Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 34, Number 36, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 October 1888 — Page 1

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TOL. XXXIY-NO. 3G.

Guesses. $100.00

-TO-

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GU ILDE ROY OUIDR Author of "Under Two Flags," "Two Littie Wooden Shoes," "Chandos," "Don Gesualdo," Etc. Now first published. All right reserved. SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHtr-TEM I AXD II Ereljn Herbert, Lord GuilÄeror, ow ner of Ledysrood, an ancestral home of baaaty and wealth, is visiting bis domain. Iii sister. Lady Sunbnry, a woman of treat strength of character and will, chides her brother for his litles apathy, and un him to exert himself in the cause of the state amf hi country. Chaptkb III Lady Sunbary is of opinion that her brilliant but 6.'u brother should marrr, bnthe decidedly object t this, for so far as his life is pledsred at all it ir given to a woman whom he can not ut.-grj. His ounin. Lord Aubrey, pars him a iit, cid ioiurn.K'hlru that the Ixich Soi'a. who.ii h bad met at Marienbad, had exprea.ed considerable bitteraeu at Lot meeting Gailderoy according to yromiae. CHAPTER IV. 5 HE next day, after his cousin's departure, very early in the forenoon Guilderoy rode out whilst the day the day was still young:. Riding was the only active exercise which pleased him; he rode well, and with great boldness and eareness ; his sister gometimes told him that it was the only English taste that ho possessed. He could ride many miles without passing the limits of his own land, and much of this was the wild moorland lying high and wind-blown between the woods of Ladysrood and the cliffs by the sea. Over the short elastic turf he could gallop for hours and meet no fence, or boundary mark, or human habitation. The western wind came straight in his face from the Atlantic, and there was nothing but salt water between him and the coast of Maine. The world had been too much with him to leave him leisure for the enjoyment of nature, but he had a vague feeling for her which resisted the opposing influences of the world, and revived in the force it had in his boyhood whenever he was alone in the open air or moor or fehore or mountain. The moor and the shore and the mountain could not hold him very long, but while it lasted his sympathy with'them was sincere and his pleasure in their loneliness very real. It was not the love of "Wordsworth or of Tennyson, but it was genuine in its kind, and gave momentary seriousness and romance to his temperament and his thoughts. In the heart of a man who loves nature there are always some green places where the caravan wheels of the world have not parsed, or the hoofs of its carnival coursers trodden. It was seldom that he saw an'one or anything on these moors l?yond a peddler or a turi-cutter, a carrier's cart creeping slowly across the track which led from one hamlet to another, or a cottager carrying on her head a bundle of cut furze or a basket of bilberries, that he looked curiously at a little crowd people which he saw at the edge of the moor, their figurtX black against the light of the sfcy. From them, as he drew near, there came to his ear an angry, screaming noise, the ugly nois of irritated roughs, and he could distinjruish the uncouth figures of village lads about whom several lurchers and other dogs were jumping and yelling excitedly. The center of the excitement was a "hut or cabin made of wattles, such as was used by the turf and bog cutters of the moors ; generally such places were oaly used for shelter in bad weather, bnt this one was stronger than most, and braced with beams, and had a door of wood, having served as the home of some squatters at one time, though of late it had been empty. "They are after some barbarous sport or another," thought Guilderoy, as he heard the hoarse shouts. "Torturing some beast, very likely, or, perhaps, some halfwitted hnman creature." He turned his horse to the left and rode toward the little mob, which was a very rcftWh on. romnosed chief! v of lads from the other side of the moors, where the scattered and uncared-for people were t more savage and uncouth than those on vhe domains of Ladysrood. J'Let un fire her out!" he heard one of m cry, as he rode nearer, and the 'come shout was echoes! with noise and S. "Let un fire her out 1 Let un fire '.out!" ,Vho is she V asked Guilderoy ."and t are you going to do? What do you by your threats about fire ?" ringleaders looked at him sullenly. I the lord," they muttered. were some score In Dumber, teds

