Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 37, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 March 1905 — CRIPPS, THE CARRIERS [ARTICLE]

CRIPPS, THE CARRIERS

BY R. D. BLACKMORE

Author of “LORNA DOO NE,” “ALICE LORR AI N E,’’ETC., ETC.

CH APT E R VIT I.—(Cent inued t “What wonders have yon wrought. John Stiiitli?” “You know that story of Cripps the Mrrier and his sister. . Some folk lieSered it, and some r>erohve\r IT.' I did ■either of the two. but resolved to get to ! the bottom 0f.i1." ’this was what I did. ■ A brave regiment of soldiers having newsy returned from India, was ordered to march from London to the Land's-end for change of tbmperaiure. They had not been supplied, of course, with any • liange fff Hotties for climate, and they felt it a little, but were exhorted not to be too particular. Two companies were ♦it be billeted at Abingdon. la>t evening; «nd having, of course, received notice ot that. I procured authority to use them. They shivered so that they Wanted work: •nd there is nothing, ymir worship, like discipline.” “Of cour-e. I know that from my early davs. Will von tell vopr story speedily T’ “Sir. that is just what I am doing. I Brought them without many wonl> to the quarry, where ten times the number •f our clodlu'Pj>ers would only have shov•led at one another. Bless my heart! they did work, ami with order and arrangement. Being clothed all in cotton they had no time to lose, unless they meant to get frozen, and it was a tine tight, I assure your worship, to see how ♦hey showed their shoulder blades, being skinny from that hot cliniilte. and their brown freckled arms in the white of the drift, and the Indian steam coming out «f them! In about two hours all the ground was clear, and the trees put • way. like basket-work; and then vvi♦ould see what had happened exactly. *ud even the mark es tin pickaxes. Every word of that girl was proved to a tittle. I never heard 'finer evidence. We can even see that two men had been at work, and the stroke of their tools was different. We shoveled away all the fallen rock, and mould, anil stumps, and sane-roots; and. at last, we came to the poor, poor innocent body, as fresh as the daylight.’’ “I cah 1 hear no more! You have lost ■ o child—if you have, perhaps you could •pare it. Tell me nothing—nothing more! But prove that it was my child!” “Why. you are only "fit to go to bed! Here. Mary! Mary! Mother Hookham! Curse the bell—l have broken it! Your master is taken very queer! Look alive, woman’! Stir your stumps’ A pot of Kot water and a foot-tub! Don't get •cared. He will be all right. Hold his Bead up. Let me feel. Oh, he is not going to die’Just yet. Stop your caterwauling. He will know us all in a minute again. He ought to hdve had a deal more spirit. I never could have expected tiiis. I smoothed off everything so nicely —just as if it was a lady ” “Did you. indeed! I have heard every word.” sail Widow Hookham sternly. “You lucked the door, or I would have Bad my ten nails in you, long ago! Poor dear! Wl.at is a stum like you? Ami after all, what have you done, John Smith?” CH APTER L\. Ou the very next day it was known throughout the parish and the neighborBood. the the ancient Squire had broken down at last, under the weight of anxieties. Nobody blamed him much for this, except his own sister and Mr. Smith. Mrs. Fermit a ire said that he, ought to have shown more faith and resignation; and John Smith declared-' that all his plans were thrown out by tiiis stupidity. What proper inquiry could be held, when the universal desire was to spare the feelings and respect the affliction of a poor old man? Mr. Sini’h was right. An inquest truly must be lo l l upon the body, which had Been found by the soldiers. But the coroner. being a good old friend and admirer , of the Oglanders. contrived that the mat- I ♦es should be a n’qre form, ami the ver- | diet an open nullify. Mr. Luke Sharp appeared. ami in a dignified reserve was ready to represent t family. He said a few word-, in the very best taste, and scarcely dared to hint at things, which Hiust be p. infill to everybody left alive to think of them. The crush of tons of ♦oek upon an unprotected female form Bad made it tint the hair having been tut off, was there no longer; ♦here was really nothing except a pail- of •ot over new stik stockings, belonging to • lady of lofty position in the county. •nd the widow of an eminent gentlmun, but not required, he might hope, to present her-elf so painfully. Mr. Sharp could say no more; and the jury felt that he now mibt come, or, failing him. his •on, Kit Sharp, into the 150.0001. of “Port-wine 1 ■’< rmitagc.” Therefore they returned the verdict carried in hi- pocket for them. “Death by misadventure of n/yoting lady, name •uknown.” Their object was to satisfy ♦he Squire and their consciences: anil ♦licy found it w ise not to be too purlieuBir. And the coroner was the hist ufan ♦<> make any fuss about anything. “Are you satisfied now, Mr. Over•hate?” asked Lawyer Sharp, as Russel met him in the passage of the Quarry Anns, where the inquest had been taken. “The jury have done their best, at once •»» meet the facts of the case, and respect •he feelings of the family." “Satisfied! How can I be? Such a iM-us-poi-us I never knew. It is not for me to interfere, while things are in this wretched state. Everybody knows what ■ a inquest is. No doubt you have done your duty, and acted according to your tartnictiona. Come in here, where we can apeak privately." Mr. Sharp did not look quite ns if he ilMired ■ private interview. However, to followed the young mail, with the tost grace he could muster. “I am going to speak quite calmly, and tore no whip now for you to snap.” said *Msel; "but mny I ask you why you tore done your utmost to prevent what Mcmed. to an ordinary mind, the firat ■MI most essential thing?” “Th« identification? Yes, of course. Win you come, and satisfy yourself? The toy of the room is in my pocket.” “I cannot do it. 1 cannot do It,” •towered the young man shuddering.

