Bound By An Oath

Mrs. Et. Evremond, 3 Pandera Road, Sbepherd's Bush, to Arthur Prins, Esq. , Barrister at Law, Middle Temple, July 1, 1889: Dear Mr. PricSi- My dear child lias acquainted me with yonr very flatteriug proposal, and I ara grieved to the heart that I cannot say to you, "Take her and be happy. ' ' Had I f oreseen the danger of your valued friendship for her ripening into love I should have told yon earlier what it becomes my melancholy duty to say to you now - yonr career is an insuperable objection to the marriaga She can never become the wife of a barrister. Of eourse 1 arn aware that it is exceptional for r.n actress' mother to refuse her blessiug on grotmds like these - I know that it is my little Nellie's profession and uot your own which is more usnally esteemed an obstacle- but when you have heard my explanation you will admit its forcé and exonérate rne, I am sure, from any suspicion of coldness or indifference. I am bound by a deathbed oath! When I inarried my late husband, he, like yoursolf, was at the bar. I was an nnsophisticated girl at the time - in appearance much what my Nellie is today - but whije she, as a popular ingenue, is in receipt of a substantial income, I was penniless and dependent on his support. He had no influenoe; his struggles were pitiful. I will not weary you with the tale of the misery we endured. His talent, giveu no chance to display itself, was, I have often thought, a misfortnne rather than a boou. He, who shonld have taken silk at five and thirty and risen to the bench 10 years later, was forced to toil f ar into the night in order to earn a guinea fee. Conscions of his ability and oppressed by the sight of the wretchedness he had inflicted on the wife he loved and the danghter who had sprung from the union, he lost spirit and health. Moróse and disappointed, his last illness came almost as a release, bnt before he died he made me take a solemn vow. It was that his child should never be given to a member of the legal profession. You may reply that yon are succeeding; that your means are sufficient for a young couple's simple wants - that does not free me from my sacred undertaking. Mr. Prins, it can never be. And I trast to yon, I appeal to your good feeling and your honor, to abstain from seeing my little Nellie any more. With kind regards and sincere regrets, I remain very truly yours, M atilda St. Evremond. Mrs. St. Evremond, 3 Pandora Roatí, ■Shepherd's Bush, to Captain Maurice Fairbrain, 111b, Jermyn Street, W., May 19, 1890: Dear Captain Fairbrain - I have just learned from my child of the honor of your proposal, and let me say at once that I know no man to whom I would more gladly confide the happiness of her life. I am the more anxious that you should believe this assurance because I am compelled to teil you she can never be your wife, and I wish yon to understand that I am helpless in the matter. I am bound by a deathbed oath. Let me explain: When I married my late husband, he, like you, was in the army. A young man and a young, unsophisticated girl, we feil in love at a country ball and wedded without a thought of consequences. He was handsome, popular and practically penniless, and it waS not long before I discovered also that he was deeply in debt His father, who idolized him, freed him from his embarrassment, for the second time, I heard, but with his last effort the old man 's powers of assistance came to an end, and in a year there were embarrassments again. I will not detail the history of my poor husband's diffiuulties - the history of a young fellow placed in an expensive regiment and tempted to extravagance by the exaiuple of bosom friends, whose position made their companionship a enrse. I will only say that in his last years, disgraced and broken hearted, it was to his mistaken choice of a profession .that he always attributed his ruin, and before he died he called me to him and bound me by formal vow. It was that when his child was ruarriagea ble she should never be given to .a mili! tary man. I shall always keep that sacred pledge I gave in the chamber of death - I feel that nothing can absolve ! me from it - and it is my painful duty i to beg you not to approach my little Nellie again. Sympathize with me in i my distress, Captain Fairbrain, and believe me sorrowfully yours, Matii-Da St. Evremond. Mts. St. Evremond, 3 Pandora Road, Shepherd's Bush, to Harley Haresfoot, Esq. , Corinthian Theater, Piccadilly, Sept. 7, 1891: Dear Mr. Haresfoot - My child informs me that you proposed to her in the omnibus last night, and that you are anxious to marry each other without delay. I am compelled to teil yon that your vocation makes it impossible. She can never be the wife of an actor. 1 am bound by a deathbed oath. Since my little Nellie is in the profes8ion, too, this may asstonish you, but I am speaking in accordance with her poor father 's wish. When I married my late husband, he, like yourself, was on the Etage. Ours was not a happy unión, I confess it frankly, yet we loved each other at the beginning dearly enough. Dependent npou a precarions profossion, we were forced to take what offers we conld get - to accept separate engagements, to live apart, one in the north when the other was in the south, one wandering east when the other was traveling west If we encountered each other at a railway station occasionally, we were fortúnate. In that way we learned to do without each other, and coldness began. Beiore he clied we were reconciled, but we had both learned f rom experience a bitter lesson. On the morning of his death he signed me to approach and made me swear to protect my Nellie from my own unhappiness. I swore it in his own wórde. They were that she should never marry au actor. Yon vill seo that, bound by a deathbed oath, I have no alternativo bnt refuse my consent to your snit. Bnt, with sincere regarás, I am always your f riend, Matilda St. Evkemond. Charles Copthall, Esq., 999 Throgmortou Street, to Miss Nellie St. Evremond, Folly Theater, Strand, Jnly 1, 1802: My Dakling Nell - I see your misgiving had foundation, for this morning's post bronght me a polite note from your worthy parent signifying that she can never consent to our marriage. Now, my swetest girl, this seems to me awfully hard Unes! The f act that your poor father was a broker and went smash is, so far as I can see, no earthly reason why you should not make me happy or why I should not make you a good husband. Moreover, from what you say, your mother appears to have objected to every offer you have ever had. I eau 't say I am sorry she did so - if she hadn't, you wouldn't be f ree - but the fact remains that she refuses you to every one, and the inference is as clear as the noonday sun - out of London. You draw $8 a week, and you admit to being 25. Yet she treats you like a child, pockets your salary and allows you out of it a begarly 10 shillings for chiffons and bus fares. How long will you permit such a rascally state of things to continue? You say you are sure she will never give you to me. I dare say not. She nnds you much too valuable to part with! Be courageous and defy her ! I love yon with my whole heart, and I will not see your life wasted in this fashion. If you wear the accompanying flowers in the second act tonight, I shall understand that Mrs. St. Evremond is not coming to fetch you, and I shall be at the stage door when you leave. Ever your devoted Chakljk. Miss Lydia Copthall, 49a Pembridge Square, W. , to Miss Augusta Gusher, 2 The Grove, Kensington. July 18, 1892: My Dearest Gussie - I am writing to you in despair. It will be the veriest line, but I should hate for you to learn the awful intelligence from any one but ma Charley is married. You know what I have always hoped - my brother and my bosom friend! But the dream is over. Indeed he has shown that he was never worthy of you. He has married Nellie St. Evremond, the actress. Mamma is distracted, and I - well, you may picture me! He ran away with her (not mamma, the actress) and now has actnally the effrontery to say he is happy. Do come and have tea tomorrow and let us mingle our tears. Yours, quite brokenly, Lydia. P. S. - The character of the bride may be imagined from the fact that her own mother cuts her in the street. -