ranging from fifteen to twenty, beetlebrowed, coarse-features, with jaws like their own bulldogs, and small, dull, savago eyes, items of that enlightened and purified democracy to which is henceforth trusted the realm of Britain. It was a Saturday morning, and they had nothing useful to do, and so were doing mi?chieL "What are you about?" asked Guilderov again, more imperiously. Vhat struck him as singular was that whilst the young men and their dogs were in an uproar, jostling, hallooing, swearing and yelping, from the hut not the faintest sound came. "Have they frightened to death whatever it is they are persecuting?" he thought, with di.'F.culty keeping his horse quiet amidst the hubbub and the menacing gestures of the youths. "What are you about?" he demanded; "answer nie at once. What deviltry are you doing?' , , He had little doubt that they had hunted in there some poor old creature whom they thought a witch. Witchcraft was firmly believed in on the moors, and often rudely dealt with by village superstition. This clamour ceased a little while, and on of them caEed to him: "She's shut herself in with it, and it's ours, and we're going to burn 'em both out; she's kept us here fooling us three hours." "What i3 it? and who is she!" asked Guilderoy, and he struck with his ridingwhip out of the hand of the man who spoke a wooden box of lucit'er matches. There was a quantity of dry furze already piled against the wall of the hut, which, if set alight, would have flared like straw. They did not reply, but some of them roared like animals deprived of prey which they had thought safe in their jaws. "Answer me," he repeated, "you know who I am. I have a right to be answered ; you are on mv land." "'Tis a tod,' one of them shouted, "and we turned it ont to hunt it with the dogs, and we'd run it into a cranny, and she come up and catch hold of it and tear away, and we hunted of her then in here, and she's fleet of foot as any hare, and the hied in quick as thought and banged the door and barred it, and she's kept U3 making fools of ns three hours if one. and she knows we'll burn her out, and she won't give it up, and she knows we bought it at the public at Cherriton for we told her so, and brought it a bag and turned it down, only it run bad because it's such a little un. "You have lost a fox-cub, I understand, " said Guilderoy when the narrator ceased. ".But who is it that you have in there, and that you are brutes enough to want to burn out?" "It's the young un of Christslea," said the youth sullenly. "Who do vou mean?" " 'Tis the Vernon girl," cried another of the rioters, "She's a spirit she have, bnt we'll break it. We'll have the tod if we have him roasted." "You unutterable beasts I" cried Guilderoy, in the passion which cowardice and tyranny together rouse in a man who is both courageous and merciful. "Do you mean to say that there is a child or a girl ia there?" '?ho went in with the tod," said the lad, sullenly, and those around him yelled in chorus. "How dared aha go and take the beast and spoil our sport? The tod was ours, not he is. And she cuddled it up in her neck as if it was a baby. We'll burn her put, and then we'll toss up for her," cried another voice, and the suggestion was received with shouts of applause. "Yoa are on my land, and I am a magistrate," said Guilderov, controlling with difficulty his fury and" disgust as he dismounted, and holding his plunging horse with one hand, with the other he struck the handle of his whip on the door of the hut. "My dear, do not bo alarmed," he' said to the unseen occupant within. "These brutes shall not hurt you. Open the door. I will take care of you. I am Lord' Guilderoy, and these moors are mine." A very clear young voice with a tremor in it answered through the door: "I can not open it, because if I do they will take the little fox." "No, they shall not take the cub," said Guilderoy, and he turned to the men. "Yoa have behaved worse than vour mongrels, but I will consent to believe that you would have failed to carry out your dastardly and brutal threats. There is a sovereign for the lews of the cub; now go back to wherever you came from, and do not forget that your miserable sport is illegal on these lands. Gol" The little mob wavered, growled, and swore under its breath ; then one of them

in Prizes to "Who Come

The Publishers of the INDIANA WEEKLY SENTINEL will award four Prizes to Four Subscribers who at any time before the close of polls Tuesday, November 6, correctly estimates, or comes nearest to doing so, Cleveland and Thurman's plurality over Harrison and Morton in Indiana.

