Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1893-10-21

IOuTbke huu TesUuTCcS NeIe bpcut w thc
last In calculating still on the possibility
OF averting IL.
He knew he must have sleep to give him
fresh strength for the struggle, and sleep
would not come; so he doubled, perhaps
trebled his nightly dose Of choral, and IL
gave him rest-the rest from which there
IN no earthly awakening. So Sir Arthur
WorthiDgton's troubles in this world were
over; he had been found resting all too
peacefully beside his bed, fallen into his
last sleep.
One thing was certain--Florcnce Worth.
ington, the supposed heiress, was penniless
worse than pcnnilcss. The grandest ef-
forts Of her friends could save her fathers
name only from a portion a its shame
they could not clear ii utterly.
The breath had scarcely left the body ere
the creditors were clamorous. Those to
whom Sir Arthur worthington had owed
debts of ~honor-not a few-were abusive
everywhere; they were/ehie1y his com.
peers, and there could be no excuse for him
In their eyes. He had spent recklessly .
splendid fortune, and left his only child .
begl Art was but too true.
Florence Worthiugton loved her father
with q love deeper than she knew. He
was the sole being on earth who had ever
called forth by word or deed any deep SYM
patty In her nature. She was Of course
blind TO his faults, and now was often
reused from her dull, aching pain, her al
most despair, to fury, at whispered words
Of censure which some dared TO utter in
her presence. She, who had been looked
upon rs an h~eiress, whose very nature was
pride ~incarnate, whose beauty was we'll
nigh faultless, whose position from its proud
height was almost inaccessible, was now
hum5led almost to the dust, she could
scarcely call her costly clothes her own.
s'Who can tell II she will be allowed TO
keep them ail!" the Countess Raven said
tearfully, and GROSSLY too.
Florence shut herself up I'm her own
room, refusing even the small attempts at
consolation which were offered to her. She
would see or speak TO no one, took food but
rarely, and then only when exhausted ma
ture asserted the necessity too potently to
be denied. She was now realizing slowly,
but surely, with every passing hour, her
utter friendliness, her utterly and pitiless
ruin.
One hope her pride sometimes whisper
ed TO her heart In spite Of all her misery,
but IL was a hope fast fading away; it was
for q heart warm enough, a friendly hand
still powerful enough to lead her back to
her lost position. TIT kindness would have
sown a priceless germ Of gratitude at least,
II love were impossible in her nature. But
1; must be forced upon her; she would not
even stretch out her hand TO .reet it half
way. In old times she haCsoeen proud
enough; but she was prouder now. Her
pride was hardening her, even taking the
sharpest stings from her grief by giving
her food for thought, and SO abatement Of
her pain.
In the first days Of Miss Worthington's
bereavement showers of cards and friend.
ly inquiries were left at her door-amongst
the former always that of Lord Harcourt
Vernon. With the most %scrupulous care
this act Of courtesy was repeated daily for
q week; but he made no effort TO see his
beautiful betrothed-he never betrayed his
anxiety even by q few warm words. Lady
Raven commented loudly upon his great
deiieacy and forbearsnce; but to Florence
IL whispered other meanings, and even In
her grief made her pride smart sorely. A
word Of sympathy from her lordly lover at
such q time, little a. she liked him would
have softened her heart to him and kin
died gratitude, which later might have
changed into still warmer feelings; but il
never came.
A fortnight-three weeks-dragged slow
ly past, and Lord Harcourt's cards were
still left in Portman Square, though now
less frequently; and he made no effort TO
pass the threshold. He was indeed most
delicate in his self-denial and forbearance;
but Florence's proud lip curled more scorn-
fully each time he entered her thoughts.
Hugh Carleton came twice and thrice q
day, more than once forcing his way past
the servants-whose orders were to admit
no one-and up the stairs, To hear more
nearly by word OF mouth how Florence
Jared. Looking upon her rs betrothed TO
Lord Harcourt, he imagined that her IA
theirs ruin mattered little to her beyond
the passing shame and pain, from which
her youth and position must soon extricate
her. Once Hugh Carleton forced himself
into her presence, TO Lady Ravens dismay,
and his words Of real sympathy brought
the only tears Of relief that Florence had
known since her grief.
He was honor itself, and to him now
Miss Worthington was almost another
mans wife. But had she been free for
himself IL would have ayailcd him little
The younger son Of a noble house may not
marry where his heart or fancy leads him,
aud Hugh Carleton knew this; but he
yearned to help Florence II he could In her
grief and trouble. His attempts at conso-
lation were well meant, though they were
clumsy enough--but at least they came
from his heart. He reminded her Of the
hundreds daily In the same predicament as
her father had been, and Of the fact that
she would soon be extricated from her
present dependence-this last hurt her
pride, and so eased her grief-and he de-
clared earnestly and ceaselessly that she
might count upon his friendship at all
times. Poor fellow, his will was good, but
his power weak; and his father-a poor
peer-was also q sufferer by Sir Arthur's
defalcations, and hence not too kindly dis
posed towards the dethroned heiress.
Nearly a month Miss Worthington wait
ed for some sign Of faithfulness from her
noble lover; but none came. Lady Raven
persisted silently In hoping against hope;
but Florence would not hear his name from
her aunt's lips. She resolved what to do,
and she did il quickly and decisiyely. She
wrote, herself, to his lordship, informing
him that his absence and silence told her
plainly enough that his feeling towards
her were like her Owl for him; that their
engagement had been unduly hurried by
her dear father, and that While thanking
him for the great honor he had done hsr,
she gave him back his freedom fully and
freely. The missiye written and sent, she
waited calmly for his reply, little doubting
what 1t would be. And she judged right
ly. Every line in his lordship's rather
elaborate answer betrayed the satisfaction
that ssunder the circumstances" his free
dom had been restored. The amount Of
gratitude that he expressed proved only
what his fears had been; he declared that
his admiration was ~boundless for Miss
Worthington's generosity, and remarked
gracefully that, though her previous nm
mistakable coldness had panied him, he
could not under all the existing and pain
ful conditions, but acquiesce in her deci.
sion that their engagement had perhaps
been unduly fastened. lie also reminded
her that the rupture had come from herself
or, as a man Of honor, he would have held
himself In readiness to fulfil his promise,
had she insisted upon his doing 20. He
concluded by hoping she would always
look upon him as her friend, whenever 1t
might be in his power to aid her in any
way; that he should always consider her
wishes as commands; and he subscribed
himself rs hers avery faithfully"
Lord Harcourt kept u copy Of this letter,
and rode with, for him, extraordinary haste
10 his Dowager mother-his face radiant,
his heart, II he possessed one. plainly un-