PRISCILLA'S FORTUNE.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XVIII, Issue 5, 30 May 1890, Page 25

PRISCILLA'S FORTUNE.

" You were born to good luck, Priscilla." said stout Mrs. Hackett, as ehe accepted a cup of fragrant tea from the hands of her niece. " You know I always said so from the time you were a baby." Prisciila Carew lookel about her, a faint smile on her lips. The room wa9 small, the furniture old, the floor covered with a rag carpet, very much the worse for wear. The damask on the tea table was the last of her mother's wedding set, and had been darned in every direction ; and the only comfortable chair was a big wooden rocker, with a faded patchwork cushion, stuffed with duck's feathers. The loom h<»B a cosy look, howerer, for Priscilla was a born housekeeper, and about her always reigned order and cleanliness. Tae cookstove was as bright as a daily polish could make it, the row of bright tin pans on the dresser shelf were without a stain, and the old dresser itself was white with innumerable scrubbings. In the family Bitting-room beyond, the andirons before the fireplace shone like gold, the bricks were newly reddened, and an immense bunch of feathery asparagus filled the empty space, for it was only on state occasions that a fire was built there. The floor was covered with plaiP dark, three-ply carpet, to buy which Priscilla had made many sacrifice! of youthful inclinations in the way of cuffs, collars, and ribbons. A round table stood in the centre of the room, and on it wereithe family Bible, two small albums, a copy of Shakespeare, and a large lamp. There were half a dozen wooden chairs against the wall and a settee covered with a cretonne cushion. On the high mantel were a pair of glass vases, a china shepherdess, a cup and saucer that had belonged to Priscilla's great-grandmother, and a email basket of wax fruit under a glass case. Priscilla's gaze took in every article of furniture in the two rooms, and then her eyes reßted on her mother, a faded, weary -looking woman, whose life has been one long struggle with care, privation, poverty and hard work. Priscilla always felt a little bitter towards fate when she thought of her mother. It seemed hard that even now in her old age, her mother was obliged to toil, and to turn every penny before she spent it. •• I never thought myself very lucky, aunt," said Priscilla. " That's because you ain't of the thankful sort," said Mrs. Hackett. " You'd find plentyjo' girls willin' to step into your Bhoes, now you're to have old Matthew Pounce's fortune." " Oh, very likely, now " said Priscilla. " But don't be too sure that I'll have the fortune, Aunt Haskett. The will may be found after all." " Taint likely now ; they've looked everywhere for it. Simpson was up there a searchin' before the breath was fairly out of the old man's body. Pity he died so sudden. But perhaps it's better for yon, Priscilla, that he did, for he might a' cut you out o' your fortune. What are you going to do first, Priscilla ?" " I am going to wait nntil the fortune is really mine before I do anything, Aunt Hackett. Meanwhile, I Bhall teach school, as usual." " Well, if you ain't the queerest 1 You don't Beem a bit set up. Some girls would 'a' gone clar out o' their heads over such luck. But maybe your're right to hold on to your school, for your Uncle Eden says it'll be some time before the estate can be settled. I'll look for you to make a good match, now, Priscilla." A sudden flush dyed Priscilla's cheeks scarlet. Her thoughts flew io John Morris. Would he be considered a good match 1 Probably not, for John had only his farm and stock, and if report did not speak falaely, old Matthew Pounce had been worth a hundred thousand dollars. Time bad been when Priscilla, planning for the days to come and sure of John's love, and that he would some day ask her to be his wife, thought of the comfort her mother would enjoy at Cloverdale Farm, her working days over for ever. But now it was of Matthew Pounce's big stoae house that she thought. If she were, indeed, heiress to a hundred thousand dollars she would not care to live at Cloverdale Farm, but would John, consent to share her wealth ? Would he, for love of her, give up his independence ? These were questions she could not answer. She walked to the garden gate with Mrs. Hackett when that good woman went away, and stood there looking out into the dusty road long after Mrs. Hackett's substantial figure had disappeared in the dusk

Priscilla hsd talked very little of Matthew Pounce's fortune, but she had thought of it a great deal, and bad made vague plans for the future already, though in the great stone houße on the bill the undertaker and his assistants were, yet busy. Matthew Pounce bad never married, and Priscilla was the only child of his only nepbew, and the last of the line. But she had never looked upon herself aa the old roan's heiress. He bad been cold, crabbed and selfish, and had never been known to do a kind or generous act. Priscilla well remembered the day, ten years before, when she had gone to the stone house to ask aid for her dying father, who would never have made the appeal himself. It bad been refused ia no gentle terms

