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v RxecutoU pr< lapt'.y ami pi tli* (bv»t Mtylvauu iuc 1'toi‘Li; I'rcvs / eu. ’ l T. V00DV1 ATT OftNt Y-ATH. AW ^ Uitni well, S. ( . Mumkt u# kn<i ou imrnm.— } Town lots and improved lana • "laTi la. for aalc. Vtiil ne{|o*ifct« ' aAtc* of ( k arnd and UinL< r Iu:i'1h ttiid buyactmolMidcouh* »y i laima. -r^ Tr rrrsai Vol. XV. BARNWELL COURT HOUSE, S. C., MAY 12, 1892. No. 37 i TALE OF Tl IlSEfiS Dy Edgar Fawcett. (COPYKIGIIT, IC31.1 , ■' CIlAi’TliR I. 1 Atjont scrotity-llvc yearn n^o in ?Tctv York the people who kept tlieir private carriages could almost have been counted on the fingers of one hand. Hende’, whtn old Myndherst Van Doren drove out in his cumbrous vehicle, with a hamme&doth and yellow wheels, peo ple would stare and Wink atone another in high diversion nrrd rlisraay. Surely^ such luxury was almost without prece dent in the peaceful and unostentatious little seaport town of 1815. Hut what Tnado it all the odder and funnier was \ the fact that for many past years old Van Doren had been accounted the most miserly of men. lie had a wide house facing on, the Battery, in which he lived entirely alone except'for two old servants, a man ami his wife. Van Doren had once had a wife himself, but that was years hack, when he had just entered the shipping business on South street. from which he had long ago brought away a handsome fortune. “Two hundredlhot\- tiand dollars if a cent,** ojd IVter Van Zandt, fellow-merchant, had declared him possessed of on his retirement, and tin* enormity of such a fortune thrilled, fit that period, all who heard of its 1k»- Ing possibly owned by any one single man. It was STttt whl^pcmtthat ymmg Van Doren had di»*d of a broken heart, her husband having treated her with sternest parsimony and negleet. lie had a sisfer, too, an«l >*he had mar ried against his will u southern gentle man of literary tastes nnd precarious income. Though Kulph Stanfields birth and soeiut rank had-N»th l»ecn ex cellent, the brother of Martha Van iJorea had never pardoned what he chose to denounce ns .her gr«»sa tnisal* lianee. He bad known nothing of her for many years, and at the time our lit tle chronicle opens he had received the Card of a young mao who aniioiiueeti tidingn had drifted to him that Mynd herst Van, Doren would,. t*i‘vcr have dreamed of setting up for himself this private cqtiipage if he hful not become u martyr to rheumatism. “Not "gout, not a bit of It,” Stnnfiold’s informant had added; '“he’s uliogcther too’pliiiti u liVcr for that.”^ ■ - J'. And now, as the slmy, massfvc car- riage passed him,Stanfield glan -cd witli- in it and discerned, though somewhat faintly, a thin, hard-faced man leaning against yts hack cushions, '.lust after this glimpse of his unknown uncle had liecn offered him lie started as he per ceived a large dray, drawn by two mad dened runaway horses, come dashing up _ihn street. At first, there trust of “old Van Doren’* with tones of respect for his dauntless young savior. “Just like the selfish old miser,” vroa the last comment that Stanfield heard. “Hut perhaps this handsome young chap is rich himself and don’t want any reward.” ■' • v “Don't want any rcwardl” 'thought the hero of the hour^as he remembered his own and Martha’s dwindling purse. “What would they say if they knew he was my mother’s brother? I wonder what he will say when he hears. And he never even asked inc my name Well, well, we shall see to-morrow what' we shall see.” When he reached home nnd began his seemed ixrr story to Martha, she^ broke into little danger to Mr. Van Doren's carriage, though the coaehipan brought it to an room, now reappeared with strange promptitude. * * “Show this—this person to the door!*' fumed Van Doren. Then, wruthfully, to Ink nephew: “Your scheme has mis carried, sir—completely roiseariedl” find, hurrying to n,pair of heavy fold ing-doors, which were partly divided he passed through the aperture, closing it behind him an instant later, in noisy and savage fashion. Stanfield, ns he quitted tlve house, laughed aloud a laugh of the heartiest scorn. “Was there ever such an old beast?” he said to his wife after reach ing home and telling her how he had been treated- “No wonder he neted^to my poor abrupt standstill nnd watched the hur rying bulk with anxious eyes. As it sped nearer, howCVer, the headlong reg ularity of its progress changed. The driver was gone, having rashly jumped from his sent some little time ago. . The horses now began n ptfinging lurse nnd several other wugons-^narrowly < es caped collision. -Not so Mr. Van Doren’s Yuhlelq. Towards that the wild crea tures now swerved, nnd-4u,..anotli( v * v i:i- stant they were rearing furiously nrN, yet still galloping onward, with their own wheels locked in the heavy yellow ones. It was a horrible moment for cries of horror and atnrrrr—Before he ; mother as