Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 34, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 December 1901 — NORA'S TEST [ARTICLE]

NORA'S TEST

BY MARY CECIL HAY

From Darkness To Light

CHAPTER v VL— (Continued.) “Then you will doubtless have this window blocked at once, and, as this door locks—you told me that no other did —you will decide, I feel sure, to leave the key here, and lock and seal the door until Mr. Doyle’s arrival. Is that what you intend?” inquired Mark, coolly, as young CotT, muttering angrily, shuffled aeross the hall to the front door. “As you like,” returned Nuel, icily. “What was' Corr doing?” “OhT worshiping, of course,” answered Mark, with the keenest irony, “on his knees before the shrine. You seemed to know it all by instinct —or by previous knowledge of- your man —else I would have told you in his presence. He has a spiritual countenance,“has he not?" “He is a man,” remarked Dr. Armstrong, pointedly, “whose retaliation would know no limits of law or piety, if you injured him without cause.” “Yes, he looks a vindictive vagabond,” rejoined Mark, coolly. “Now, shall we help Breen? And then you will seal this door, with my assistance. I had hoped to be half way to Fintona by this time.” Dr. Armstrong did his part carefully, feeling how keen were the eyes ■ that watched him, and how' dexterous the hands which helped. And MarkPoynz walked away from the old house, slowly and thoughtfully, in the whitening dawn.

CHAPTER VII. The inquest was over; the anticipated verdict of “accidental death” had been returned; and for the first time withia five-and-thirty years, the old brick gravt of the St. Georges was opened; while, it. true Irish fashion, the people crowded into the Kilver churchyard to see the hus-band-called off so suddenly in his grim old age—laid beside the young wife who had begun to die upon her wedding day. The inevitable ceremony was over, and only compassion for the orphan girl had prevented its being a very hollow and indifferent one. But sympathy for her while she stood beside her grandfather’s grave had given warmth and feeling to the dreary proceedings; and now all those who, an hour before, had stood with her at the open grave, had met in the chill and gloomy sitting room at Traveere, rather amused in their own minds, most of them, to think what a farce it was to wait for a will where there was only penury to inherit. Celia Pennington sat beside Nora on the hearth, where the cats and dogs lay just as of old, and Dr. Armstrong stood beside her, with one hand on the back of her chair. She wore an old-fashioned black calico dress, which she had kept in her box for years, because she had thought it so very ugly. But what other mourning was in her power, when she had not even one shilling in the world? Celia was dressed prettily, as usual, in a thin, pure-colored dress, which stood her Instead of mourning, and which she had decorated funereally with jaunty bows of black ribbon. At the table near Nora sat Will Foster, employing the interval of leisure in studying a “Bradshaw” which was open before him. He had arrived from England only on the previous night, having been obliged to escort his sister home on the day after Col. St. George’s death, but determined to return for the funeral. Still, it was not for his own return that he was studying the times of trains and steamers now, for he knew he had to leave by the mail tha£ night, and travel without pause, to reach Heaton in time for his Sunday morning service. Opposite the girls, also at the table, sat the old lawyer and Mr. Pennington, each in his grave and somber black; and further off, Mark Poynz, half sitting and half leaning against the high, narrow window seat, seemed to have little to do with either what was occurring or what would eventually occur. At first, when he had come from the churchyard to Traveere, Dr. Armstrong had suavely inquired if he had any business to transact there, putting the questiea so adroitly that he felt Mr. Poynz would be forced into equivocating in his confusion, and leaving the premises at once. But Mr. Poynz had done nothing of the kind. “I have attended Col. St. George’s funeral as a family connection,” he said, “and by that right I wait until Doyle considers all business matters over, and is ready to leave the house himself; for I intend to drive him back to Fintona.” “Would not a servant do as well?’ ’inquired Dr. Armstrong, superciliously. “Possibly,” replied Mark, with the utmost composure; “but neither you nor I, Dr. Armstrong, have our own servants—here in Miss St. George’s huse.” So the argument had ended, and Nuel Armstrong was conscious of looking n little baffled, though he schooled his face determinedly. “I have for a long time,” observed the attorney, in a clear, business-like tone, “had in my possession the will of the late Col. St. George, with a letter of trust. As all the property of which he died possessed must be contained in the Iron chest which was in his own chamber, I propose, gentlemen, that we adjourn there first, that we mny avoid disappointment and mortification, if possible.” It was soon over, the digging out of the chest, the search in it and the weak tarrying hope—all soon over. The safe was found empty, save for a few musty papers of no value; yet it was patent to the slowest capacity there thnt the lock had never been tampered with, nor the seal broken. And now Nora had to hear her grandfather’s will, and to know the while thnt It was a hollow mockery, and thnt all he could bequeath to her wan the qld ruined house and the useless animals. But this was no new pain for Nora. “I always knew how poor I was,” she said, smiling at the vicar’s sympathy; “didn’t you?” “A perfectly correct and legal farce,” observed Mr. Doyle, ns he refolded the paper. “The only sensible thing the old man has fione, Miss Nora, is to leave me sole guardian and executor. Don’t you think so?” . “Thank you," said Noiy, simfrly; “but