" I've never asked anyone to help me," said the old man, '• and I started without a dollar. What one man can do another can. When a man's down it's his own fault, usually no one to blame for it but himself, and he can't expect other people to suffer for his faults. My money was made by hard work, and I ain't goiu' to squander it. You won't get a cent of it now, nor after I'm gone. Don't expect it j you'd only be disappointed. My plan for disposing of my money has been cut and dried for twenty years." The cold, heartless worda came back to Priacilla now, as she stood at the gate in the dusk of the June evening, the fragrance of roses filling the air. Matthew Pouuce was dead, and no will could be found. If he had died intestate, as seemed to be the case, Priscilla would have everything. " It's only on mother's account I want it, ' she thought. " Poor mother I She won't know herself as mistres9 of Uncle Matthew's big She heard the sound of horse's hoofd on the hard road and looked up eagerly, her colour brightening as she saw John Morris on bis big

black mare Diana. It seemed at first as if he did not intend to stop, and Priecilla's heart turned sick with disappointment and surprise, for John seldom passed the cottage without pausing for a few words with her at least. But just beyond the gate he pulled up the mare with a jerk. " I hear you've come in for a big fortune, Pnscilla," hie said, as he swung himself from the saddle. " I suppose I ought to congratulate you." " Wait until the fortune is really mine," said Priscilla. " Oh, there seems to be no doubt that you'll have it," said John, gloomily. "And I can't afford to wait, for probably I shall leave here in a day or two." The colour died out of Priscilla's face. For a moment she could not utter a word. " What do you mean, John ? " she asked, when she could command her voice. " Only that I've had an offer for the farm, and I think I'll take it. I want to try ranch life in Colorada. Cicely's going to be married next month, you know, and ther'll be nothing to keep me here." He did not look at her as he spoke, but kept his eyes on the ground. Priscilla said nothing in reply. She was asking herself what could be the cause of the change in her lover. She could not understand it. He was usually radiant with good humour, and she had expected to talk freely with him of her changed prospects, but his air of gloom and the coldness of his manner did not invite confidence. Her heart was very heavy when he had ridden away again, and as she washed the supper dishes and put the kitchen in order for the night, she was scarcely conscious what she was doing, so occupied was her mind with thoughts of John Morris. It was almost a year since he had begun to be attentive to her. He had met her often as she was leaving the schoolhouse at 4 o, clock, and had walked home with her, leading his horse by the bridle, and saying all sorts of pleasant things, which, while neither brilliant nor witty, made Priscilla's heart beat fast, and gave her the assurance that she was beloved. He had made a practice, too, of coming to tea on Sunday evenings, and lately had referred more than once to his dread of baingvery lonely when Cicely should be gone, and only old Sarah Cole left to keep him company. And Priscilla had fondly imagined this was the prelude to asking her to make Cloverdale her home. " Seems to me you're awful quiet this evenin', Priscilla," said her mother who was knitting by the light of a kerosene lamp. " You don't seem a bit pleased over your fortune." Her fortune 1 Priscilla had, in her misery, forgotten all about that. What did it matter if she were rich or poor if John Morris were to be hundreds of miles away from her, roughing it on a Colorado ranch ? She cried hersolf to sleep that night, and dreamed that she saw John Morris married to a Colorado girl, who was terribly old and u^ly and walked with a limp. She was reminded of her dream the next morning when Cicely Morris stepped in on her way to the village, eager to talk to Priscilla about old Matthew's money. It was Saturday, and there was no school, and Priscilla was at home busy miking cake. It was a jelly cake, and the jelly was laid very thick between the thin loaves — just as John liked it. For Priscilla cherished the hope that John might come to tea aa usual the next evening. "You Jon't look a bit like an heiress, Priscilla," said Cicely. — " You're as sober as an owl." " What ou^ht I to do ? " asked Priscilla. " Well, I don't know exactly ; I never saw an heiress before. — I'll resd up the subject and let you know. Are you going to the funeral this aEternoon 1 But of couise you are. Everybody's going ; everybody except John. He has gone to Barnesville, and won't be back till night. I shouldn't wonder if he were courting Amelia Bacon." The knife with which Priscilla was spreading jelly dropped to tne table with a clatter. She pulled open the table drawer, and bent over it, pretending to be searching for something. " Who is Amelia Bacon ? ' she asied. "A girl he met at the country fair last year. She lives in B irnesville," answered Cicely. " Is she ugly ?" asked Priscilla, remembering her dream. Cicely stared at her a moment. " What a queer question," she said. "No ; she's perfectly lovely. But she isn't the sort of a girl to get along on a farm. John ought not to think of her for a moment," Mrs. Hackett came in just then to see if Priscilla intended to wear mourning to the funeral, and so the subject of the fair Amelia was dropped. But enough had been said to add considerably to the weight ot Priscilla's heart, and she began to feel aa if the gulf between herself and John was getting very wide indeed. The funeral was a long, dismal affair, the discourse commonplace and tedious ; and Pnscilla was very glad when it was all over, and she was at liberty to return home. She had hardly removed her bonnet and the black dress she had worn out of respect to her Aunt Hackett's idea of decorum, when Mr. Simpson, her lute gidudimclo's lawyer, called to see her. His manner was the very esaoncu of respect. It seemed to Priscilla that he did not forget foi a moment that she had inherited old Matthew's money. " There's been a thorough search made for the will, Miss Carew," he said. " But it hasn't been found. I can't account for its lojs, for Mr. Pounce wasn't a man to burn one will before he had made another. And hia heart was set on building atx hospital for old men ; he spoke of it to me very often. But as things are, you're the heir, and you can move into the stone house to-morrow if you like,"

