The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1898-09-21

Rupert Denison is often at our
house. That he loves Phyllis is quite
certain, and that Phyllis loves him is
equally beyond doubt.
My money? Oh, yesi have money.
Plenty. More than know what to do
with. But no one is aware of this-ex-
cept my solicitors, London firm, and
my brokers, London bank. So that
there is no danger of the truth leaking
out as there would be if my agents
were local people. Why l am at such
pains to conceal this fact will explain.
The plan originated with my dear ia
Their, who has now been dead for up
ward of a year. My mother, l may
mention in passing, died when Phyllis
was born. People who knew my father
prior to his bereavement have often
told me how devoted he was to my
mother and how tremendous an effect
her death had upon him. They have
more than limited that his brain was
permanently affected by that sorrow,
and that the huge financial losses
which afterward overlook him were in
no small measure due to his thereby
impaired intelligence.
Those losses, however, were COM
paratively recent. They occurred
when l was seventeen. Till then we
had lived in a large house, with many
servants, horses and carriages. But
within few weeks all was changed.
A bank with which my father was
deeply involved failed. We had to
leave the big house and all the luxu-
ries we had hitherto enjoyed and to
take very tiny house indeed, this
same house, in fact, where Phyllis and
l still live. remember often hearing
my father say at the time that he was
thankful enough to have been able to
paw his liabilities and to have saved
even $4,000 or $4,000 out of the
wreck, and / remember, too, its strik-
ing me that he bore his ruin not mere
ly with fortitude, but actually with
cheerfulness, and that he seemed quite
as happy in our humble home, waited
on by one maid, as l had ever known
him in our big house with score of
servants at his call and every luxury
that money could buy.
1t is hardly necessary to say that our
come down in the world had the usual
effect of separating our friends from US
in the most complete and accurate man
uer. ~ lew sIuCh W uo llOh tho hi0u'
A few dropped us from the first. These
were the foolish among them, in oppo-
site extremes. For as it is foolishly
quixotic 10 stick to ruined friend so
it is foolishly indecent to drop him out
of hand. Wise folk do what the ma
jority of our friends did. They just
Stacked off little, and then little
more, and 30 on, by decent gradations.
! had then many bosom friends among
young girls in the neighborhood. One
of them, named Laura Cleal, wrote to
me Just after our change of fortune to
say how sorry she was. Then she was
my ever loving friend. In her next
letter she was my very atfectionately,
then my affectionately, after that my
sincerely. Today she is my very truly
and has been 80 any time these seven
years. Were it not for the ordinary
requirements of civility she would
doubtless by this time be my obedient-
w. Laura Cleal of course is only a
sample. 1 do not blame any such
Laura Cleals, or the mammas or gov
ernesses who edited their letters and
their affections. On the contrary, l
am truly thankful to have been let
down 80 gradually. For without any
rude shock 1 have found my proper
level, which, after all, is an excellent
thing for every one.
From the time of my fathers ruin
until l was twenty-one the tenor of my
life was humdrum and uneventful.
But on my twenty-6rst birthday l had
an extraordinary surprise. At break
fast on that day among the letters and
packets lying round my plate there was
fat, bulky envelope addressed to me
in my fathers handwriting. 1 opened
it first, remember, expecting to find
some simple birthday gift, such as he
had been accustomed to give me in
previous years. You may judge of my
inexpressible amazement when pulled
out of the envelope pile of bank notes
and saw that the top one was for 81 900.
Speeches. with establishment looked
up at my father. He sat regarding me
across the table-we were tete-a. tete,
for Phyllis was staying away-with a
curious, quiet smile.
"You seem taken aback," said my
father. "Perhaps you did not expect
such handsome present, Nell. And l
don't think you understand yet what a
handsome present it is. Count them,
child"
With trembling fingers and with a
strange, mazed sensation, as though
were in dream, turned over the notes
one by one. No, mol 1t could not be
true-could not be true. Each note was
for the same amount, 81 900, and l had
counted 100 of them. One hundred
thousand pounds lying there before me
on my plate! 1t was absurd, ridiculous,
impossiblel
"They are--are-not real" gasped.
"This is hoax-a jest, father"
"They are real enough, Nell" he
answered, "as il you took them to the
Bank of England you would soon find,
and this is no hoax or jest, my dear.
That is good money, Nell, and / have
given it to you for your very own"
"But where has it come from, faith
err" l cried, "and why have you
given it all to me?"
sit is my money, Nell," he said. 81
have realized all, or nearly all, my in
vestments in order to make YOU this
present to-day"
was still incredulous, unable to be-
lieve the evidence of my eyes or ears.