it will be a thankless task for you, Mr. Doyle.” “Do you think,” asked Nuel Armstrong, lifting his eyes for the first time from Nora’s face, where they had fixed themselves with surprise, “that the letter you hold may contain an inclosure, which would throw any light upon this matter, Dojrie?” “Not the slightest. And I have read ihe letter already,” replied the attorney. “St. George gave it to me to open, and wished me to read it. This will renders the letter void; but the letter can throw no light upon this irritating will.” “Is it possible,” inquired Mr. Foster, “that that iron chest has secret receptacles, a false back, or anything of that kind?” “I thought of that,” returned the lawyer, “as I examined it; but you will find that the most careful measurement will not disclose a secret recess. No, there is no doubt at all permitted us, though the house shall be well searched. The only ray of light at all in this gloom; Miss St. George, is your own previous assurance of—your present condition.” ■> “Yes,” said Nora, quietly, “of course, 1 knew how very poor I was. I have known it all my life, but I never thought of it till a few days ago, when grandpa told me how I was to earn my own livelihood:” “Oh, he told you that?” questioned the lawyer, briskly. “That betrays a great deal. But I would scarcely have believed even that forethought in him.” “And he nearly consented,” put in Will Foster, eagerly, “that she should accept a proposal of my mother’s and go to England to study with my younger sister. What do you think of that, sir?” Quietly, standing with his hands behind him and his head bent forward, the Irish lawyer listened to the unfolding of Mr. Foster’s proposition, and nodded his approval more than once. “It is the very beau ideal of a plan,” he said, heartily. “Then, if you can manage this year of study, Miss Nora, you will be all right, and the world will be your oyster, which you, with knowledge, will open—eh?” “If I can really afford that year’s study,” said Nora, in her grave, straightforward way, “I shall not fear. I will work so hard that when the year is over ” “Well, when the year is over?” interrogated Mr. Pennington, with a smile. “You will see,” she answered, and she even smiled, too. “It is only talk, Nora,” whispered Dr. Armstrong, under his breath. “You will have no need to work. You forget, Doyle,” he added presently, aloud, “that this time of preparation and study in England—as marked out by Mr. Foster, and, as he avers, his mother—Miss St. George must be possessed of funds, and you have just informed her that she is without this neecssary adjunct.” “Then what do you propose?” It was Mark who put the question, for Mr. Doyle seemed in no haste to reply,, and the other gentlemen only gazed blankly at the speaker. “I propose,” rejoined Nuel, “the only course which I see open to my young relative —that is, to accept the home to which I am waiting to conduct her. I am a kinsman, and I have sufficient means to provide a home for her. I was her grandfather’s trusted friend, and have been her guardian and adviser all her life. What more natural than that she should come to me now?” “As for that,” said the vicar, meditatively, “she would be very welcome, if she came to us; but we are thinking of the future, and for that Mr. Foster’s project droids out much greater advantages.” “Yes,” said Nora, smiling at Celia; “kind as your thought is, Mr. Pennington, I know I could not work half steadily enough if I lived with Celia. It will be hard, of course, in any case, after my idle life, but it would be hardest of all at the vicarage.” "My offer is best, is it not, Nora?” queried Dr. Armstrong, flushing a little in his eagerness. “Yours is very kind, too,” she answered, while Will waited breathlessly for this reply; “but I should not think of that for one moment. Need I say again how determined I am to work, and not be idle?” “Then if,” put in Mr. Pennington, "we could dispose of Traveere ” A wistful smle curled Nora’s lips. “Who would ever buy Traveere?” she asked. “Now, too,” added Celia, “when the half of it is only a heap of rubbish.” “It is not of very much value,” interposed the attorney, speaking as if deep in mental calculations; “but in the event of all the animads going with it, Nora, I know a purchaser.” “The animals!” Baid Nora, wondering. “People have often said no one but grandpa would have kept Borak or Snow. And there are only the pigs. Kitty has killed the last of the poultry now; and the dogs nre all so old and lazy, and," as her eye fell on the hearth, “the cats ” “There is not a very great marketable value, so to speak, in a cat,”, observed the lawyer, “but still, perhaps, my client would include the cats in his purchase, and be inclined to pay accordingly. Of course I shall inquire about thnt; meanwhile we will conclude thnt the purchase money of Traveere supplies you with funds for education and pocket money at present, Miss Nora, and that the future will secure its profits? Now, gentlemen, I think that is oil I need decide today, in my new capacity of guardian and trustee.” “It is well to recollect you hold that office,” interrupted Nuel Armstrong, sarcastically. “Even though nothing is intrusted to you, you are, of course, still trustee, and it is an important office." “I agree with you, sir," returned Mr. Doyle, affably. “Now, Miss Nora, I will wish you good-by for the present. Pack up your things as soon as you can.”

