(Extract from the “Boston Herald.”)
MILDRED’S MILLIONS.—BOSTON’S BEAUTIFUL BELLE FALLS HEIRESS TO A
FORTUNE ESTIMATED AT THIRTY MILLIONS! MISS MILDRED BREWSTER THE SOLE
HEIRESS.
When the rumor in yesterday’s South American despatches hinted that the
colossal fortune amassed by the late Mr. William Dunreath was, according
to his will, to be transferred _in toto_ to a Boston lady, when
moreover, on investigation, the name of the aforesaid lady was disclosed
by her lawyer, an enterprising representative of the “Herald” was not
long in finding his way to the residence of this favored daughter of
fortune.
Two other journalists, with pencil and pad in readiness, arrived almost
simultaneously and were shown into the reception room.
Miss Brewster was out.
Would her ladyship soon return?
That was doubtful.
A skillful use of some of Uncle Sam’s coin, however, secured an “aside”
in the library with the sable domestic whose acquaintance with desirable
facts proved a godsend.
“Was Miss Brewster young?”
Certainly. She had just celebrated her twenty-fourth birthday, or, to
quote our informant more literally, “Yes, sah, she is done gone
twenty-fo’ shuah, fo’ I made her buffday cake.”
“Was Miss Brewster handsome?”
In response to this momentous question this jewel of a Chloe produced
from a corner of the library a photograph album containing two cabinet
photographs, taken in Boston and Paris respectively, and representing
one of the most attractive types of petite female beauty. One picture
was taken in a jaunty riding habit, displaying to good advantage a
slender, trim figure, with a graceful poise to a very pretty head, and a
pair of fascinating dark eyes looking frankly at you from under the
hat-brim. The other was in a white evening dress modestly covering the
sloping shoulders, the hair worn Pompadour, and no ornaments save
flowers. There was a delicacy and refinement indicated in the small ear
and sensitive mouth, which betokened generations of the best blood and
culture. It was gratifying to perceive that the enviable possessor of
one of the largest private fortunes in New England was evidently richly
endowed by nature with every charm which could lend grace to the
brilliant position in society that she without doubt is destined to
fill.
The “Herald” representative inquired further as to the past history of
Miss Brewster, and learned that she was the only child of a physician,
was born in Cambridge, has spent some years in foreign travel and study
under the chaperonage of a distinguished leader of society, was
presented at the Court of St. James, and received marked attention from
some of the scions of the oldest and noblest houses of England.
She is supposed to have had a small independent fortune of her own, but
having literary and philanthropic tastes, has quietly devoted herself to
study and works of charity, thus depriving society of one peculiarly
fitted to be one of its brightest ornaments.
The connection between the defunct millionaire and the charming girl
upon whom he has lavished all his wealth seems hard to prove. From all
that could be learned, however, it seems conclusive that an engagement
existed between them, and that the death of Mr. Dunreath was a great
shock to the fortunate lady of his choice. In the absence of any family
or near relatives, Mr. D. being an only son and a bachelor, she will
find no one to dispute the will. This latter point was confirmed by her
lawyer, Mr. Kilrain, of No. 55 Pemberton Square, who, however, remained
very provokingly non-committal on all other points of interest,
intimating that he was thus obeying the instructions of his fair client,
who modestly wishes to avoid the sudden notoriety which her fortune will
necessarily bring upon her.
A call on some of her co-workers in the Associated Charities revealed
the fact that Miss Brewster is ardently absorbed in her work, and has
been peculiarly successful in winning the hearts of the street _gamins_
in her district. She is interested in various charities, and it is
anticipated that her increased wealth will not lessen the time nor the
interest which she has devoted to her various benefactions.
It was intimated from one source that Miss Brewster holds very
pronounced views upon women’s rights, and will probably use a great part
of her wealth in advancing the cause of female suffrage, but this we are
loth to believe.
(Extract from the “Boston Globe.”)
... After waiting an hour and calling at three different times, the
representative of the “Globe” was finally so fortunate as to encounter
the fair lady in whom the public is now feeling so warm an interest. She
had just returned home, and was standing in the hall with her little
toque of wine-colored velvet still crowning her chestnut tresses, and
her tall, stately figure draped from head to foot in a fur-trimmed cloak
of the same shade.
She received the “Globe” representative most courteously, ushering him
into a cosy little reception room, and meanwhile drawing off the _gants
de suede_ which encased her shapely hands. She seemed nervous and tired,
but had a brilliant color which deepened perceptibly when requested to
grant an interview. The involuntary look of surprise and _hauteur_ which
accompanied this only enhanced her beauty, but quickly recovering
herself she replied without embarrassment that there was nothing
whatever that she wished to state to the public. She had not been
apprised of the nature of the will until within three days. Since then
she had been overwhelmed with business arrangements, and was very tired
and wished to see only her intimate friends.