la* did Ljg-ID m . v u ' or d. w^iAn I think his conduct nv-er'in itstruutf'on- temptible colors, | wonder that ever his had finished she was at his feet, kissing his hand and ga/ing up with wild wistr fulness into his face. “And you’re not the least bit In jured?" she nt length exclaimed. “Oh, you noble, glorious Alfredl But I’m an gry at you," she broke off, rlsihg; “yon should never have pat your life Into such awful peril—never!” While she wept and trembled at the deed he had done, Stanfield threw his anns-ubout her nnd kissed each Ivory lid of her sweet gray eyes, each dimple at the corners of her arched pink lips “'flunk, Martha.” he said, “think death, and merfftwhile. Until that high ly uncertain event occur ret U he won. to' get a small monthly allowance. Hut besides this, os Van Doren gravely con ceded before his departure, efforts would l>e used towards securing, for his nephew the desired mercantile clerk ship. Y ' . '.That last promise, like the former one, was faithfully carried out. The old man, in spite of his detested stingi- ness, retained a certain distinct husi- ness killuy:ice II.* recoalmontlod Stan- ficld to a firm of some importance, and here, in a prim ofi.L-e overlooking the throngs of masts at the docks of Water street, M artha’s Imuhnnl - soon found himself seated before tti lodger-laden desk. ft was Tiresome pletcly, gave him certain work to do, aftd satisfied tlieinsclvcs that he did it with a certain stolid npathy lie was not uscIcHH to them He was in a way quite useful Hut ins employers had a sense of abilities partially dormant , CIlAPTKi: 111. And so nnotlau five years went on. Myndherst Van Doren was now seventy eight There seemed no change in ins bodily vigor, however Rheumatism at ticked him at certain periods, hut never so Nevenrtt: that he Ava>,nn:;hlc to walk .Now and then he couldmot leave the house, hut such per’anls of immure ment were rare As for driving out, he had given u;> keeping a carriage since his perilous accident ^a de ni—men’s phrase goes, a head for figure:,, and by age nnd kinship prevented me from' nature he was not one to whom,the gid- gjviiig him the soumlest of thre.shings ” dy pleasures of cities offered tempting Hut before cvetiing all Had elianged. lures Hut it hogum gradually to bore Myndherst Van Doren presented him- him with increasing keenness that he self at the lodgings of Stanfield that could not gratify in the cautious and afternoon nml harshly begged his cojism-vative ntmo phoreof Messrs. Van nephew s pardon. He performed this Veckton it Co. his longings for quickly duty with much'awkwardness, hilt em- acquired riches.. ph: .tically he performed it nevevtlielo'.s. ! “I despise money merely iti itstdf,” “Of course you saved my life,” he he would say to Martha. “Hut what it said. “nnM I pjayed a very shabby part wilj bring—aht tliat’s another affair! to you this morning In speaking as 1 ) Think! yon and ^ might go nun id the did I !>cg you to forgive an old man world together, arm in arm. as it wen'. shoes.” Martha would think of her hus- buiul. “There is that fortune coming to him and he cannot keep his miial from it. All his old vigor pf- eharaeter htis gone from him llep-imiglit have meats there In State street were almost like those i.i some private prison wherj five convicts daily assembled at tho lK>anl _ If very hotly's dollies gryw rusty and pq^rlu tic The big house, thong.i kept passably clean, assumed an aspect of dingier desuetude. As .for Stanfield, his features, Ha walk, his voice had sill notably altered. Though uneon&Toua of it his drawn eountenaUce Iwq rayed a look of constant mingled weannesaandexpc^ctaacy. To his wife he was tike 1 a man whom some : stealthy iatiiHtiiy keeps enslaving with sulitie and threatening thraldom. Often | he would shy.v by hia eyes a hungry eagerness which was like nothing so much as that of an eavesdropper ,'crou -hed at tjje keyhole of a door when v tt<* httfie im|x>rt. And now to Martha a new and distre! sing quality belittle manifest in his behavior This was a sci*raing syo- pathy Avith his uncle’s deplorable mean* ness. As tho months amassed thvun- done so mimh for himscht-during thcsc T -a —, . ^ . f . , , selves into years he showed a tendenev ten years, hfrt this wretched suspense J what tqay come of It! There" he wji*, Stanfield. Voting, strong, with urgently ~my actual uncle Myndherst, and I never ■humane impulses, he saw the carriage dreamed of such n thing! Miser or no of tho old man violently overturned and miser, he'll Ik* forced to help us now the coachmnrrflurg from his box. Tltere Not that 1 want his money Oh, no. It is no doubt that lie now acted with a isn t that. Hut by lifting n finger lie spU-mlul promptness, uml ec^i^rgc. for can get me something to do There'# inn trice he had darted, fleet of f.