*Kjb JWSies’ floral MiaLmei uuiil S^ietorral Some llamjrartion. 
By Augusta Larned. 
CHAPTER IV. 
“A vonng man married is a man that’s marred.” 
A tall, broad-shouldered, brown-haired young- man was 
standing in an elegant little city breakfast parlor, fitted up 
with the subdued, well-harmonized colors and artistic de¬ 
vices that modern taste delights in, and holding in his hand 
one of the ominous yellow envelopes of the Western Union 
Telegraph Company. The centre of the polished hard¬ 
wood floor was covered by a rich Turkey carpet. The 
shining, plate-glass windows, draped with heavy striped 
curtains of Oriental stuff, the jardinieres full of growing 
plants, the gleam of a soft coal lire in the low grate of pol¬ 
ished steel, the mirror frame, and buffet, and mantel, all of 
the most exquisite wood-carving, the few excellent oil 
sketches on the wall, with rare Japanese bronzes and 
vases scattered about, made this room a perfect setting for 
the lady seated by the breakfast tray, furnished simply 
with a fragrant pot of tea and crisp, golden rolls, and dainty 
pats of butter. 
She had lived much abroad, and abominated heavy 
American breakfasts. You might know she would—so 
perfect was she from the crown of her head to the tip of 
her bronze slipper. There is a beauty that does not per¬ 
fect and mature itself before the age of fifty. It was 
fresher at eighteen, but less harmonized, less complete. 
The smooth puffs and bandeaux of this lady’s silvery hair, 
the pale, aristocratic tint of the skin, the clear-cut features, 
the fine dark eyes that had a depth of passion and intensity 
time had not subdued, the hands and feet slim and delicate 
with the distinction that belongs to some old races, the 
rich lace of the morning cap, and the violet wrapper, with 
touches of the same lace about the neck and sleeves, en¬ 
chained and satisfied the eye as rounder contours and 
brighter tints seldom do. 
She was a woman of delicate and perfectly refined 
charms, like faint, sweet perfumes shaken out of a silk 
robe. She was an eager woman, intent upon the objects 
of her life, and with a fire of purpose and energy in her 
that years could not tame, though her manners had the per¬ 
fect ease and composure that the best society requires. 
She had travelled much, had read widely but not pro¬ 
foundly, ancl had met and mingled with many elegant, high¬ 
bred people in different countries, and was a charming com¬ 
panion when her sense of self-respect was bolstered up by 
fine old laces and beautiful, artistic surroundings. She 
needed a rich frame, an appropriate background of finely- 
blended tints and tones, and then she never failed to 
make a delightful picture. 
Now, as she raised the little pot to pour an odorous 
stream of breakfast tea into a china cup that a collector of 
ceramics would have coveted, her hand was arrested by 
an exclamation from the young man at the fireside. 
“ What is it, Bradley ?” and. she placed the tea-pot back 
on the tray. 
“ He is dead, mother.” 
“Not the old Judge?” 
“Yes, mother, the old Judge.” 
Mrs. Halcourt subsided into her large, soft, easy chair. 
She experienced the giving way of physical powers which 
follows a shock. But the shock was an immense relief—a 
cause of congratulation and rejoicing, as she acknowledged 
to herself with the next breath she drew. 
In a moment she had recovered from the surprise, and 
straightening herself, and giving a little shake to the violet 
cashmere drapery, said, with clear, distinct intonation: 
“ Bradley, why don’t you read me the telegram? ” 
“Yes, mother, pardon me, I will,” he replied, with his 
eyes still bent upon the bit of paper in Ms hand, and then 
he began slowly: 
“‘Judge Braithwaite died at Halcourt Hall, of apo 
plexy, on the evening of the 25th. The interment takes 
place on the 28th. Your immediate presence is requested. 
Edgar Swayne.’” 
“ The telegram is ten days old,” he added. “ It has 
been following us about to various places. Of course 
there were notices in the papers which we missed, as we 
happened to be out at sea in the yacht; and getting in 
town late last night there was no one to tell 11 s the news. 
I see,” he added, scrutinizing the piece of paper again, 
“the telegram was originally sent to Newport.” 
“And why to Newport?” Mrs. Halcourt asked, a little 
sharply. 
Bradley’s face was well bronzed from the sea air—only 
a strip of white forehead, with the golden-brown locks of 
hair scattered over it in picturesque confusion, showed 
what his natural hue might be. He- calmly directed his 
hazel eyes toward his mother as he said, with deliberate 
slowness: 
“ Madamoiselle Duval must have told them. I wrote to 
her that we might put in at Newport for a day or two. We 
have had some correspondence in reference to her missing 
uncle.” 
Mrs. Halcourt appeared to receive the information with 
a shade of annoyance. 
“ You take a deal of unnecessary trouble about that 
girl, Bradley; but come, sit down and have a cup of tea. 
