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

value.o
ado !, aunt Margaret 1 doubt it,"
Miss Wortbington answered, apparently
but half-grateful for her aunt's sudden
praise. 81 can only hope my one act Of
wisdom may bring me the same amount Of
happiness as my many foolish ones have
DONE" she answered YEARLY.
"Ask yourself the question seriously,
Florence. DO you think you could endure
poyerty-expatriation, For IL is useless
TO disguise it-your father must leave Eng
land for a time, at least. DO you not rath-
er think your happiness may be more eom-
rlete ~ y splendid home cf your own, sur.
rounded by all the luxury and grandeur
that you have been accustomed to from
childhood, and | must say deserve, for you
are so thoroughly able TO appreciate 1t all
TO say nothing Of an unexceptionably
handsome and fascinating husbandD
"Ah, you are right, aunt Margaret I
do not doubt anything you tell me; and
you see how we'll / am protting by your
advice. Still when one Is young, one can
not help having a craving for romance in
love, some sentiment touching on the sub
lime; and | do not think that my court
ship promises much Of the kind. ! must
confess TO you, aunt Raven, that all this
evening Lord Harcourt, as Conrad, has
struck me as something too ludicrous."
"Then you must have been very foolish
and sbort-sighted, Florence. I have heard
Lord Harcourt admired on all sides and /
should say with the exception of your own,
That his costume must have been the one
most admired in the room"
"Partly, / am afraid, I'M Margaret, be-
cause he Is a good parti, and not a little on
account Of his companion, Medora," Miss
Worthington rejoined.
Lady Raven thought the conversation
was verging on the dangerous.
"Certainly Mrs. Gilbert fulfilled her
promise to YOU, Florence. have never
seen anything so splendid as your dress.
Look at all that delicate embroidery on the
pink satin, and the effect IL has, failing
over the pale blue; nothing could be more
exquisite. You will do well to employ
her when you are Lady Harcourt."
But for once Florence was dreaming
Of hearts and a possibly wasted future,
while her aunt was talking Of millinery.
"Yes, 1t is all well enough" she said,
"and added to, not n little, by all this Dor
rowed splendor. At least, as Lady Har-
court, | may have my own jewels, I sup
pose; there will he something pleasant In
that-or rather a thousand times will I go
without them at ALL" Florence said sud-
denly, as il the sight of all her inery dis
pleased her.
"You are overtired, my dear, and will
do well TO take some rest; I shall be thank
full for some myself"
'.One word, aunt Margaret before we
part. Tell me something Of papa. He looks
fearfully III and worried; are his affairs so
very bady" Florence asked earnestly.
"You have done the best possible thing,
my dear, to aid him and tighten his worries;
but | must say his affairs are as bad rs pos
sible. His dearest hope Is to be able 70
ward of his difficulties till after your mar
riage; and then, he says, come what may,
+ he Cares not"
"Poor papa"
"He told me yesterday that Captain
Richards Is pressing for u thousand pounds
on the bills that are overdue, and that he
does not know where To turn for a spare
sovereign. His private debts too seem over
whelming; i cannot imagine how they have
so accumulated. To-day he was vexed
with me because l would not ask your
cousin Raven to advance him two thousand
more on Craig Towers; but / know 1t Is
useless-Rayen is not clear himself" La
dy Raven said, with a sigh. "Well, Flor
ence, IL Is no good thinking too much, and
worrying away your good looks; we must
hope for the best, and that things will ar
range themselves-to q certain extent they
always do-and at least you have lone
all you can"
"What is papa returning to Lincolnshire
for to-day, aunt Margaret!" Florence
asked, bctraying the fear she felt.
"He says, my dear, to try to arrange with
Captain Richards; / fear IL Is to try to re-
trieye his losses In a way which will proba-
bly, increase thcm instead. But 20 to bed,
my dear; we are talking foolishly now, and
too much"
Miss Worthington swept YEARLY up the
splendid staircase to her luxurious room;
and when there, something prompted her
TO dismiss her maid Marie, who had been
alternately feasting, laughing, and sleeping
since she had attired her young mistress at
nine o'clock for the ball. Sleep now pre-
vailed, and her eyes were so heavy that
they gave her mistress the excuse to dis
miss her. With little deniur she went,
and Florence was alone.
Florence Worthington, seated before her
luxurious toilet-table, gave little indication
Of ecstacy ut the thought of her brilliant
future. She pressed her hand tightly over
her eyes as IL trying to shut out its bright
ness rather than to picture 1t IN imagina-
ton. She was striving hard to crush out
all the sweetest attributes Of girlhood, to
thrust all hope, love, tenderness, from her
heart, and force herself to believe that the
world could hold nothing better than q life
stated with ~luxurics, with splendid houses,
gorgeous rsiment, msny carriages, and .
coronet for her sometimes aching brow
She knew fatally we'll that she loathed her
future lord, and also that in her w nature
she ycarned for sympathy and love II could
never be in his to yield her. But at least
she was heart-whole, IL she was heart-sore.
That must make her lot more endurable.-
All, the life she had chosen would be a
thousand times preferable, she knew, and
she would force herself to see the wisdom
Of her decision!
But ia the few moments, Of s~cIf-commun-
ing the softncss Of girlhood In her face fast
melted AWAY. with ~restlcss eager Singers
she unfastened the many strings Of pearls
from her neck and arms, and fingered low.
ingly over the bright emerald, diamond,
and ruby stars and clasps IS she unfastened
them one by one from her costume. To
her they were sorely tempting; aud ~ yet
she had tasted no purer happiness.
CHATTER Nv.
All Unexpectedly had tho Angel Of
Death entered Florence Worthington's
luxurious home. The splendid mansion In
Portman Square 'was closed and suffered
from basement TO attic. Only q week since
the fairy scene Of flowers, music, and en-
c~hantment, and now all was changed to
the cold bitter hopelessness Of death, and,
worse still, some thought, TO utter ruin J
But creditors high and low might do their
worst. their power to harm or crush their
victim or tyrant was over; and they could
only wreak their vengeance In impctent
words upon the clay-cold figure lying 20
calmly in Its splendid coffin.
Sir Arthur Worthingtou was dead. He
had INDUCED In sleeping potions lately TO
calm his sgitatcd nerves and TO procure
the rest wAich his overwhelming anxicties
made otherwise impossible. Complete ruin,
with utter shame to his name, and the
probable SCATTERING 81 all the brilliant f-
ture he was so carefully building up for his
chiid--this had suddenly threatened himi
. ruin that he had really believed 70 DO