*..t, the joyful part of it. there's where the ct'P 1 m J np°b»gj nml—amP^-here the nfU*r the whole hurtled connninglcmcnt very hand of iVovidmcc itself fteem* to old man seemed hesitating liow to con- of horses and woodwork. The Van have l>ecn stretclied forth in our behalf elude his peaceable overtures, and then. ^4 yl -y-Mir* j with a sudden curt briskness, cone I ink'd for letting his bitter tongue run away with him I know I'm crabbed and surly and all that. What you said ulmut being my nephew surprised me a gissl deal, but I don’t mean that s ich sur prise was the slightest excuse. Now. there; will you be kind erutngh to ne- if that old fellow would only consent to let uuJ” “,^nd so we shall, some day, no doubt,” whispered Martha, with lips against his cheek “Hush,” he said, almost pushing her away from him “I hate to count on anyone’s death—even his.” “Yes;you're right, dear.” said Martha, “Forgive me.” Nevertheless he did count on his nnd were pulling stolidly against their terrified brothers. This guv** Stanfield a chance, and Jie leaped with great dar ing and tii in blew"* upon the shafts of the dragging coach. Still greater was his act in springing thence upon the dray Itself. He happened to have a large clasp-knife in his pocket, a me mento of a slus.ting trip In the South t'amlina wihleruess. taken but a short time Iw-fore bis romantic marriage, lie remembered afterwards that while get ting himself over the dnshlMianl of \)\fl dray, and clinging to It with one hand ns 1m* cut the' traces with the other, it flashed through his mind h<»w he was ulm >st giving his life one chance out of twenty. ISuU&Jcw hinge* of that stout steel blade so far unfettered the furious horses that witldn the next twenty sec onds they had quite rid themselves of every restriction and were scampering I horrid liberty, ifter bis magnifl- giug to the tlosh- i;t bis band, be first tune iu Ids the verge of a i wot i.n trror it %m» ix ust ox «I‘Rak- ixa with m^i.” himself ns Ids nephew, Alfred Stanfield < >n the day that be s.mi rht to ri^it Ids uncle. St anfield was met by «dd Sainu«*l. the servant, with a sad but firman- IWNUK'ement that Mr. Van Ihiren tsmhl ■nK l»e seen. Th*** Hie young m m bad written bis kinsman quite a long letter in which he told of his orphanage. Ids poverty and his desire to win some sort of clerkship here ia New York. The letter was md answered After three weeks of waiting Manlield began to grind hi* t**eth with wn.t’a at bit uncle's heartless behavior and t »<>ay * f that gentleman the very bitterest things He said these illiugsLio. pcrMin w hota be had not mciitii*rn*«l hr ’Id* . lett-r ’Pliat [vrson was his young wife. Mar tha, whom he had married just Indore shaking the «lust >>1 Chari st m from l^c feet. Their union had biH>n nneloiKunent. nnd they were now living ou a some what slender legacy which Martha had Inherited when a child. Her father and several relatives were all furious r.t her f4»r having married Stanfield. They admitted that lie was a gentleman, hut declared that his family was broken down, ami that a daughter of the haughty house of Roll as ton sh >uld never have chosen so ineligible a lord. These Rnllastons were then what wc call leading people in Charleston, which nt that time was a town filled with fashionable pretension. Hut Martha had made her choice, and though she felt sure that it would nl- xvnys Ik? sneenngly regarded by her kindred as an imprudence alike «1csjht- nte and unpardonable she soothed her perturbed soul with thoughts of how she had won the husband of her maid enly choice. Trouble now seemed low ering in gloomiest threat over the for-* tunes of the young pair. Before long Martha’s legacy would 1k‘ spent to its last dollar. As it was sW? ami Stanfield were living in rather inferior apartments on upt<*wn with a new an Stanfield felt ilnacd i work. Still rlin l»».:rd. with tb«- l.nih fancied hint>df for tlie ►tunly y«*ung life on (Hisitive mv«k*h. Then *<'>melHMty eamrlit him and he opt'ucd hi* eye* without rculi/irig that be ha<l ch*sed tlu-m A croud bad eolteeteiL and plntuiiU rang to biro from every side. •* I’he most heroic thing I ever saw,” saiit a man wh * hail the speech nnd ap pearance of a gentleman. “Fia proud to shake hands w ith y<m. sir. lVrha;« you don't kmuv whom you saved fn>m a horrilde ileath,” be continued, while h tiding Stanfield's band. “It s Mr Vlsn iHtrcn, the retired shipping merchant.” “Van lioren?” faltered Stanfield, who now licguti 'to feel himself ajpiin. his brief faiiitnevs vanishing as a scrap of inist is hkovn away fr« m a ru .%»vd !pll- side. “D t you mean. Mr. Myndlicrst . Van Doren'.’*’ “Yes,” said an* th< r voice, 1* f« re t!ie gifltHeinun <‘«»uld n‘sp«iml. “Il*'re lie c*«»nes. now. U " wond/l* he wasn't killeil by the carriage upsetting r.s it •Ini.’