DAPHNES INHERITANCE

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 47, 22 November 1890, Page 16

DAPHNES INHERITANCE

BY SHIRLEY BROWNE.

' has all come out of that confounded . >*]\y _ *EJ{|'' nionev said Leslie Gale, tugging • fiercely at bis mustache. ’ was not J’ et ‘l u ' te two years ’* ‘ since he had married Daphne Burton • and taken her to live in the prettiest IzaSbl * °f cotla S eB - , J. Daphne was a country schoolI , [ teacher to whom city life was a great H'h^WSSTWWk^m ■ promotion, and Gale was the foreman in a wood-engraving establishment, in the receipt of a fair salary, and at first they had been the happiest of couples. Until old Auut Mercy Burton had fallen sick and sent for Daphne to nurse her. ‘She’s my own brother's grandchild,’said Aunt Mercy. * Who should take care of me if not her ? Ain’t it the most natural thing in the world ! Besides, I’ve got money to leave.’

* But, Daffy, you can’t go,’ said Leslie. * Who’s to take care of me /' ‘ That’s, nonsense !’- said brisk Daphne. ‘You-’llget along first rate. Besides, it won’t be for long. Aunt Mercy’s over eighty, and if any one is to have her j money why not we ?’ * How much is it ?’ ‘ No one knows.’ ‘ I’ll go bail they don’t,’ observed Mr Gale, emphatically. * But you wouldn’t keep me from a dying woman, Leslie ?’ I Gale uttered a groan. * You may go lor two weeks,;, said he. ‘ But not for a day longer. If she needs help after chat she must hire some one in the neighbourhood.’ So Daphne diessed herself in a most becoming costume of beige cloth and bronze velvet, trimmed with bronze silk grelots. A dainty bronze lace hat, relieved with pink roses, was jauntily placed on her hair, and feeling very well satisfied with herself, she went to take care of old Aunt Burton. And at the expiration of six weeks she came back. Aunt Mercy had not died. She had recovered. ‘ But 1 am to inherit all she has at her death,’ said Daphne, confidently. * Humph !’ commented Leslie. She turned quickly around. ■ * Why do you say “ humph ” in that tone V said she. * Uld ladies are apt to change their minds,' observed he.

• She won’t change hers,’ said Daphne. ‘ Oh, dear, how forlorn everything looks ! Moths in the plush chaircoveis, carpet bugs in the big rug, stains where the water-pipes have leaked—’ • Yes, said Leslie, • things show the absence of the house-keepes, don t they ?’ ‘But of course,’ went on Daphne, ignoring his remarks * we shan’t stay here any longer.’ Why not ?’ • The neighbourhood is very common,’ said Daphne, elevating her pretty nose. ‘ And there are lots of inconveniences about this cottage. ’ ‘ Very likely,’ said Gale. * But you didn’t talk so when we were first married.’ ‘ I was young and inexperienced then,’ protested Daphne. ‘And, besides, I can’t afford anything more expensive,’ said Gale, decisively. • But you must consider, Leslie, our circumstances have altered.’ • I ttont see how.’ ‘ Aunt Mercy's property, you know—’ ‘ Uh, hang Aunt Mercy, and her property, too !’ burst out Gale. ‘ Leslie, how can you ?’ ‘ It's such consumed folly !’ shouted the young woodengiaver, and he took his hat and bounced out of the house in a rage. Daphne looked regretfully after him. Leslie was veiy handsome, and sue loved him dearly ; but if she had known this about her inheritance before she affianced herself to him could she not have done better? He was in a very genial temper, however, when he returned. ‘ 1 say, Daffy— ’he began. ‘ I wish you wouldn’t call me “ Daffy,”’ remonstrated his wife. ‘I: sounds too much like :

• “ Daffy-down-dilly has just come to town.’’ ’ ‘ Well,’ said Gale, laughing, ‘ you are just like a daffodil, pet, with your yellow hair and slim figure. However, if you like better to be called Daphne, Daphne it shall be. Wednesday is our wedding-day. Had jou forgotten it ?’ ‘No ; but— ’ • Hold on a minute, Daphne. I’ve asked my uncle Greaseley and his wife and Cousin Tabby Tilton to dinner and to spend the evening. I thought—’ ‘ And I have asked Mrs Septimus bhelford and her brother, the |>oet, to a quiet five-o’clock tea !' cried Daphne. • The Greaseleys ami Tabitha Tilton indeed ‘ What’s the matter with the Greaseleys and Tabitha Tilton ?’ cried Gale, with a lowering brow. ‘ Oh, nothing! They are most respectable people, I’ve no doubt, but they are not the sort of persons, in view of our altered prospects, whom 1 should care to keep up. Mrs Shelford can iutioduce me to a delightful circle of the real aristocracy. ’ • Confound the real aristocracy !’ • I must beg, Leslie,' said Mrs Gale. 1 that you will be a little more ciicumsj>ect as to your language.’ • But what's a fellow to do ? I've invited my aunt and uncle and Miss Tabby Tilton !’ • Writes note and say that it isn't convenient for them to come.' • I can't do that, Daphne.' • You will have to, Leslie. I tremble to think what Mrs Shelford and Ariosto Arkwright would say to such people aathe Greaseleys, who eat with their knives and never saw a finger-bow] in their lives !’

