For Richer, For Poorer.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXV, Issue 57, 8 March 1913, Page 10

For Richer, For Poorer.

£y MAEY FABRAH. [All Rights Reserved.]

* "Don't tell me that romance is dead, I Remarked, leaning back comfortably in Jmy friend's easy chair. Even a dry fegal document may be full of it; and, Jh fact, the most' romantic case I ever knew was that of John Hazeldene's will. 31 you would like to hear it there's no Itiarm in my telling the story now. You may remember Mr. Wright and his pretty young wife before they left to I take up work amongst the poor of East i Xiondon, but probably you never heard how Mrs. Wright came to inherit her j uricle's wealth. '" Well, at that time, as you know, I proceeded, I was senior partner in the | firm of Crust and Browning, and for that reason, as well as from personal friendship. I was asked to draw up Mr. ] Hazeldene's will. Ho was in failing I health, very rich, and practically alone ! in the world, except for his niece, Rose, .whom he had brought up* from child- i 'hood. Naturally my partner and I ex- i pected nothing but that his money would j be left unconditionally to her. ! Judge of my surprise when he in.sisted on attaching an extraordinary uondition to the bequest. The fortune j .was to be hers only so long as she re;mained single; if she married it was to 'pass to certain public charities, and j Miss Rose would be left penniless. Of i I drew up the will under pro- j lest, but the old gentleman was quite j fyta in his determination, and I could j hardly deny his right to dispose of his j money as he pleased. I was well aware j Jliat his niece was then engaged, and I ! -imagined that Hazeldene's prejudice j .against the married state was due to the i .unsuitability of the proposed match ; j ;but I pointed out that his dislike Of. her ] "fiance was no reason' 'for condemning rthe young girl to remain unmarried all. 'her life. '' ; "It's true she's engaged to him now, ] , Crust," Mr. Hazeldene replied, "but j how long do ypu think that will last ] 'after I'm gone? "You know that j jQeoffrey- Turner is a born gambler. Al- ] "ready he has squandered the considerable j Jloriune left by his father, and lately ] : the whole of his property has been heav- j 'ily' mortgaged to pay his debts of honour i a'ild losses on the turf. There's nothing j ;a woman loves more than the idea of ] 1-reforming a rake, but I think 'this will ; J hinder my little Rose from sacrificing ! ♦herself to that absurd folly. Rats al- j -Ways leave a sinking ship, you know!" ' '* I, quickly caught his meaning, but I i considered the will, unjust in its j -pSsßlble' consequences to Miss Rose. J I i J , agreed with Hazeldene in thinking that this niece's feelings were not* j involved in the engagement, with I Turner, but with true Hazel- j ( 'dene obstinacy she had refused to hear I 'a wor^ of criticism against her lover, .and 1 feared that she might not only 'make an unworthy and unhappy mar- j ;'rii|ge, but lose all her uncle's mdney as •j"wejr. i -If I could not succeed in effect*in^ a change in the will, the best hope be the chance of Turner dechn♦ing<"{» take unto himself a prospectively ..penniless bride. afjweek later I was sent for -»g»ia-,^%«t -Idand to my disappoinfenetit vthatutfae-- okLman merely wished 1 to' enX trust me with a small inlaid casket of '?' Oriental workmanship, made of'piany -varieties of highly i -pohshed'scent«d wootl,. '.tand having'tio visible hinge, keyhole, 6r ' **I value this box, Mr. Crust," said, "and am anxious that it should in your, chaige until -my niece's? ■j. marriage. It> was madeinrimitation'of *» once-famous Eastern .treasure-chest, !2jand 1 have had a fancy to place in*»ide it a little wedding gift for Rose. »No one can open it who does not know \ ftthe secret of the hidden spring, and this *I have often explained to her. But a I j'* woman's curiosity is said to be at times J irresistible"— and here his kind eyes twinkled humorously — 'and so I want you to promise to keep it safely till her ' wedding day, and hand it to her your- ; *elf when the ceremony is over." "But," I returned, "I thought that * you scarcely anticipated a. marriage at all." ~ "I ne-v«r said that, Mr. Crust. Oh, , yes ; there will be a wedding' sure ,*; enough some fine day. My Rose is too i sweet and pretty a. bud to be left un- *• plucked. But I rather incline, you know, ; to forecast a different bridegroom. " I believed from* his manner that he was already relenting, and might soon ?be persuaded to alter the will ; so, tak--1 ing charge of the little box, I locked it .