TALE FOURTEEN. MY LOVER’S DAUGHTER.

Dear Stella:—How strange that you should write me; do you know, girlie, that it has been almost five years since we have had any correspondence?

It was only yesterday that I got out all of your old letters and re-read them, then put them away with the forlorn hope that I might sometime hear from you again. The last letter that I had from you told me of your engagement to Alfred, and cruel, heartless creature that I was, I did not even answer. I wrote you once since then, that was after my trouble. I did not tell you what it was, but told you that I would if you felt interested. You did not answer my letter and I, of course, took it for granted that you did not wish to be burdened with the knowledge of my misfortune, so never wrote you again. And now, bless your dear heart, you have written after so long, and in just the same sweet way as of old, even though you have so recently undergone such a great bereavement. You are a widow. How strange! And I am still unmarried, and have taken a vow to remain so always.

Oh, how I long to visit you and go over all the old, happy days which we lived together. You ask me to tell you all that has happened to me. Well, nothing has occurred to change the humdrum existence of my life since I came here to live. I have worked every working day but five during my residence here. You well remember when I went to California to spend the winter. It was the winter I was twenty, and I think you know that when we parted, with the vow that we would write each other all our joys and sorrows, that I left heart whole. I have not kept my word in full, but will now endeavor to cover all important points. I arrived in San Francisco on schedule time, and was so delighted with the climate, the fragrant flowers and singing birds that I do not wonder that I was ready to admire the first man whose conduct and appearance was on par with the beauties of nature that abounded everywhere.

Still I knew better than to fall in love, for I was given to understand by mamma that I was to marry Harry Caruthers. I fairly hated him, and besides he was papa’s nephew, and I always had a horror of blood relations intermarrying. Mamma said that did not matter, and Harry would be a very wealthy man some day. And you remember mamma, too. She was one of those sweet, dignified, haughty women who needed nothing but her own opinion to conclude an argument, and this with all due respect.

Well, I fully understood that to apprise them of the fact that I had become greatly interested in any one man, save that red faced Caruthers, meant that my visit would suddenly terminate and that I would return to cold, cold Wisconsin, to face the storms for the rest of the winter.

It was only the girlish ingenuity then which prompted me to omit the name of Capt. Elerding from all my letters for more than three months after I had met him. Oh, he was so good and kind, so considerate of my welfare, and I think the most refined gentleman I ever met. I would not blame any woman for falling in love with him. I fell desperately in love with him and, strange to say, without any solicitation on his part. He never once told me that he loved me, but I knew it by his every glance and his every act. The feeling became so strong within me that I decided that sooner or later he would propose to me, and as I did not care to run any chance of losing him by asking him to wait, I thought I should at least get some expression from my parents in regard to the attachment which had sprung up.

I wrote to mamma. My letter brought a hasty reply refusing to tolerate the attentions of any one, and a request for a full and complete description of the handsome captain. I took the command as a matter of course, for mamma wanted to have Harry Caruthers for a son-in-law.

Out of courtesy to my parents, I drew a pen picture of Captain Elerding. I told how gallant, how handsome, how brave, how popular, how genteel, and even how old he was. I elaborated upon his good qualities with the zeal of a loving girl. I left the age till the last, for I knew that when my parents learned that he was forty-five and quite gray that it would have the effect of a bomb bursting in camp; but of course the gray hair was caused by the many years of service for his country. Think of it! He was so devoted to his country that he had never been married, so there was no danger of my having to assume the responsibility of mother to a lot of grown up sons and daughters.

This description of the charming captain brought a telegram to me saying: “Inez Manford, come home on first train.”

It was signed by both my mother and father. I did not quite understand it, but wired back: “Delayed, see letter.”

Then I wrote my parents a letter, explaining that Captain Elerding was expecting a party of friends soon and very much wished me to extend my visit another month, and with their consent I should be delighted to do so. The reply to that letter was mamma herself. She came post haste and superintended the packing of my trunks with such dispatch that we were east bound seven hours after her arrival in ’Frisco. I asked to be allowed to introduce the captain, believing his winning ways would capture mamma’s heart. She was obdurate and refused to see him or allow me to see him.

It was two days after we arrived home before I could steal away alone long enough to write him. I think the letter only increased the desire to talk with him, and I resolved to run away and return to him. I felt sure he would lose no time in making me his wife if he had but a chance, and I would be the gainer, for he was very wealthy, in fact, more so by far than Harry Caruthers ever would be, and, more than all, I knew we would be happy.

I stole out into the darkness of the night after everybody had retired. I knew that the Limited stopped to take water just at the edge of town, about a mile from our house.

Through the biting cold I forged my way, dodging from one alley to another, until the railroad tracks were reached, then a long line of green and red lights guided me to where I caught the train as it was pulling out, and I was soon speeding to my dear captain.

The time seemed to drag so slowly, each day seeming longer than the one before, until I reached my destination. I took a carriage and went directly to the captain’s hotel. I asked for him, but no one seemed to be able to talk to me; everyone was excited beyond reason. I finally got the attention of the clerk long enough to learn that the chambermaid had just discovered Captain Elerding in his room, dead.

In his strong, right hand was still clenched the deadly pistol. The ugly hole in his temple and the powder burns around it told the story. In front of him were two papers, one a letter from my mother in which she upbraided him unmercifully for having cultivated my acquaintance. The other was his last will and testament, stating that he was in possession of all his faculties. It said: “I hereby bequeath, demise, convey and assign all of my money, property, goods and chattels whatsoever, that I now own, to my beloved illegitimate child, Inez Manford.”

I left on the next train and have been a resident of Chicago ever since.

Please write me at once, Stella, and tell me all that has happened to you since last we met.

Yours as of old,

Inez.