* • • Nothing could ni«'re elearlv have ex pressed the |>rovri.i ialistn of New York ;:t that is-ritnl tlinn Vvhat now f »ll q-.cd from another member of the throng; “Oh. he's sit gorty. or rheumatic, or whatever it is. that he keeps his carriage all padded inside, just like a baby's.” “Hush! here he comes.” murmured the gentleman, andstton Mr. Van Doren moved up to Stanfield with an extended hand. His rheumatism made him limp a little, but he had sustained mi injury. 11 is greeting of the young man who had certainly saved his life was civil, but by ix) means gracious. Tin? face which his nephew looked upon, rising clean shaved and sharp-featured from “Oh, it d«te* look as though our trou bles were over,” said Martha, wiping her eye*. “But then, Alfred, to think of your doing so awfully reckless a thing! Promise me you’ll never think of risking yonr dear life like that again —not even to get million* and mil- lions.” . . ~ “ “I won’t,” he laughed; r onec mor* kissing her. “Flf draw the 1 line a* re gards my fut ire deed of valor prwuclj j at one Bill I ion.” CHArTKB II. With great punctuality Stanfield pre- ernted iiilnsclf the next morning at hi* « uncle's ltoii.se in State street The building hail by no mean* n cheerful look a* he rapped with the bright bra** knocker ou the white-painted d«tor It* blind* wen-tightly el<ts«-«l. and it *eeme<l t*t drons** in an apathy of <tltlivi«tn But ‘ Hits was n«»t his first ascent of that Kltm-ralksl *t »'>p; Uc was pn-pan'd htr \ ^tlu*sallow, st*taping butler, who pre* j ently udiurtt-'d him without* word, but with an air «»f having expected liiiu S«ton lie was shown into a parlor *o dark that he atuvist stunitdcd against a i small tint heavy mahogany table on 1 which was a “friendship** keepsake,’* i in crii.is<in-and-g«il«l himling. anil one i or ^wo enormous, grinning. roM'-lipped I c meh shells After a little • while old ^kilnucl made it lighter, an<l then Mr Von Doren e;;uie into the room It is p^>s.siltle that the old man had i never treated anyone more cordially in all his hard, mtsten* life than lie now trcc.ted Stunfield “Yon did a very fine thing, sir.” he said; “you savet! my lifv beyond a ' doubt. Yes, I grant it. you see, I grant ' it.” Then be rubln'd one haml ug*m»t 1 theotlier ns though, in spite of grati i tndo, bo were washing away from them nil injit 'ri.d obligation «tf a reiuniM'rm tive kind. and. with his alirrwii, beoily t eyes atnltiis'hed •N-fitw their gray slant* • f shaggy eyebrow, he glanced round | him at tin* thread ban* earp*-t% the mir | mrstu their tarnislusl frames and.the : hairelotli furniture wh*ts«- edge* Itcre and then* Ix'trayed the tawny buck ram h -low them lint he doubtless «le. scried mme of these or other sign*, all glaring enough to attest Itiftownuvn rice I|e was very probably refreshing his memory concerning the little “htisi- j —“ngrreThat vnn ■mi l shill luvn mvi* mh-Iq-V s, h :ir sMy. ns K firyj. went an entirely new leaf?’ Flushed and stern r -atrtnficld had lis tened. ami here He ghineed at Martha, who was not far away, and who gave him a little noil suggestingpropitiation. Van Doren’s haml whs now slightly lifted His nephew gnawed hi* lip* for a moment uml then went forward and took it. “I will do A* you say, sir,” he replied, “and I promise that the pew leaf shall not Ik* soiled by *ny misconduct of my own.” • •Martha, who had Iteen secretly quiv ering with nervous dread, here struck In * gentle laugh, nnd said, as she joihed tier husband's side: “Please let me Im* counted in. too, for all Alfred's friends art* mine, *nd if you will receive him •* your real nephew at last you must let me become your real niece be kHles.” Till* little speech ws* given with ranch grace nml tvinsoraeni-Ms. but it seemingly had noclTect upon Van Doren. His manner grew, indeed, somewhat grimmer, now that hi* apology hud been made and aeccptctL., After having sealed himself nt the request of bi* h«*st. be hu.ntly said: “I'm not g^ing to Iteat round the bush —what'* the use? I've got a pret ty fair pile of money that it t<Mik me a bit of time and Iron hie to make. I shouldn't Ik* surprised if I'm wnai pie would call a mixer I let Yin talk as they choube. Now, of course it l.sti t going to Ik- very pleasant for a mac. who's n* fond of his dollars ns I am to give yon many of ’em down won’t do anything of that kind I can't ami I w-on t.” Here Ktanlield nnd his wife cxch.inged glance*, nml the eyes of the former seemed to say:. > “0!i, the un- ’^peakabk- obi skinflint!” •NBut I’ll tell you what I will <lo," Van Doren s<ton resumed, w ith u keen though side-long bsik at his nephew. “I'll leave you all I’ve g«it when I'm *lone witli it. That oughtn’t to lie so long, either I'll reach sixtyi-ight my next birthday -- My father dicil at fifty-six nn«F ixith my brothers went at ages un der thirty ” He now gave a husky Jit- tlc laugh, aliont ns joyless ns the turn ing of a rusted key in its Imdc. “So. vou see,- the chances are against yonr waiting very long I'll send for a law- its ample stock, was almost