The Heiress' Ruse.

Auckland Star, Volume VI, Issue 1635, 15 May 1875, Page 5 (Supplement)

The Heiress' Ruse.

In the luxuriously furnished apartment of a fashionable club two young men were finishing a lengthy conversation. Edgar Purcell, who was twenty-seven or-eight years of age. dressed in naval uniform, light-haired ' and blue-eyed, bore 1.0 resemblance to his younger companion, Harry Gervais, whose dark face and black beard proclaimed him of southern origin. Both men affected great indifference with regard to the subject they had discussed, yet the keenly scrutnising looks which they occasionally cast upon each other -would have made an observer . think that perhaps they carried the affectation of indifference a little too far, and in the ! lounging ease of their attitude, and the cool j unconcern with which they puffed their cigars, displayed an over-anxiety to seem unconcerned. Of course these two discussed the merits of a woman. 'They say, Purcell, that there's something about the portrait that's awe-inspiring, and that sort of thing, you know. Smith swears that one of the eyelids moved while he was looking at it. 5 'That's not to be wondered at, Gervais. The sidewalk often moves when Smith walks upon it, and they tell me that he insisted upon carrying off Billings and Toodels' mortar instead of his hat.' ' But this was in the morning, and he was nearly sober and others besides Smith say that is the most wonderful likeness ever executed.' ' People always talk trash about such things. By^ the way, she invited me to go and see it tti—orrow morning. •Indeed! I thought I had been the only one favored with a downright invitation.' ' I am invited to meet her there at twelve o'clock.' * And so am I, or my name is not Henry . Gervais.' The two men again exchanged those lightning glances before carelessly disposing of their cigar ashes. While this conversation went on in the clubroom, another tete-a-tete was in progress in one of the mansions of a neighbouring avenue. Thi3 time it was a woman of uncommon beauty who ha?f reclined upon a small sofa opposite the chair in which sat an aged man. ' Grandpapa,' said the lady, ' how did you like my portrait ? You went to see it this morning.' ' Yes my dear; and I wish we could have one of them in every room in the house. I told Mr. Hubert that money could not reward him for his work.' ' Grandpa,' again began the lady, more slowly and with something like hesitation, ' what do you think of Mr. Hubert ?' ' He seems to be a fine young man, Natalie ; an artist of great promise; and he belongs to an excellent family.' 'Is he—is he— very poor?' c Why, no, my dear ; a man with his talent can never be said to be poor. He has his fortune at his fingers' ends.' 'Do you think, grandpapa, he would marry any woman for money alone ?' 'I cannot tell, Natalie. I should say decidedly not; bu'c money is a great temptation, even to artists. You don't mean, Natalie, that—m ell be happy in your own way. But I had supposed it was young Gervais or Purcell. They both spoke to me, and I told them they both had my best wishes; excellent young men, both of them, and have sown their wild bats.' In Natalie Saltonstall's manner there was usually an air of mildness mingled with a certain impetuosity which, told of quick, generous feeling. Now, in the full splendor of her womanly beauty, she seemed almost a child, as she raised her daik eyes to the wrinkled face opposite, and said, in a tremu a lous voice: ' You like Mr. Hubert, grandpapa ? You do not object to him ?' Natalie had but asked the question when, pushing back his chair, the old gentleman * arose suddenly, and stood stiff and erect, like a soldier on parade. '■ Natalie,' he said, in a tone of deep feeling * I object to no one. I meau absolutely what I say.' Your" mother's fate was warning enough to me. To see you happy is the chief desire of my life.' At the mention of her mother's name the beautiful girl lowered her head a little. A vision of the home of her childhood flashed before her eyes. She saw herself, a timid and neglected girl of fourteen, leaning from the window of a wretched house in a lonely country place. Her mother had been dead one week, and her father was so worthless that his death would have been a relief rather than a loss. Natalie was the oldest of eight children. The last morsel of food had been . eaten, and starvation seemed imminent, when ..tfye arrival of Natalie's grandfather changed the fortunes of the family. The children were provided with pleasant homes among wealthy relatiyes, and Natalie became the pet of her grandfather, the very light of his eyes.. Natalie's mother had eloped with a scapegrace, and had suffered the fullest punishment for her folly. The tidings of her death reached her father too late for him to assure her of his forgiveness, and Natalie pushed a tear from her eye as she recalled "TT^^qath-bed scene. - . . . .:. j Ss^t Jq'^^c B^' aroUßins SMSr 0? 1 TfSUZwaA^Mi. Gtervau and Mr. Purcell ,h»nkfti]ly i Mi, Glin, Q lilllpi, Towtt

