A MILLIONAIRE'S CHRISTMAS

Evening Post, Volume XXXIV, Issue 156, 31 December 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

A MILLIONAIRE'S CHRISTMAS

Christmas itvo. Arnold Frothinghain sat boforo tho library firo, his grey head bowed, his thoughts busy, and onu could easily percoivo by the expression of his wrinkled face that tho thoughts were not altogether pleasant. And yet he was a rich man, a millionaire, and his house was a palace ; but money alone, though a very nice thing to have, doo.s not always bring happiness, and tin's truth Arnold Frotbingham had discovered. Ho was all alone. Not a heart to caro for him, not a voice took on a tonder tone to wish him a merry Christmas ; no ono thought of him, savo for what his wealth would bring 1 . He sat there alono, and memory strayed back in bygone and forbidden pathways. Ho recalled a time when ho wus not alone, when his child was with him, sweet Grace, his only hope on earth. Oh, tho castles that he had reared for her future ! Alas ! they were only built of air ; she had taken her future into her own hands, and that was the cause of the old man's desolation, no had loved his child with a wild absorbing love that is seldom seen. Her mother had died when Grace was born, and upon the girl all hia hopes were centred. She grew up lovely, accomplished; could have married a rich man, and a good man, too, lie was, and it was upon this matter that father and child disagreed. Grace loved Harry AVatson, a poor book-koepor. He was a noble-hearted fellow, and thoro was absolutely nothing against him but povorty. But that taint was upon him, and Mr. Frothingham saw before himBolf the downfall of all his bright castles, all his hopes destined to fade and perish. In vain ho besought Grace to give up hor impecunious lover. Naturally yielding and obedient to her father in all olse, in this Grace was inflexible. Tho old man stormed and raved, and threatened — all in vain. Grace left her father's home, was quietly married and went to housekeeping in a cosy homo ; tho days camo and wont and she was very happy. Arnold Frothingham would not forgive her. He said that she would live to regret and repent her mad folly, and as time rolled by, and at last ho heard of Harry Watson's long illness, and finally his deaLh, and knew that Grace was living in netual povorty in a neighbouring town, his heart did not soften, and father and child were now estranged. But to-night, Christmas Eve too, when everybody was gay, or tried to forget their secret troubles, this rich old man, who was, after all, so poor, alone in his sumptuous room, was tormented by the ghosts of the past. He could not shut out- the memory of his child's pleading face and pitiful eyes lifted to his own as she had beggod: "Father, do not let anything 'come between us ! I love Harry — I love you too ! Do not turn fr-om your little Grace !" And he bowed his grey head now, and thought (ah, it was bitter !) how he had! turned from her with cold, cutting 1 , insulting words, and the chasm jwas tliore which could never bo br'mged. It was a pitiful sight to seei that lonely old man with his groy head bowed in silent grief as all the past arose, and the ghosts that would not " down" at his bidding flocked around. A servant entered noiselessly to light tlio gas, but his master ordered him frr m the room so peremptorily that ht "fled in haste, and there in the dull i'od firelight, Arnold Frothingham crouched. Suddenly he lifted hit lead. What was that standing before him in tie flickering firelight — was it a vision, or was it his lost child that had come back to him just as she used to bo when she was wont to pome and slumber on his knee ? A child stood before him, a goldenhaired, full-eyed girl of five or six years. Her dress was very thin and poor, but her face was beautiful, and tho image of his forsaken child. She came up to him fearlessly, and laid a tiny hand on his knee. " Am t you my grandpapa ?" she queried, bravely. He started half angrily. "Who are you?" he growled; " how came you here— what do you want ?" "I came to wish, you a merry Christmas, grandpa," returned the little maid, still brave. " Who sent you ?" "Nobod}'. I corned by myself." ""What ia your name, and where do you live ?" " My name is Grace Frothingham Watson " — the long name fell slowly from the baby lips — "and mamma Bays you're my grandpa. But I thought all grandpas loved their little chillun ; but you don't love, me or you'd take me." And she made a movement to get upon his knee. But he repulsed her and she turned away. " Where are you going ?" " Goin' home. Mamma takes mo and loves me, and eries — oh, she cries awful!" now does she live ?" queried the old man, " are you rich ?" His voice was eager now. " Mamma works in a store. We ain't very rich, I guess, 'cause mamma said she didn't know if she could buy mo a pair of shoos for a Christmas gift. See, these is awfully holy." And she thrust out a tiny foot in a dilapidated sandal for Mr Frothingham's inspection. " Does not your mother know that you came here ?" questioned the old man suspiciously. "No sir, she'd be awful sorry if she knowed, for she says grandpa don't love me. Why don't you love mo, grandpa ? " The old man avorted his head. "You've :onie here without your mother's consent," he began roughly;" you're a naughty child !" "Yes, grandpa" — still persisting in the title — " but I wanted to wish you a ' Merry Christmas ' Why don't 3'ou love me, grandpa. I love you." With a sudden cry the old man caught tho child to his breast, aud burying his face in her golden curls he sobbed aloud. "My baby — my baby !" ho cried, " grandpa does love you." He kissed the baby's face with a

fierce pang at his heart, as ho noticed how palo and hollow-eyed it was. Then ho arose and began to draw on his boots, then his overcoat, and took his hat from the table where ho had tossed it when ho had entered the room, heart sick and weary, and lonely, as ho would never be again. "Come Grade," he said, taking the tiny hand; "come, let us find mamma." With tho confidence of childhood she danced along at 3iis side, and they -went out into the cold streets, their faces set towards tho poorest quarter of the city. Grace Watson had just returned from her hard day's work to find her child, whom she always loft in charge of a neighbour, missing. naif wild with grief and anguish she turned and rushed into tho street, coming face to, face with her father, who carried the child in his arms. "Graco!" , " Papa !" That was all ; the chasm was bridged, the yeprs between were blotted out, and all was aa of old. He took them with him, and oh, what a Christmas it was ! Baby Grace was booh clothed in soft luxurious garments, and showered with goodies, and made the delighted owner of a big wax doll, all the way from Paris, with real curls, and "truly eyes," as tho little maid expressed it. Such a re-union! Arnold Frothingham had not believed that ho could be so happy again. Mutual forgiveness was accorded ; and ore the sun rose on. the holy birthday, there was " peace and goodwill " in tho Frothinghain mansion, while overy heart responded fervently to Grade's sweet-voiced " Merry Christmas."