“Do as I do,” she told him. “Don’t bother your head over nothing. It don’t pay. It only makes you wrinkled and old, years before your time. Sell the old rattletrap. It ain’t mortgaged for near what its worth, and the money you have left over will keep us for a few years anyhow.”
“I can’t sell it,” Roger answered. “More’s the pity. I’m bound by word to the dead.”
“Bound by your fiddlesticks!” laughed Bella scornfully. “What will the dead ever know or care about it; you are a soft head; ha, ha, ha!”
Roger went out leaving Bella still laughing. He was disgusted, weary. Yes, almost tired of life, and he walked around the grounds to a little lake which he had made for Bella’s pleasure. The water was deep enough to drown one, if one chose to just lie down without a struggle, and it would be an easy way to end it all; but something whispered that such a mode of escape would be cowardly, and with all his faults, the one of cowardice had never been laid to Roger Willing.
For days his mind continued in a state bordering on lunacy. Then like a ray of sunlight, there came to him a letter from across the seas. It was from a great uncle, his grandfather’s brother, who had not taken kindly to American soil, and had gone to the land of his ancestors, there to build up a colossal fortune. He had only one heir, a son, who dying left a daughter, Mary Willing. This child had now arrived at a marrying age. There was no one good enough for her in all England. Many letters had travelled between Roger’s father and Mary’s. They had had it in their minds to unite the English sovereign with the American dollar; but Mary was at that time too young, and Roger’s father had died ere he could express his desires to his son. Now, Grandpa Willing being Mary’s guardian, had thought it about time to broach the subject to his brother’s grandson. If he was heart free would he come over to old England, and form Mary’s acquaintance? She had sixty thousand pounds in her own right, and when her old grandfather died, her dot would be considerably increased.
Roger stared at the letter, and could hardly realize his own good fortune. Going to England in those days could not be called a pleasure trip. It meant many weeks of rough tossing on angry billows. Of a possible loss of life, but Roger gave not one thought to the dangers or privations attendant to his journey. He looked forward to the golden goal at the end, and cared not for what came between. He went to the richest man in Fort Henry and showed him the letter, asking him if he would advance a thousand dollars on a second mortgage, for he felt confident of winning his cousin’s affections. The man consented, and Roger made ready for his journey in great glee. To Bella he said, “that if he wanted to save his home he must go abroad,” which was true enough.
“Give me and my child our freedom papers,” cried Bella, excitedly. “You always said you would, but you’ve put it off as you do everything, and if you are lost at sea, and never come back, we shall be sold to the Lord knows who.”
“All right, honey, I’ll tend to it sure before I go,” replied Roger, carelessly, and as a matter of course he forgot all about it, the time came, and he sailed away with Bella’s loud wailing ringing in his ears.
He reached England in safety, and found his cousin all that her grandfather had pictured her; bright, rosy-cheeked, and if she lacked beauty, still she was good to look upon, and the golden sovereigns at her command, gave a wonderful luster to her otherwise commonplace appearance.
Roger’s wooing was short, but most satisfactory to all concerned. Mary adored her handsome cousin. He was so very different from any young man she had ever known. His rather free manners attracted and repelled her at the same time; but she fell more deeply in love every day, so that Roger’s proposal was hardly to be called one, for he just said: “Mary, when shall we be married?” While she answered, meekly: “Whenever you please, Roger.”