Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 37, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 April 1905 — CRIPPS, THE CARRIER [ARTICLE]

CRIPPS, THE CARRIER

BY R. D. BLACKMORE

Author of “L 0R N A DOO N E,” “ALICE LORR A 1 N E,” ETC., ETC.

OHAPTER XIII- —(Continued.) “Well,. Russel, new or old, here it is. And you must bear in mind bow I felt, •nd what everybody was saying'. In the first place then, you must remember that there was a groat deal said about a paid of my silk stockings. Now I shrank particularly from having an intimate matter of that sort made the subject of public gossip. It was neither becoming nor ladylike, to drag little questions of my wardrobe into the eye of the nation so. Already it was too much to know that a pair of such articles bad been found bearing my initials. Most decidedly I refused, aud I am sure any holy would do the same, to go into a hard coltb witness box and under the eyes of some sebres of males proclaim tuy ■ complicity With such things. If I had seen it my duty. I would have endeavored to conquer my feelings; but of course 1 took it all lor granted that everything was too clear already. And my dear brother: 1 thought of him; and thought of every one.-except myself. Could I do more, Russel Overshute?’’ “indeed, my dea-r madam. 1 do not see how. lint 1 thought that something had occurred quite lately." “Oh] yes, to be sure. It was only today. I meant to have told you that, first of all. I was grossly insulted. A peculiarly insolent proceeding on the part of poor Mrs. Sharp, it appears—or, perhaps, some one for her; for everybody says that she really now has no mind of her own. She did mot write nu* one single line, although I had written politely to her: and she sent me a message—too bad to be repeated. No one would tell me what it was: which aggravates it to the last degree. I assure you I have not been so upset for years; or, at any rate, not since poor Grace was lost. And ■bout that, unless I am much mistaken, that very low. soltish and plotting person knows a great deal more than we have ever dreamed. It would not surprise me in the least, especially after what happened to-day. to find Mrs. Sharp at the bottom of all of it. At any rate, she has aroused my suspicion by her contemptible insolence-; And I am not a per•on to drop a thing.” “Why. what- has she done?" asked Overshute. “What she did was this. She sent me back, not even packed in nice white paper, not even sprinkled with eau de cologne, not even washed —what do you think of that?—but rolled up anyhow in brown paper, the same ns a drayman would use for'his taps —oh. Russel, would you ever believe it!” “Certainly, it seems very impolite. But what was it she sent hack to you?" “Not even the article I expected! Not eveu that ingredient of costume which 1 bad lent poor Grade, very nice and pretty ones—but an old grey pair of silken bose. disgraceful even to look at. It is true that they bear my initials; but I bad discarded them long ago.’’ “What a strange cried Over•liute. flushed with quick excitement. “How reckless we were at the inquest! We had made up our minds without evidence. on the mere faith of coincidence. And you—you have never taken the trouble to look into this point until now—and now. perhaps, quite by accident! We were told that you had recognized the stockings; and it turns - out that you never even saw them. It is strange and almost wicked negligence.”