One question, however, she so far forgot herself as to answer, namely,
as to whether she should change her residence. She replied that she
purposed soon to leave town for an indefinite period. A further question
designed to draw out some information regarding her acquaintance with
Mr. Dunreath, whom it is certain she has for a long time corresponded
with, met with no reply beyond “I will bid you good evening.”
Miss Brewster is certainly a very prepossessing lady. In addition to her
beauty her voice is particularly well modulated and pleasing. She is
decidedly above the medium height, and has a queenly air combined with a
brisk, business-like manner, which gives evidence that she is at once a
lady and a shrewd woman of the world,—an indication of anything but the
helpless state into which most inexperienced women would have been
thrown at so sudden and astounding a change of fortune.
In the gaslight and with such a color Miss Brewster had the appearance
of being not over twenty-three; we learn, however, on unquestioned
authority from a former schoolmate of hers, that she is just twenty-six,
having had a birthday last week.
Miss Brewster is said to be a very devout church-woman of the
ritualistic type, and usually attends the Church of the Advent.
The Hub is certainly to be commiserated at the prospect of so soon
losing a lady who would otherwise become one of its most admired belles
as well as a leader of its most cultured society, and we trust that her
stay though indefinite may not be prolonged.
Three of the one hundred and twenty-seven letters received by Miss
Brewster during the first week after the above newspaper extracts
appeared will serve as types of the whole.
LETTER NO. I.
JONESPORT, PA., _Jan. — 18—_
DEREST MISS BREWSTER HONORED MISS
God has been verry bountiful too you truly and no doubt your kind heart
is greatful for all his Mercies and anxshus to do your part in relieving
the wos of humanity. Henceforth your couch is down and your pathway
strude with roses. You have more money than you know what too do with
and will take it kindly for me suggest a most useful and feesable way to
do the greatest good to the greatest number which is the Christian’s
vitle breath. My dorter Rose Ethel Bangs is just turned sixtine and is
as smart and handsum a girl as ever trod shu lether. She is awful
musicle and is just dying to get a chance to go to the Boston
Conservatory, she plays the banjo best of anybody in the county and has
given solo peices at some of the best concerts she plays the melodeon at
meeting and the best critics say her voice is amazing a professor from
Philadelfy said he had heard a great many voices but he never heard a
voice that was as strong as her voice. A yere’s residens in Boston would
complete her education she has a young gentleman second cousin who is
anxshus to show her about to see the sites and 300 dollers with what her
pa can raise would just about do the bizness now dear miss when you have
it in your pour to bestough such a blessing how can you refrane. We
shall bless you and my dorter will be a credit to you and a jewel in the
crown which our Heavenly father will bestough on all who remember the
proverb it is more blessed to give than to receive.
Yours with love and regards
MRS. MATTIE T. BANGS.
P. S. I send Bose Ethel’s tintype took when she was fourtine she wears
her hair up now.
LETTER NO. II.
NEW YORK, N. Y., —— Street.
DEAR MISS BREWSTER:
Permit me at this moment of your joy and unprecedented good fortune to
present to you my most heartfelt congratulations.
Perhaps you may not recollect my humble self, as you always impressed me
with such a sense of awe and dignity that I dared not venture to
disclose to you the _profound_ admiration which I have always felt for
your _exalted_ character.
Rarely have I known such a nature as yours. One so endowed with all the
charms and graces of a _goddess_ and a _saint_ it has never been my
fortune to meet. Do not think I am flattering you, _mon ange_; but ever
since the first moment when my eyes fell on your face suffused with dewy
tears, as you bade good-by to your native land, you have been the ideal
of my fondest dreams.
I sailed with you on the steamer, like you bound for those shores of
mystery and delight which from childhood’s hour had haunted my
imagination, now _hélas!_ never to be revisited, for I—how can I say
it?—have been doomed by fate to lose _all_ that is most dear to me.
I had kept my diamond earrings until the last, but yesterday even those,
my last precious treasures, had to be sacrificed. How can I relate to
you the story of our disgrace!
A year ago papa failed, and we were obliged to leave our palatial home
on Fifth Avenue and betake ourselves to a small hotel on W. Ninth
Street. I nearly cried my eyes out. I spent days and nights in weeping
over our sad fortunes, and as one by one I was obliged to surrender the
darling treasures of happier days I felt that if this were to go on I
should either become a _hopeless wreck_ with shattered nerves and end my
days in a lunatic asylum, or else that rather than suffer the mental
torture which I had endured I should with my own hand take the life
which was a _curse_ to me.
