WALDEMAR THE WAITER.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2292, 19 March 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

WALDEMAR THE WAITER.

OR, THE FATAL CHESTNUT.—A HIGH-PRESSURE ROMANCE OF LIFE IN NEW YORK. " Will the memory of the hated past never leave me ?" This conundrum was propounded by Gideon De Browne, the eminent banker, expressly for this work, and has been copyrighted according to law. " Is there no surcease from sorrow ?" resumed Mr De Browne, inquiringly. He did not know what surcease meant, but he felt as if one would do him good. His soliloquy was interrupted by the sound of a footstep in the hallway. In another moment the door was flung open, and a tall young man, wearing a shabby overcoat and a dilapidated hat, entered the banker's library. " Who are you ?" demanded Mr De Browne, The newcomer flung off his coat and hat, and stood before the old man attired in a dress-suit of faultless cut.

" Do you know me now ?" lie asked. "I do,'" was tlie reply. "You are a waiter at the St Christopher Hotel, and your name is Waldemar." "Right the first time," returned the youth, pleasantly. " And now learn the object of my visit. lam here to ask the hand of your daughter in marriage." "My daughter the wife of a waiter !" gasped the banker: "she who numbers among her suitors an iceman, two plumbers, and a real baronet! Never!" "Your decision is irrevocable?" inquired Waldemar, carlessly. "With a big I," replied Mr De Browne. Without another word the young man left the room, Scarcely had Waldemar taken his departure when auother entered the library—a stout, elderly mau, with a heavy mustache and a cynical smile. "'Tis years since last we met." he remarked, "and perhaps you have forgotten me. Let me recall our last meeting to your memory, 'Twas on the fourth of January, 1870, that —" " I know you now," wailed the banker. " You are Vandyke Magiunis. What do you want with me, man ? Are you here to torture me with references to the past ?" " No," replied the visitor, "I am here to worry five hundreds dollars out of you. Hand over, old man." " And if I refuse ? Maginuis drew a folded paper from his pocket. " Here," he said, "is the manuscript in your own handwriting, which you that day confided to my care. Give ine the money, or to-morrow all the world shall know that Gideon De Browne is a " "Enough, enough!" moaned the banker. " You shall have what you ask," He hurriedly wrote a check for the amount required. Maginnis pocketed it, aud with a sardonic laugh vanished. " Who will save me from this wretch?" cried the banker, despairingly. "This will not be tho last of his extortions." "I will f' exclaimed a voice, and Waldmar stood beforo him. "I inadvertently overhead all," ho coutinued, "and I will recover that paper for you ou one condition—that you give me your daughter. No daughter, no paper." " But how can you do this?'' demanded tho old man - " I will find a way." said Waldemar. "Maginnis boards at the St. Christopher, and I wait upou him." "Enough !" said Mr De Browne. "I agreo to your terms."

A month has passed. It is a cle.ir, beautiful December morning. The break-fast-room at tho St Christopher is filled with guests. There is but one vacant table. Bosido it stands Waldemar, his face irradiated with an almost unearthly light. " Courage, courage!" he murmurs. " The end is at hand!"

Vandyke Maginnis staggers feebly into the room, and sinks into the vacant chair. His face has grown p«le uni haggard, his eyes are deeply euukcu in their sockets.

"Broiled chicken, Lyonaise potatoes, Graham rolls and a cup of coffee," he says, with an appealing look, as he hands Waldemar a dollar. The waiter departs. In about an hour he returns, saying : " Graham rolls and coffee and potatoes aro all out, but here's your chicken." And he stands, and, with a haughty smile, watches the unhappy man's struggles with the alleged fowl. Suddenly Maginnis ceases his efforts from very weakness. " Waldemar," he exclaims, "do you not know that I am starving? For a month you have not given me enough to keep a fly alive. Tips avail me nothing. Have you no pity ? Will you see me die ?" " Had you any pit} on Gideon De Browne?" said the waiter, sternly. "Give me the paper that lies concealed in your pocket.'' "And you will feed me well hereafter?" "You snail have all the luxuries of the season, and more." Without another word Maginnia handed his companion the pliper. Waldemar unrolled it, aud a cry of horror burst from his pallid lips. ****** Waldemar has long been the son-in-law of Gideon De Browne. The old banker still lives. He is a light-hearted man now, for the fatal paper has been destroyed—the MS. penned in an hour of weakness, bis first, and only poem on Spring.—,F. A. Stearus, in Tid-Bits.