" I think I'll wait awhile," said Priscilla, coolly. " I want to be on the safe side, and the will mny yet be found."

"There's not much chance of it," said Mr. Simpson, but he did not argue the matter.

Priscilla put on her best dress and tied a pink ribbon at her throat on Sunday evening, for, in spite of what Cicely had said about Amelia Bacon, she felt that there was a chance that John might come.

But hour after hour passed and he did not appear, and only Mrs. Carew tasted the jelly cake at sapper. Priscilla would not touch it. She told herself she was sorry she had been so foolish as to make it, and that she might have kaown there'd be no one to eat it except her mother.

" Let him go to Colorado," she thought, as at nine o'clock she repaired to her own room. " I sha 'n't say anything against it, and he can marry that Amelia Bacon. I don't care 1 "

She cried herself to sleep, nevertheless, and looked like a ghost when she came downstairs the next morning.

She rode to the schoolhouse after breakfast in Farmer Nesbitt 1 light waggon, having thankfully accepted the offer of a " lift," buta before she had driven a rod she wished she had gone on foot as usual, for Mr. Nesbitt began at once to talk of John Morris.

" John told me last evenin 1 that he had to give an anßwer tomorrow about the farm," said the old man. '• He seems set on goin' to Colorady, an' won't wait no longer'n to get Sissy married. I don't see who first give him the notion o' goin'. I allars thought John one o' the steady sort." Priscilla was glad when the schoolhouse was reached and she could escape the sound of her lover's name. But she found it bard to give her thoughts to her work, and her teaching that morning was purely mechanical. She could not forget for a moment that John was going to Colorado. At recess, as she sat at her desk trying to give her mind to the correction of some examples in multiplication, she was surprised to see her Aunt Hackett enter, breathless aud excited. "Priscilla, I've got some awful news to tell you," she cried, aa she threw herself exhausted into the nearest seat. " Try to bear it, child. They've found the will— tucked away in an old dictionary. And you wont get a permy — not a penny. It all goes to a hospital. Oh, ain't it shameful: I declare, I could 'a'burst out cryin' when I heard it." Priscilla had started to her feet as her aunt began to speak, but now sank into her chair again. " I always supposed they'd find the will, Aunt Hackett," she said, " I never felt at all like an heiress. And you see I wasn't born to good luck, after all." Mrs. Hackett was amazed at her niece's coolness. " Never in my life did I see anybody take news as easy as Priacilla," she said later, in telling her story of her call at the school house. •' If anything, she seemed glad she lost her fortune." It was a long, weary day to the young school teacher, and sha was detained at her desk later than usual, having to prepare some work for the morrow. It was nearly 6 o'clock when she locked the school house door behind her, and turned away —to see John Morris standing under a tree not a yard off. " I've been waiting for you, Piiscilla," he said, as he took from her the pile of books she was carrying. " I want to tell you that I'm not going to Colorado, after all." " Not going 1" exclaimed Priscilla. " Why have you given it up ?" " Because you've lost your fortune, Priscilla, and I want to take the place of it, if you'll have me, darling. I couldn't ask you to be my wife if you were going to be rich, Priscilla, but — " "And — Amelia Bacon," interrupted Priscilla. " Cicelj told me — " " A lot of nonsense. She told me about it, dear. She only wanted to find out if you really cared for me. Do you Priscilla?" It was quite dark when Priscilla entered the snug kitchen of her humble home, where her.mother and aunt were discussing over the tea table the loss of old Matthew's money, and wondering why Priscilla didn't come home to discuss it with them. The girl's eyes shone like stars— her cheeks were flushed and her mouth smiling. " Aunt Hackett," she said, bending over that comely little woman to press a kiss on her still smooth cheek, " you were right. I was born to good luck." " Whatever do you mean, Priscilla? Gracious !to look at you one wouldn't suppose you had just lost a fortune." " I've lost one and found another," laughed Priscilla. And then she told them about John.— Exchange.

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