"My Inst recollection must not be ” "Young sir. 1 respect' your feelings. And med ask you. :ifl<r tli.a. whether 1 have done amiss in sparing the feeling's of the family? And there is Something rr ore-important tliim even that nt stake just now. Yon know the poor Squire’s sad eonditjon. The poor old gentleman is pretty well»br<>ken down at hist, 1 fear. What else could we expect of him? And, the doctor his sister had brought from London says that his life bangs positively upon a thread of hope. Therefore! we are telling him sad stories, or rather. 1 t tight to say. h.appjt. stoi'ie-: and though In- is 100 sharp to swallow them' all. they io him good. sir—they do him goM." "1 can quite understand it. But how does that bear—l mean von could Lave misled him surely about the result of this inquest ?” "By no means. He would have insisted on seeing a copy of the Herald. In tael, if tin- jury could nflt have been mnnagid. I had arranged with the editor to print a special copy giving the verdict as we wanted it. A pions fraud, of coursra and so it is better to dispense with it. This verdict will sot him up ■•’.gain upon his poor old legs. 1 hope, lie seemed to dread the final blow so. and the bandying to and fro ’of his unfort tinnte daughter's name. I scarcely see why it should be so; but so it is, Mr. Overshute." “Of course it is. How can you doubt it? How can it be otherwise. All 1 imail to say is that, you need no more explain yourself. I seem to be always doubting you: and it always shows what a fo<d am I.” "Now da'n’t say that." Mr. Luke Sharp answered, with a fine and gonial smile. "Yon are acknowledged to be the most rising member of the County Bench. But still, there is such a thing as going too far with acuteness. You may not perceive it yet: but when you come to my age. you will own it.” "Truly. But who can be too suspicious when such things are done as these? I tell yon. Sharp, that 1 would give my head off my shoulders, this very instant, to know who has done this villainy. This infernal —unnatural wrong, to my darling—to my darling." “Mr. Overshute, how can we tell that any wrong has been done to her?” “No wrong to take her life! No wrong to cut off all her lovely hair, and to send it to her father! No wrong to leave us as we are. with nothing now to care for! You spoke like a sensible man just now —oh. don't think that - am excitable.” “Well, how cast I think otherwise? But do me the justice to remember that I do not for one moment assert what everybody takes for granted. It seems too probable, and it cannot for the present at least he disproved, that here we have the sad finale of the poor young lady. But it must be borne in mind that, on the other hand, the body ” “The thing could be settled in two minutes —Sharp, I have no patience with yotTf"

“So it appears; and making due allowance, 1 am not vexed with you. You mean, of course, the interior garments, the nether clothing, and so on. There is not a clue afforded there. We have found no name on anything. The features and foim. as 4 peed, not tell you ■" “I cannot bear to hear of that. Has any old servant of the family; has the family doctor ” "All these measures were taken of (curse. We had the two oldest servants. But the one was flurried out of her wits, and the other three-quarters frozen. And you know what a fellow old Splinters is. the crustiest of the crusty. He took it in bitter dudgeon that Sir Anthony had been sent for to see the poor old Squire. And all he wottjd say was. ‘Yes. yes, yes. You had better send for Sir Anthony. Perhaps lie could bring oh. of course he could bring—my poor little pet to life again.’ Then we tried her unit. Mrs. Fermitage. one of the, last vim hud seen her living. But bless you, my dear sir, a team of horses would not have lugged her into the room. cried.sand shrieked, and fainted away. - ••'Barbarous creatures!' said said, 'you \x“ill have t(> hold another inquest, if you uje &> unmanly. I could not even see mj dear husband.' and then she fell into hysterics. Now, sir. have we anything lucre to do? Shall we send a litter or a collin for th<- Squire himself?” "You are inclined to be sarcastic. But you have taken gr-uit deal upon yourself. You seem have ordered everything. Mr. Luke Sharp every where!’’

