Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 40, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 December 1907 — A CROWN OF FAITH [ARTICLE]

A CROWN OF FAITH

CHAPTER ! v j Nearly all the lights were extinguish v/ In private dwellings in the town of 4boUhold. Tliere had been an ng.- .litoral dinner at the “Black Wolf,” .. picturesque, many-gabled inn, which stood apposite the western entranee of the-an-cient Abbey church. It was a ghostly •Id inn, with its wide window places, high mantelpieces, odd three-cornered rooms, -imf pt—agea. and unsuspected Clipboards. John Clayton, the present landlord, had Inherited it from Sis father, who, in Si a tern, had inherited it from his father, and he again from his. In short, the m ßlk* Wolf had been in possession of the Claytons for two hundred years. It was the most comfortable inn in Abbotshold. The sleeping accommodations, the fires, the cleanliness recommended it far and wide. Tliere was a plump, motherly The guests at the dinner had departed, aaea two. and those two sat each on a low, lounging chair before a brilliant fire. Baskets and plates of choice fruit, hothouse flowers in grent china vases, yet remained on tbe long table. Both of tbe lingering guests were young ; each was singularly handsome. The elder was fair, with golden mustache, light curling hair, a finely cut mouth, a atrsdglit profile, large blue eyes—quite an Adonis of the blond order. Anybody who understood the signs and distinctions" - of the various spheres- of society could ~~ divine «t e gtancp thar this gentleman belonged to the upper classes. Aristocracy was set upon him like a seal, from the crown of his handsome head to the •oles of his well-fitting boots. Xotwith•tanding, there was a daring in his manliar, a look in his bold blue eyes which ■poke eloquently of the life of the man of the world. He smiled at his companion as he said: “Tell me your history, life and adventures, expectations, ambitions, loves and hatreds. Now is your time. I am just In the mood for a good love story. I am the most romantic fellow in the world.” The other young man had deep-set gray eyes, luminous and full of earnest power. His complexion was brown,” his sea-“ tores nobly cast. A black mustache coneealed the short upper lip, but the ldwer one and the chin were molded as by a Greek sculptor. He was tall, an athlete, wiry, muscular. Keen intelligence mingled with romantic fervor. Here was a powerful brain, a fervid imagination, a most passionate heart. He looked down at his boots —rather worn boots, if the truth must be told; for liiionel Leigh was poor; a teacher of foreign languages and classics in the town of Abbotshold and the villages sumrnnd—lag,—The remuneration he received was small, except in one or two instances. He was fonder of art and knowledge than of dress. All his spare cash went for books and engravings. It was understood that he proposed reading fur H degree, and he was looked upon in that country district with a species of wonder, mixed with a half-contemptuous pity. “I do not believe in your capacities for romantic feeling,” said Lionel. "There is ao much of the cynic about you, and you are materialistic, and pleasure lovng, and mosey loving-—are you not?" “If I am,” returned the other, laughing, “1 love what I haven’t got. Look here, my dear friend! not a cent—not the shadow of a copper—not a mite to place in a poor box. with the self-complaisant feeling that I have given up my all!” and tbe aristocratic looking young man turned out his pocket linings. "See ! not even an empty purse; I had one of silver chainwork, and I was absolutely compelled to send it, in the company of a ten-carat, showy guard chain, an old silver snuff box, and a garnet seal ring, to enjoy the society of that useful relative, popularly known by the affectionate title of ‘uncle.’ It’s all my own fault, too. How I shall pay my expenses here at this good inn—where I have boarded and lodged at the expense of the fatherly Clayton for a whole fortnight—goodness alone knows 1” Lionel looked at his companion; his face flushed. "Mr. Barrington,” he said, "you invited me to dine. I thought you a man of property. I might have known that an earl’s cousin would not have made himself equal with a poor professor, unless he had already dropped out of his own sphere;” and he tendered tlfe money. “Ungracious man!” cried Barrington, pocketing the money, notwithstanding, and laughing; “but I will invite you to dinner every night for a week soon, and five yott everything that costs money. I shall be rolling in wealth soon, tumbling head over heels in coin. What do you say to thirty thousand a year?” “If I had the sixth pert of it, I should rejoice with exceeding joy; but explain.” “The fact is,” he said, “I am a sad fellow, one over whose misdeeds all the eld spinsters in a country town would litter a chorus of groans. I was brought np in the magnificent house of an earl. I have a brother older than myaelf, who will, in virtue of seniority. Udte titles and estates some day. This fact, perhaps, to begin with, a little disgusted me wkh things in general, and my brother in particular. Now I will confide in you my troubles, and ask your aid in regard to a fortune of thirty thousand a year. I want to run away with an heiresa. I want to get her off to-morrow night, and I want you to help me.” “Me?” ‘ “Because she is one of your pupils, and you have access to the house.” “What honeer I “St. Martha’s College. Woodmancote. Her name is Jenny Wilkinson —not an aristocratic-name, I admit. She is seventeen. Jenny lived with an odious old aunt in a great grim house at Hamxneramith; there were grounds, and kitchen gardens, and a shrubbery. Miss Tabitha Kettle was the name, or, rather, is the name of the odious individual aforesaid —aa old eoul given to all kinds of pious exercises. Poor Jenny had a terrible time of it. There was an English governeee. ahe-dragon of ugliness and propriety; there whs an elderly lady’s maid, there was a eerioug butler, and a

