El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1900-05-29
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= The SQuire'S Hobbu :
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healthy woman.
Gladys Ray had just come from a
| years stay with her grandparents in
New York and was barely 16. Pretty I
Well, that is no word for it. She was
| Just as lovely as new blown rose.
| And she was good as she was pretty
| and as loving as she was good, and every
| one would have seen it was out OF the
| question for her to marry Squire Hard
| ing, worldly man of 40; with a shrewd
eye for the main chance.
She was just as unselfish as a sun
| beam, as impulsive kitten, as guile
| less violet and cared nothing for the
| position Squire Harding could offer his
wife. She never knew what to say to
| him when he came to Clematis cottage,
| as her home was called-was afraid of
| his bass voice and shy of his facetious-
ness, and yet he came and came, and her
| father encouraged his suit, and Gladys
was told she must agree to marry him.
Must, because business was dull, and
there was a mortgage on Clematis cot
tage, and there was no sense in girl re-
fusing such a chance. OF course, she
would never have another like it in Hfe-
time.
She had no mother, but her brothers
protested, telling her that she was a
goose, and at last the poor girl was har-
assed into making half promise that
perhaps some time she would"
But her father at once set in motion
preparations for the wedding and sent
for Aunt Phoebe.
Aunt Phoebe was an uncommonly skill
full needlewoman, but, what was more In
Gladys case, she was a person with
heart.
One morning she went into Gladys
chamber and found the girl hastily put
ting away Il letter-a letter postmarked
New York and directed to herself in the
boldest and handsomest of chirography-
Having put the letter under lock and
key, Gladys turned silently to be meas
ured for a new embroidered waist.
care you tired, Gladys?' Aunt Phoebe
asked.
"a little" replied the girl.
Didn't you rest well last night?'
"Not very"
"Gladys, you are my dear dead sisters
child. Tell me what ails you
"Oh. auntie, my heart aches!'
And she put her face on the broad, wo-
manly shoulder and burst into tears.
"There, there, dearie! l knew it was a
heart trouble. Tell auntie all about it.
I don't believe you want to marry Squire
Harding"
81 don't-I dontT' sobbed Gladys.
"Then you shan't marry himi IN put
a stop to this work, sure my name Is
Phoebe Ray! 1 don't know how now, but
I wilIr'
One morning she presented herself Mt
Squire Harding's door and was shown
into his private room where be received
his clients.
''Sit down, madam, sit down. said the
squire.
THE subject of my call is my niece
"Ahr'
Eyes. 1 suppose you will be deeply in
terested in thisY'
Certainly, certainly! Anything which
concerns my pretty little Gladysl All,
that is an uncommon girl, Mrs. Ray-so
gentle, so fair. SO healthy
"Ahem?' croaked Aunt Phoebe omi-
nously.
what, dear Mrs. Ray! Is not Gladys
well?"
Far from it!'
you amaze me! Has some outrageous
disease approached that lovely girIF'
Aunt Phoebe shook her head and sol |
emily said:
Chronic
"What-what is it?''
"a heart trouble" pronounced Aunt |
Phoebe solemnly. What the poor child |
suffers from it no words can tell |
"Yes, yes! Well, now, my dear lady, |
what course ought 1 to pursue under |
these remarkable circumstances? With |
my peculiar views on the subject Of |
very decided views-1 really |
cannot be expected to proceed as h-h
the circumstances were different"
II don't know anything about that
cannot advise you. But l feel as If j
had done my duty"
'But lean hoRorabty retlaet7 Gan /
withdraw from my propssalf'
my brother-in-law is of a very ehOleris |
temper. I cannot say. But you might /
be called away"
Il am called away. l have urgent !!
business in Liverpool, and / am the man
who should be on the spot. No Indirect |
once, Mrs. Ray. And Miss Gladys-she
Is very pretty-no doubt may supply my
place in the course of a year with some
one who-who has not the peculiar and
very decided views on health that l hold.
And you-since you seem a lady of IN
common sense and superior ideas of the
fitness of things-win perhaps use yeur
Certainly, to smooth my niece's path
way, of course"
So the conversation came practically to
an end, and two days later the squire
sailed for Liverpool. The news came to
the Rays like a thunderbolt, for the ia
Their and son had prospectively secured
q large slice of the good fortune from
Gladys wedding the rich squire. But he
was gone-for a year or more, report said
and after furious and sense1ess anger
peace.
When Aunt Phoebe went home to her
quiet seaside dwelling at BayPort, she
took Gladys with her on a visit, aAd one
day she privately wrote a letter to Dick
Archer, who she had learned through
Gladys grandfather was a NEST promis-
ing young man.
The result of this letter was to bring
the young gentleman alss to Baypsrt on
a visit. and the young people had plenty
Of time in which to plight their vows and
1,;c ;fI, |