Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 October 1893 — AT WAR WITH HERSELF. [ARTICLE]

AT WAR WITH HERSELF.

The Story of a Woman's Atonement, by Charlotte M. Braeme. CHAPTHJt VL Poets and artists dll went into raptures over Crown Leighton. It was the most picturesque as well as the most magnificent of mansions. Excepting, perhaps, its royal palaces, England has nothing more beautiful or more superb, and it derived its name from the fact of its having been built in the reign of Charles 11., whose favorite retreat it was. The late Earl—Stephen—had been quite indifferent to all. No one knew what had gone wrong in bis life. Ho was an only child and succeeded when very young; for a few years ho had done as the rest of the world does, gc no to London, ridden, danced, flirloi, and then a sudden gloom hud fallen over him. Ho came back to Crown Leighton; he avoided society as much as ho had hitherto sought it; ho lookel coldly on friends and neighbors: ne did what no Charnleigh had ever done before—placed his estates in the hands of a steward, or agent, making only one request, which was that ne should not be annoyed with any consultations or arrangements. He shut himself up at Crown Leighton, and never cared to leave it.

He did not neglect the place: a large establishment of servants was kept there, with carriages and horses that he never used—a whole retinue of people whose faces he never saw. He gave orders that everything should be preserved in the same perfect state as that in which he had found it—those orders were carefully obeyed. He lived until he was 56, never taking the least active part in the arrangements of his estate or household. Mr. Dunscombe attended to all. The only time he ever left the place was when his confidential legal adviser and trusted counsellor, Mr. Rawlings, died; then he went to London, and placed his affairs in the hands of Messrs. Clements & Matthews; and again, when the old family retainer, Morgan, who had been butler at Crown Leighton for more than forty years, died, the Earl left his home until after the funeral.

Several times Mr. Clements had tried his best to break through the wall of reserve with which his employer had hedged himself round, and suggested to him the propriety of making a will; he was Invariably repulsed with the haughtiest and most freezing words. “There will be a terrible mess some day, ”he was wont to observe to Mr. Dunscombe, “and twenty lines might settle matters. Captain Paul Flemyng ought to be found.” But if ever, in any unusual moment of bravery, he named the young Captain, Lora Charnleigh gave him instantly to understand that the settlement of his affairs was his own business entirely, and the lawyer dared say no more. Mr. Clements’ pre fictions were fulfilled at last. Just before Christmas Lord Charnleigh was seized with a sudden and dangerous illness. He died almost before medical aid could be summoned, and then the lawyer was almost beside himself. There were no instructions; no will could be found; there was no heir expectant. Mr. Clements sent for Captain Flemyng, but he was unable to leave his regiment; besides, it was so very uncertain whether he was heir of Charnleigh that he did not like to assume authority; neither did any one like to place him in office, lest there should be the pain of deposing him. A grand council was held. It was arranged that Stephen, Earl of Charnleigh, should be buried with all honor, ana then immediate search should be made for his nearest relative. It was done, and, after a painful and most laborious investigation, it was clearly ascertained that the nearest living relative of the dead Earl was Leonie Rayner, henceforward to be known to the world as “Leonie, Countess of Charnleigh.”

CHAP IER VIL On this bright June morning Crown Leighton seems to be wearing its fairest dress. For six long months the place has been dreary and desolate, given up to the rule ’of servants, uncared for save by those whose care was hired. AU was different to-day; from roof to basement the grand old mansion had been set in perfect and picturesque order. There was no trace of confusion; the flowers were all blooming, the birds singing, the fountains throwing up their sllygxjy spray, the long white lace hangings grawn aside, and the sumptuous roorhs filled with warmth and fragrance. Flagsand banners waved over the tall ancestral trees, bands of music were stationed in the park, the bells of Leighton church rang out with jubilant music such as had not sounded from the old gray spire for many a year. The tenantry, the numerous bands of laborers, the poor dependents and pensioners, the large household of Crown Leighton, were all assembled to welcome the young countess home. Mr. Clements was to bring her, and with her was to come Lady Fanshawe, a distant cousin of the late earl’s mother, a stately, aristocratic dame, who for the family’s sake had consented to live as duenna and chaperon with the young countess. Orders had been given to prepare rooms for three ladies, the third being Miss Templeton, whose affection for her once despised governess-pupil had reached such a height that she could not bear to be parted from her, and had accepted an invitation to attend Lady Charnleigh on her triumphal coming home. Thp June sun was pouring down a flood of rich golden noontide light, incense seemed to rise from the fragrant flowers, and the bells were pealing merrily, when the delighted crowd first caught sight of the carriage. It was driven slowly along—perhaps Mr. Clements had ordered it, that the eyes of the people might dwell with delight on the lovely face of the young girl. Then well-trained servants came to the carriage-door and opened it. As the young girl descended there arose another ringing cheer, the bells pealed out afresh, the music came in strong, sweet waves of sound. “Welcome home—welcome, Lady Charnleigh!” the people shouted, and she stood quite still on the broad stone step. Her face had grown pale with emotion, but there was no sign of weakness or of tears. Then Mr. Clements took her hand and led her forward; in his heart he felt that it was a lonely coming home for her, with no friend, no relative, no mother or sister to meet her on the threshold of her new life, and bid her “God-speed.” He took her hand and led her to where the June sunbeams fell on her. “Lady Charnleigh bids me thank you," he said, “for the welcome you have given her; and she bids me say that the nearest and dearest interest in her heart will be yours. ” “Heaven do to me as I do to them," he heard her say, gently. Then she smiled and bowed with a grace that seemed all her own, and the great doors were thrown open.