I do not know why I should bo deprived of my breakfast 
because of the demise of that old man. If I had passed 
off the stage instead, it would not have affected Mm to the 
turning of an eye-lash. In fact, I believe he would have 
openly rejoiced, and regarded Ms having outlived me as a 
victory. He was a dreadful old man. I wonder that any 
human being can shed a tear over him. But it is slrange 
that when he was taken seriously ill they did not summon 
you to the Hall. You might have been of great service to 
your cousin at such a time.” 
“ Oh,” said Bradley, stirring his tea, “ I presume she 
had all the aid and assistance she needed from this Edgar 
Swayne, who signs the telegram. Perhaps he is my fair 
cousin’s chosen swain.” 
“ How can you speak so lightly and make puns, Brad¬ 
ley ? ” 
The young man smiled, and showed a beautiful set of 
even, white teeth. 
“ I am sure, mother, you do not think it necessary to 
pull on a long- face about the taking off of the old Judge. 
He was no good to anybody, himself included. He made 
life disagreeable to all around him by Ms parsimony and 
bad temper He worshipped his mouey-bags, ancl be¬ 
lieved in nothing else. Such people cannot expect even 
the hypocritical pretence of mourning. I am sure my poor 
aunt must secretly rejoice that he is out of the way, and 
though Winnifred probably felt some natural affection for 
her father, who humored her one moment and showered 
imprecations on her the next, she will soon reconcile her¬ 
self to the independent life of a great heiress. I really 
cannot see how this event is going to affect us.” 
“But it does affect you immensely,” said Mrs. Halcourt, 
leaning forward, while the fire burned in her dark eyes; 
“or it would if you had the natural and proper ambition 
of your manhood. You are the head of the Halcourt 
family, and the Halcourt estates ought to go with the 
name. Your poor father was terribly wronged by this 
old man, who is lying cold in his grave, while his wicked 
deeds remain behind him to work their spells on the liv¬ 
ing. There is every reason to believe that he influenced 
your grandfather Halcourt’s will. The old man stood in 
mortal terror of him, but was as abject as a whipped dog 
in his presence. He gained complete ascendancy over Ms 
mind after he became weak and childish, and the slave 
Jeanette, mother of old Nanna, who was devoted to the 
Halcourt interest, told us, with tears streaming down her 
cheeks, how the old man would sob and moan and cry for 
Ms son when the Judge’s stern eye was withdrawn. At 
last it reached that pass that the Judge would allow no 
one to approach him. He gave Mm all his food and medi¬ 
cine to prevent the poor old creature from sending a mes¬ 
sage to Harold; and when he begged on Ms dying bed for 
the privilege of reconciling himself to Ms son, the boy he 
had loved so fondly, the Judge, with a fiendishness almost 
unparalleled, denied Ms prayer, and kept him locked up 
like a lunatic. We knew the will was extorted by that 
wily, wicked man, but there was no redress. The Judge 
was then on the bench, all powerful in the courts. We 
could not afford to risk our whole fortune in a legal con¬ 
test, and so we endured the wrong. Does it not rouse 
your indignation, Bradley, to think of the manner in which 
you and your father were robbed ? ” 
Bradley was leaning back in his chair. His clothes sat 
upon him with easy and unstudied grace. There were 
golden touches in his beard and hair, and his eyes had a 
kind of gentle benignity seldom seen in a young man’s 
face. He had taken out a cigar, and was holding it un¬ 
lighted iu his fingers. 
“Well, no,” said he, turning Ms gaze, with a lurking 
smile in it, upon his mother, “ I can’t say that I am indig¬ 
nant. I suppose I ought to be ; but I always seem lack¬ 
ing in emotions proper to the occasion. I do feel deep re¬ 
gret that my poor father’s last years were embittered by 
this unfortunate will; but I haven’t it in me to envy that 
wretched old man, who browbeat and Half starved his 
family. The money, or something else, was a curse to 
him ; perhaps it would have been a curse to us if we had 
got it; and, as for being Halcourt of Halcourt Hall, that 
would not weigh with me a rush. You know, mother, 
that is all moonshine.” 
“Oh, Bradley, you are exasperating,” cried his mother, 
her consuming- anxiety breaking through her repose of 
manner. “Why can’t you be reasonable, and look at 
things as other people would; people whose opinions you 
ought to respect. Why, with all your cleverness, haven’t 
you a little of my spirit? It seems impossible to arouse 
you. You are never prepared to take hold of advantages, 
because all motive is ‘ sickbed o’er with the pale cas"t of 
thought.’ It is the not-worth-while that comes in to hin¬ 
der everything. Now your pulses are as even as clock¬ 
work, when the opportunity has come to redeem all the 
past.” 
He turned Ms eyes just enough to note the unwonted 
flush in her pale cheek, and her flutter of excitement, and 
then he said slowly and seriousty-, looking down, “I know 
what you mean, mother. You would have me try for the 
hand of my cousin Winnifred.” 