are both going to look at my portrait to-mor-row. I hare agreed to meet them at Mr.Hubert's rooms at twelve o'clock'* ' t think I will go too, my dear.' * Oh, no, no!' ' Why not ?' ' Because I am going to see if those gentlemen care for me, or for your money,' 1 How, my child ?' 'I will tell you at dinner. Promise ma, grandpapa, you will not go.' ' Well, I promise. You,are perhaps right, Natalie. A woman's wit is seldom at fault. CHAPTER 11. In Mr. Hubert's studio Henry Gervais and Edgar Purcell discussed Natalie Saltonstall's portrait. They made the visual tour of the room, asked the usual questions, and offered the criticisms which people ordinarily offer on such occasions. Then Edgar Purcell said : ' Miss Saltonstall is late, Gervais. She was to have been here at twelve precisely.' ' Woman are never punctual Purcell.' ' But Miss Saltonßtall told me that she never kept any one waiting.' 'Thai's a woman's fib.' •Did she tell you she never kept any one waiting, Gervais ?' 'The question was asked in a constrained voice. The manner of the two men differed widely. Gervais' gay and careless indifference only made Purcell's anxiety and distrust more apparent. 'Look here, Hubert. The portrait ia in so dark a corner we can't see it. Let a little light in somewhere.' 'Miss Saltonstall particularly requested that you should at first see the picture in th>'s light, Mr. Gervais.' 'At first? Then we are to have othe r lights afterwards ? Something stagey, eh ? What creatures women are for effect!' ' The light was nay own selection, gentle men.' said the artist. ' The darkness, you mean. I say, Purcell, it's a good deal like her in her melting moods ?' ' Indeed !' replied the other ; ' when is she in what you call a melting mood ?' '0, when she wants me to stay a little longer.' 'Don't be an ass, Gervais !' ' No, I shall always remain a gentleman, Purcell, no matoer in what company I may find myself.' 'It almost seems as if the expression of the face changes as you look at it, Gervais. A mement ago it was wholly sweet. Now there is & sarcastic turn of the lips. Confound the darkness!' ' Turn on your colored lights, Mr. Hubert. We've had enough of thia.' ' I had orders from Miss Saltonstall not to change the picture till she came.' 'It is now fifteen minutes past twelve. She has forgotten the appointment, perhaps.' 'O, no, Purcell. She will stray in somewhere about one o'clock burdened with microscopic excuses. Let's see. The eyes are rather too large and too far apart, and there seems to be too much color in the face. The nose should be a little more retrousse, and there is something wrong about the j

neck." ' But the hand is her own beautiful hand, Gervais.' 1 Why don't you sigh and done with it, Purcell ?' ' A man might do a more foolish thing than to sigh over that hand. To tell you the truth, I do not see how this picture could be improved. It is her own wonderful beauty in shadow.' ' The foreshortening of that arm is imperfect. The lips are too highly colored, the hair has unnatarally bright shades, and there are several minor points which are not satisfactory, although taken as a whole, it is, as you say, a good likeness.' The critic was interrupted by the tramp of feet and the buzz of voices, and suddenly the door was flung open, and a small and inferiorlooking man hurried in. 'Where is Mr. David Saltonstall?' asked the new comer, who bore his Jewish nationality all over hia exterior. 'I am Isaac Jacobs, and I want the money that is due me,' 'He is not here,' replied the artist, court-. eously. ' But you will find Mr. Saltonstall at his office.' 'That is a lie. I haf been at bis fiffice. He has failed.. That great millionaire, Mr. David Saltonstall, has gone to smash, and I want the fifty thousand toilers he ows me. I heard he was here. I will haf my money — my fifty thousand dollers.' Mr. Henry Gervias and Mr. Bdger Purcell' gazed in silent wonderment at the Jew, and then at each other. They bore upon their countenances the expressions of men to whom the "tidings boded good or evil. Mr. Gervais immediately went forward and surveyed Mr. Isaac Jacobs through his eye-glass, critically, as he had before surveyed the portrait. i ' What was that you said about money ? he asked, in a business-like tone, quite different from his customary drawl. • I want my money. I will haf my money,, if I shut him up in prison. Where is he ?'- ---•You say, man, that Mr. Saltonstall has failed ?' asked Purcell, going to the mantje piece and leaning on it as if for support. ! ' Yes I say that. And if he is not here, jl will take the bortrait. They tell me you haf fainted the bortrait of his niece. That is it in the" corner I haf seen her. It is Mees Natalie. I will take that and sell it for barfc of my bay.'