“How will Miss St. George travel to England?" lnqnlred Will, bis fingers on his railway guide. "Unfortunately, I am obliged to leave to-night; but I could manage to come again for her.” “Quite unnecessary,” interrupted Dr. Armstrong, his low, smooth tones unusu-

ally hurried now. “I shall myself taM my cousin to England if I eventually allow her to go. At present Ido not sea that I am called upon to do so.” “Not being legal guardian to your couain—l did not before this minute know of that near relationship,” said Mr. Doyle, placidly—“you have no need to worry yourself in the matter, Dr. Armstrong. You will, of course, travel with Miss Nora if you like; at the same time, you can also spare yourself if you like, for I shall certainly myself accompany my ward to England, to make all arrangements with the lady who has kindly proffered her co-operation.” “Thank you,” said Will, heartily, though his heart failed him a little as he pictured how variable his mother's cooperation w T ould be. And then a few further matters wera discussed, and Mr. Poynz and the attorney prepared to leave. As Nora had steadfastly refused to leave Traveere and Kitty that day, Celia was determined to stay with her; and Mr. Pennington drove home to fetch his wife, as well as a basket of provisions from the vicarage larder, which should supply the deficiencies at Traveere, if they all stayed to cheer Nora. Mark thought they "were still all chattering with Mr. Doyle in the hall, when, as he brought down his horses from the yard, he saw Nora issue alone from the back door, and go slowly out among the gnarled old trees. Stopping his horses, he stood and called her by her name; in such a natural, easy way, that though she had started at first, she turned and came up to him running, with genuine gladness in her eyes. “Are you going at once, Mr. Poynz?” she asked. “You hadn't.said good-by to me, had you?” “Not yet. Are you content with what has been decided to-day?” “Yes,” she answered him with simple earnestness; “quite content and very grateful to those who have put it into my power to work.” “You will like Mrs. Foster.” “Yes; Will says so. But never his sister —I mean, I was thinking just then that it might be better for me to go to some sort of grown-up school, if there are such things in England.” “But there are not. Schools never grow up in England.” “Mr. Poynz,” said Nora, fixing her eyes upon him with the frankest scrutiny, “mustn’t it be a curious person who has bought Traveere?” “I think not,” answered Mark, reflectively. “I believe there is valuable ore on the land, and some shrewd client of Mr. Doyle’s has found it out.” “I have found it out,” said Nora, laughing. “I suspected it before, but I wanted to be sure. I know the shrewd client of Mr. Doyle’s, and I ” Here she broke off, and began to speak very earnestly. “Oh, Mr. Poynz, how good it was of you! The land is worth nothing; and of course you know it. And the animals” —she could not help the laugh coming back to her eyes—“are as useless and helpless as —as we have all been at Traveere for years and years. And there is Kitty. She says she is to live on here —and Breen. Oh, Mr. Poynz, how good you are to us all!” “But I am not keeping you on at Traveere.” “No,” she said, with her beautiful, swift smile, “you are doing still more for me. I shall owe all my better life to you. I shall work—oh, so hard! And you shall see If I have wasted it all; though”— w r ith a retgretful sigh —“I have wasted so much already, and I shall be so slow compared with what other girls would be.” “Good-by,” he said then, giving his hand to Nora; “we may meet in England.” “Only may?” she questioned, too anxious for his reply to notice how closely and how tenderly he held her hand to the last moment. “As I understand that you are to be buried in books for the whole year, of course no resurrection on behalf of an old friend is to be hoped for; so good-by.” “Yes, I shall be very, very bulsy,” assented Nora, with great gravity; "but still I hope I shall see you sometimes, even when I have not time to talk.” “And ask questions.” “Oh, Mr. Poynz,” she said, with a total change in her voice, and a great dumb question already in her beautiful eyes, “what shall I do in England if I may not ask questions? If I met you, I know I should have a hundred ready to ask, weighing me down utterly, and you would be so shocked, and so disappointed in it me. “Try me,” replied Mark, laughing; and then he turned almost quickly from her to bid good-by to Miss Pennington. Only in the briefest manner had he responded to the lawyer’s varied remarks when they reached Fintona, and Mr. Doyle offered his hand at parting; then he said, without any preparation: “You will see that Miss St. George has money with her, for her own nameless girlish fancies; because cats sell well, you know.” “Generally,” assented the attorney, .with a twinkle in his eye. “And, if I were you, I would not let that one tenant, young Corr, know juot yet that he has an English landlord. You understand?” “Perfectly.” (To be continued.)