Everything has gone from bad to worse, though I have fought against fate
with all the passion of _desperation_. Our friends have deserted us;
that is, all the young society which I care about and really need to
keep up my spirits and make me cheerful. I can find no congenial society
in the class with whom I am doomed to associate, and so I keep my room,
and solace my sad hours with works of fiction, which for the time being
take me out of myself, and with fancy work, which is the one little link
that connects me with my happy past.
But now a crisis has come in papa’s affairs. He is offered a position in
Jersey City, and compels us to go with him to this _odious_ place, to
live in a second or third rate boarding-house, away from everything that
makes life endurable.
I _cannot_ do it. I should simply be burying myself alive. To one of my
sensitive temperament the shock would be too great, and I know that I
should become but a wreck of my former self.
I have racked my brains and tossed on my sleepless pillow many a night,
endeavoring to solve the problem that is before me.
This morning a ray of light dawned upon the gloom which has enshrouded
me. I picked up the morning paper and read the delightful announcement
of the good fortune which has come to you. My heart throbbed with
sympathetic joy, _mon amie_, to think that in this desolate world at
least one whom I loved was _completely_ happy.
The report says that you are soon to go abroad. Like an inspiration the
thought came to me, “Oh, if only I could go with her as a _companion_!”
The thought fairly suffocated me. Once the idea of attempting to go as a
paid companion, of accepting money for services rendered, no matter how
valuable they might be, would have brought the blush to my cheek. But my
pride has been humbled, and though even now I could not do it for every
one, for _you_ whom I _adore_ it would seem no sacrifice but a
privilege.
I could be of invaluable service to you in shopping and in visiting
galleries. I speak French perfectly, and could play whist or sing to you
when you are tired. I know how to arrange flowers, to design toilettes,
to order dinners, and can read aloud without fatigue. I could relieve
you of all care, and this you will certainly require, as so many new
cares have devolved upon you, and you must be distracted with all the
new things you have to order and to attend to.
What steamer shall you take? I like the North German Lloyd best,—don’t
you?
I can be ready at a moment’s notice. I await your answer in an _agony_
of suspense.
Yours devotedly,
M. JEANETTE MASON.
LETTER NO. III.
E. GAINSBOROUGH, VT.
MISS BREWSTER:
DEAR MISS,—No doubt you will be very much surprised to get a letter from
me for you don’t know me at all and I don’t know you at all and I
persume you are not used to getting letters from strangers. But you are
a rich kind lady and as a last resorse I turn to you for my heart is
bleeding and my friends can’t do no more for me. I am an inventor as you
will be surprised to learn. Ever since I was able to hold a jack knife
and whittle I have been whittling out things and making inventions. Some
folks say I am a genius and if I had my rights I should be rolling in
welth and be able to keep a horse and carriage.
My inventions have been about all sorts of things. I almost got a patent
for a clothes-wringer but a mean sneak of a fellow stole it from me
taking the bread from my children’s mouths. My wife took in sewing and
washing and the children milked the cow and kept the garden running and
sometimes I got odd jobs. But a month ago Susie and Jimmie took sick
with scarlet fever and wife she was up with them night and day and she
took sick too and first Jimmie died and then Susie, and mother the next
day.
I did the best I could and the neighbors was kind and came in spite of
its being so catching.
But now there all gone and nobody but the baby and me is left. He had it
light and wan’t down but a day or two. I feel most crazy when I think of
it all and wonder what I’m going to do. The neighbors cooked up some
vittles for a few days but there poor too and I can’t count on them for
doing much.
I’ve got to do something right off and I an’t a cent of money more than
enough to pay the postage of this letter.
Last night when Mis deacon Allen went by with the newspaper she had got
to the P. O. she stopped and read me all about your getting rich so
sudden and she said to me brother Silas if I was you I’d just write to
that Miss Brewster and if she’s a woman with a heart in her she’ll feel
for that poor motherless little feller there a toddlin about, and you
with your hands tied sos you cant leave him a minute. I’d take him
myself said she if my hands wasnt tied too. Which is true enough for
shes five of her own and one adopted.
Now Miss Brewster if you could take my baby for a while, his name is
Orlando and he is 18 months old and help me make a man of him and get on
my feet a little and carry out a scheme I’ve got for an improved churn
I’d thank you to my dying day. I aint a great hand at farm work for I
cut my foot in a mowing machine and have been lame ever since and my
hearing is bad. So you see there aint much I can do except invent and
sometimes if it want for the inventing I think Id rather die. But I do
feel sure sometime if I can only get a chance I can invent something
that will sell and then I can repay you.
If you send for Orlie to go to Boston I must stay there too. I couldn’t
bear to be so far away from him. I should die of lonesomeness. Couldn’t
you get me a chance there? I am forty-six years old and a professor.[1]
Yr. ob’t servant,
SILAS KITTREDGE.
Footnote 1:
Of religion.—ED.