As the Jew darted forward, Edgar Purcel/ quickly took him by the coat-collar, and flung him through the open door. Then withouf waiting to see whether the man was injured, he shut the door, and facing about to Gervaie, said: 'I am ruined. I leave the field open to you.' ' What field ?' asked Ger rais, whose countenance had undergone some rapid changes during the Jew's speech. 1 The Saltonstall pasture. I must graze in other meadows. My debts must be kept from my aunt. I don't mind telling you now, Gervais, I loved her, but my income does not support me, and my aunt would cut me off without a penny if I did anything rash. I'll hang myself—but I'll wait and see her first. If my aunt will consent, I'll take her yet, by George.' 'What will this young woman do now, with all her airs ?' asked Gervais, turning to the picture. ' She will accept you, probably.' There was a spice of malice in Purcell's tone. 'By no means. A handsome wife who brings on money is a very expensive article, and one with which the market is overstocked. Fortunately she did not keep her appointment at twelve. It is now half-past. I wish you good luck, Purcell. Take her and welcome. She is a decidedly fine woman. But I must be off, or she will find me here.' ' Tou're not afraid to see her ?' ' Of course not—but—there is—in fact, I was to call on her this afternoon, and now it wiJl not fee necessary.' ' Stop Gervais. I proposed to her yesterday, and she was to give me her answer this afternoon.' 4 My case precisely, my dear fellow, and that's why I'm anxious to be off. The Jewish apparition has given me a most satisfactory answer.' I ' Well, Gervais, I shall wait for her. I can't marry her. I wish I could. I wonder where she is ?' ' Here genbleman,' and, with a light mockirig laugh. Natalie stepped from the frame in the shadowy corner. Gervais and Purcell retreated a few paces. Mr. Hubert opened a side door, and the light revealed the empty frame and the accessories to the supposed portrait. 'It was herself!' criecl Purcell. 'With her arm forshortened imperfectly, and her eyes too far apart,' retnrned Natalie, with a merry, ringing laugh. 'I am not in a melting mood now, Mr. Gervais! What creatures women are for effect!' The effect of Natalie's eudden appearance was so overpowering that by instinctive impulse the two young men retreated from the room. Probably within the whole range of human sensations, there is not one so perfect in its silencing influence as the burst of a great surprise. Gervais and Puroell parted without a word at the street-door. After they had left the room, Natalie stood for a moment as if in a dream, and like a dream seemed that which followed. The artist advanced, and fixing his eyes beseechingly upon her, said, in eager, tremulous tones: llf what I have just heard be true, I may advance my poor claims. While you were the great heiress I dared not presume to tell you that I loved yon. But now, O, Natalie, give me a little hope. No one can ever love you as I do.' How softly the cloud shadows moved over the sky to which Natalie had been looking. How pleasantly tke sunshine fell upon the earth. There was light and life and motion on every side, where but a moment before had been bhe chill of the world's cruelty Natalie felt all the intoxication of the transition &9 she plaoed her hand in that of her artist-lover and said : •George, my ruse has succeeded. In my poverty-pinched childhood, I learned lessons of wisdom which I have never forgotten.I wished to be loved for myself alone, and I imitated the example of my favorite Peg Wofflngton. My uncle has not t failed. My position is the same that Mr. Gervais and Mr. Purcell supposed it to be when they entered this room, and the highest .value which I attach, to my fortune is that it'tnay be the means of increasing your future happiness.'

A reverend doctor of Georgia had a rather slow delivery, which was the occasion of an amusing scene in the chapel of the lunatic asylum. He was preaching and illustrating the subject by the case of a man condemned to be hanged, and reprieved under the scaffold. He went on to describe the gathering of the crowd, the bringing out of the prisoner, bis remarks under the gallows, the appearance of the executioner the adjustment of the halter, the preparation to let fall the platform, and just then the appearance in the distance of the dust-covered courier, the jaded horse, the waving handkerchief, the commotion in the crowd. At this thrilling point, when every one was listening in breathless silence, the doctor became a little prolix. One of the lunatics could hold out no longer,' but starting up from among, the congregation, he shouted • 1 Hurry, doctor! for mercy's sake, hurry! They'll hang the poor man before you get there!' The greatst feat in eating ever recorded is told ot a man who commenced by bolting a door, after which he threw up a window and swallowed a whole story. A Chicago paper says that a' young widow in that city, who writes well is training herself for an editor. We hope that we are not the editor she is training herself for.