FIRST PRIZE, SECOND PRIZE, THIRD PRIZE, FOURTH PRIZE,

picked up the gold piece where it lay on the ground, to slink od with it unremarked. "Share fair !" yelled the others, and they fell on him; and wrestling, quarreling, f elling, and casting shamefaced and sulen glances over their shoulders at "the lord," they slunk away across the moor in the warm, amber li'ht of the full neonday. The ground sloped slightly downward to the northeast, and thither they went; the rise soon screened their forms from view, though the echo of their voices, in rough and fierce dispute, came to the ear of Guilderoy es he stood by the cabin door. "Admirable persons to have been made our masters by act of parliament!" he thought, as the sullen mutterings of their oaths came to his ear on the westerly wind. Then he turned to the door of the cabin and ra;-pJl oa it vv ah the handle of his whip. "Tho brutes arc gone," he said through the keyhole. "You can come out quite safely.' lie heard a wooden bar lifted and dropped ; the wooden door opened, and on tho threshold, in the warm glow of the sunset, stood a young girl with a very beautiful face, which was pale but resolute; a Gainsborough face, with wideopened, questioning eyes and tumbled auburn hair, of which thick waves were escaping from a gypsy-shaped straw hat. A gray, woolen dress was fastened round her waist by a leather belt; it had been obviously made by some simply country seamstress, but there was an aristocracy in the look of the wearer which made him feel that, whoever she might be, she was thoroughbred. She was not nervous or agitated, only pale. She had placed the fux-cub on the ground that she miirht undo tho bar of the door, and the little animal was shivering and trembling behind her. She took it up before she spoke to him. "You are sure they are gone?" she asked, looking out across the moor. "Perfectly sure," returned Guilderoy. "But, my dear chil l, did you not hear them? Ihevwere inciting each other to fire the hut' "Oh, yes, I heard them," she replied, tranquifly. "I think they would have doue it, too. They are very rough and savage, those Cherriton people. It was very kind of you to interfere." "And what would yau have done if the fellows had carried out'their word? You would, ten to one, have been burnt alive." "Oh, perhaps not," she answered. "I daresay they would not have let me really burnt; they only wanted to frighten me.1' "And you would havo run the risk rather than give up that cub?" "Oh, yes; I could not have given him up; ana, besides, I would never have given it to them." Gailderoy bowed to her with grave respect. "You have great courage, and you have another quality growing, rarer etill scorn for tho mob." She did not reply to the words. "I Mill go now," she said, "and I thank you very much, though I do not know who you are." "I am a neighbor of yours, I think; I live at Ladysrood." "Ah. I heard them say, 'It's tho lord." She looked at him with more attention and interest than before. "Ladysrood is such a beautiful place they say," she said, "but you are never there. Why are you always away ?" "1 really hardly know," he replied; she seemed to him too young to be answered with a compliment. "You see the English climate is so detestable. I dislike rain, and there is scarcely anything else here." "I do not mind rain at all," she said as she left tho cabin, still clasping in her arms the draggled and shivering fox cub. "Pray do not come with me. Our place is ten miles from here." . "Neither my horse nor I mind ten miles," replied Guilderoy, "and I most certainly insist on being allowed to attend you to your father's gates. Let me carry the cub for you. How is it he is so tame?" "They takelittlo foxes from their earths and bring them up ; and then, when they are a few months old, they are carried out to some waste place and hunted with dogs ; not hounds, you know, but any kind of dog. I could tell this was a tame cub by the way it behaved. It did not know how to run ; and was not even afraid. The young men chased it and lashed it, and threw pebbles at It to make it run, but it did not know how. Then, when I saw that it got behind a stone, I took it up and would not let them have it, and I ran as hard as I could, and they ran after me. I got la there just in time to bar the door.

INDIANAPOLIS, WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 10. 188S.

Four Subscribers to INDIANA STATE Nearest to Guessing the Plurality.

