Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 40, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 February 1908 — A CROWN OF FAITH [ARTICLE]

A CROWN OF FAITH

CHAPTER XVIII. Ella Wycherly was is her luxurious chamber. It was her time of freedom — night. She believed that all the household were wrapped in slumber. A lamp burned on her toilet table. Her long hair •was brushed and bound up for the night. She wore a long, loose white dressing gown made of thin material. The girl walked slowly up’ and down the large room, her hands clasped before her, her eyes cast on the ground, as if they read a sad story in the richly pat turned carpet. Her face was pale, but her eyes shone like a,tars. “I shall have to make up my mind at last,” she said slowly to herself, aloud. “1 must escape from this house. I ought not to give my heart to a teacher of languages. Have I a heart? Sometimes I think the cruelty of those around me has crushed it out of existence. Love! Why should I love anybody? How do I know that there is any real love in the world? Ah! Ido not believe it. lam an heiress. At least, even if they make the boy the heir, I shall have enough to make the fortune of a poor professor. No; unless I am assured of his love; besides, it is such folly—such nonsense to be in love I I am not—no; I am not!” Ella spoke to herself quite vehemently, quite loudly. This proud, impetuous nature hated to own a curb. It had been frozen and hardened by unkindness, until it had become in danger of losing its faith in humanity. Ella stamped her slippered foot upon the carpet. “I will go away and make my own fortune.” Suddenly the door of her room burst open. Ella had locked it, and, knowing this—for the key lay on her toilet table — she uttered a cry of fear. She expected to see a ruffian enter. She> thought of her jewel case, in which were rubies, amethysts and emeralds, though the Wycherly diamonds were always in the possession of her mother. But it was no ruffian who entered Ella’s chamber. It was Mrs. Wycherly, pale, with compressed lips. The lady wore a dark traveling suit of cotton material —for the weather was warm—a small, dark bonnet. She was gloved and booted, and equipped for a journey. “Mamma I Oh 1 how you frightened me 1 I had locked the door?” “I have a key which opens all the doors in the house. Why do you scream? It is Hl bred to scream. I do not think you ever heard me scream in your life.” “No, mamma.” “Be silent now, and dress yourself as quickly as possible in that braided Holland costume that was made for you to go down to the shore last year. It is in that wardrobe. You have the keys. Lace up your boots. Miss Worthington will come in presently and pack your things into that leather trunk. Marsh and Peterson will accompany us.” “Where are we going, mamma?” “Ask no questions. The time has come for prompt obedience. No; leave your jewels. You have done with them.” "Mamma ”

“Pray don’t talk; every moment is of value. We must be far from here before daylight.” Mrs. Wycherly did not look at her daughter. Her eyes were fixed on the gold and white of the wall opposite. Ella stood before her mother beseechingly. “Mamma, are you going to take me to Italy—to that house of bondage?” “To that house, where ,your days will be devoted to Heaven, not to the world. You are to wear sackcloth—to walk barefoot—to expiate in your fresh young life that which has gone before ——” “Mamma, I know more than you think I do.” Ella drew herself up. “I refuse to expiate by my sufferings the crime of another. It cannot be done —lt is monstrous 1 Any priest of my creed would tell you so. Besides, a sacrifice should be voluntary, or it loses all its value. I am young, and love the pleasures of life. I hate dullness, monotony, repression! You and Miss Worthington have mq/ie me hate it; and now I am to enter an unheard-of sisterhood, with a number of fanatic and ignorant women —dissenters from every known creed under the sun—l am to acknowledge Miss Worthington as my supreme. I will not 1” “Then chains and the lash must force obedience,” said Mrs. Wycherly, with that cold severity which appalled most persons. “I planned this life for youthen you lay in the cradle; and, since no clergyman of any creed would-sanctiOh thy resolve. I have founded a creed of my own.” “Mamma, are you mad?” “No,” the lady answered, with a dreary am He; “though what I have endured might easily have driven me so. But now hurry; dress yourself Miss Worthington will pack. Here she comas.” And Mina Worthington entered Ella’s room, dressed in the same fqahlon as Mrs. Wycherly. - A • " # For a moment Ella hesitated. During the last six months she hsd made up her ■dnd firmly never to enter the terrible prison house prepared for her by her mother. She had made many appeals to thin Implacable parent. She had spoken to her father; but the wooden colonel had always laughed off her entreaties. “My dear, you are a girl; had you been a boy, I would have had the rule over you; but, being a girl, you must obey your mother.” Colonel Wycherly had always seemed the coldest, the most stupid.of men. Never, in all Ella’s childhood, could she recollect his once taking her on las knee or caressing her. The girl had really made up her mind to flee long before the time which her mother had warned would be that chosen for taking her to Italy; but now they bad come to her in strong force, in the dead of night, and they commanded tear to pack and dress and accompany them on thia dread Journey. Should she scream and shout, and rouse the bouse, appeal to Lionel Leigh and Dr. Dundas, and throObarsaU upon Mr wotortsa! AK pride tirbsAl,