Again Mr. Clements was master of the ceremonies. The housekeeper. Mrs. Fearon, made her most respectful salutation to Lady Charnleigh, and mentioned her long years of service. Lady Charnleigh held out her hand with a smile, and so won her heart forever. Then the butler, Mr. Clarkson, came forward, and received the gracious words with which the new mistress of Crown Leighton inaugurated her reign. I thank you for your welcome,” she said, in a voice as clear and sweet as the sound of a silver belt “I am quite sure you will all do your duty to me, and I, in return, willdo mine to you.” After which little impromptu speech there was not a servant in Crown Leighton who would not have laid down their life for the kindly young countess. CHAPTER VIII. Four hours later Leonie, Lady Charnleigh, was seated in the sumptuous drawing-room at Crown Leighton. She had in seme measure recovered from the fierce, wild excitement of finding herself mistress of that magnificent home. A recherche dinner had been served in the dining-room; the gold and silver plate—the pride of the Charnleighs for many generations—had been used, and looked at in wonder. Before she took her seat as head of the table, she went to Lady Fanshawe with a sweet humility tnat would have touched any one.

“I know nothing, ” she said, “of the little ceremonies and the etiquette needful to be understood by the lady of such a house as this. Will you teach me?” Lady Fanshawe looked earnestly at her, to see whether the humility was real or feigned; then she fell to admiring her young relative when she found that the wealthy heiress, the mistress of all the grandeur around, was anxious and willing to be taught as a child. The result of Lady Fanshawe’s lesson was that, when the young Countess of Charnleigh afterward took her seat, she made no mistakes, but went through the ordeal as though she had been head of the establishment for twenty years. Even Mr. Clements, who gave her credit for being one of the most gifted of girls, could not understand now she had so quickly fallen int j the ways and manners of the elite of society. “Women so soon adapt themselves to new circumstances, ” he thought. “In her place I should have been awkward and ill at ease.” That ordeal was over. No young lady born to be a duchess could have gone through it with greater dignity and grace; and now the ladies had retired to the drawing-room, while Mr. Clements lingered over a bottle of claret of choice vintage. The sun was still shining, and the odor of flowers came in through the open windows. Lady Charnleigh was seated with a book in her hands, but she had neither read a line nor turned a page; her beautiful violet eyes were turned on the glorious and well-kept lawns.

