CHAPTER XIV. A LONG-LOST RELATIVE.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 179, 20 November 1886, Page 8

CHAPTER XIV. A LONG-LOST RELATIVE.

The following week brought disastrous news to Arthur Aspinwall. His father had failed. His remittances would have to be stopped, and his mother strongly urged him to return, put his shoulder to the wheel of their fallen fortunes, and try to cheer his father in this dark hour of disaster. " Go home and go to work to help to support the family, that means," he muttered, angrily, as he crumpled in his hand the sheet, upon which his almost heart-broken mother had poured out her carea to him. "Not while I have my wit? about me," he added ; "if the old man has got into this scrape he may get out ot it as best he can, without any help from mo," And having given vent to this unfeeling ppeech he forthwith set his wits to work to see what could be done to help him out of hi? present difficulties. Having always been the petted child of fortune, with every luxury provided for him and every whim gratified, it was a hard matter now to find himself in a strange country almost penniless, and a future of poverty or hard work staring him in the face. Bat something nsugt be done, and that speedily. Margarot Houghton had refused to marry him, and while she adhered to that decision there could be no hope of ever fingering her snug fortune. What next? Work he would not— borrow he could not to any considerable amount, while every day his funds were being depleted. His case was indeed becoming desperate. He said nothing to anyone regarding the news of his father's failure ; he hid all his anxiety and trouble under a gay exterior; and did not attempt to reform Ms extravagant habits, firmly believing that Fate would come to his aid in some mysterious way. One morninpr, while promenading in the garden of the Tuileriea, he encountered, in the main avenue, a distinguisued-looking gentleman whose face seemed unaccountably familiar to him. He knew him to be an American at the first glance, although there were peculiarities about him indicating that he had lived abroad for many <yeara perhaps. He was tall and commanding in figure, with a grand though somewhat melancholy face, surmounted •by abundant white hair sad brown eyes, and a tender, sensitive mouth. '•He looks like my mother, as sure as lam a beggar !" mentally ejaculated Arthur.

The stranger, too, had evidently been, struck by the young man's appearance, I«ir eaoh, glaßping back, could not fail to 9uo that their interest was mutual. Arthur Aapinwall suddenly halted in hla walk, his face growing flushed and eager He hesitated a moment, then swinging resolutely round, rapidly approached the figure he had just passed, saluted him politely, and addressed him in English. " I beg your pardon, air," he said; "my mother had a brother whose name was Albert Forest ; he disappeared from his home very mysteriously, years ago, and nothing has been heard from him but once since You remember her so strongly that I was impelled to address you. If I have made a mistake you will surely pardon me, and no harm will have been done ; on the contrary, if I have found a relative I should consider myself fortunate indeed.' "YVhat id your name, young man?" queried the gentleman in equally pure ICng liBb, whilejtie bestowed a scrutinising glance upon the young man. "Arthur Aapinwall, and my mother's name, before her marriage, was Gertrude Forest." The gentleman extended his hand in the most cordial manner. "lam Albert Forest," he said, '• and I am convinced that you must be my nephew, although lam considerably astonished at this unexpected encounter. Come to my apartments, and we will converse further of this." After a long conversation in the stranger's luxurious apartments on the Avenue de I' Opera, he ascertained that he was indeed the long-absent brother of his mother, and that he was returning to his native land after lon^ years spent in the far East, where he had accumulated a largo fortune. " I offended my tather," Albert Forest said, while explaining how he had happened to leave America, " first, by refusing to go through a college course and fit myself for some gentlemanly profession. I hated books, and I wanted to launch out at once into business for myself ; he had a great contempt for anything like trade, but profound respect for a name and fame. Second —well, no matter what the other reason was : it is sufficient to say that I mortally ofFonded him He was a stern old man, and though 1 wa 0 h'B only son, he told me if I would not obey him I might take myself off and look after my own interests as best as I could. I took him at his own word, and " The gentleman paueod here and appeared disturbed by some painful memory for a moment, for his face flushed and tears started to his fine eyes. Then he resumed : "And so, having a good opportunity offered me, I shipped on board a vessel bound for India, where I engaged in both the silk and wool trade, and where, too, I have lived a very lonely life. Once 1 returned, but upon learning that my father still cherished anger toward me, I made no attempt to see him, and sailed again for the foreign land, where I determined to stay until I should amass a fortune which even he could not deepise. But he died years ago, my sisters married, and still I staid on. Six months ago, however, an unaccountable longing seized me to vieit again the land of my birth ; so, settling up my business in Calcutta and Bombay, I started, and arrived in Paris only a fortnight ago. That is my story in brief. Now tell me yours — what are you np to, young man, in this gay but wicked city ?" And Mr Forest bent his searching eyes upon his nephew's face. " Having a good time for a little while before beginning the real busineesof life," he responded, frankly, but with a conscious flush. " I finished my college course last year," be continued, "and father consented to my having a trip abroad before deciding what I would do in the future. But I suppose my good time is over, for I received a letter from home a few days ago saying I that father had failed, and Imust look out for myself after this." "Failed? That's bad. Well, what, course have you decided upon V queried Mr Forest gravely. " I — havenotdecided. I suppose I've got to turn my hand to something right away ; but, Uncle Albert, to be plain with you there is an attraction here in Paris from whom I find it very difficult to tear myself away." " Aha ! an attraction 1 Some girl, I suppose you mean by that ?" observed the gentleman, dryly. "YeSjSir." " I hope she isn't one of those painted, flirting Frenchwomen ?" "No, sir ; she is un American —i girl whom I have admired ever since I was a boy." " An American ? What is her name ?" " Margaret Hough ton, I don't know how I shall stand with her friends when it comes to be known that I haven't a dollar in the world and no prospects." "Pahaw! a-ay young man with health, strength, a good education, and plenty of Yankee energy, has the very beat of pros pects,' retorted Mr Forest, bluntly. " Has the girl any money ?" he asked, after a moment. " A cool hundred and twenty-five thousand in her own right," replied Arthur, with a sigh. " That's pretty well," observed his uncle, quietly ; "but if the girl love? you she won't say you c nay' because she happens to have a fortune and you haven't." " Yes ; only it dosen't give a fellow much courage to try his luck when he knows he's as poor as Job's turkey," responded Arbhur, with a capitally simulated air of dejection, " Then you are not engaged ?" "No, not yet; I'm afraid it would be hardly right — that I might be accused of taking an unfair advantage." Arthur was feeling his way very cunningly and cautiously. "Fol-de-rol," was the impatient retort to thia ; " if she's worth anything eho won't care about money, especially when she has so much of her own. I must see the girl ; I should like you to have a good wife. Had you laid any plans about going back to America ?" " No, eir ; I have felt as if I wore between two fires, and did not know which way to turn. " " Well, a little delay, more or less, won't matter now. You just write home that you have run across your mother's scapegoat of a brother, and that he wants to keep you with him for the present. I'll assum9 all responsibility," said Mr Forest. He directed him to remove from the hotel where he had been stopping to some rooms adjoining his, and that the " generous old bach.," as he styled him, finding that he still seemed somewhat depressed, crammed his purse with French gold, as if he imagined it to be the panacea for the most serious trouble. Arthur immediately wrote his mother what had transpired, but before another week had passed, and before his letter could possibly have reached his home, a des.patch by cable came announcing * the death of both his parents. His mother's health had been delicate ■for a long time ; a audden hemorrhage had brought tho end very unexpectedly, and his father, prostrated by this added blow, had dropped dead, stricken by apoplexy, just as they were bearing his lost wife for ever out of his eight. ! This news was a great shockj both to Mr Forest and Arthur, who had truly and fondly loved his mother.

