The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1896-03-18
A F0|e G0|d1.
MISS SARAH A. JONES,
OF IIa3 Hampton ST., Scranton.
The Winner Of The Tribune Prize Of
$.s at Yesterdays Elsteddfod.
CHAPTER I.

~ was u uIcdTy DecelnDtT fnoTHifS
In New York. Daylight came through
q yellow fog into the shabby room, In
Harlem, where Dewey Heather looked
wearily out onto the chill beginning of
the winter season.
The smallest possible fire smoked,
rather than burned, In the yawning
crate. piled two-thlrds full with bricks
to condense what blaze might Incident
ally rise. But so far that morning the
efforts of Sarah Ann. the ill-paid serv-
ant. had failed to make any blaze.
Dewey was young. slender, blue eyed,
and the pOssessor of a mass of natural
ly curling yellow hair.
She had had her romance, but 1t was
dead today: indeed, she held in her
hand. at this moment, the letter which
told her 1t was quite over and beyond
recall.
She had already been downstairs and
had prepared her aunt's tea and toast
with numbed fingers at the smoky
hearth, in the cold, hard wood kitchen
beneath, and had taken 1t upstairs to
their cheerless bedroom.
There We're two OF the aunts-widOw
and maiden-with an annuity, of $500
between them. They still had fifty
years lease of the old house i'm Harlem,
where the family had lived for 100 years,
so that there was no danger of their
losing the roof from above them: and
an old clerk-a friend of the family, as
they always eXplained-roomed. or
rather lodged with them.
Then, too. Dewey sang in the choir
at the old gray church around the COR
ner. and that was all the income they
had.
A year before, Dewey had become en-
gagged to George Neal, a young bank
clerk. A few weeks later she had lost
all her small fortune by an unwlse in
vestment on the part of her guardian,
who had full discretion to do as he saw
mt with the money for her benefit.
George had postponed their marriage
on one pretext or another, gradually
Steeling his heart against her beauty
and charms. He had recently met his
friend Laurence's sister, who had 81, 500
q year In her own right. which no guar
dian could have touched, even IL she
had not outlived the age of the guar
dian. She was not pretty. nor par
ticularly bright. but she had influential
connections and they would no doubt
help him to better position in the
bank. The delightful, magnetic charms
OF Dewey he would always recall with
regret. but they were a luxury he could
not afford.
SO he wrote this letter under the de-
preston of the lowering December sky.
He begged her to release him, as the
engagement must necessarily be long,
and he feared she might lose the chance
OF making brilliant marriage. or
course, he said nothing of Emily Laur-
ence and her $1,5OO a year.
Marry some one more worthy of YOU
than I and be happy" the letter said.
"As for me, shall never marry any
one. l love you too well to burden my
conscience with q loveless marriage"
ThereupOn she had some fine woman-
ly dream of making a great singer of
herself. winning money and laurels, and
f1inging them at the feet of her beloved,
but this dream had been rudely shat
tered by letter her aunts received
from the mother of Emily Laurence.
who had been their school friend, tell
ing Of Emily's engagement to a young
bank clerk named Neal.
Oh! the shame Of 1t! Alas! her idols
feet were clay.
He had already made sure of her sue
cessor before he had Tilted her. Oh, the
weariness and shabbiness of life and
poverty! She laid her golden head on
the dusty window seat, and shed a few
bitter lOve-sick tears, and thought she
wished she were dead.
But she must hasten to nut on her
best dress-very threadbare; her best
nat, all out of season: and the cloak,
and shoes that ill-kept out the damp
ana cold. FOR she must sing at the
church that evening.
When she came in ready to start.
the aunts were playing cribbage by the
fire which had an extra scuttle of coal
piled on to mitigate the extreme sever
ity or the evening. Under the genial
influence they were comfortable for
once, and kissed Dewey with more than
usual affection as she went away,
One card dropped from the hand Of
her aunt. She stopped, picked it up.
and idly noticed that it was the ace Of
diamonds.
She hurried across the square and into
the road. She was thinking of her
aunts at home, happy, and engrossed
with their game; both refined, precise,
conscientious, learned (as became
American gentlewomen) and affection
ate. but selfish. She was thinking pity
ingly of herself and scornfully OF George
Neal
Full of her woes and her hurt pride,
she did not hear the yell of warning or
of horror. She only felt the blow which
knocked her down. and the sickening
crush OF horses hOOf on her arm, and
terrible pain. She thought that she was
going to die. and knew that she wanted
to live, and then, for Il few minutes,
the pain bereft her of Sense
A little later she heard loud talking,
and found herself beneath lamp-post
with a mans kind brown eyes looking
down at her.
The sexton came hobbling out and
told who she was and where she lived
and the man unceremoniously picked
her up and carried her across the
square.
No healthy young woman. however
sylph-like, is feather-weight. and as
the young man paused at the bench in
the centre of the square to get n more
comfortable hold on his slipping bur-
den, he noticed something clutched in
her uninjured hand. AS he turned 1t
about he recognized that it was play
ing card-the ace of diamonds.
My fate card! Odd that she should
hold it," he muttered. In her absent
mindedness she had brought 1t away
with her from the house..