GRANDFATHER GOLDING; OR THE LOST WILL.

Tuapeka Times, Volume II, Issue 78, 7 August 1869, Page 6

GRANDFATHER GOLDING; ORO R THE LOST WILL.

A STOET OF THE FAB WEST.

" Little Blossom, you make it so hard for me to .say good-bye to you." "When?" This innocent, surprised, enquiring face — renunciation was, indeed, difficult for John Burrows. He touched a dimple in her cheek, and then a curl of her hair, as he might ha,ve touched flowers on a grave, perhaps. She shook back the silly ripples, impatiently. "When, John?" He looked atr her for a moment without a smile, pretty as she was. The colour faded a little from her cheek. " John, you frighten me." " Nelly, sit down here a moment." They sat down on a pretty crimson couch before the fire. Seeing trouble in his face, she put her hand in his, and he smoothed out the little roseleaf member upon his broad palm, more than ever confident, as he looked at it, that he was right "Nelly, you know I love you." "Yes," with a blush, for he had never said it before. *' And I am very sorry." " Why ? " after a pause of bewilderment. " Because you are a delicate little flower, needing care and nursing to keep your bloom bright ; and lam going to a hard, rough life, among privations, fever and malaria, which will try even my powerful constitution, and where you must not go." She was a little paler. ft You are goiag to the Far "Wesi ? " "Yes. My mother must have a home in her old age. She is strong now, but time is telling on her. You know alj that she has been to me." ' f Yes ; she has been a good mother. But you shall take me too, John. She won her way into his arms against his will. " You will take me, too ! " " No. Did I not tell you that you made it so hard for me. to say goodbye to you ? " "John, what could I do without you?" He took the little, caressing hand down from his face. " Nelly, another man will love you who can take better care of you than I. I must not marry you. You would die in the far West in less than a year." Still she clung to him, her cheek close to his. " You shall not leave me." " Don't make me weak, Nelly. Do you think that it is nothing to me to leave my little violet — the only woman I ever loved — for a hard, cold life and unceasing toil ? I cannot marry for ten years, Nelly." " And then I shall be thirty years old." " Yes, married, and with little children ; seeing at last that your old lover, John Burrows, was right." He rose to his feet.

" John ! " in terror.

"Yes, lam going, Nelly. Little one — you look so much a woman, now, with your steadfast eyes — hear me ; I did not foresee that you would love me — that I should love you. You were a little school-girl when I saved you from drowning that summer, and your satchel of books floated away down the river, and was lost. I came here to see Gregory, not you. I could not help loving you ; but I did not think until to-night that you cared so much for me, Nelly. But, child, you will forget me." "Never!" " When you are older you will know that I was right."

The bitter smile was dangerous on her young face. But a little scarlet flush of wounded pride was growing into each fair cheek. He went on :

"Nelly," looking into her eyes, ""don't do that. Don't think bard thoughts of me. Leave pride out. Know that I shall hunger for you day and night, more and more, as time goes on, arid I get older, lonelier, more weary. But I shall never hope to see you again. Now, give me your hand."

She gave him both. He raised them to his lips; before she could speak again he was gone. Shivering violently, she went to the fire, and stood there, trying to warm herself. She understood it all now — his strangely elaborate arrangements for a trip to New York. He had known that he was not coming back when she had begged him to bring her his photograph from the great metropolis, but was going on — on — into the dim distance. This was why he had not promised. Well, the bitter smile came again. It was getting late — she was so cold — she had better go to bed, She would not go into the parlour to bid her father, and aunt, and Gregory good night. She was consciou.B that there was something in her face that would scare them ; so she slipped out of the French window, and went along the verandah to her own room. There the very weight of grief upon her lulled her to sleep. But when she woke, her grief sprang upon her like some hidden monster who had lain in wait for her all night. Her, misery terrified her. Why should she not die ? Why should she ever rise from that bed? But when they called her she sprang up hastily, dressed, and went down, and they were too busy taking to notice