"I have tohl you my motives. I can •ay no more,” exclaimed Mrs. Hermitage, with tier fine fresh color heightened by shame nr anger. ‘‘Of course, I felt •lire —who could fail to do soV —that the stockings found with my name on them must he the pair I had lent my niece. It seemed most absurd that 1 should have So see them. It is more than my nerves «ould bear; and the coroner was not so unmanly as to force me. Fray, did you go, and see everything, sir?" "Mrs. I'ermitage, I am the very last person who has any right to reproach you. 1 failed in my duty, far more than you iu yours. In a man, of course, it was a thousand times worse. There is ao excuse for me. I yielded to a poor, unmanly weakness. I Wished to keep my memory of the poor dear, as I had seen ler last. 1 should have considered that the poor frail body is not our true identity—’’ "Quite so. of course. And therefore, what was the use of your going to see it? No. no, vou behaved very well, Rus»el Overshute; and so did I, if it comes to that.” "Let us settle that we both have done *ur best,” said liussel very sadly; knowing how far from the truth it was. "And low you will tell me what made you send for those silk ingredients of costume so suddenly.” "With pleasure, dear Russel. I sent lor them, or r.t least for what I fully expected to be the ones, because an impertinent young woman, foolishly trusted with very good keys, gave me notice to jo last evening. Of course she will fly, iefore I have a chance of finding out low much she lias stolen—they all take Tory good care to do that; ami knowing what the spirit of the age is—dress, dress, fal-lals, ribbons', heels in the air. and so on —I made up iny mind to have a turnout to-day, and see how much they lad left me. Five pair .and « half of silk hose were missing, as well as a thouaand more important tilings, and they all lacked up one another. They stood me oat to my face that I never had more (baa eight„,§air of Christchurch-Toiu •tor-kings—excuse me for being so coarse, mj dear; whereas I Imfl.got the receipt fyr twelve pair front the mall “that sold (ban. I happened to remember that I *—l«it my darling Grade pair No. 12, jmtnbered. ns all of them were, downilg&t. And so to confound those false(gnjiifd hussies, 1 came over here in March of them. Finding that they were Mtt here—for the lawyers, of course, steal everything—l was not going to be beaten •a. I Bent aa polite.a letter as, nfter her •Iwmeful rudeness, any lady could write. Mr*. Luke Sharp—a poor lady who •Kpected every halfpenny of my dear liMlanrt’fr saving*. - How far site deserves C-t you have seen to-day. And sooner womU I burn myself, like a sooty widow. si! my goods evaporating, than ever MOT* « sixpence for her to clutch, after

such behavior. Russel, you will remember this. You are my executor.” “My dear Mrs. Fermitagc. I pray you in no way to be excited. We have not heard nil of the story, and we know that servants who are of a faithful kind exaggerate slights to their masters. It was one of tin' Squire’s old servants who went. Your own would, perhaps, have known better. But "now, may I see the things Mrs! Sharp sent you?” "You may. And you may take them, if you -like. Or rather. 1 should say that 1 beg you to take them. They ought to be in your custody: Will you oblige me by taking, tinim...RusseL and carefully inspecting them? For that of course, you must have daylight. Take th(>in in the paper, just as they came, and keep them until l ask for them. They can be of no importance, because they are not what 1 lent to Grade. Except for nvy name on. them, I am sure that 1 never could have remembered them. They were darned in tin' days when I was poor. How often I wish that I still was poor! Then nobody wanted to plot against me, and even to steal my stockings! Oh. Russel, do you think they have murdered my darling because she was to have my money?” “No, I think nothing of the kind. I believe that our darling Grace is alive; and I believe it tenfold since I saw these things. 1 am not very old in the ways of the world; and my judgment has always been wrong throughout. But my faith is tin' same as the grand old Squire's, though forty years of life behind him. I firmly believe that, blindly as we ourselves have managed everything, i)ll will be guided, aright for us.; and happiness, even in this world, come. Because, though we have done no great good, wo have done harm to no one; and the Lord of Heaven knows it. Also, lip knows that we trust in Him, so far as the trouble allows us. Very well; I will take these stockings home. You shall hear from me on Monday. I believe that our Grace is alive; and God will enable me to deliver her. Please Him, I will never leave off till then,” Tire young man looked so grand and strong, iu his faith, anil truth, and righteousness, that the elderly lady said no word, but let her eyes How, and kissed him. He placed the stockings in an inner pocket, carelessly wrapped in their paper; and he rode home apace to please his mother; and having a cold on him from all his wettings, lie perspired freely; and at every stretch of his galloping horse lie was absorbing typhus, fever.

CHAPTER XIV.

