The Argosy — page 342: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

An Inherited Husband. 319 ‘Wait till he comes ; I never knew your wits fail you yet.” But though they did wait with all the calmness they could com- mand, the day dragged itself nearly into evening, and no Richard Barton had appeared. As he lived in England, there was of course always a probability that, with the best intentions, he might fail to arrive and make the acquaintance of his future wife precisely on her twenty-first birthday. ‘That they should meet on that day had been a stipulation in old Mr. Davenport’s will; and so entirely had they expected to see him that the sisters waited and waited for him until his non-arrival made them nervous and anxious. At last a welcome diversion came in the form of the post. There were several letters for Mrs. Trench, but only one, in a strange hand- writing, for Grace, who, still expecting to see this inherited husband in bodily shape, opened it without any suspicion. “What good writing!” ‘Then she gave a shriek. ‘‘ From Richard Barton !” Edith sprang up, but Grace waved her off, and with burning cheeks devoured its contents. Her sister watched her face and saw it change curiously. It ran thus :— “My pEAR Miss DAvENPORT,—The 15th of this month has always been the day fixed for a meeting between you and myself. I have, however, ventured to address you by letter instead, feeling little doubt that such a course will be the more agreeable to you. I have always wished before any personal interview took place, to tell you exactly what I think and feel as to the terms of your grandfather’s will, Much as I loved Mr. Davenport and revere his memory, that will is, to my mind, in the highest degree unjust to you. I am inno way connected with you, and yet unless you agree to share with me that which is by every right yours, you lose your inheritance. If you had been -bidden to relinquish to me the half of the £50,000 it would have been hard enough; but that you should lose the whole unless you marry me is a condition to express my opinion of which I can find no words. I, naturally, only feel myself honoured by your grandfather’s desire to entrust your happiness to my care; but to you such a prospect must be most undesirable. I am perfectly heart-free and have arrived at that time of life when the thoughts of a wife and home become deartoaman. But youare still very young, and it may even be that your affections are already engaged. I beg you then to tell me, as unreservedly as you would to an old and dear friend, what are your wishes and feelings in this matter. Did I know you to be penniless I might have written differently, but fortunately your means, though limited, need not drive you to a worldly marriage; and you will at least know that the poor and the suffering will be the gainers by what might only have brought doubtful happiness to yourself. I need say nothing of that deserving institution, the Orphan Asylum at I——,, to which the fortune is to go if we forfeit it. One word cComicooolks (S(O)