; footman of the same persuasion. How to get a letter passed, I could not tell. At last I found that a tall, faded Frenchwoman, with flashing eyea. and an air of good taste' pervading her shabby-gen-teel garments, was in the h; bit of giving private lessons every day to Miss Wilkinson. I lodged in the neighborhood, you rmust understand; and by dint of listening to.gossip, I found out all about Jenny, the tall, young heiress. I went to Dr. Commons and had a look at the will, and discovered the heireas-ihip to be genuine. Then T paid court io the French lady. At first she was surprised, then a little flattered, then suspicious; then we came to an understanding, and made terms? She was to carry novels secretly into Hammond House, and Jenny was to read them; then she was to carry a letter. After that, if Jenny proved romantic, we ’wmrr<ntmi In a summer house Rr the shrubbery. All went well! novels, letters, meetings. Bverrtbinr was arranged, when, in an evil hour, the she-dragon of ah. English governess discovered a letter of mine under Jenny’s pillow, wetted with the sentimental tears of the poor little creature. The Frenchwoman was forbidden the housfe I was sent for by Miss Tabitha, but I did not venture to obey the summons. Jenny was sent off somewhere ; I never found out where until a fortnight ago, when I discovered, through the assistance of that indefatigable Mademoiselle Le Blanche, that Bt. Martha's College, in the -western Midlands, n<*ar to the little town of Abbotshold, was tho prison where my distressed -damsel was confined.” “The girl loves you, I suppose, and is deluded into the belief that you love her. Poor child!” “ Well; of course, i t was the nioney first attracted me; and now, even, it’s the most important point. But Ido love little red-haired Jane. —She isn’t ugly, if she isn’t handsome. She has beautiful teeth, and winning ways, and affectionate eyes. I would not harm a hair of her little head for all the world.” “But when you have her money, you will set about spending it, and neglect ~B«r~ Sfie will break her heart. — Not ! ~wTll~he vefTVPlp 'tlsnrnr w ouiau to a mer--cenary match.” “But I tell you I love her, love her Infinitely more than anybody in this wide, cold world. I declare Ido !.I shall, spend her money, of course; but I don’t mean to waste it.” “Did you say thirty thousand a year?” “Every halfpenny of it. I’ve seen Jhe will. The father was a stock broker — fat and vulgar, no doubt; and the child will want training before she Is presented among my friends. They’ll all notice me

again am rich and respectable. I say. you will help me, won’t youj” “How can you ask it?” said Lionel. “I am teacher at that school. What a breach of honor to assist one, of the pupils to elope.” “Mr. Lionel Leigh, sorry I have trusted you. Go to old Miss Pritchard and tell her what I’ve confided to you, will you?” “No.” said Lionel slowly—"No, I don’t think that would be honorable, either.” goon after this the acquaintances separated for the night. CHAPTER 11. Lionel’s chamber at the “Black Wolf” was one of the ghostliest and quaintest in that quaint and ghostly inn. His one wax candle -burned dimly oa the high mantelshelf. Thrown up In strong relief among the shadows was a great four-post bedstead, heavily curtained with red damask ; just the kind of Curtains for a ghost to draw in the middle" of night and wake one up, with thei announcement of softie unsuspected, long-forgotten crime. The rain was pattering against the window, and every now and then the voice of the wind was heard, rising like a lamentation, and dying away in a sigh. Lionel listened to the wind, and then glanced about into the corners of the shadowy room. He was not afraid of ghosts, but there was an imaginative power in him, a love of the mysterious; and this vein was on him strongly tonight while- he sat in the bed chamber of the "Black Wolf.” Mystery stirouded his birth. Educated on the Continent, almost’entirely, he came, he was sure, of English parents. More than that, he was convinced that he was well if not nobly bornp that if he could succeed in discovering the true name of his family, he should probably find himself the heir to wealth and land, and even title. But insuperable difficulty stood between him and this discovery ; nor was he anxious to devote the precious years of his youth to what ml&ht prove but an unsuccessful search, and would probably end in blank disappointment. Lionel was only twenty-four. His lodgings were at Woodmancote, a rural village three milee from Abbotshold, since most of his pupils lived in thst Immediate neighborhood. Lately he had been struggling manfully to throw off the subtle and dangerous fascination which enthralled him: and, since the first step in this wise direction is said to be to seek society and shun seclusion, Lionel no longer spent his evenings in his study with his reading lamp, his books, his manuscripts, his pot of strong coffee, after the fashion of a would-be wakeful student. The liveliest place within access mt a friendly youth—without connections or introductions, in that proud and exclusive little country cowrie, where none were admitted unless they coaid bring fashionable recommendations—was the “Black Wolf." So It happened that lately Lionel had supped st the favorite inn, listened to laughter and song, and striven to forget a certain pair of dark eyes which haunted him continually. “It’s no use,” be muttered. ”1 most leave this neighborhood. I most go abroad.” Ho passed his hand over his forehead, and then he heard distinctly a cough—there could be no mistake—a cough, which the person seemed to etrlve to repreea. but which broke out again more loudly—a dlsttaot humaa eeegh, ao mt ooe