Men are so mean," she continued, with the same scorn in her voice. "There was a fox a grown fox that the real hounds hunted last year, and he ran down to tho shore and took to the sea, and swam oh, so gallantly ! The hounds could not get him nor the hunters; but what do you think some men did who were in a boat, and saw him? They rowed so that they crossed his path, for he was making for a tongue of land, and they beat him to death in the sea with their oars the cowards! That I saw myself, for I was up above on the cliffs, and 1 could not do anything to save him." "Men are very ignoble ; and the new worship of humanity has a beast for its god," replied Guilderoy. She went on walking, holding the little fox to her with both arms. Guilderoy walked beside her, with the bridle of his horse over his arm. "But hof can your fatlu ; allow yon to wander aiout so far all alone?" he asked, looking at the profile of his companion, and thinking of Romney's Emma Hamilton, which it resembled. She laughed, a child's careless laughter. . "I do not think roam about ; he is books and papers, oh, so cood ! But he even knows I do so much absorbed in He is so good to me be would never think to ask where I was all day ; and, besides, the moors are as safe "as our garden. Nothing has ever happened until to-day; and to-day tho men would not have annoyed me if I had not taken away their cub. Of course, I had no business, really, to take it" "Why did vou, then?" "Because 1 would much sooner do wrong yes, even a crime, I think than se see any helpless littlo thing hurt. Would not yoa?" "Yes, I would certainly; I like animals. They are great mysteries, and men, instead of endeavoring to win their way into their closed souls, have only beaten the owners into captivity." The girl paused a moment and looked at him earnestly. "I like you very much," she said, with gravity, as a child of five years old might have said it. "I amexceedinely pleased," said Guilderoy, inclined to smile, for he was adored and flattered by all women of the great world, and used to the most subtle comEliment, the mostcharming homage. "You ave not told me whom I have the honor of speaking to. May I ask what ia your father's name?" "Our name is Vernon. Vernon of Llanarth." "Is it possible that your father is John Vernon, of Llanarth?" ha asked, in intense surprise. He remembered the name, though vaguely. When he had been a very young man the story of Vernon of Llanarth had been the theme of society for a season. He had forgotten it utterly for years; now its memories rose before him, shadowy, but full of reviving interest. "Yes ; he used to bo rich, but he lost all his money. It is many years ago. I do not remember his being rich at all. You seem surprised. Did you never know that we were here then? We are your tenants, I think." "I know so little of tho neighborhood." "Yes; and my father says it is very wrong of you. He says you play into the hands of democrats; that at the radical meetings in the great towns they always cite you as an example of those who have all tho fruits of the land without toiling for it and take their substance from the poor to snend in foreign countries. Why do you?'' "I did not look for a political lecture," said Guilderoy; "I am always having ono at home from my sister, ana I am not aware that I take any substance from the poor. I believe, on the contrary, that the poor are better ofFon the lands of Ladysrood than they are anywhere else in the southwest of England. Is it possible that your father holds these opinions? The Vernons were always whigs, but never radicals." "He does not hold them. He is sorry that anvone holds them, and he is sorry that the great noble who stay away from their estates, as you do, give agitators an excuse to make the people hold them." "I am not s are that my example would be more edifying if I lived on them. If you will not let me carry that poor little beast for vou, will you let me mount you in my sa Idle ? You are tired, though you will nt own it, and you will bo able to carry the rub much more comfortably for himself, which is, no doubt, the argument which will have most weight with you." It was not easy to persuade her, but she did at last consent, and sprang wth rapidity on to the horse's back, scarce'? touching Guilderoy's hand. He put Uie little fox up in th8 saddle in front cf her, and.

thus laden, the horse paced slowly over the elastic turf, tho master walking at his head. "What a beautiful child," thought Guilderoy, as he studied her features and her form. Sho was tall and lithe, and admirably made, like a young Diana; her feet were 6mall and 6lim, her throat beautifully set upon her shoulders, all her features were harmonious, and her eyes were so large and lustrous that they would have made a plain face handsome; her expression had a curious mingling of innocence, self-will, candor, pride, intelligence and childishness; her smile was like sunlight, frank and lovely. "In a year or two she will bo tho most beautiful woman in England," he thought, "and what a fine character, too !" He was hot in the habit of noticing young girls at alL He, on tho contrary, shunned them. He liked women who amused, him who puld treit hin d puissance a puissance, who could bring into their conflicts with him wit, finesse, and experience. This was tho first very voung woman of his own rank at whom lie had ever seriously looked, and there was something in her which charmed and interested him. The tranquility in danger which she had showed, and the selfpossession and simplicity which were characteristic of her manner seemed to him to be tho acme of high breeding, whilst joined to them were a naivete and a childishness only possible to one who had led the simplest of rural lives, and been little amongst women. He knew the name of John Vernon, though ever since his own boyhood it had been unspoken in his world. He remembered hearing what fine scholarship, what rare accomplishments, and what elegant dilettanteism had vanquished with this man from society when a total and voluntary loss of fortune had sent him into seclusion and oblivion, by the world forgot if not the world forgetting. And this was his child it was not wonderful, he thought, it she had rare and delicate excellencies both of form and mind, "And have you always lived here? and on my land?" he asked of her, as he led the horse along through the golden haze made by the morning sun. "No, only ten years. "We lived by the sea, thirty miles away, first of all. That is what I first remember. The 6ea rau very high one winter's night and washed away our house, and my father had only just time to save me and some of the books. I can recollect it They woke me and carried me out wrapped up in blankets, and 1 6aw the great wall of water rising up above me; and I heard the crash of the house sinking; yes, I have never forgotten it I was five years old. My mother died of the cold that night, and 60on after we came to Christslea. My father likes it because it is so solitary, and has such a big old garden. I think we pay you 40 a year for it with the orchard." "I am shocked not to know my tenants." "How should you know any tenant when you are never here?" "I am here sometimes." "Oh, yes, when you have a number of great people, now and then, once in four years. Myself, if I had Ladysrood, I would live there all the year round." "How happy Ladysrood and its master would be 1" The compliment made no impression on her. "I am as happy at Christslea," she answered ; "but I ßhould like to see your great galleries, and tho beautiful ballroom with the frescoes, and that staircase with the carving by Grinling Gibbons it must be an iminenso pleasure to own a beautiful old house. I have heard a great deal of yours, though I have never seen it." "You will now come and see it very often, will you not?" "It is a long way off, and I have no pony.". "I will send you a team of poniea, or I will come and fetch you myself." She laughed a little. "You say that, but you will not do it, because you always go to Italy." "Perhapj I shall not go to Italy this year." "Then I will come and see you," said Gladys Vernon, frankly. In such innocent interchange of speech they wended their way across the moor to where the moora became meadow land and orchard land, and a hill", uneven road went up and down between high hedrres and bilberry and briony. "That is our house," she said, as she pointed to some twisted chimneys and a thatched roof rising above a tangle of apple trees, elder trees, and hawthorn trees. The ground all about was orchard, and the strong sweet scent of the ripe fruit filled tho air. Guilderoy stopped his horse at the little wooden gate which she had pointed out to him, overtopped with luxuriant un

