Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

16 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

An Unusual Legacy. .

Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu

An Unusual Legacy. It bad teen for some months a mooted question in the little village of Glendale who would fall heir to Aunt Martha Mar vale's taoaey when she died. There were her two nieces, the nearest of kin, in the first place. One, Miss Bertha Marvale. an amiable young lady, who was im- mensely proper and feapeotable, and had been very dutiful in heV attendance upon her! invalid aunt. The other, a wee bit of a maiden, with sonny eyes and short dancing carls, who taught achool for her own and her mother's support, and did not seem to mind it at all, she was always so bright and winsome. She had done nothing in particular for her aunt except to make sunshine in the prim old rooms by occasional visits, and in a saucy, inveigling sort of way to get herself very much liked by the eccentric old lady; it was very hard to see upon what grounds Miss Dot May borne based her expectation, so the neighbours said. And now the good, queer Miss Martha Marvale was dead and buried with due solemnity and proper gloom. Soon it would be known who was the fortunate possessor of her fabulous wealth—for "fabulous" it had become, under the busy tongues of interested friends and acquain- tances. To be sure, she had never made a display of riches, and no one in Glendale had ever seen her money except in quite meagre sums. But she was known to have been quite miserly in her habits, and no doubt had large amounts stowed away in odd corners. The lawyer sat at the head of the room rattling the important dooument ominously. Miss Marvale sat in the high-backed chair, looking pale, melancholy, and severe in her new and fashionable mourning dress. Mr. Peter Horace, a gentleman who never in his life had evinced a liking for anything but money unless he met Miss Marvale, sat atten- tively near. Dot Mayburne, in doleful black, reclined in the uncompromising recesses of the big, stiff old sofa, with a sadness in her pretty face that appealed to every tender heart in her pre- sence. Willard Hayes, a young and penniless physician, and her most devoted admirer, supported her—figuratively speaking,of course —on her. left. The deacons of the church sat in decorous silence, and one or two oldest inhabitants" occupied the spare corners of the room. The reading began. After the usual preliminaries it was found that all of Martha Marvale's real estate, money, and personal property were left unconditionally to her "beloved niece, Dorothea Mayburne, excepting a few insignificant legacies to church and friends. To Bertha Mervale, in consideration of affectionate attention, she willed her favourite footstool. Its many dear associa- tions, the fact that she had seen it for years the support of her aunt's wearied feet, would endear it to her, and as she had often ex- pressed a pious cont3mpt for carnal wealth ahe would prize it above all earthly dross. The whole fortune was not a munificent one, after all, and even Dot was not a rich woman, and she could only open her blue eyes in wonder while Willard Hayes smiled brightly upon her and whispered his congratulations. Miss Marvale's face was busied in her black- edged handkerchief, and no one could tell how she was affected. Mr. Horace's face was a picture of blank dismay. The deacons lo -ked glum and said not a word. Everybody seemed inclined to get out of the way with as little ceremony as possible, and soon the cousins were left alone. I hope, Cousin Bertha, yon will always make this house your home," Dot began, timidly. You know this is as great a sur- prise to me as to you, and, while I am glad of abomeand comforts for mamma, I do not want you to be poor or homeless. Can't we all live together ? No, we can't all live together," snapped bertha, coming out from behind her pocket handkerchief. "You are a little underhand jheat, and I wouldn't accept charity from you if I were starving and it is not necessary, as I am engaged, and Mr. Horace is amply able to see that I do not oome to want." Dot retired, overcome by the stupendous intelligence, as Miss Marvell intended she should be. I am sure I congratulate you," she mur- mured, and I hope if you ever need a friend you will not hesitate Bother your friendship!" exclaimed the itate lady, rising; I think we can dispense with each other's company, and as I cannot ask you to leave your own house I will take the liberty of retiring myself." That evening the will was discussed over a hundred tea tables, and many queries, won- derings, and I told you so's" passed to and fro. What the old lady had seen to admire in Dot so much, what had become of all the wealth she was supposed to have owned, why she had left a paltry old ottoman to Bertha, who had been so faithful, and so forth, were all dntifullv discussed, and left as unsatis- factorily disposed of as before. In a little meagre private office down town Mr. Peter Horace sat, with his head resting dejectedly in his hands and a general air of forlorn despondency in his attitude. He had for forty yeanpovoo himself, his money, and his single blessedness more than anything else on earth. If ever a woman had stirred the region under his shirt front where bis heart is supposed to beat it was pretty, saucy, gay little Dot Mayburne. And yet he had delibe- rately engaged himself to marry a plain, prim, elderly maiden, who possessed nothing in the world more valuable than a worn-out foot- stool. What a donkey he had been! And how had it come about ? Why was not Bertha Marvale the heiress, as he had calculated