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Dreadful Temptation

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<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> Some three or four weeks after Mrs. St. John's visit to the country, Howard Templeton was sitting in his club one day, smoking and reading, after a most luxurious lunch. The young fellow looked very comfortable as he leaned back in his cushioned chair, the blue smoke curling in airy rings over his curly, blonde head, a look of lazy contentment in his handsome blue eyes. He was somewhat of a Sybarite in his tastes, this handsome[Pg 25] young fellow, over whose head twenty-five happy years had rolled serenely, without a shadow to mar their brightness save that unfortunate love affair two years before. Howard was, emphatically, one of the "gilded youth" of his day. He "toiled not, neither did he spin." He had been cradled in luxury's silken lap all his life long. Sorrow had passed him tenderly by as one exempt from the common ills of life. He was so accustomed to his good luck that he seldom gave a thought to it. It simply seemed to him that he would go on that way forever. Yet, to-day, for a wonder, he had been a little thoughtfully reviewing the events of the past six months. "It was very kind in Uncle John to leave things so comfortable for me," he said to himself. "I thought his wife would influence him against me so much that he wouldn't have left me a penny. If he hadn't, what the deuce should I have done?" He paused a moment, in comical amusement, to survey the situation; but the idea was too stupendous. He could not even fancy himself the victim of adversity, much less tell what he would have done in that case. He laughed at it after a moment. "I cannot even imagine it," he thought. "Poor little Xenie, how hard it went with her to be foiled in her revenge, as she called it. How she must have loved me to have turned against me so when I gave her up! Who would have believed that we two should ever hate each other with such a deadly hate?" Something like a smothered sigh went upward with the blue cigar smoke, and just then a footstep crossed the threshold, and a man's voice said, lightly: "Halloo, Doctor Templeton; enjoying yourself, as usual." "Halloo, Doctor Shirley," returned Templeton, with a lazy nod at the new-comer. "Have a smoke?" "I don't care if I do," said the doctor, throwing himself down in an easy-chair opposite the speaker, and lighting a weed. "How deuced comfortable you look, my boy!" "Feel that way," lisped Templeton, in a lazy tone. "Ah! I don't think you would feel so devil-may-care if you knew all that I know, old boy," laughed the doctor, significantly. The old doctor was very well known at the club as a gossip, so Templeton only laughed carelessly as he said: "What's the matter, doctor? Any of my sweethearts sick or dead?" "Not that I know of," said Doctor Shirley. "However, Templeton, if any of your sweethearts has money, take my[Pg 26] advice, young fellow, and make up to her without delay." Howard Templeton laughed at the doctor's sage advice. "Thanks," he said, "but I do very well as I am, doctor. I don't care to become a subject for petticoat government, yet." "Yet things looked that way two years ago," said Doctor Shirley, maliciously, for Templeton's ardent devotion to Mrs. Egerton's lovely debutante at that time had been no secret in society. Templeton's blonde face flushed a dark red all over, yet he laughed carelessly. "Oh, yes, I had the fever," he said. "However, its severity then precludes the danger of ever having a second attack. How little I dreamed that she would be my aunt." "Or your bete noire," said the doctor. "Hardly that," said Templeton, composedly, as he knocked the ashes from the end of his cigar. "True, she has taken a slice of my fortune away, but then there's yet enough to butter my bread." "There may not be much longer," said Doctor Shirley, meaningly. "What do you mean?" asked Templeton, looking at him as if he had serious doubts of his sanity. "Who's going to take it away from me? Has Mrs. St. John found the will she talked of so much?" "No," said Doctor Shirley, "but she has found something that will serve her as well." "Confound it, doctor, I don't understand you at all," said the young fellow, a little testily. "What are you driving at, anyway?" "Templeton, honestly, I hate to tell you," said the physician, sobering down, "but I've bad news for you. You know that Mrs. St. John has been ill lately, I suppose?" "Yes, I heard it—thought, perhaps, she meant to shuffle off this mortal coil and leave me the balance of my uncle's property," said the young man, imperturbably. "Nothing further from her thoughts, I assure you," was the laughing reply. "She has been quite ill, but she is well enough to come down into the drawing-room to-day. Come, now, Templeton, guess what I have to tell you?" "'Pon honor, doctor, I haven't the faintest idea. Does it refer to my fair and respected aunt? Is it a new freak of hers?" "Yes, decidedly a new freak," said the doctor, laughing heartily, and enjoying his joke very much. "Well, then, out with it," said Howard, growing impatient. "Does she accuse me of stealing and secreting that fabulous missing will?" "Not that I am aware of," and Doctor Shirley rose and[Pg 27] threw away his half-smoked cigar, saying, carelessly: "I must be going. We poor devils of doctors never have time to smoke a whole cigar. Say, Templeton, Mrs. St. John has her mother and sister staying with her. Deuced handsome girl, that Lora Carroll! Very like her sister! And—don't go off in a fit, now, Templeton—in a very few months there will be a little heir to your deceased uncle's name and fortune!" "I don't believe it!" exclaimed Howard Templeton, springing to his feet, while his handsome face grew white and red by turns. "You don't believe it? That's because you don't want to believe it. But I give you my word and honor as a professional man and her medical attendant, that it is a self-evident fact," and laughing at his, little joke, the gossiping old doctor hurried away from the club-room. <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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