The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1905-09-02
CHAPTER vi.

Mary said nothing. Her cousin David
| was doubtless a great fool, but people
said unkind things about her uncle's
conduct toward him.
IF I had not secured his property,
some one else would. 1t is still in the
family. which ought to be a great COM
fort to him, wherever he has gone.
George Sidcote is another-well, he isn't
exactly a fool, like David; but he doesn't
get on-he doesn't get on. I fear very
much"
Uncle, spare him.
Because he wants to marry you,
child? Is that a reason for interfering
with the course of business? When the
pear is ripe, it will drop-if not into my
mouth, into some other mans. Business
before love, Mary"
II L could give my fortune, he would
be out of his difficulties"
Your fortune, Mary? Where is it?
What fortune? You have none unless
you marry with my consent. Your for
tune? Why, it depends on me whether
you ever get it. I don't say that 1 shall
never consent. Show me the right man
not spendthrift, Mary"
George Is no spendthrift."
NOR man in debt"
IF George is in debt, it is not his
fault"
"A substantial man, and one who
knows the worth of money; bring that
man along. and we will see If not
| well, Mary. l am getting on for seventy,
and l can't last forever, and perhaps
| perhaps, l say shall leave you my
money when l die. You can wait till
then. Six thousand pounds is a tremen-
deus big lump to part with, when a man
Is not obliged to part with it. And am
not obliged to give my consent. No. no:
and after I've lost three thousand-three
| thousand! Besides, your comfortable
| here; what do you want to marry for?
| WHAT'S the good of marrying? Better
stay at home and save money. l give you
your board and your lodging, Mary, while
you are here, for nothing; and your cloth
ing. too-yes, your clothing" He spoke
as ii many young people had to 20 with
| out.
| les. | know" She laughed thinking
how much hc. uncle had given her for
dress in the last year or two. well. nm
Gle. but if | do marry without your
consent you will have to give the money
| to my cousin David
es, yes; of course. What's the good
OF telling me that? But David is dead.
no doubt, by this time, and then the
money must remain with me. of course.
But you won't do that, Mary; you'll
| never be SO wicked as to do that Re-
sides, If you did, David's accounts with
me have never been made up, and
don't doubt that when we come TO look
into them it will be found that he OWES
me a great deal still. l was very soft
foollshly soft-with David"
| Mary made no reply. Her uncle had
been, indeed, soft with David; so soft
that he had sold him up and turned him
out, and now possessed his land.
Mr.. Leighan sighed heavily, no doubt
over his foolish softness, and became
silent. 1t was not often that he talked
so much with his niece.
Six years before this, about half-past
nine one evening in the autumn of the
year 1880, George Sidcote, walking home
| found Mr.. Leighan lying in the middle of
the road on Heytree Down. His pony
was grazing quietly beside him, and he
was lying on his back senseless, with an
ugly wound in his head, the scar of
4 NOuiu newer leave MIN. he Na0
fallen, apparently, from his pony. No
susicion OF violence or robbery was en-
tertained; first, because no one ever
heard of violence at Challac0mbe, and
secondly, because he had not apparently
been robbed. So. at least, it seemed to
those who carried him home, for his pock-
cts were full of money, and his watch
and chain had not been taken.
For three days and three nights Daniel
Leighan lay -speechless and senseless, and
but for q faint pulse he seemed dead
When he recovered consciousness. the
first qustions he asked were concernins
. certain tin box containing papers which
he declared was hanging In bar from
his neck. Now Of that tin box no one
knew anything. Presently, when he
counted his money. he swors that he vas
Twenty pounds short.