Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1893-10-28
CHATTER ".

ihSs III ~ NNYthS VI V Vhh ~6f
CHATTER v.
An oid-fashioned house in Fulham, near
the river, and hidden from the higll-road
by a shady garden, was the private resi-
dence of John Carrington--not Esquire,
for the owner was q chemist, possessing a
thriving business somewhere in the neigh
borhood of Old Bond Street, where he
spent the greater part Of his time busily
enough, not always compromising pills or
making up prescriptions, but overlooking
two or three assistants, and experimenting
a little on his own account, keeping a mas
ter's eye on the old-established and pros
porous business.
He was a mild earnest-looking man, q
little past middle age, with thick gray hair
and clear bright blue eyes-one with a gem
tie honest face tina inspired confidence
He was a man who liked 10 see his own
home well ordered and trim, his wife a Ia
dy In every sense Of the word. His daugh-
tiers gentle and refined. Such was Flor
ence Worthington's uncle, or rather the
husband Of her aunt, her mothers only
sister, 10 whose homo she had been warmly
invited.
"What Is she like, mother" was asked
repeatedly " Maud and Ethel Darlington,
as they waited In great excitement for the
arrival of their new cousin but the answer
was always the same, and TO them never
satisfying
81 cannot tell You Ethel. 1t is impossi-
bic to say, since l have seen so little of
your cousin"
shut when you did see her, mother
what was she like them" Ethel persisted.
s.The first time, n baby q month old,
oycrburdened with silk and lace; the see
oad, a dear little fairy of three years, whom
| saw in midwintcr, and whom | longed 10
take and wrap in warm soft clothing, like
yours used TO be, but who was wonderful
ly dressed in the height Of fashion then,
with little bare neck and arms; the third,
which was the other day, a slight pale girl
In deep mourning, who. seemed broken
down with grief, and made my heart ache
as / looked at her."
"But why have you seen 80 little Of her,
mother" Maud Darlington asked wonder
ingly. .She Is our own cousin"
"~Because, my dear, | could see that my
visits were intrusive; because, although
she il my own niece, | am a chemists wife
and she a Baronet's daughter and niece Of
Il Countess. The gulf between US is a
wide one; and your father did not care that
Il HhNhid w hh ilNbiiit Nl-llNls lbhl
cousin could not possibly have wanted for
anything but a mothers care, aEd that
they would not allow me &C.. give her.'
81 do hope she will be nice, MOTHER"
Maud said anxiously.
III hope so too, my dear; but we must
J be content with her as she is" Mrs. Car
rinton answered, as ii with a lingering
doubt on the subject. .'Poor girl, she IL
dcsolate enough, and, if she knows any
taing at all, must feel terribly distressed
about her fathers affairs; but hope they
have kept the worst from her. At any
rate, We will try to do the best we can for
her. She will he pleased with her rooms,
aud she must like you both my dears.'
IL hope she will like Philip" Maud sug-
gested.
"And / think 1t is of much Importance
that Philip should like her, Ethel an
swercd with implied indignation in her
voice. But he il sure To do that dear old
Phil always likes everybody" she added;
and her dark eyes grew brighter still as
she uttered the name OF one she evidently
loved so well.
And this was to be Florence Wortbing-
toms new home-the nome she pictured
with such sickcning dread, such loathing
thoughts! To do her Justice, she really
knew nothing of her aunt and cousins;
nevertheless to her they were hideously, ia
tally distasteful, being made so by the
stamp of trade. They were q tradesman's
wife and daughters, let them be ever SO
perfect In all else. To Florence they could
never come within her own charmed circle,
or the circle her own imagination had
marked out rs impossible.
In mute adieu Miss Florence Worth
ington, with a white, worn face and an
aching heart, had swept through all the
deserted rooms in Portman Square, linger-
ing longest in her fathers study, and adj
ding To her pain as she did so, leaning low
ingly over his armchair, where she could
trace the impress of his weary head-she
little knew how weary il had been-whero
she had talked TO him So hopefully on that
very last OCCASION. and there seemed such
entire confidence between them, and when,
In spite of all, her future seemed 20 bright,
her position such r proud one. She pass
ed on TO the conservatory, staying a mo-
tncnt ut the spot where Lord Harcourt's
vows had been offered to her, his coronet
held out for her acceptance. She fingered
longer at the orange-trec, given to her in
such happy times by Hugh Carleton, and
from which something prompted her to
break of a spray with bud and leaf-a
souvenir of happiest times, she thought
Then all was over, and she had to leave
the home where her spoilt, though rather
lonely childhood and her bright thought
less girlhood had been passed-dearer
now to her in remembrance a thousand lines
than it had ever been in ~reality-and she
vowed that in her lifetime she would never
again pass its threshold.
| Tha Inpoa ba1 hann taEnn iust "a n xx-aa
by her cousin, the heir, who, with a show
OF generosity, had begged her to select and
retain anything and everything it might
give her the slightest pleasure to keep or
possess for her own use. But il was Flor
ence's present nature TO scorn all such gen.
erosity; and she hated her fathers heir
with a jealous hate, as almost a usurper.
She looked upon his offer rs presumptuous,
and intensed only to humiliate her; she
even took u martyrs pleasure i'm depriying
herself of many birthday gifts and splen.
did prescnts-hers almost by right-which
had adorned her own rooms, which she
might have still kept with little loss Of
dignity. she left them all, retaining only
the few trinkets her mother had possessed,
and others OF small value that had been
given TO her personally, or that in her law
ish extravaganza she had purchased for her
own adornIneat. Her splendid wardrobe
lit almost for a princess-was left to her,
and now, packed in large eases, was stand.
ing ready In the hall TO 20 with her TO Full.
ham. Lady Ravens carriage was at the
door, and a cab to convey the luggage. In
q few minut Florence would have left
for ever her old happy home, and the in
teryal was u very bitter one to her.
Lady Raven had decided to take her
niece to Fulhsm, neutrality-suspicious. wisely
that with some people 10 might give
Florence more prestige in her new home.
The announcement Of s.The Countess Of
Raven and Miss Worthington" did make u
little commotion ut the Laurcls, Fulham;
the inmates had been expecting Florence
alone all the morning, and with no little
excitement; consequently, instead Of be-
ing received in the pretty morning-room
that looked upon the bright garden, the
visitors were ushered more formally into
TIC a-aw;a-,rocrs.
81 do not see much to find fault with
here, Florence" was Lady Ravens gra-
cious whisper, while her quick eyes noted
the contents Of the pretty room-she vases
laden with fresh flowers, the turquoise
damask furniture, the spotless lace cur
tains; there might be no splendor, but i'm
finite taste aud refinement were displayed
In all the appointments. tThey are EVIL
IDENTIFY musical" her ladyship said, MOTTO
ing the handsome grand piano, which was
open, and had been evidently lately used.
Even Miss Worthington began to breathe
q little more freely; she had been haunted
by the impression that her new home might