitted up in great splendor, and where l
am now supposed to be working.
"By Jove you are snug, says Akers,
interrupting me at my breakfast about
eleven o'clock one bright June morning,
"dont work too hard, my dear Smasher."
| don't relish his joke on my name, and
wish he would not bang the door. Akers
inhabits the studio next mine-a bare place
compared TO my ''bric-a-brac shop, as he
rudely calls it-and is not bad sort OF
fellow, but too fond of jokes and so noisy.
"Oh YOU gay butterfly said he, taking
in my detected appearance, ''if you will go
dancing till dawn every night of the week,
and forthwith he subsidies with his pipe ln-
to the depths of an armchair, and l return
to the waking dreams from which he had
reused me.
1t was true had been dancing till dawn
and with the most lovely and most divine
no. most human girl Alas for my blases
feelings I was but sangulne boy IN hel
presence. And what waltzer What
ecstasy to float with her to the yearning
passionate throb of the waltz music; or bet
ter still, to sit with her in the dusky, shaded
conservatory, heavily scented with roses
cool with splashing fountains, and just
enough glow from the fairy lights to roslly
tint those perfect shoulders, those arms.
ala ha!' breaks in Aker's noisy laugh
"my dear fellow, you have no idea how
idiotic you look; now do not glare at me sc
this suits you much hetter," and he at,
tempted languishing love-lorn air, idlotlc
enough certainly, but ! am sure L never
looked like that.
"Dreaming about that charmer you were
raving about yester eve? Tell me all
'unburden your sad soul of signing.
But l am deeply offended, being touchy
this morning, and devote myself to my
neglected letters, among which is one In
cramped precise hand, the signature-at
which | first look-being &c. Heavyhand
1t runs thus:
"My Dear Sir: Having seen your name
in the Royal Academy catalogue take the
liberty of writing to you-a liberty which
| think nv name will excuse-and shal
take it as personal favor if you would
kindly send me all information of youl
branch Of the family.
GAS you doubtless know, L am engaged
on a work on the Heavyhand family, which
| have traced from early Saxon times, and
until seeing your name, had believed my
self to be the only representative OF thai
illustrious line whose name"
ssBosh !'' | exclaimed; "some old lido
trimming up Saxon descent and imaginary
ancestors" and | threw the note impatiently
down, for | was lamentably indifferent Il
such things.
"Let us see" said Akers, interruptins
his song of ''Mimi Pinson," and picking
up the note he read it through.
"Some long-lost relative, my boy, wait
ing to shower gifts upon your unworthy
head, beginning with Saxon ancestors, nc
doubt, to be followed by the boarded wealth
of the Heavyhands. How strange are the
works of Providence Here am [; only
last week my uncle, in the flesh, made
himself disagreeable about paltry affair
and my other uncle, you know, has lately
been hardhearted to an extent
"By iove! | shall be late,' cry as the
clock strikes twelve, and cutting short
Aker's harangue, | rush off to dress, fol
am mot to meet my ''charmer" atluneheor
at > o clock ? and my blue velvet lounging
suit, however becoming, must be changed
more suitable for the occasion.
81 say" Akers calls after me as | van
ish into the dressing room, "what lark il
would be to write the old chap an answer
all sorts of rubbish, you know; stuff hin
we'll with all sorts of yarns about you an(
your ancestors; those old fellows will swal
low anything.
leave him chuckling over the idea. ant
when after a time-not short | confess
come forth arrayed in splendor, he is still
there, writing with great evident enjoy
ment and selfappreciation.
am late, so do not stop to inquire th'
meaning of this unusual literary display
and hunt frantically about for my stick.
Just listen to this, says Akers witt
great pride, ethis will fetch the old fel
low"
But hat and stick are found, and away
rush needless, Aker's shouting after me. g
shall send it, you know; too good to b.
lost"
1t was an ambrecial luncheon tasted b,
the side of the lovely Miss Mostyn. "Rita
her friends call her, short for Carita she in
formed me; and blissful afternoon fol
lowed, for | escorted her-chaperoned b.
our hostess-to flower show, where on
chaperon was obliging enough to find an es
cort of her own, and all too short wer
those hours among the roses.
l was greatly cast down by the news tha
Miss Mostyn was going down to the coun
try next day, going home too ''poor dea
Uncle George" " who could not be left alon'
any longer The promise of"lots ofwaltzes
at the dance she was coming up for mex
week alone gave me strength to bear tn
parting.
The next day l was free from Aker's in
yasion. He had gone down to Surrey 70
few days to work, so | staid in the studi
all the morning under the impression tina
l was working, but / believe | spent mos