frigid and ' in my efforts to gain yonr kindly notice ness-1 ike ofTer” which lie ha<l resolved i yer to-morrow, and by next Thursday to make this handsome, stalwart young gentleman in the way of recognition nml recompense. But Stanfield had now made up his mind to speak, and prompt ly did so. lie told Myndherst Van Doren who he was, and nt length add ed: “Not, sir, until I had lieen the means of your rescue did 1 learn of onr relationship. You did not ask me for my name, nor did your servant seek U of me this morning But since I have -already made this name known to you 'atharine -Wkat- bc tbim They had come from Charleston with the hope of ultimately and perhaps promptly winning Van Doren over. But here, ns it were, the old fellow in visibly scoffed at them, fortressed in such impregnable manner against their approaches that he - might as well have lK*en the emperor of China onee and for all. “They told you he drove abroad in his own carnage,” said Martha, one day. “if i were you, Alfred. I’d just stop it and insist on speaking with him.”^ Those words of his wife, ns after wards remembered by Stanm-TIT, were fraught with a queer prophetic- humor. For a few days after the strange occa sion came to him. of indeed “stopping" Mr. Van Doren’s carriage. It nil happened like a flash, as such things are so wont to happen. One morning Stanfield was ■'strolling on Broadway when he saw the clumsy though somewhat aristocratie. convey ance of his uncle come trunncling along ‘past Hector street lie had no idea who owned the vehicle with iUco^kruled driv er and two ponderous roans, though he hail seen it sever si time* before during prevura^strolls. Already, however, be had beard, as we know, that hi* rich uncle, etmus tt$*d -tV- tuou ,t:i)us New’ York extravagance of driving oat In Iti* own txnu.ii Then, agum, U.c cj*nk . lifeless enough to (have been carved from some sort of grayish marble, “I thank you, young sir—I thank you very much, very much." Hi* was hold ing Stanfield's hand while he thus spoke, luit on a sudden dropped it and fumbled in a side pocket of his coat, which was cut like the evening, “swallow-tail” coat of the present. Soon he produced, a wallet and drew —fja.mi.it.a tuinL ivhic.h he leunled Stnn- field. —“There!” And then lie stared fixedly at his preserver for an instant, ' finally givinga helpless little shrug of the shoulders and disclosing a shattered pair of spectacles which he had thus far e kept in his drooped loft hand. *T can't . see anybody very well without these,” - lie pursued. “Uut I'll he able to look nt you better if you'll call upon me. Come to-morrow at eleven o'clock in the'morning, will you? Pm a little shaken up, yon knflw, though I ain't hurt.” He said this with a sort of gen erally clfa'lenging grin to the crowd— an expression which his nephew no \ sooner saw than he greatly disliked. And then he was helpi-il away by some one who knew well enough to offer him an arm, though he had no actual friend in New Y-ork, throughout whose limited community his wealth and his avarice had both quite notoriously tran spired. Stanfield moved away in another di rection. lie began to feei^a little stiff in certain mnsclcs and realized, now that it was all over, the' tn-raemlouS* risk which he had run The dispersiriff assemhlage called gay wonls after him, Iwdf gratulutonv. half satiric. Some voices assured him that he was in for “a thou* and dtd'ars, snre." on the mor row. an«l otia-rs mockingly doubted such ah amoutii of guerdon, while at the suoiv* tl use mixing their cynic dur I feel sure that ‘Alfred Stanfield* will not striker so very unfumiliarly on your "cars.” 1 - • Ashe finishi-d speaking theyonng man placed a card, which l>ore his present address, on the shell-adorned table near which he sat. He did not proffer it to 3 H. -f <> ■J[- tin* will can Ik? fully drawn up. I in tended giving It all to charities, hut in stead of that I'll leave-every dime of it to tin* nephew that saved my life at the risk of Ids own Now. wluit do yon think of this nrrangement ,> Docs it satisfy you? Because if d<K*sn't,” fin ished Van Doren, rising, “I'm afraid it's altogolhep-Ahe l>cst I can do." Hi* oWh face had soured as he watched the expression wrought by these words on the fn e of his nephew.. Hut Stanfield’s reply, though very frank, was quite free from ill feeling. “Naturally.” came his answer, “I do not wish .to eoneern myself with any compact that bears relation to your death. Still, if you are willing to make me your heir, I can but thank you for having so decided, and yet,” he con tinued. “I would ask you. sir, for some immediate help. Our needs arc grow ing urgent, though they are not nt all excesfti,v(*. ^My w ife and 1 could live on •a very moderate annuity. If you would consent to aid us with a certain month ly sum I could, perhaps—indeed, most probably—succeed in getting a clerk ship here iu