that she did not know what was doing. But, by-and-bye, when her brother reached for more coffee, and observed, " John Burrows and his mother went to New York in the first train this morning," she tried to rise unconcernedly from the table, and fell in a dead faint upon the carpet among them. When Nelly recovered she was undressed and in bed, and Aunt Mary was darning stockings at the foot. " Oh, let me get up, Aunt Mary ! I don't want to lie here." " Now, Nel]y, be reasonable. You are sick." " Oh, Aunt Mary, I'm not." " Nelly, if you will lie still to-day, I will let you have that old box of curiosities in my room to look over. Will you ? " " I don't know." Aunt Mary went for them. Nelly shut her eyes, and let the wave in all its bitterness surge over her once; then Miss G-olding came back, bringing a box of old mahogany, black and glossy with time. " There ! " setting it on the bed. With a wintry little smile of thanks, Nelly lifted the cover. The old mahogany box contained strange things. Pictures on wood and ivory, illuminated manuscripts, webs of strange lace, antique ornaments, ancient embroideries, great packages of old letters, sealed flasks of unfamiliar perfume, ancient brooches of red gold, finger ' rings of clumsily set gems tied together with faded ribbons, a knot of hair fastened with a gold heart, the silver hilt of a sword, and, lastly, a tiny octagon portrait of an old man done in cbalks upon a kind of vellum, and enclosed in a frame of tarnished brass. " "Who is this that is so ugly, Aunt Mary?" " They say that is my great-great-1 grandfather, Nelly." " What is it painted on — this queer stuff? " "Well, it's a kind of leather, I believe. They used to write on it in old times." " He is uncommonly ugly, isn't he ?" said Nelly, wearily. As she spoke, the little case fell apart in her hands. A yellow, folded paper was revealed. She opened it, and saw that it was written upon. " Why, bless my soul, what have you there ?" exclaimed Miss Golding, rising up in strange alarm. She snatched it from Nelly's hand. " It can't be the will," she cried. Nelly looked on in dumb surprise. Aunt Mary read a few words, then rushed avray in wild agitation to the library, where her brother was sitting. Nelly could hear them talking, the two ; then her brother came ; then the old housekeeper was called from the dining-room : and so much confused conversation she never heard before. By-and-by, they all waited on her in a body. " Nelly," said her father, sitting down at the foot of the bed, " you are a millionairess I " " This is old Grandfather Golding's will ! " exclaimed Aunt Mary, flourishing the bit of yellow paper. "It seem's he was very eccentric," Gregory consented to explain. "He was very rich, and bad some bard sons, and some grandsons who promised to be harder, and he fell out with the whole set, who. were waiting for him to die. He declared that no money of his should encourage the young people's excesses ; a little poverty would help the family, and the fourth generation would appreciate his money, and probably make good use of it. When he died, no will could be found, and though there was a famous struggle for the property, it went into the hands of trustees, through the oath of the lawyer who had drawn up the will ; and there it has been descending from one person to another, and accumulating in value, until you and I, Nelly, are as rich as Croesus."

"How, Gregory?" " Ain't we the fourth generation ? Father was an only child, and we are his only children ; all the back folks are dead, and it slides down to us on greased wires. Hurrah for Grrandfather G-olding ! " "Is this true, father?" "Yes, my dear. The property is chiefly in Leeds, England. The housekeeper who came over last summer, you know, happens to know all about it. It's in safe hands, and our claim is indisputable." "What did Nelly do? The little goose ! Instead of flying off in thoughts of a carriage, and. dresses of cloth of gold, and a ti'ip to Europe, she buried her face in the pillows, and murmured under her bveath : " 0, John ! Oh, dear, dear John ! " And it was no castle in the air. Three months told that Nelly Goldiug was the mistress of gold untold, almost. And then a little note went to j Kansas, saying ; ; " Dear John, — I am waiting for yon .with a fortune. "Will you come to me now? Nelly." And he came instantly ; and though some might have sneered at his readiness, the heart of the little wife was always at peace. She knew that John Burrows loved her truly. Grandfather Golding's money built up a commodious western town — paved streets, raised rows of shops, erected dwellinghouses, founded banks, libraries, and churches ; and Nelly finally lived " out West." But she had opportunities of seeing pioneer life ; and she said : "John was right; I should have died in a year, had I lived here in poyertv."