“You found everything in order, I hope, Lady Charnleigh?” said Lady Fanshawe. “Tne young parson I engaged as your maid has been in the Duchess of Moretoun’s service; she will suit you, I think.” “She seems to understand her duties,” was the reply, and the faintest shadow of a smile rippled over the lovely lips. Only two short weeks ago she had assisted in dressing others; now the maid of a duchess was hardly thought good enough for her. “The evening is still so bright, and will be so long," said Miss Templeton, “we might go round the house if Lady Charnleigh is not too tired.” “There is nothing I should like se much, ” responded the young Countess, rising from her seat. Mrs. Fearon was summoned, and Mr. Clements, hearing what was proposed, offered to join the expedition. Presently the party went to the library, which was said to contain some of the choicest literary gems in England, and afterward visited the sunny rooms that looked toward the west — the suite of apartments set aside for the use of visitors. Here Mr. Clements left them to hold a long conversation on business matters with Mr. Dunscombe, and the ladies went to examine what was perhaps one of the greatest curiosities of Crown Leighton the enormous wardrobe, containing the treasures in silks, satins, velvets, and priceless lace that had belonged to former Ladies Charnleigh. There were jewel-cases filled with precious stones, old-fashioned in setting, and almost priceless in value. Miss Templeton looked until she declared her eyes ached, and she could look no longer. “This." said the housekeeper, opening the door of a small room, “was the late Earl’s favorite apartment; he .preferred it to any other.” Lady Charnleigh wondered why. It was not very cheerful, nor was it luxurious. Just at that moment the western sunbeams filled it, and they fell on a picture of such grave and vivid beauty that she was startled by it. It was the portrait of a young man; but the face struck her as no other face had ever done. She could have imagined Sir Lancelot had such a one, or any of her favorite heroes; it was dark, grand, passionate, and noble, with a melancholy, patrician beauty words could never paint; the eyes were dark and dreamy, with fire ana passion in their depths; the brow was a square, Grecian one, with clustering hair brushed from it; the lips were firmly closed and grave, yet with lines round them that spoke of smiles sweet and gracious as a woman's; the whole face gave the idea of veiled passion and sleeping strength, or magnificent manhood not yet fully developed. Leonie, Lady Charnleigh, stood almost motionless before this picture; its dark, passionate beauty enchained her. There was nothing about it to denote whom it represented. She turned to Mrs. Fearon, who stood ready to answer any questions that might be asked,

“What picture is that?” she inquired. . There was a half-reluctant expression on the housekeeper's face as she replied: “It is the portrait, I believe, of a relative of the late Earl’s.” The young Countess lookqd at it again. “But who is if? Is he living? What , is his name?” I “It is Captain Paul Flemyng; he is an officer in the army,” was the reply, still reluctantly given. Lady Cnarnleigh did not seek to repress the cry that rose to her lips. “Captain Paul Flemyng!” She looked again at the handsome face. This was the man, then, who but for her would have been Earl of Charnleigh, whom she had unconsciously and innocently deprived of this princely inheritance. She looked with additional interest at the beautiful face.

“He is very handsome,” she said to herself, gently. “He would have made a noble Earl.”

Even as she said the words she was conscious that the housekeeper’s eyes were fixed with some curiosity on her face,and she turned abruptly away. Many times that evening her

thoughts went back to that splendid face, worthy of Velasquez. But on the day following she found no more time for dreaming. Her table was covered with cards; the drawing-room was never without visitors. The full tide: of life had set in, and Leonie, Countesa of Charnleigh, woke to find herself famous.

CHAPTER IX. The sun was shining brilliantly over the blue sea and the white rocks of Malta. The day was warm and sultry, the air heavy with the scent of flowers and the odor of the sea. It was a day when work is a toil and idleness a pleasure. Two gentlemen were seated on a ledge of rock overlooking the heaving waters. “I never could bear much heat, ” said one of them, Major St. John; “I hope our regiment will not be ordered to India. I would rather go to the North Pole.” “All places are alike to me.” observed his companion, Captain Paul Flemyng, serenely, “and all climates the same. ” “I could be as calmly indifferent if I had the prospect of an earldom with a good many thousand per annum. Philosophy, under such circumstances, is no virtue.” “I am not at all sure of my prospects,” commented Capt. Flemyng; “they seem very uncertain. At any time 1 may hearthat some one has been discovered whose claims are nearer than mine; then there will be a long farewell to all my greatness.” He could not have spoken more indifferently had the subject been one foreign to his interest. Maj. St. John laughed. “You do not seem very anxious about it,” he said. The dark, handsome face flushed, and then grew pale; a light gleamed in the dark eyes, and then died away. “Do not misjudge me,” he rejoined. “Crown Leighton is a grand inheritance; Charnleigh is a glorious name. If they should both ba mine, no man would be prouder of them. I would live so as to do honor to them. I would make a good and noble use of the vast wealth intrusted to me. But, if they are not to be mine, I cheerfully forego them.”

“Well, from my heart I wish you success. I hope I may greet you one day as L or d Charnleigh, of Crown Leighton. Jesting apart, they will not find one more worthy of the name.” “Thank you,” said Captain Flemyng, gravely; “a noble name should make a noble man.” |TO BE CONTINUKD.I