hoarse with cold. Lionel stood np and seized his candle. He held It high above his head, and peered into all the dark corners of the low-ceiled room. “Nothing to be seen. It must be fancy,” he muttered. “I might think that I had heard a neighbor cough in an adjoining room, only it is well known the walls in this old house are of such a thickness thlat no sound conies from one room to another. It must be fancy.” He undressed and put out his candle and crept into bed; but his mind was too active, too busy, too much peopled with fancies and plants and regrets and vague, wild lioipe3, to permit him to sleep. While he lay thinking, against his will,of those haunting eyes, he distinctly heard the cough again.., “No fancy,” said he, aloud. . Then he sprang out, and went to the fire, and contrived to light his candle; and he walked about, cayefully searching. He looked under the bed and felt the walls. At last, while his hand was 04 the waßAhe cough came a third time behind it. He struck the wall. The sound was hollow. ~ “Hello! there is a cupboard here,” said Lionel. And so it proved. The cupboard door •was papered over with the same red velvet paper as the walls. But Lionel found q.kev, turned it. and entered a large, deep closet. ~ He’ fuliyTspected-to eneougier A burglar, but the place was empty. He This closet was not used apparently, for clothes or any other purpose. It wap an empty, dark place. The walls were covered with a dull, yellow paper. "Somebody was here,” said Lionel. "There must be another door, or a staircase, ..or- ” He began to search, but he found nothin, No s tn l rg i nn second door. Then he came into his room and locked the door of the cupboard, and put the key in his pocket. He then went to bed, bewildered and wondering. Soon he fell asleep,, and did not awaken till daylight looked in at his window. He rose and began to dress somewhat carefully; for, after breakfast, he was to proceed at once to that house where the -haunting eyes which had looked at jiim from the embers last night shone and softened in the sweet, warm reality of life. The~sublime ever touches upon the ridiculous. Lionel dropped a cake of soap. It fell at some distance,; just at the door of that suspected cupboard. He crossed the room, stooped to pick -it up. Lo, and behold! the door was ajar. It had been ..forced from the inside. _ _ He rushed to the door of his room, which he distinctly remembered locking and trying the previous night. It wai not only unlocked, but ajar. Somebody, then, had succeeded in escaping while he lay sleeping. His first thought was naturally of robbery, but he found his plain gold watch, his purse, with its scanty supply of silver and gold coins, untouched. Nothing had been taken from his room. Was the house robbed? He looked up at the walls and wondered. There was a large ancient sampler, worked in many colored silks and framed in black, hanging over the washstand. It had been executed by the mother of the. present landlady, when a child. The- oUI.-fashioaed' verses at struck Lionel at the moment like a turning, and a promise, and a threat—all in one. “If thou art wise, Look to thy ways. Do not despise v The blessed days—“Go no{ to deal At Folly’s Fair. Thy love conceal, Thou shalt be heir." “Thy love conceal, thou shalt be heir.” Those two lines were worked in bright scarlet color, unfaded by the lapse of years. “Heir!” he said aloud. “Should I be heir of an estate in fairyland and a palace in the clouds? ‘Thy love Shall I ever dare to speak of it to mortal?” And he began to brush his hair and forget the mysterious cough, and the more mysterious escape of the concealed person. Down in the coffee room he told of his odd adventure, and immediately good Mrs. Clayton began to search her plate basket and money box; but it turned out that nothing had been stolen from the “Black Wolf.” (To be continued.)