“Will you tell me who else there was to do it? It lias not been a very pleasant task, and certainly not a profitable one. I shall reap the usual reward—to be called a busybody by evert on *. But th it is a tritie. Now. if there is anything you can sttggi st, Mr. <lversliute, it shall be doiie at once. Take time to think, i feel a little tired and in lived of rest. There has been so much to think of. You should have come to help us sooner. But, no doubt, you felt a sort of delicacy about it. The worthy jurymen's feet at last Lave ceased to rattle in the passage. My horse will not be here just yet. You xx ill not think me rude, if 1 snatch a little rest, wliU&you Consider. For three nights I have lupl no sleep. Have I your good permission, sir? Here is the key of thrtt room, meanwhile.” Russel Ovefshnte wits surprised to si’e Mr. Sliarp draw lorili'tt large silk handkerchief and spread it carefully over the eiown of his long, deep head, and around his temples down to the fine gray eyebrows. Then lifting gnitcred heels upon the Hat wide lyir of the iron fender, in less than a minute Mr. Luke Sharp win asleep beyond nil contradiction. He slept the sleep of the just. If Mr. Sharp had striven hard to produce n powerful effect, young Overshute might have suspected him; but this calm, good sleep and pure sense of rest laid him open for nil the world to take n inrger view of him. No bnd mnn could sleep like that. No narrow-minded man could be so wide to nature’s noblest power. Only a tine and genial soul could sweetly thus resign itself. The soft content of well-earned repose spoke volumes silence.' Here was a good

man at peace with his conscience, the world, and hen ven. Overshute was enabled thus to look at things more loftily. To judge a man as he should be judged, when he challenges no verdict. To see that there are large points of view, which we Jose by worldly ■wisdom, and by little peeps through selfish holes, too one-eyed and ungenerous. Overshute could not bear the idea of any iililierality. He hated suspicion in anybody. unless it were just: as his own -iiotild be. In this condition of mind he pondered, while the honest lawyer slept. And he could not think of anything neg-l':--ted, or mismanaged miu-h. in the present helpless state of things. CHAPTER X. When at last the frost broke up. and streams began to run again, and every-wTiei-eYthe’ earth was glad that men should see her face once more; and forest trees, and roadside pollards, and bushes of the common hedgerow, straightened their unburdened backs, and stood for spring to look at them; a beautiful young maiden value as far as she could come, and sighej,!; as if the beauty of the land awaking was a grief to her. This pretty laity, in the young mossbud and slendcr-neeked chalice of innocence. was laden with dews of sorrow, such as Nature, in her outer /dealings with the more material workl.-defers until autumnal iiight. ami russet hours are waiting. Scarcely in full bloom of youth, but ripe for blush or dreaminess, she felt the power of early spring, and the budding hope around her. "Am I to be a prisoner always, ever more a prisoner?” she said, as she touched a willow catkin, the earliest of all, the silver one. She stroked the delicate silken tassel, doubtful of yet; and she looked for leaves, but none there were, and nothing to hold commune. The feeble sun seemed well content to have' a glimpse of the earth again, and spread his glances diffidently, as if he expeetetl shadow. Nevertheless, there he was at last; and the world received him tenderly. “It has been such a’long, long time. It seems to grow longer, as the days draw out, and nobody comes to talk to me. My place it is to obey, of course — but still, but still —there he is again!” The girl drew back, for a fine young man. in a grand new velvet shooting coat, wearing also a long shawl waistcoat and good buckskin breeches, which (combined with calfskin gaiters) set off his legs to the uttermost—in all this picturesque apparel, and swinging a gun right gallantly, there he was, and no mistake! He was quietly trying_through the covert, without any beaters, but with a brace of clever spaniels, for woodcock, snipe, or rabbit perhaps, the season for game being over. A tall, well made, and tathcr nice young man (so far as a bashful girl might guess) he seemed at this third view of him; and of course it would be an exceedingly rude and pointed thing to run away. Needless, also, and indeed absurd: because she was sure that when last they met he was frightened much more than she was. It was nothing less than a duty now to find out whether he had recovered himself. If ho had done so. it would be as well to frighten him even more this time. And if he had not. it would only be fair to see what could be done for him. One of his dogs-—a “cocking spannel,” as the great Mr. Looker warranted — good young bitch, with liver-colored spots and drop ears torn r by brambles, and eyes full of brownish yellow light, ran ftp to the girl confidentially and wagged a brief tail, and sniffed a little, and with sound discretion gazed. Each black nostril was like a murk of panting interrogation. and one ear was tucked up like a small tunnel, and the eye that belonged tn it blinked with acumen. (To be continued.)