New York that would swell the amount donated until it be came an actual competence." “M-m-ycs, yes.” muttered Van Doren, Stroking his hare, sharp, shaven chin. “Vou want, in other words, more that I'm iHUing to give. I thought my terms verify fair—very fair,” aniF he looked IjotlrTiBtufield and Martha full In the eyes, for a moment,'with a gaze that seemed to both of -them positively vulpine. ^ against Ids nature to do S4X During th« next five y«*:irS» two ehililn-n were I torn to"MarUia and !diuM*lf. a liny and a girl. The little family had just enough to Mipf>ff%k wants and not a dime more. Martha! vvithlicr liahies and her domes tic rifres kept up her spirits in blithest fasldon Hut the change in Alfrt*«l wor ried her She saw Ural his office work was growing a nn*re nml more leaden task to him. ami that tin- yearning for M> ndherst Van t*orrn to die hud become j like a cancer that slowly cut* deeper j and deeper into the flesh. When their first child was l»om they brought it to the old miser, bat he car* ' esMtl it ia only a languid nml perfuno* ! lory way The truth was he could N caress nothing with sny real pleasure save dollar*, nnd thr*c he setnally did fondle nnd slip through his fingers in their most captivating golden form. For Stanfield, who now nnd then would medt the old butler, hod it directly from Samuel himself, one day, that there was j a pot of actual gold coin in the cabinet of the library upstairs, nnd that heir, , very often, instead of reading any of the books on the adjacent shelves— ImmiU* which Im* hnd long ago ceased from Hm* horrible extravagance of pur chasing—hr wmdd sit crouchiugly be side his green*sb.n*>c.» lamp for hour* and hours <-f an evening, arranging the pdd pici-c* into piles of n c**rtnin height, making of these piles medal lions. nnd then altering the latter with . a slow but incessant variance until bis fn*nkisb inanipnlatiou* remiutk-d you of nothing so much as the siug;ft*li revo lution of n kaleidoscope. Talk like this keenly interested Stan Cebl Now and then he would refer to Samuel's gossipy confidence during ' talks with his wife. A* time went on j the city pushed itself np past tract* of land that but yesterday, as might lie *nid, were open country. The Stan field* moved their place of residence to oug further uptown, though cheaper and more modest than that which they bod formerly held- * * -• Martha protested a little nt thi*. -“There’* no use, Alfred,” she said, “in Nqur reducing expenses. \Ve don't want to*uvc, you know.” By this linn* they had goV into the way of R|*eaWing quite freely to ohcanother regariling Vuu Ikr re ns expected demise. "No,” he repluhi. “nqt to save—of course not. Hut moiiey is money, my dear, and tve need not sqihupler it.” “Squander it!" faltered Martk^. She could noV understand the change in her liushand. He had lost a good do: of Ids ohl bonhomie. He was given t<i fits of broiling tlfftt puzzled her, and sometimes he would start from one of these r.nd suddenly ask her how much a certain griK-crYr hill had h'-oh «>r just what amount she had paid for young Al fred's last pair of shoes, for young (Ger trude's newest dozen of hose. At last poor, gentle Martha waked np and .gave her lord a grand scolding. He listened to it very patiently, and told her (with a sort of dazed smile which she somehow detested) that he had thought so much of money lately as to find himself caring about ik watching its expenditure in a really pe culiar way. ~ ,T Yiiu thihir aTtogetTicr - too much on the subject of money,” said Martha, with reproachful heat. “Arc we not quite comfortable as wc are? And if a certain tiling doesn’t hapiK-n within the next five years or so, why on earth should you ware? For a good while yet we can send the children to public ’ scluxds. That certainly is far bettor than not educating them at" all. WVvo no reason to bother ourselves almut mon^y —none in the <k-ast. Of course, you might have advanced yourself more With Van Vccktea it Co. Now, Alfred, 1 don't mean to say anything unpleas ant, hut you know, dear, that you your- has crept like a poison through all his nerves." - — The children, as” they grew older, were sent to a public school. Now York had now greutened in an eastward direction, and the Stuufiold home was in Essex street, hut a stone’s throw from East Broadway Stanfield was a fitfully affectionate father and by no means a good oho. Ills children feared him more than they loved him At times j ho would overwhelm them with kind ness, but they never knew just when his inteusc irritability would break forth. Martha, a* the ne::t decade l»egan, strove to console herself with the ex pectation that Vnn !>oren's fortune might now ut any moment lieeomc '■ llvlrs. Dlseovertl’.'T Hint lirr Trir DlseoverT!’