The Heiress of Kurston Chace - Page 2

is no sentiment in the affair, and the sooner one gets to ordering
dinners and running up bills, the better."

"Poor Philip Lee!"

"Mother, why did you mention him? Of course he will be angry, and call
me all kinds of unpleasant names; but if he has a particle of common
sense he must see that it was impossible for me to marry a poor
lawyer--especially when I had such a much better offer. I suppose he
will be here to-night. You must see him, mother, and explain things as
pleasantly as possible. It would scarcely be proper for me, as Mr.
Kurston's affianced wife, to listen to all the ravings and protestations
he is sure to indulge in."

In this supposition Clementina was mistaken. Philip Lee took the news of
her engagement to his wealthy rival with blank calmness and a civil wish
for her happiness. He made a stay of conventional propriety, and said
all the usual polite platitudes, and then went away without any evidence
of the deep suffering and mortification he felt.

This was Clementina's first drop of bitterness in her cup of success.
She questioned her mother closely as to how he looked, and what he said.
It did not please her that, instead of bemoaning his own loss, he should
be feeling a contempt for her duplicity--that he should use her to cure
his passion, when she meant to wound him still deeper. She felt at
moments as if she could give up for Philip Lee the wealth and position
she had so hardly won, only she knew him well enough to understand that
henceforward she could not easily deceive him again.

It was pleasant to return to New York this fall; the news of the
engagement opened everyone's heart and home. Congratulations came from
every quarter; even Uncle Gray praised the girl who had done so well for
herself, and signified his approval by a handsome check.

The course of this love ran smooth enough, and one fine morning in
October, Grace Church saw a splendid wedding. Henceforward Clementina
Kurston was a woman to be courted instead of patronized, and many a
woman who had spoken lightly of her beauty and qualities, was made to
acknowledge with an envious pang that she had distanced them.

This was her first reward, and she did not stint herself in extorting
it. To tell the truth, Clementina had many a bitter score of this kind

to pay off; for, as she said in extenuation, it was impossible for her
to allow herself to be in debt to her self-respect.

Well, the wedding was over. She had abundantly gratified her taste for
splendor; she had smiled on those on whom she willed to smile; she had
treated herself extravagantly to the dangerous pleasure of social
revenge; she was now anxious to go and take possession of her home,
which