The record-union., 1893-07-29


Erroldean for your sake, dearie; but he
did not answer; so we drifted, as you
know, from place to place, and now, for
nearly month, you have been laboring
for one whom-sbamet to his name-who's
blood is running in your veins would
allow it, and when he died, one year ago,
left all his wealth and lands TO a distant
relation. That is all, dearie. l am weary.
Light the candle and draw the blinds"
Signing softly the girl rises to her feet,
doing her grandm others bidding. Then
she seats herself upon the edge of the low
stool at the old woman's feet, leaning her
tired head against her grandmothers
knee.
$50 my mother was discarded, disin-
herited for marrying the man she loved"
The old woman mods, her eyes are
closed-she is wandering among the shad-
ows cf the past.
They sit in silence, as the candle burns
low and lower, casting a golden gleam
upon the girls raven hair-silence only
broken by the soft, regular breathing of
Hester, whose overtired body succumbs
to nature.
In a cosy smoking-room are seated two
gentlemen enyeloped in curling clouds OF
purplish gray smoke. One is Jack Hume,
the master Of Broadacres, whom we met
few hours previous-the other is his
bosom friend and honored guest, Lester
Roland.
There is silence between them until it
is broken by Roland, who suddenly eX-
claims:
''Jove, Hume, your lines have fallen
in pleasant places. Broadacres is a prince
ly inheritance. Upon my word you are
lucky cuss."
His host blows the gray ash from his
halt-smoked cigar.
"1 ct that does not make me feel any
the less an interloper."
The dickens you are," in open
mouthed astonishment. Then, in an in
jured tone: THAT'S always the way, for
tune falls to those who don't appreciate
1t. l only wish | could hop into your
shoes. Here you are with wealth far sur
passing your widest expectations, and at
the end of the year prating like fool
about interlopers. Why, dash it, old
chap, money will buy anything. What is
IL you crave?''
Nay, you mistake. Money is conve-
nient L admit; but, Roland. wealth cannot
purchase love nor virtue"
"Bosh. Most assuredly it will buy
love at any rate. What fair one has won
your fancy? I'lI wager my head she is
yours for the asking"
Hume shakes his head. A vision of a
proud, tall girl floats before him,
Il say it will"
You mistake my meaning, Roland.
1t might win the object, but not the de-
sire. w hat use is the empty casket when
the priceless jewel we expect to find is
missing?'
Perhaps you're right, old chap. 1
didn't look at it in that way. Still. money
aside, and not wishing to hatter you, you
are handsome enough to win the affection
OF any woman"
Again Hume shakes his head doubt
fully. Why will that scornful, defiant
face persistenty tantalize him? Alb
sently he falls into reverie without no.
ucing his friends further remarks or
questions. What uncomfortable attrac-
ton does she possess? What charm has
she thrown over him? Her face and
form are glorious; but has he not seen
equally as fair? Why does he feel vexed
and piqued at her lack of courtesy in re-
tusing to notice his prOffered hand? Then
OFF wanders his mind to the beautiful old
Biblical story of Ruth and Boaz. Boaz,
the rich man, married Ruth, his hand
maiden; then why not?
He is suddenly aroused by Roland ex-
claiming:
"Jove, Hume, the village is on fire."
Jack leaps to his feet, and, in an in
stant, vaults lightly over the low, wide
window ledge, running like deer ia the
direction of the fire.
a small crowd of villagers are in front
of the burning building. Through mar
row window he sees tace-a beautiful
white tace-the same who, a minute pre-
vious, his thoughts have just rested
upon.
She stands bewildered, evidently Just
awakened from sleep.
Sinking upon her knees she cries:
"Grannie, grannie, wake up, wake
up"
Then, springing TO her feet, she vainlv
strives TO drag the heavy chair across the
hoeT.
Jack Hume dashes through the door
way.
Leave it; I will carry it out"
Authoritatively, almost roughly, he
seizes her arm and draws her forward
do you hear? l promise to rescue
her. Now, go while there is yet time"
Silently she passes out followed by
Jack, bearing the half-fainting invalid in
his strong arms.
The old woman, partly recovering, in
voice of despair, cries:
''Oh! sir, the chest, the small black
chest, save it; Tor the love ofGod, saveit."
Again he plunges into the burning
cabin, and instantly races FORTH the preci-
Gus box held high above his head, as
with a crash the -wreathed roof
falls in.
Hester stands alone, bravely striving
again become insensible.
Here you are at last" putfs the master
of Broadacres, as his friend Roland an
proaches. Lend hand here, old chap.n
And, together, they bore her carefully
towards the friendly lights of Broad
acres.
In dry-eyed misery Hester knelt beside
the bed whereon they had laid her grand
mother, and gazed in silent agony upon
the white, still face. She started when
soft touch fell upon her shoulder.
sit here, child"
And she is gently lifted into a comforta-
BILE armchair. Mr.. Hume holds a glass
of wine to her lips.
Drink it." She makes a faint gesture
of dissent.
'H ou must" firmly.
The glass is held against her lips, and,
without further resistance, she obediently
swallows the contents.
There, that's right; now lean your
head back and rest; just So"
The grandmother opens her ewes. looks
about, closing them contentedly when
she sees Hester close beside her. and falls
into peaceful, resttul slumber, whilst
the motherly old housekeeper carries the
tired girl OFT and puts her submissively to
bed.
Two weeks had passed away, and still
Hester and her grandmother were guests
at Broadacres. The old woman's recov-
cry was slow, owing to the fact that for
the last two years her lower linn bs were
wholly helpless, and now the paralysis
seemed to be creeping upwards.
One day grannle asked Hester to open
the small, black chest.
Hand me the little fiat box in the cor
ner, dearie."
The old woman pressed a spring and
the lid hew back, disclosing to Hester's
astonished eyes a ring of brilliant dia-
monds, whose flashing rays almost