American fiction -- 19th century; Dime novels; Popular literature
“And so this is my lady’s great haste,” the young man said, as he
finished reading the letter. “She wants me for her bridegroom, and I
don’t know but I’m willing, so I guess I’ll have to go; and now for
Rossie’s interesting document, which must be ‘forwarded immediately.’ I
only wish it may prove to have money in it from the governor, for I am
getting rather low.”
So saying he took the other letter and examined it carefully, while a
smile broke over his face as he continued:
“Upon my word, Rossie did not mean this to go astray, and has written
everything out in full, even to Massachusetts and Junior. Good for her.
But how crooked; why, that junior stands at an angle of several degrees
above the Mr. Rossie ought to do better. She must be nearly thirteen;
but she’s a nice little girl, and I’ll see what she says.”
What she said was as follows:
“FORREST HOUSE, July 14th.
“MR. EVERARD FORREST:
“_Dear Sir_:—Nobody knows I am writing to you, but your mother has
been worse for a few days, and keeps talking about you even in her
sleep. She did not say send for you, but I thought if you knew how bad
she was, you would perhaps come home for a part of your vacation. It
will do her so much good to see you. I am very well and your father
too. So no more at present.
“Yours respectfully,
“ROSAMOND HASTINGS.
“P. S.—Miss Beatrice Belknap has come home from New York, and had the
typhoid fever, and lost every speck of her beautiful hair. You don’t
know how funny she looks! She offered me fifty dollars for mine to
make her a wig, because it curls naturally, and is just her color, but
I would not sell it for the world: would you? Inclosed find ten
dollars of my very own money, which I send you to come home with,
thinking you might need it. Do not fail to come, will you?
“ROSAMOND.”
Everard read this letter twice, and smoothed out the crisp ten-dollar
bill, which was carefully wrapped in a separate bit of paper. It was not
the first time he had received money in his sore need from the girl, for
in a blank-book, which he always carried in his pocket, were several
entries, as follows: “Jan. 2, from Rosamond Hastings, five dollars:
March 4th, two dollars: June 8th, one dollar,” and so on until the whole
amount was more than twenty dollars, but never before had she sent him
so large a sum as now, and there was a moisture in his eyes and his
breath came heavily as he put it away in his purse, and said:
“There never was so unselfish a creature as Rossie Hastings. She is
always thinking of somebody else. And I am a mean, contemptible dog to
take her money as I do; but then, I honestly intend to pay her back
tenfold when I have something of my own.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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