The Dupuyer acantha. [volume] (Dupuyer, Mont.) 1894-1904, 1895-12-05
UNNA AND HER LION.


1t Is not often that we hear of a man
retiring to rest, poor and in difficulties,
rising in the morning rich and indie
pendent. Yet such was my experience
a few years ago, when, on sitting
down to my frugal breakfast, l found
Il letter On the table which informed
me that a distant relative was dead
and had left me the bulk of his prop
erty.
With what satisfaction did l now
look forward to my neXt and final in
terview with certain small creditors,
whose claims, enforced with a peril
nacity, worthy of a better cause, had
long filled my heart with bitterness
and made my life a vertible burden.
Now all was changed, and l awaited
with complacency the weekly visit of
my landlady and relished in anticipa-
ton the Niagara of words she was
wont to let loose on my devoted head,
as, with endless iteration. she an
nounced as yet further deficiency in
her rent roll, and her determination to
"Stand it no longer"
Never after to-day should l be dis
tressed with my tailor's demonstra-
lions Oh the doorstep. or my cobbler's
antics in front of the house; from
henceforth they became creatures of
the past, and the lodging that knew
them would know them no more (at
least as far as l was cOncerned).
But after a time l found the mono
tony of my new existence rather irk-
some, for unfortunately, l had no hob
by to fall back upon, and l did not
care to embark in business. | soon
wearied of visiting the various places
of amusement, and of walking up and
down the streets and squares of Lon
don, with other devices for killing
time.
1t was while takiI G one of these aim
less journeys that an accident occur
red which entirely changed the whole
courSe of my existence. and eScued
me from the life of uselessneSs into
which l had drifted.
One morning / found myself in the
booking office of st. Pancros Station.
A young lady was just taking n ticket
for York. when she dropped her purse.
In STOPPING down to pick it up for her,
the thought flashed across me. "Why
not take a ticket for York, too?' The
neXt minute 1 had done so, and o
found myself in the same compart-
ment with her. She sat close to the
window, anXiously scanning the faces
of all who passed. Presently the
the guard blew the whistle, and just
as we were about to start, two men
rushed past and scrambled into the
train, higher up the platform.
But what a change had come over
my fair companion. She was deathly
pale, and was evidently struggling
against a fainting fit that 1 made no
scruple about proffering my assis-
lance. After a time she came round,
and we gradually got into CONVERSE
ton, and she proved very communica-
tive, l soon learned the object of her
journey.
81 have" she said, "inherited a law
suit, in which a large estate is involv-
ed, and the only thing that stands
between me and my rights is the proof
of a certain marriage, and that l have
not as yet succeeded in obtaining. Yes
terday l received a message from an
old lady in York, who, it appears, is
now lying on her death-bed, who begs
that I will see her at once, as she has
something Of the utmost Importance
to tell me, and that something I feel
certain is the very information l am In
search Of. With that in my pocket,
the suit is won, and l become the mis-.
tress Of Wetherby Hall and estate,
which for many years have been IN
the possession of my cousin, John
Hardy, who was one of those men who
just ran past the window"
The interest ] felt in my companion
was in no way diminished by the fact
that she was very pretty, being tall,
fair and possessed of the most laugh
ing gray eyes that a ever looked
into to his souls undoing. l begged
she would allow me to assist her III
any way that lay in my power, as il
was only but too probable that
Uardy's presence on the train BODIED
no good to her, even If it was not q
source of positive danger. l also re
minded her that she had already, tt
some extent, given me her confidence
which / looked upon as an assurance
that, although a perfect stranger, SHE
felt that she could trust me. This sh.
assured me she had done from the
first, and said how glad she felt wheI
| entered the carriage. We exchanged
cards, and | then learned that he
name was Una Wetherby. So, aftel
some laughing and pleasant chat, i
was agreed that we should assume the
characters of 'Una and the Lion"
After studying the position for {
short time. l came to the conclusion
that the first thing to be done was II
!, ascertain, if possible, what Hardy
movements were likely to be. Accord
| ingly, when the train stopped, mad
, my way to the carriage where he an
his companion were seated. FOrtu
nately, as it happened, the compart
, ment was full. so | took my seat il
, the next one. which was empty. TIL
! carriage was one of a nearly obsolete
class. in which n single lamp, wheI
/, lighted, did duty for the two CON
: partmentS: consequently the ~ ii
made for its reception formed Il col
yenient '.Judas-hole" for listeners
: At the next station many passenger
alighted and Hardy and his frien'
were left by themselves.
"Alone at last said Hardy. "an
we must make the most of our oppol
tunity for a quiet talk. AS soon as W
reach York. We'll leave the train. an
I'll run up into the city to see abor
old Betty Wilson's funeral. i am gla
she has gone. as l felt sure G
{ her, Notwithstanding the hush none
I have paid her for the last tiftee
years. At 7:35 we take train for y
ston. where we trrive about s., til
church we are bound for being only
short walk from the station. AS 500
o as that is reached | place myself III
der your direction. as. of course, you
s professional experience will at one
b Indicate the course to be pursued
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