‘ 111 risk Mrs Shelford and Ariosto What’s-his name.’ • But I won’t !’ said Daphne, and her firmness—not to call it obstinacy—won the day. In other matters also she was equally successful. The hnmble little cottage was exchanged for a more pretentious dwelling-place, with a good deal of hard-wood floor and sta.ned glass-windows. Mrs Gale sent out caids with an ‘ at-home day ’ on them, and hired a carriage, by the month, from the nearest livery stable. She joined a Browning Society and took a |«w in a fashionable church. ‘ -Voir,’ said she, with a dreamy smile, ‘ I am beginning to lice." ‘ Look here,’ remonstrated Leslie Gale, * I can't afford this sort of thing, Daphne !’ ‘ Y'es, you can, dear,’ said Daphne. * It’s only a question ctf time. I dorrt'ask you to pay the bills.’ ‘ Who is to pay them, then ?’ • Tell the people to wait. They expect it. Mrs Shelford says—’ And at the mention of Mrs Shelford’s name Leslie muttered some uncomplimentary i emark and rushed out of the room. To Mrs Gale’s great amazement and disgust Aunt Greaseley appeared smiling on one of her ‘ days. ’ ‘ I thought I should find yon at home,’ said she, ‘ seeing you don’t go out of a Tuesday. So I flew round ’ —Aunt Greaseley weighed two hundred odd—‘ and done the ironin’ up

afore dinner, and here I be. It’s my duty, Daphne, to warn ye that Leslie ain’t what he was ?’ ‘ I don’t understand you,’ said Daphne, frigidly, while in her secret heart she rejoiced that no one else had yet made their appearance to criticise this outre relative of hers. ‘ He don't take no stock in this sort o’ livin’,’ said Mrs Greaseley, with a comprehensive wave of her cotton-gloved hand. ‘ He don’t care for your littery and musical friends ; Greaseley, he says he plays billiards of evenin's ! ’Taint like Leslie to do no sich, and—’ ‘ Mr Silkworth ami Mr Arkwright!’ announced the waiter, who was hired for Tuesday afternoons—and with a hurried word of excuse Mrs Gale left Aunt Greaseley to herself. The old dame went home highly offended. ‘ Ain't got no more heart than a black beetle !’ muttered Aunt Greaseley to herself. ‘ An’ never so much as asked me to take a cup o’ tea, though I saw a lot brewin’ on the table in the back room, and lots o' sweet cake too !’ When Leslie Gale came home to his supper—lather a cold, comfortless affair, after the confusion of the five-o'clock tea —Mrs Gale was gone. • She hail a telegram, sir, from her aunt in the country,’ explained the white-capped maid, ‘ and she had to start at once.’ The next day proved a crisis in the affairs of the grand house with the hard wood floors, and the stained-glass casements. The landlord called. The livery-stable man hinted that it was high time his ‘ little bill ’ was attended to. The

dressmaker’s young woman bronght an ominous piece of paper, and the nearest confectioner begged to remind Mr Gale that they were doing business on a cash basis. Leslie was appalled. He added up the liabilities, then took a look at the assets. * Confusion !’ muttered he, ‘ I’d best go and blow my brains out!' Daphne returned three days later. She was pale and worn-looking, and her eyes were sunk as if with watching. As she stood a moment waiting for a tram, she could hear a short, stout man near her telling something to a companion who had just come up. ‘ It's all true,’ said he. * True as Gospel. He jumped into the river. Just let himself drown. Didn’t seem to care whether he died or not. One Of the fellows in Dirkbridge's engraving place. Eh? Some money trouble,’ in answer to an inaudible question. ‘lt seems .his wife has been living beyond their means, and everything has gone up.’ * Dirkbridge’s engraving place !’ If it had not been for those words Daphne Gale never would have given a second thought to the little dialogue. As it was, the words fell like cold drops of ice on her heart. She hurried home. The handsome house was dismantled and locked up. A conspicuous ‘To Let ’ was posted on the side of the door. Scarcely pausing to think, she hastened to Aunt Greaseley’s residence. ‘ Where is he ?’ she gasped. • What have they—done with him? ’ ‘ Leslie, d’ye mean "f said Aunt Greaseley in an “I aggravatingly cool and composed manner. ‘Oh, he's all right! He’s in the back room here. Pretty tired, I expect, but—’ And in a moment Daphne had rushed sobbing into his arms. ‘ Aunt Mercy is dead !’ said she. * And all her money is left to a Home for Old Ladies, and there was only a hundred pounds.’ ‘ And a good thing, too,’ said Leslie. ‘lf there had been any more of it we should have been ruined outright. Come, Daffy, let’s go back to the -old times before' we ever heard of Aunt Mercy’s money. ’ ! ‘Oh, do let us!’ sobbed Daphne, ‘for 1 have been such an idiot! Please, Leslie, forgive me, and I’ll be a wiser woman in future. But the man from Dirkbridge’s who drowned himself— ’ ‘ That was a poor chap whose wife had taken to lottery-ticket buying,’ explained Leslie. ‘ And he was half crazed by drink. It settles the question for me. I shall never cross the threshold of an hotel again. Give me a kiss, little wife—the seal that we are to begin a new and different life.’ And they spent the third anniversary of their wed-ding-day in the little cottage, with Uncle and Aunt Greaseley and Cousin Tabby Tilton for guests, and the ‘ aristocratic circles ’ and the ‘ Browning Society ’ knew ! them no more.