“ And why not ? ” she asked eagerly. “ It is an idea that 
must be familiar to you, for it lias been talked of for 3’ears 
in both families; even the old Judge was not averse to it. 
It would right the wrong, and put .you at once in your 
true position. What possible objection can you have, 
Bradley ?” 
Bradley elongated his long limbs, ancl, putting the cigar 
in his mouth, sat in silence for a moment, and then with¬ 
drew it. 
“ Oh. it is not worth while to discuss my objections. A 
man might not like to be disposed of like a bale of goods, 
or an odd auction lot. He might not care to be led about 
by a rich wife like a poodle dog by a ribbon. The point is, 
what objection has my Cousin Winnifred? She is as inde¬ 
pendent as an heiress can be, with full liberty to bestow 
herself on the first knave or fortune-hunter that comes 
along. I am incapable of deceiving- her. She would 
know my motives were mercenary in proposing marriage 
to her, and she would either laugh in my face, or scorn me 
bitterly. How, I ask you, can a man fall in love with a 
girl he has dreaded as an enfant terrible ? When I last 
saw Winnifred, five years ago, she was a lean, brown, 
meagre, scrawny creature, with great eyes out of all pro¬ 
portion to the rest of her face—a perfect hoyden and mad¬ 
cap. She wore me out and exhausted me, strong fellow 
that I was. She put me directly on my muscle, and chal¬ 
lenged me to foot races, and beat every time. Now, I 
don’t fancy marrying Atalanta. I wouldn’t take the trou¬ 
ble to drop golden apples in her path.” 
“ She has outgrown the hoyden. She has become a 
beautiful, clever girl, ’ Mrs. Halcourt rejoined. “ Those 
dark, meagre children, with great saucer eyes, do often 
develop into rich, ripo loveliness. Mrs. Fortescue, who 
has spent several summers at Clovernook, is enthusiastic 
over Winnifred’s picturesque, fascinating, vivid kind of 
beauty. She says she flashes about like a red-bird, and is 
a3 natural and unspoiled as one, with great shrewdness 
and spirit. Her father, though diabolical, was a brilliant 
man of the world ; and he has given her a training that 
will fit her for the position she is to fill. Cleverness and a 
little eccentricity are pardoned in a great heiress. They 
add piquancy to her charms, if she has any. We shall 
see Winnifred day-queening it in society one of these days. 
It will not take long to polish away any rusticity of man¬ 
ner, and it is fortunate that she has none of poor Susan’s 
beauty. Charley Fortescue has been more than half en¬ 
amored with her these two seasons past.” 
“Oh, well then, let Fortescue take her,” said Bradley, 
with a half yawn. “ I can’t undertake to rival him.” 
“ Oh, Bradley, why will you be so resistant, so blindly, 
cruelly opposed to your own interest ?” She clasped her 
jewelled hands together in an agony of expostulation. 
“Mother,” said lie, drawing himself up and wheeling 
round, “ what have I to offer her, when we come to that? 
I know I am a failure; and the knowledge ought to make 
me miserable, but it does not. Life has been singularly 
pleasant to me. I have enjoyed the whole of it thus far, 
but I have always looked forward to my marriage as to the 
time when trouble was to begin—probably because this 
thing was hanging over my head, like the sword of Damo¬ 
cles. My book fell' dead from the press, though some of 
the critics did me the favor to say that it ought to have 
succeeded. My play was damned, though the manager 
voted the public stupid and purblind not to applaud. Art, 
and music, and poetry, and numberless things, have lured 
me with their wiles. My head is stuffed with an odd as¬ 
sortment of lumber that nobody cares lor. I should be a 
conceited ass to oiler my incompleteness and miserable fail¬ 
ures in exchange for my brilliant cousin’s beauty and 
ducats. I have viewed all my own disappointments with 
a calm and philosophic eye, because no man is really a 
failure unless he seems so to himself; but, would it not be 
the most disastrous failure of all to deliberately approach 
this girl with mercenary motives ? I am not so confound¬ 
edly weak-minded as to set myself up on rny old blood and 
lineage, but I do prize my honor, my manhood.” 
“ Why do you take such a high tone, Bradley ?” the 
mother asked, with an anxious wrinkle in the middle of 
her forehead, that was usually as smooth and fair as ivory. 
“ You are always soaring away out of the reach of common 
mortals. Do you suppose I would counsel any breach of 
your, honor and manliness ? But why is it impossible to 
anticipate a fair share of happiness in a union with your 
cousin? You certainly cannot cherish a wild, impracticable 
dream of love, that would fade away and leave you without 
any basis of mutual respect or comfort! From what I hear 
Winifred is too sensible to have her head filled with such 
romantic stuff. You ask what you have to offer, Bradley. 
You have yourself. You are incomparable, and I am a 
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