.!? tlWll IliT hushuiid was filnenteil by such wonls mk “Oh, ti»- morrow we may Ik* wealthy,” she used them with an Increasing abandonment of gixxl breeding ’ It wns like doubl ng and tripling the doses of opium for a pain-stung patient. Formerly thc'niodc of eonsolement that she now used would linvc seemed to her brutal and In the most shaimbc-'S Lists. But ti>-<lay. IT r yc* iik vrirn ax awpi i. ■m i x nnd through a M*ries of morrows, the vulgarity of the process rlad its«-lf in i-all<Mj*>n«*s*. Their very chiklr*-n*j*ot into the habit of saying alrtud and f*-ur- le» -ly: "Any ilay wc may Is* rk h;” or. “V* hen Fnclc Myndherst dies %ve shall have thousands sod tliousands of dol lars.” * But tho years dragged themselves along and still t’nete Myndherst did not die. 1 hie day, however, the head of the Van Vcckten firm died, nnd as there was no sucivssor of the name, ami c* the two partners were well along in I to talk with Van Doren on the subject of investments in bonds and mortgage* nnd n-nta. All dajr be would either aimlessly wander the streets or elo hold converse with his kinsman of just this coldly mercenary kind. In vuki Martha remonstrated. In vain she tried to rouse him from the In toxication of his hard materialism. Ho would soften towards her for a fevg minute*. “Don't get out of patlenco with on*,” he would, say “In a.litt'a while now you’ll find me such a differ ent man. He can't last much longer. Don't yon sec? He hardly eats any thing. us it u. lie scarcely ever ev. n stirs out of doors. Why, it’s touch-and- go with him; a fool could sec that.” Martha would shudder. “Toneh-and* go!” and he was now long pnat eighty. Stanfield himself had bcciKne a rahldle- aged man, she. his wife, was no longer young; the children were cessing to bo children. One tiny, In hi* eighty-fourth year. Van Ih»ren was taken vkdcntly ilk It was winter, and many eases of pneu- monia( “infir mmation of the lungs/’tbesr still called it then, in the year ISMO) had. broken out, nnd proved fatal. Again.<t his will a (diysk-isn was summoned, and the verdict gtren his nephew was sgalnst bis living twenty-four hours longer. Martha attended him with all the skill of a trained nurse. At this time her Lnsband s conduct horrified her. He hung shout the door of the sick chamber, with that eager look ac centuated In hi* wsn face. There was one day when It seemed as If Van Doren might at sny instant breathe hi* lost. During this period fits of delirium as sailed him. in which he raved of money, money, nothing except money. On the inormw he was surprisingly Iw-tter. Soon nfterwanU he began to recover, and within a fortnight his health was -more vigorous than before Hm? seizure occurred. Far days after- wards it tortured Martha to observe her liuxbaniP* face. “And till*,” she thought, “wci tho strong, ckar-beoiled, high-principled man I married. Whoever first said that money was. a curse bit on the most , pr»*{»nant of truths.” > The years went on. At eighty-eight Van Doren w as f*-eble, bowed in figure, , very dim of Night, and yet mentally as keen and alert as ho hod over been. lYrUup* he buggod UU money a Uttlu ciost'r and made th<»*e aliout him a lit tle more dlr-comfortcd In consequence. 1 Martha felt only too acutely umw the ghastly contagion that her husban J bad years, the firm underwent dissolntkih. I CRU tfht. He still waifc<k but his wsit- Thls was a blow to Martha, for she | ‘ n if ’•‘‘come n hkloous mockery, feared that her husband would refuse What could hr do with the money to seek other employment now that it certain long-delayed .event seemed on the verge of happening, and in that cu-m* his mental state would surely not profit by the change. She was right; he mere ly said she must “get along without any salary after this. it can't ho so very long now.” v Still it would lx? very hard to get on even If he survived his ancle? Nothing except hoard it us. Van Doren was do ing He had grown old before his time; he wan prematurely wrinkled, and into hi* features hod crept a strin gency of pallor, a covert fierceness, which meant insatiable greed. Night after ni^ht ho now did what to hi* wife was a revolting thing. Tho without the salary, Martha conclude^ j game of solitaire which Van Doren had been wont to play with his gold coin* had now become a game in which hi* nephew joined. They would sit to- evcii if only for a year or six months And to in secret site went down to the old State-street house and Ivgged Van Doivifto increase the allowance ho was making them" Here fused with an ire ful sneer. He looked, indeed, the typi cal miser that diij’, with his lK*nt form ehtd m a faded, ragged dressing-gown and the shabbiest of little hiack skull caps on Yrki bald head. Boor Marthavvent away heavy-heart ed. What wnstHshc done? The chil- ! dren must not be? brrmY'ht up like pan- pers. though already Ytl^cy were not on a social level with other children of like parentage and position Hut soon there dawned a way out of the djUicul- ty, though scarcely one that