ONE

1 WHAT WILL iCLEMELÄND'S PLURALITY BEI IN INDIANA?

$50.00 $25.00 $15.00 $10.00

dipped shrubs, between tall privet hedges. "You are safe new," ho said to her, a.i she sprang down from the saddle. "I will bid you good-day here, and will call on your father later. Give him my compliments, and fcay how much I am indebted to the fox-cub for having led me to tho knowledge of my tenants." "You have been very kind," said the girl, with her hand on "the latch of the wicket "I have been very fortunate," sail Guilderoy, "but if you will allow me a parting word of advice, do not wander so far alone. It has ended well this time, but it might end not so well. You are too" he was about to say too handsome, but checked himself and said instead "too young to roam about unattended. Demos is about everywhere, you know. By the way, what will you do with your aI shall keep him in the gi araen. "Like Sir Kogerley dd hares." Coverley's She smiled as at the mention of a dear old friend. She gave him her hand with another of those smiles which made her more than ever like the Romney, and disappeared into the green twilight bf the untnmmed garden ways behind the wicket "What a charming child 1" he thought, "and she treats me much as she might treat the old carrier who crosses the moors, or the huckster who buys the orchard apples!" CHAPTER V. "Where have you been, my dear, all these hours?" a voice said from the green twilight of the tangled boughs and bushes. "That is my father ! Wait a moment," said the girl. And she pushed the branches aside and ran to him. Guilderoy heard her rapidly narrating her adventure and speaking of him by name; and in a few moments' time John Vernon came through the leaves and the shadows. He was a slight, well-made man, with a scholar's stoop in the shoulders, and a scholar's brow and eyes; he was very pale and his step was feeble, but he had a smile which was infinitely engaging in its brightness, and there was humor, too, about the delicate lines of his mouth ; he had once, like Ulysses, known well the cities and the minds of men. "My dear Lord Guilderov," he said, as he stretched out his hand, tll am infinitely obliged to you for having brought home my truant She is growing much too old to wander like this, but I cannot get her to believe it; and her education, in some ways, has been sadly neglected. Come in the house your house, by the way, and let me understand better what has happened. Gladys has gone to carry this new protege to the cow's stable." Guilderoy, won by the tone of the voice which addressed him, followed the speaker indoors, leaving his horse at the gate. He said something to the effect that whatever the means of education the result obtained was admirable. "You must not say that," replied her father, with a smile. "You are very kind if you think it, for my poor little girl, though she is not unpossessed of some learning, is wholly ignorant of all that a polite society requires in children of her age, and I make no doubt that ehe treated you with verv 6cant ceremony. I ought, you know," he continued with a sigh, "to send her to my people to be instructed in all the decencies of society, and le brought out into the world. But I hesitate to do so. The child would be wretched amongst a number of distant relatives. I am poor, as you know. She would have to take the position of a Cinderella, and she would not take it; she is too proud, too used to freedom, and in her own way, to sovereignty, for she does precisely as she pleases in this cottage." "She has an admirable manner," said Guilderoy, "only such a manner as high breeding gives untaught. Is it indeed true that I have the honor to be your landlord, Mr. Vernon ?" "Quite true; and we have had "your house ten years; it would not suit many people because it is so far away from civilization, but it does suit me chiefly for that reason. You appear to be very little ecqmainted with the extent of your proparty. It ia well that you have so good a steward." "I cannot think it safe for her to be alone," said Guilderoy. "She has not even a dog with her. Would you allow me to 6end you amastitToradeerhoucd?" 'There is a doer; we have a fine one; but he had lamed himself, and so wa not about with her as usual. No; she must learn to stay within bounds, and pay the penalty of loning the happy immunity ot childhood. She will be seventeen in'another month. It is your luncheon hour. I imagine, We are primitive people, ana

DOLLAR PER YEAR.