* Up in my private safe and awaited furX ther developments. Instead, however, there came the news of Hazeldene's sud••den death, and, to our great distress, as legal advisers to our late client, Browning and I were obliged to produce his very ''unusual last will, and testament. . The young heiress herself took the matter very calmly, but the document had precisely the- effect on Mr. Turner's conduct that my, old friend had so confidently expected.. It was not long before he paid me a call at my office, and> boldly suggested that Mr. Hazeldene had not been in his right mind when h© made so strange a will,, and that with a, little skilful management he could easily. be proved to have been insane, and the document, therefore, so much waste paper. When I remained silent he even want so far as to imply tha i/ my ■assistance ' to' ' such a scheme would by no means be unrecompensed. I need hard- I ly say that after that the interview was . extremely, Jbrfef. , I, reminded Mr. TurW..£j&at,-:. whatever the. 'character iofi, tha late'Jbhn Hazeldene's will, it was a mat- • ter that concerned only his relatives and I immediate heirs, and warned him severely as to the dangerous nature ofi his sug■gestiona. Muttering', something about^ having ', called , solely in the interests of'] Miss Hazeldene, he presently retired, a scowl on his weak but handsome face, arid, I doubt not, angry disappointment i in his heart. j The next I heard was that the en- | gageineiit was at an end. Mrs. Willis, j the mothorly old housekeeper in whose ' care Rose had grown up, was much trou- j bled when she told me, for it grieved j her to see her young mistress looking j pale and sad. ! ''Not but what she'll soon get over it, Mf v . Crust," she remarked; "she's too | 'igh-sperited a young lady to fret long about a man what's shown himself a regular fortune-hunter. You see, sir, he worked himself up into a great rage, '. and told Miss ■ Rose straight that he couldn't afford to saddle himself with a penniless wife, and then she up and showed him to the door as stately as you please, and never broke down nor nothing ,tiu he'd gone. Then she laid her head in my Jap, poor lamb, and had it good' cry. -It's^my belief, Mr. Crust, that the" old -master was ' a deal wiser than .jsa'me folksy think,- and that his main idea; , as you May, Bay, was. to save Mies/Rose? from jlpetng married for hef ;tnon#y.J' ' ■ - , ' ■^hJsßtit itjrely/' I exclaimed, "he might ~ nave 'found -sonj© other means of achieving that object. He need<not have condemned her to a life of' single blessedness on pain of forfeiting every penny she possesses. A wise discrimination -should have been exercised, for all men are' noi fortune-hunters, Mrs. Willis." ; "That "may be,, sir," Mrs. Willis re--1 phed, respectifolly, if a little doubtfully, .:\! / btftfl"som«how cati'fc believo'Mr. Hazeldene meant anything but good to Miss

Rose. Why, she ■was the apple of his, eye, and many a time before ne died he talked about her to me. and always begged me not to leave her until she was' happily married and settled down." "Well, Mrs. Willis," I Baid, "we ca.iv only let things take their course. If Miss .Hazeldene marries, according to the existing will, she must assuredly lose the money, and I fear that I can only advise her to remain singlo<" "There's one thing," sir," she returned. "Getting married won't be so easy a matter for her now, you'll find. Before Mr. Hazeldene died the men weva all after, her liko flies round a tread*! jar, but now they -won't be so eager. Young men are not so keen to run after a girl that's going, to lose her last penny directly she's married. There's only one that's been much to the house since Mjv Turner was sent to the rightabout, and ' that's young Dr. Wright. Now, there's as nice a gentlemau as you could vnsli to see, but no match for the poor girl] Folks say he's had a. lot of difficulty to I find the money for his teaching up in 1 I London, and now he helps his brothers and sisters out of his salary, add that won't be anything great yet. Still, hf's called regular to see his old playmate, Miss Rose, and I have fancip-d hft's looked a bit more cheerful and lively since her engagement was broken off. But there, seeing he's co poor, qven if i she liked him, it would be my duty/ I'm I 6ure, to say all I could against it."' "Certainly it would," I answered; "and mine also." But my tones were not so decided as I could have wished. Well, gradually as time went on the roses cam© back to Rose Hazeldene'6 cheeks and the light of happiness to her j eyes, while I could not fail to observe : the very frequent visits of Frank Wright jto Woodcroft Manor. He was a fine j ; young fellow, &nd in character and atj tainments 1 could scarcely have desired j ! a better husband for my little friend. . j "You are not ill, Miss Rose, are you?'.' \ I asked one afternoon, as I eat in, the j garden behind Woodcroft Manor, drink,- | j ing a cup of tea. ( "No," she said, , with s smile; "why |do you aek?" And the question might j well appear superfluous as J watched tht> i fresh bloom of health on her bright young face. "I have noticed," I replied, "that you j are receiving almost daily visits from i one of our medical practitioners, 'and I j wondered if the cals w»re purely proj fessional, or— er*~of ft different order al- -. together.". 