"I will dress and pack,” said Ella to herself; "and then, during the Journey, it will be easy tor me to escape." Her mother may have divined her intentibn; for she watched her with lynxeytd vigilance. “No jewels, no money, not a farthing. You have done with all those forever.” There was a certain heavy bracelet of gold, in the center of which was set a valuable emerald of large size. This ornament was worth at least fifty pounds, and it happened that the clasp being out of repair, Ella had designed to take it into Abbotshold, to the Jeweler’s, on the following day. She had placed it with her gold watch—which was also out of order—qnder her pillow, that she might think of both in the morning at the same time. She went, slowly to the bed, and, under pretense of taking a handkerchief from the pillow, contrived dexterously to hide watch and bracelet in her bosom. The spirit of adventure awoke now suddenly and daringly in Ella. She felt all at once self-reliant, courageous, determined. She dressed herself, and assisted Miss Worthington to pack such things as that lady considered necessary in her trunk. “She will wear the costume of the house before winter,” said Mrs. Wycherly coldly; “a dress of gray serge.” Soon Ella was equipped in her Holland suit; her boots and hat were on, and the three ladies descended the* great staircase. In the passage were the confidential man and maid of Mrs. Wycherly. Every one was silent. The hall door stood open, and before it stood a carriage and pair of horses, and another confidential servant was on the box. Mrs. Wycherly pointed imperiously to Ella, and Ella entered the carriage. Mrs. Wycherly and Miss Worthington followed. All the while Ella’s mind was busy with thoughts of escape. On, on through'the summer night they went. The windows were open, and the air blew fresh, cool, delicious, on the heated brow and throbbing temples of Ella. Her heart turned strangely against her unnatural parents—turned as it had never done before. All. pride in her race as a Wycherly seemed gone; it did not seem to matter to her if she never saw the grand oid house, which had never really been home to her, again. She only desired freedom. She had skill as a musician, and she would exert it to win her bread. She would escape. To this Ella made up her mind, coolly, firmly, positively. She had no direct plan; she resoived oniy ro watch her opportunities, and profit by them. The carriage rolled on towards a village called Brookly, which lay about four miles to the west of Abbotshold. There was j)., railway station there, and Ella comprehended that her mother desired she should start- from a little obscure place where she was not known, and so could not be recognized. Her removal was to be kept secret, then ! A complete silenee was maintained by the ladies during the journey to Brookly. Neither of the servants spoke, and when the picturesque village was reached, Ella was almost appalled at the stiDncss which pervaded all things. They descended and entered the little waiting room. Only a station clerk was present. He hurried into the ticket office when he saw the strangers. An express from a large town in the Midlands soon flashed and roared through the little wooden building, making the beams and rafters ring. It was gone almost immediately, and then Miss Worthington walked up to the little window, and asked the clerk for four first-class tickets for Southampton. He told her when and where and how many times she would have to change on the journey. Ella listened to every word. It was not very long before the train for Southampton came puffing into Brookly station. It was now nearly half-past three o’clock, and the summer dawn was breaking. Not a single passenger got out at Brookly. Soon Ella was seated between her mother and Miss Worthington in a softly cushioned carriage. One servant sat with the ladies in the carriage, this was Marsh, the muscular, brawny, confidential coachman of Mrs. Wycherly; the other servants had returned in the carriage to Wycherly Hall, Ella was a prisoner. She almost wondered that her mother had not seen fit to pinion her arms to her sides. But the young girl's mind was made up. If all'other means failed, she would appeal tq the public ou the first platform, where she found herself surrounded by the rush and voices of other human beings. There were no other passengers in the carriage. The first stage seemed Interminable, and all the while wttence was maintained between Mrs. Wycherly and Mum Worthington. Everything, however, comes to an end; and so did the first stage of a most unpleasant journey. "Evenholt I” cried the porters on the platform. “Change for Basingstoke and Southamptonl” Mn. Wycherly arose. Already Marsh, the coachman, stood outside to assist the ladies to descend. Ella camo last. It was about five o'clock of a lovely summer morning. Elin, as she stood on the pintform, and looked opposite at the red-til.-? r<x>fs of houses, shadowed by thick trees, felt as If the place was the very gate of freedom for her. Free? She had never known freedom since her birth ; she had never experienced the least manifestation of a mother's love. Sometimes she had qwwLiouad her-, self whether she were Indeed the daughter of the Wycherlys. What marvel If her nature had hardened a little under the training she had received 1 She looked up the platform and down It, and longed to escape, but could devise no means, and she regretted bitterly all the opportunities she had allowed to pass without providing herself with a home, however humble, away from her parents, whose intention It had always been to consign her to a living tomb. Mew and toon she thoaghd es aMgaMag

to her mother’s compassion ; but compassion was dead in the heart of Mn. Colonel Wycherly. “One hour before the train starts. Let us rest in the Waiting room.” _ If was Miss Worthington who spoke; and then, tor the first time, it seemed to strike Mrs. Wycherly that none of the party had broken their fast for hours. "We must have some breakfast,” said the lady shortly. "Ella, you will be required to use abstinence in your new abode; therefore, begin now to eat sparingly; a cup of coffee and a plain biscuit.” Mrs. Wycherly, meanwhile, had tea with ham sandwiches. Miss Worthington. like Ella, partook only of biacuit and coffee. There were many persons in the large refreshment room partaking of breakfast. Ella watched all with the keen-sighted-ness of a detective. Miss Worthington walked away to pay the -bill. "Mamma, I feel faint. I must get out to the air,” said Ella suddenly. It was true that from fasting and excitement she was faint. Mrs. Wycherly, overcome with fatigue, had involuntarily closed her eyes. She opened them, and, seeing Ella look pale, said: “Tell Miss Worthington to go with you.” But .Ella only went very .quickly from the room and out upon the platform and down the steps, and so into the quaint town of Eversholt. (To be continued.)