, V Poor Gertrude 1" Mr Forest said, with tearful eyes, aa he read the sad message, "this breaks the' last homo-tie for me ; ;I wish I might have Been her once more. Poor boy!" he added, turning to Arthur, who was sitting with, bowed head beside him, " it is very hard for you." " Undo Forest, I can't go home now ; it would be too desolate," exclaimed the young man, apparently broken down by excessive grief, though he was planning how he oould make uae of this '• sudden visitation of Providence " to remain in gay, delightful Paris, where everything waB so much more to bia taete than in prosy, practical Boston. t " Very well, it shall be jußt as you desire, for the present, Arthur," returned hia uncle, sympathetically ; "we could, of course, do no good by returning now, so we will remain where We are for a while. I suppose, however, when you get over this first grief you'll want to settle yourself in some kind of business ; it ia better for every one to have some object in life to occupy his time and attention." "Of course," • responded his nephew ; "and perhaps you can help me to decide what will be for my best interest, and I ahall be only too glad to be guided by your advice. ' The first opportunity that presented itself, Arthur introduced his newly discovered relative to the Houghtons, and a mutual admiration society seemed to be likely to be formed immediately. " Your Miss Margaret is a rare pearl, a 9 her name indicates," Mr Forest remarked one evening, after having passed several hours in that young lady's home. " How she sings !" he continued — " like a nightingale ! Shea a perfect delight to the eyes, too. I'd give half my fortune for such a daughter !" "I suppose a niece would be next door to a daughter, wouldn't it?" observed Arthur, slyly. "That's so, my boy ; and if you can win her, I'll cottle another hundred and twenty-five thousand upon you the very day she becomes your wife ; while at my death, since you are my only living relative, I ouppo3e you will come in for the rest of my money." u I hope that won't be for many, many years, Uncle Albert ; I trust you will live long to enjoy the harvest that you have reaped, and 1 will do all that I can to make the remainder of your days pleasant," returned Arthur, with apparent sincerity, though hia heart had bounded with delight at his uncle's words. If he could win Margaret Houghton he would secure an independent fortune with her, and another for himself. A quarter of a million ! He said it over and over again, and the words weie like music in his ears. "I will persist until I succeed. I could easily do it if Louis Dunbar was out of the way !"