1 ! "Oh," exclaimed Rose, and the roses j flamed suddenly in her cheeks like a- gar- » den in June, "I'm quite well, thank you ; i and doctors can't be always thinking j about .medicines and patients, yon know." "Quite so, my dear," I replied, pleasantly. "They need, of course, some relaxation from the work of diagnosing and j curing our ailments, aid I'm glad you I seem able to supply the necessary treat- | ment in Mr. Wright's case." To my siirprise her blushes faded, and j turning to me, she laid one hand impulsively on my sleeve. "Don't te"ase," 'she said earnestly; "can't you see how it is?" "What do you mean?" I asked, decidedly puzzled. "Frank -Wright is a gentleman, and no fortune-hunter; and when he goes courting I'm sure it will be th© lady herself, and not her possessions, that he wants." "Oh," she cried, "that's just it. But how can I explain if you .won't understand?" j "I was your uncle's friend, my dear," ! I reminded her gently, "and though, as j your lawyer* I cannot feel it my duty to advise you to. jnarty^ still I P am senti; metttal enough';' £p, , believe .that'r'loye should take thff first place in-human calculation,' even before money. ' 'Your uncle had known the misery of being married for money himself, and I think his purpose was to save you from the same experience, and to secure your ultimate happiness, as the possession of wealth alone without love could never do, But there, it's very wrong of me to appear to encourage what the world would call the blindest of follies." "You don't understand," said Hose again, with a touch of despair in her voice. "Uncle may have meant well, but he forgot to allow for the unselfishness and nobility of a man like — like Frahk. Can't you see," she went on, with a lit' tie appealing gesture that made my old heart ache for her, "that, however much he cared for me, he would never, never ask me to marry him and lose all this hateful money, and 'so— l'm th© most miserable girl in the world, anc) no one can do anything to help it," and she turned away to hide tho tears that threatened to overflow. Here was a complication indeed, and one that I confess I had not foreseen, rfor, I believe, had Hazeldene. The girl was certainly 'right. A man of Frank Wright's chivalrous temperament would never invite the woman he loved to sacrifice' a fortune for his sake, unless—ah 1 — unless he could be made to see that she loved him, and that in denying himBelf he was sacrificing her happiness as well^as his own. In Royal circles, for instance," and" in .v'erjr unusual circumstances, thorn was no- impropriety in the lady deafly showing her preference for an honest but backward lover, and I thought little Rose would be amply justified in such 4 course of action. "Did you ever hear," I' asked, lightly, as I rose to go, "how Queen "Victoria assisted Prince Albert in his wooing?' "Do you mean the story of the bowl of roses?" • / "Yes. The talc may be fact or fiction, but there's a lesson tfl be learnt from it, it seems'to me.' Some men need to be plainly taught, you' know, that to a | true woman there is no sacrifice in love. Forgive me for talking sentiment, my dear ; it's a shocking fault in a crusty old' lawyer ; and now I must run away to my dry parchments and deed 3, and leave youth and beauty among the roses. You don't need a rose bowl from which to offer yours— they are all around- you and over your head," I added significantly, as I moved away. "I'll forgive you — perhaps—another day," murmured Rose, her lips relaxing' in a smile and a thoughtful look dwelling in her deep blue eyes. The next time I saw her it was all arranged, the date of the wedding was jinder discussion, and Rose herself, as happy as if she had just gained instead of lost a fortune. She told me enough at various times to enable me to picture something of what had taken place that summer evening. One of Hafceldene's favourite hobbies had been the cultivation of rosee, and after a slight shower the garden was a fairy scene of choice and lovely bloom, while the arbour at the end, where Rose loved ,to read and dream, was as fair as any poet's "bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream." Sensible Mrs. Willis was busy, or tactfully professed to be, with household duties, and Frank Wright and pretty Robb Btrolled down the "path in the direction of the rose bower. The conversation had been dangerously personal for some time, but always when the words of love seemed bursting from his lips the young man had resolutely pressed them together, and, pulling himself .up short; had changed the subject for one' safely intellectual and profoundly interesting.. Suddenly from above her head Rose plucked a Marie Henriette rose, the raindrops still wet on its crimson velvet petals, and stood a moment breathing in its delicious perfume,.