SENTINEL! we dine at this time. If vou will Ptay I shall be very pleased. My o'.d hnu. keeper can roast a capon, and I have some good Rhenish wine eiiil to oüc-r you. Dh iiiax viiiwrat." Guilderoy consented with much more willingness than he displayed to the invitations of the great world. The dining-room was a small, square plain room, which had been colore.! pray Ly a village plasterer ; but John Vernon, in idle moods, had covered the walls with classical figures drawn in black and white and it had a look of g'KKl taste, enhanced by the old silver plate on the round din-ing-tahle and the autumn lloweis f-et in a a gray blemish pot, which filled tho center. "When you havo only sixpence to spend you may as well buy a well-made thing as an ill-made thins." said John Vernon, as his guest c"m p'i mended him; "r.nd if you have pnly ML-haeima daisies and dahAts to st oui, you nay -j see that they harmonize." He did the honors of his homely .tablo with perfect grace and simplicity. His guest understood whence the girl had taken her high-bred repose. The repast was very simple; a plain soup, f;sh frefh from the sea, prawns stewed in sherry, and the canon Vernon had spoken of; but he had seldom enjored any banquet better. The keen air of the moors had given him an unwonted appetite. Gladys bad changed her gown to a frock of white serge, and had tied back her nbundanl hair with a pale ribbon. She spoke very little in her father's presence, but she had so lovely a face, with a color in her cheeks like that of the wild rose, thai Guilderoy almost preferred her silence; it became her yo ith; and the reverence ehe showed her lather was touching and uncommon in days when English jrirls are chiefly conspicuous by theirinsolonee and their forwardness. However seli-wiiled or high-spirited she might be to others, to John Vernon she was gracefully deferential and submissive in an unusual degree. He was stirred to a novel sympathy with this lonely, scholarly gentleman, feUul away from "the world under the boughs of Somerset apple orchards, and the child who had the beauty or the Ilomney Hamilton and tho lifn of a young peasar.t Her personal beauty pleased him; the one as much as the other. She knew nothing of the complications of hie; she had lived on these lonely moors, as Miranda on her isle, and she had the intrepidity and the inoueianrt cf a I.osilin I. "Are you never dull here?" he asked her. "Oh, never," tho child answered, with some indignation. "There is the garden, and the orchard, and 1 have a crvat many books, and 1 have a boat all my own down on the sands. If people are dull," she added with the happv certainty of youth, "thev mut be stupid themselves." "I am often dull," said Guilderoy. "I do not wish to accept your theory of the cause of it" "Why should you be dull ? nave you had any misfortune?" "One big one, perhaps." "The death of anyone ?" Her voice was full of ready svmpathy. "Oh, no; only that I enjoyed all thingi too early and too completely; a reasoa with which you would have no patience, even if yoa could understand it, which you could not." 'My father says when we can not have understanding we should at least have indulgence." "A gentle doctrine; few practice it Would vou be indulgent to me?' "GlaJys does not understand how yol can want indulgence," said John Vernon. "The lord of La iysrcxxi seems to her to be higher and happier than kings." "When will you bring her to Ladysrood?" "We never leave home." "You must make an exception for me," said Guilderoy, as he saw how the child's face changed in a moment from eager expectation to disappointment "We are hermits," replied Vernon. "I have forgotten what the outer world is like, and Gladys has never seen a glimpse of it We count time by the blossoming and the gathering of our rennctsand king pippins. There are more unpoetical wave of reckoning its flight I forgot; we have a sundial, but it stands in the shade and is no use to us, like some people's lives to their possessors." "I'lease do not suggest discontent here," he added in a low tone. "It is the curse of modem life. As yet it ha not passed this little wicket, and I shall thank you not to raise the latch for it" "Forgive me," said Guilderoy ; "I spoke thoughtlessly. I should indeed regret a meeting which has given me fo much pleasure if 1 were the means of letui, a snake creep into your orchard gra." He found in his host the mcit wti-

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