upon? The old lady's money seemed not entirely accounted for, either. Bertha had Jived in the house for years, and he bad deemed her a person of great good sense yet the must have bungled in her management somehow. v Then he borrowed deeper in his out- stretched arms, and thought it all over again. Suddenly a bright idea struok him. Did not people invariably, in stories and romances, who had queer old legacies left them, knock them to pieces sooner or later by accident or in a fit of ill-temper and find them stuffed full of gold pieces ? This was certainly the solution of the eccentric gift, and also accounted for the missing wealth which everybody seemed so sure existed somewhere. He sprang up and paced the room in a sprightly manner quite at variance with his former moody de- meanour. I will play the disinterested lover," he laid: "I will swear to be true, come weal or come woe, and thus gain the ap- probation of the entire community. I'll marry the poor, disinherited; Bertha Marvale, and at the very first dawning of matrimonial in- felicity I'll kick that beastly footstool viciously across the door. Then won't I be istonished to see the papers and gold roll out? Won't I claap, my tearful companion in my arms, magnanimously forgive her, and calmly take possession of her fortune ? What t looky idea of mine that was!" Miss Marvale was deeply gratified at being assured of her lover's devotion and disin- terestedness, and her spirits aud dignitary tose in proportion. Indeed, she carried ber- self in the presence of her unpretending cousin as though she were the heiress and Dot the insignificant possessor of a footstool. She claimed the right to remain in the house which had been her home so long till she should be married from it, and, as far as appearances went, might as well have been the mistress of Marvale Mansion. Mr. Horace rented a pretentious house, and furnished it completely, referring with beau- tiful deference to his betrothed's taste in everything. ft Be sure and bring your footstool," be said, playfully, "and we will dedicate a whole oorner to it. I would not keep house with- out it for the world." And Miss Marvale thought this very delicate in him, as it might naturally be supposed the stool would be a disagreeable object. They w«*re married, and the wedding was the ff event of the season." Dot was not invited, but she was busily engaged else- where, and did not mind the neglect; and, when Bertha left the old house to enter her brand new home, Dot and her happy husband, Willard Hayes, moved in. For weaks everything went on smoothly. Mrs. Horace carried herself with a great deal of dignity, as became the newly- wedded wife of a well-to-do money-lender and the mistress of a handsome new residence. Indeed, the fashionable people of the place paid her more attention than they did the real heiress, who was so little like a wealthy matron that the fact was almost forgotten. Mr. Horace bore his happiness quietly and contained himself with patience. Perhaps he was a little irritable in the privacy of the domestic circle, but he was only preparing for the grand moment when it would be appro- priate to "kick that beastly stool clear across the room." To be sure, he might have sug- gested to his wife that they examine the stool and see if it contained anything of value; but she would perhaps laugh at his whim, and would not allow it to be spoiled, and when the wealth was found she might suspeot him of knowing something about it and of marry- ing her for it; and, as he rather preferred peace to unnecessary squabbling, he wished the discovery to come about accidentally. At last one evening he found it standing direotly in his way. Bertha, looking appre- hensively at her husband's stern countenance, hastened to remove tt, but he was too quiok for her. A well-applied and forcible kiek sent it dancing aoross the room, where it was shattered against the marble fireplace. Mr. Horace eagerly sprang to the spot, where Bertha regretfully followed him. He did not look at it in amazement, as he bad often pictured himself doing, but the amazement was very genuine. He grasped each piece and shook it fiercely; he tore everything apart that could be torn apart with furious baste. Alas in vain! At his feet lay a heap of broken mahogany, torn purple velvet and dusty horsehair—nothing more—nothing less. What do you mean ? What did you expect to find ?" asked Bertha, with trembling lips. Your aunt's legacy. I've been fooled— trapped—I wont stand it! What have you done among you with all her money ? She couldn't have oarried it with her ? Peter Horaoe was angry enough as he strode up and down the room to have demolished forty ottomans, and Bertha went into hysterics on the sofa. It was a dreadful blow to her vanity to think that she had not been married for herself alone after all; they bad a terrible ecene, but finally a sort of reconciliation was patched up. Both were too respectable to let the world know of their disappointment, and they agreed to keep the fate of her aunt's legacy a secret. Bertha owned that the old lady had given her 500dols. before she died, telling her she was not as rich as had been supposed, and that was probably all she would ever receive from her,—Exchange.

THE PROVIDENT ASSOCIATION…

THE QUEEN'S BOUNTY FOR A WELSH…

PERJURY IN A WELSH POLICE-COURT.

[No title]

Cuttings and Comments. .

[No title]

PROFESSOR HUXLEY ON TRACT…

MR. CHAMBERLAIN AND DISESTABLISHMENT.

SIR E. J. REED AND THEI GOVERNMENT.

ALLEGED SHOCKING OUTRAGE AT…

MR. HAYDN PARRY'S OPERA.

DEATH OF MR. MOlliSON, OF…

LORD BUTE IN SCOTLAND.

[No title]

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