"Is it for me?" asked Dr. Wright, stretching out his hand impulsively. " 'One rose,' you know, 'by those fair fingers cull'd were worth a hundred kisses press'd on lips less exquisite than thine!' Why, the Gardener's Daughter in the poem was never such a 'Rose among roses' as my little playmate," and then, abashed by his own worrla, ho drew back, white with the effort, of's.torn self -repression . But Rose looked up. her eyes soft and shining, and quoting a dainty little song he had t-oinetinies heard her sing, she said, very simply and quietly, "Won't • you -take my losebud? I meant it tor you". Don't > you remember the little song, 'To you it is a rose ; to me it is my heart'?" He gazed at her in silence' as she held out the rose, seeing move than playful compliment in the lovely face that was iaispd to hint with a gesture of delicate, sweet surrender. "It's " yours, Frank, already. It could never belong to anyone else. Won't you take my — niy rose?" she said again in tones that faltered, half" regretful of their own boldness. The young man caught at the hand that was holding the flower, and drawing her into his arms he cried, "Little Rose, queen of all roses, I must take you ! I can't help myself any longer. Whatever happens I must pluck and wear my precious Roso of love!" As to what really did happen immediately after that I can throw no further light on the subject. There is a limit even to tho most intimate of confidences on such matters, but I have | noticed that the mere mention of the rose J bower is still sufficient to draw a blush | to the soft cheeks of Dr. Wright's young wife. All was not quite smooth sailing for the lovers yet, however. _My partnpr, Browning, ".vas highly indignant at the new turn of affairs, and did hio best to persuade Kose to keep her money by remaining single, while (suggesting to Dr. Wright that his conduct in reducing a girl at a, stroke to a condition' at the most of genteel poverty would bo unchivalrous, if not actually dishonourable, j Incidentally, he accused mo of weak j sentiment and neglect of my client's best interests, and in some respects my conscience told me that possibly his accusation was not altogether unjustified. Still, for the sake of what I considered the girl's truest happiness, I opposed Browning's arguments, and, sentimental though it might be, I did nol discourage this most unmercenary matah. But, in spite of all I found to >say I believe it was only Dr. Wright's fear of being stigmatised as a rascally fortune-hunter like Geoffrey Turner that prevented his breaking the engagement at tho last moment. "The whole town will say," I told hini, "that you didn't fully understand the terms of the will, and that as soon as you did you backed out and left Miss Rose in the lurch. It's your plain duty now, man, if only for her sake, to marry her, and work hard to give her a comfortable home, if it cannot be a rich one." Great interest was shown in the wedding, and the church was packed ■with people eurions % to watch the ceremony and observe the deportment of such a romantic young couple. I waa to give away the bride, and was at my post in good time, not forgetting the inlaid box which Hazeldene had dsked me to present to his niece after her wedding. I hoped it would prove to contain a substantial gift in money or jewels that might compensate in some small mea« sure for her loss of fortune. Well, I gave my little friend to the honest, true-hearted gentleman she had chosen, and as the words ''for , richer, for poorer," passed their lips in turn I saw a, glance of smiling love and confidence exchanged by bride and bridegroqm. Certainly neither appeared to be Buffering 'from any keen' sense of disappointment or loss as they went into the vestry, the bribe's bouquet of, crimson bridal roses sending their fragrance all round the room. "God bless you, child," I whispered, quite shaken out of my usual dignified' calm ; "I do indeed hope . you have chosen for the best." "I'm sure of it," she replied, with a bright smile. "But what is this for?" as 1 handed her the box. "Why, it's uncle's little Indian casket. I've often wondered what could have become