might Ik* said to beam with relief. Old Samuel suddenly died, and his wife, stricken by the shock of his loss, hardly sur vived him a mouth. Van Doren \Vns now quite alone, nnd nt times marked ly feeble. He consented that titan 1 Ml I Ilf mi r* % field andT his T^inTly should' emm- and AKRASGI * N<> iXTO-WWiX live with him iu State street, which gether for hours and move the littje they at length did. To wring from the yellow piles to ami fro on the table be- pld man money enough for even a fru- fore them in some curious manner gul household wherewithal was hard which they alone? understood They ITS AU. A TRICK. Hut the young wife, whatever may -heIf told me, not lr>ng ago, you’d got to Van Doren. though perhaps If he hat’' done so that gentleman wonld hnv« hurled it aside In disdain, for his nephew had scarcely ended Is-fore Ije ros'*, pale nnd tremulous with wrath “I see! I soy!" he exclaimed "It’s nil a trick, a miserable trick! Yonr mothei threw herself away on a pennilesjrtovcr am^ -now- you’ve Watched,your eluutcc to sfeal into my gorkl graces—OT gel money from me—the money I’ve made by hunt work, sir, ami mean to keep with a tight hand, I can tell you!" .At this point the speaker agitatedly rose “Samuel!” he culled “Samuelf" m a shrill, falsetto voice; and 11m- odd serv xnt, jrbo had lately goik' (rum tiic have been her furtive repulsion, now drew nearer to tho obdurate?-oUr man and addressed him w : th a simple and lovely eloquence of pleading. She spoko of their marriage.and tho deep mutual love that had caused it; of AIfred'a^Teat willingness to work, and of her, own eager desire to till their little Fomc with happiness a*nd thrift. There were tears of entreaty in, her voi«*\ though none iu her tenderly besnieeiiing ryea But possibly a light was tliere that somehow crept, with whatever fa.fit ness, down Into the sullen gloom of that unnatural heart. Before the intcr- \ lew v.’as gvi*F Martha, and u^)t her hus- band, had ga ned a victory. Stcnfiei^J was to receive every lYtn^ at hu uncleV Ik? a sort .of machine there in Water street, neither earing for promotion nor using an effort to secure it.” x “True,” VepUed Slanfielth ”1 must pull myself together. I must show them what I'm worth and demand a better salary." r But he'did neither. He was always waiting, waiting for hi* uncle to die. The Van Veckteh firm found no fault with him, hat they 'bod got to regard him in the light of a merely plodding and uhambitHMis-workcr. IVrhaps they snsp-cUd the truth—that okl Van lX*reu b»d made him his hoir, and that he had seen L»« old misi-r's will, stmI. ftiat be realized how a/ij hour might makc.bmr riUi- As «t wax thry Irt^Ud Liui com work enough; and as for his consent that n single yard of new carpeting, a single pint of new paint should repair in his uliodc the augmenting blemishes of time, this was an achievement be yond human suasion. Dignity and dis tinction had oeen ciphers before now in the Stanfield family circle, hat rfow they were worse than non-existent— they had l>een brought to life again in the sen so of travesty and parody. It got alKiut that this dismal minage had been formed, and pitiless jc^ts ensued. Luckily, Martha heard none of them. Her haps if Stanfield had heard them he would not have greatly carejl Martha's life had now become a rrlar- tyrdora. She blessed the public school for its wholesome helping <if her boy and her girl They both became far more her. children than-their father's. All that w;-.» sweetest in the womanly wisdom and hardihood of her cliaraeter she lavished upon these two. 'Affahi and again sIk? found herself hoping that the bright, innocent faces of Alfred and (Gertrude would more thu mulish tenaci ty of their great uncle. lh«, no; Van Down itoWd out j.:4 so ouch each Xiak fur 'VVwastV and uo more ’I he would laugh and joke together as this queer amusement progressed. Stan- lield'n laugh had grown cracked and thin like his uncle’s. Mart fia would turn sick as she watched them some times through a crevice in tho doorwjy. She kept her boy nnd girl from witnesa- tng the f ight. They both loved her and obeyed her least wish. It was horrihio to her that they should see their father so depraved as this. *”*- If it had not been for her children Martha often told herself that she would go mad. There was just food xnough to cat and no more. The hou^o was sinking to njin; ia one room tho plaster had faHcn from the coiling, iu another the paper was banging loose ou the walls. * Not till *hls ninety-fifth year did Myndherst ^an Doren die, ard then they found him dead in Ids bed ojo morning with a sort of scowl ou Lis withered face, as thoagh h? bod paid the debt of nature in teuty reluctance. Stanfield could scarcely conceal tba strange wildness of bis joy There wan o«> uk? in striving to ke«p the truth of him exultUion fr m Alfred ut.u (»ertri Tttcy were uov% wdvdtk, they read 3