In April, when the sunny bmls wore showing forth their little frills; and birds that love to hop sideways and try the toleration of the sprays that they are picking at, were almost too busy to chirp, and lning as happily as possible upside down, shaking the flutter of young green lace; while at the same time pigs reared aloft little corkscrew tails, and scorning their nose rings, employed them as thimbles for making a punch in the broidery of turf; also when ducks and geese, and cocks and hens, and even the dogs were all. without knowing it, beginning to wag themselves as they walked or waddled, and to shine in the sun, and to look very large in their own eyes; neither was there any man who could ride a horse, without knowing how, at this young jump of the year and of 1 if*', Grace Oglander wanted to go for a walk. She had not b.v any means been buried in the haunted Quarry; neither had sire as yet required burial iu any place. On the contrary, here she walked more blooming and lovely than even her custom was; and the spring sun, glistening upon the gold letters of her tombstone at Berkley, the same sun was pleasantly making and taking light in the fluctuations of her growing hair. Her bright hair (which had been so cruelly cropped) instead of being the worse for the process, was waving and glowing again in vast multiplicity of vigor; like a specimen golden geranium shorn, to double the number of its facets; and the blue in the spring of her eyes was enough to dissatisfy the sun with his own sky. However, lie showed no discontent, hut filled the young wood with cheerful rays, and the open glades with merriment, and even the somber heart of laboring man with streaks of liveliness. : For here were comforts that come in, without the eye considering them; and pleasures, which when thought of fly; and delicate delights that have no idea of being, delightful. Grace rambled on, as a school girl does when the hours of school are over. Every single fall or rise of nature’s, work Was kind to her, and led her into various veins of inductive unphilosophy. The packing and storing of last year’s leaves, as if exceeding precious, gathered together by the wind and land iu some rich rustling corner: the fitting of these into one another wonderfully compact, as if with the hammer of a goldbeater, or the unknown implement wherewith a lien packs her hatched eggshells; the stiff upstanding of fine young stuff, hazel, ash, and so on, tapering straight as a fishing ri d. and knobbing out on either side with scarcely controllable bulges; over and above, and throughout *ll, and sensible of their largeness, the spreading quietude of great trees, just breathing their buds on the air again, but not in a hurry to rush into perils of leanness —pleased with ail these proofs of soft revival and tender movement, the fair timid, almost forgot her own depression and perplexities. Grace wandered at her own sweet will, within the limits of her own parole. She knew she was in seclusion here, by her father’s command, for her own good; and much ns she yearned, from time to time, to he nt home, with nil the many things she was so fond of. she was such a dutiful child, and so loving, that she put her own wishes by. nud smiled and sighed instead of pouting. It could not be very long now, she was sure, until her father should come home, and call for her, ns he had promised, and take her once more to beloved Beckley, after this mournful exile. Full as she was of all these thoughts, and heeding her own ways but little, so

long as She kept within the outer ring A fence allowed to her. she fell‘into a little stupid fright, as she called it afterwards; for which there was no one but herself* to blame. Only yesterday that pood Miss Patch (her governess and sweet guardian) hat] particularly begged her to be careful; because the times were now so bad, that lawless people went everywhere. Miss Patch herself had heard several noises she could not at all account for; and while she considered it quite a duty to trace up everything to its proper source, still there are. times when it cannot he done; and then the right thing is to keep within sight or call of a“ highly respectable man. This was exactly what Grace might have done, and would have done, jpjt for the tempting day; for a truly respectable man had been near her, when first she began her little walk; a man whom she had beheld more than once, but always at a little distance; a tall, stout man, according to her distant ideas of him, always busy in a quiet way, and almost grudging tho time to touch his broad flapped hat without lifting his head, when he saw her . in the wood; land. Grace had never asked him who he was, nor been within talking distance of him; at which she was almost surprised; when she thought how glad, as a rule, are all Oxfordshire workmen to have a good excuse for leaving off. However, she was far beyond him now, when she met another man who frightened her. This was a fellow of dark complexion, dressed in a dirty fustian suit, and hearing on his shoulder a thick hedge-stake, from which hung a number of rabbit skins. His character might be excellent: hut his appearance - did not recommend him to the confidence of the public. Grace shrank aside, but his quick eyes had spied her; and, indeed, she almost feared, from his manner, that lie hail been on the watch for her. So she put the best face on it, and tried to pass him, without showing any misgivings. But the rabbit man was not to be thus defrauded of his right to good society. "With a quick, sharp turn ho cast' off the skins from his staff, and stretched that slimy implement across the way. “Allow me to pass, if you please,” said Grace, attempting to look very resolute; "these are our grounds. You are trespassing.” "Now, my purty young lady,” said the rabbit man, coining so close that she could not fly; “yon wouldn’t be too hard, would you now? I sees a great many young maids about—but what be they to compare with you?” "I am sure that you do not mean any harm,” replied Grace; ‘nobody does any harm to me; lint every one is so kind to me. My father is so good to all win get into any trouble. I am not worth robbing, Mr. Rabbit man; honest as you are. no doubt. But I think I can find a shilling, for you to take home to you? family.” (To be continued.)