of it after he died." I explained to ' her the manner in which it had come into my care, and his wish that should open it herself on her wedding day. "You see," I went d^ with even greater truth than I knew, "in spite of the strange will, he must have expected and wished you to marry, and I imagine this box contains a gift that is intended to prove his love and real interest in your future happinesß." "Dear uncle," said Roße, as she took the casket, "how good of him to think of such a nice way of giving me a< wedding present. This is how it opens. It's quite simple, you see, but it would never occur to anyone who did not know." She drew a pin from the lace folds of her gown and carefully examined the box, counting the pieces of scented inlaid wood ot which it was made. At last she seemed to have reached the tight number, and gently , inserted the point of the pin at the almost invisible' joining of two tiny pieces of brown and lVory-huecl wood. Instantly some hidden spring was released, and the entire front of the box fell down, disclosing an inner case, with a small keyhole in the centre, and a flat key of curiously carved metal lying between the inner and outer walls of the little cabinet. Rose quickly turned this key, and, unlocking the box, took out a stiff, folded parchment, and passed it wonderingly to me. Judge of niy pleasure j»Aien, after a brief but sufficient scrutiny, I was able to announce to the interested little group that this paper was the last will and testament of the late John Hazeldene, written by himself at a. later date than the qnb tfhich I had drawn up for him, and signed and witnessed in proper form. The tievv will repeated certain small kgacieß to members of the household and distant relatives, and then declared Rose Hazeldene sole heiress of her uncle's remaining worldly" possessions without any condition attaching, either matrimonial or otherwise. "And I trust," the good old man added, "that God's blessing may rest upon her on this her wedding day, and that she and her husband, havmg preferred love above riches, may now wisely employ the fortune they have lost and won." Fortunately Hazeldene had expressed himself in the simplest and clearest language, so that there was no danger of any subsequent legal difficulty, and I am glad tc 6ay the newly'discovered will was proved and administered without any unnecessary delay. Of course, in my professional capacity, I cannot be expected to commend him for drawing up his own will, and I consider that he ran the gravest risk in so doing, but 1 was too delighted to blame him overmuch on that day. Besides, I admit that it was a shrewd trick on the old man's part, for his manner had led me to believe that the rasket contained no more than some costly or elaborate present of the usual order for such occasions, and I little guessed how valuable the gift would turn out to be. Even if I had I could not have opened it myself, and had passed my word not to deliver it into the owner's hands until her wedding day. , Well, for oncie, it was a case ot virtue rewarded. The news soon filtered round the church, and naturally the sensation it created was VemendoUß. Perhaps, of *U the assembled company, the bride

and bridegroom appeared the least excited or ' disturbed. They had few thoughts to spare at that moment for such a secondary matter as the mere inheritance of a large fortune. Mrs. Willis, with tears of joy, fervently embraced her young mistress. The kindly vicar and the rest of us who were gathered in the vestry crowded round and oifereil our enthusiastic congratulations. "f rep-lly don't know whether to be glad or sorry," the bridegroom exclaimed, with a contented laugh ; "for all the fortune I wanted is here !" And Frank Wright turned and tenderly kissed his blunhing wife. She looked at him in a way that would have stirred the crustiest old bachelor's heart with envy . and I heard her soft whisper. "It woe 'for richer' as well as 'for poorer,' you know, and it will be all right either way, dear, as long as we two are together !" So don't tell me that romance is dead. If t you only knew where to seek, the world is full of it.