Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 7, Number 23, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 December 1876 — Page 6

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THE MAI E

A PAW* FOR THE People,

BE CAREFUL WHAT TOUSAY.

to ((peaking of a person's faults, prav don't forgot your own Remember those with homes of guus

HhouiJ seldom throw astone,„„ Jf we h*v»« nothing else to do j* f.J

Bui talk »i those who sin, TIs btttK vr enmmcDoe at home, r*, Aud frwai thai point begin. We hare no right to Judge a man

Until he's lalrly tried •iouUJ wo not Ubo his com »*OV We know tlae worul Is wine. So"' l«HV Vave fault*—and uho nave not?

The old as well a* young Perhaps wv may, for aught wo »P0W|,

Have fifty to Uielr onv.

Jli tell yonof abetter plan. And one that wort* full well I try rnv own de!«U to cure,

Kre others' t«*Il And though 1 sometime* hope to oc ,t Wo worse than »mt I know, r' My 'wn shortcomings bhl me 1ft

The fault of other* go. Tb*n let us all, when we commence siancJer iriend or foe, ./ Think of (he harm one word inaj ao

To those we little know. Rom«*mber,curatH,8omt!tlriu-«, li»{' our chicken*, "roost at, home, ©out speak of oihe.i's faults until

We. have none of our own.

The Dead Sccrci.

9 BV WI1,KIK COI-l.l N8.

ir»il«intentjr in!' :tewria' a ,V»cti The Mail f.t fcep.«•]»»•* o. 7 "i. Bwc »!u the ,.«»r b- he oillce, a. h«- "»,,v 0 .."«• »-»e«U by lu iiU'U

I five c**u t» ior eacli ej\ tie-bt

CHAPTER XVI.

MO/,A11T 1*1 .AYS KARKWKIX. Excepting it lie took loave of Betsoy, the servant maid, with grtat cordlittlity, Undo Joseph spoke not anotln word, after his parting reply to Mr. Mundrr untU ho and bis niece weio •lone again nnder the fast wall of pnr1 u.ri.t.na Tower. There lie paused, tooked up at tho boose, then at his companion, lh«n back at tho. l..-ue ouoe •Tore, and at last opened bi* lips to

"^M^am s'nrrv, tny child," he said. "I am sorry fro'm my heart. This has been, what you call in England, a very toad job."

Thinking that be referred to tho scene which had just, passed in the housekeeper's room, tiatah asked his par Jon for having been the innocent tneanw of bringing him into collision with such a ierfon as Mr. Munder.

No! no! no!" heeriod "I was not thinking of the man of the l»ig body aud the biK wordn. He made mo unary, it is not to ho deni"d but that is all o\ er and gone rion-. 1 put bim and his big worua away from me, as I kick this »tone, h*re, from tho pathway into the road. It is not of your Munders, or Tourhounekoeper*, or your Betzios, that now spo*k—it i.H*t no moth ing that is iifarei to you, and nearer to mo also, because tnnko of your interest my own ttitTest too. shall tell you what it is, whllo wo walk in— for I soo in vour ftu-e

that you are restless and in

fc»ar HO l'n^' as we stpp in the neighbor k"Od of tills tiungetm house. Ctome! I am readv lor the niarch. There is the »ith. U't us go back by it, and pLk up oar little ImccASea at tho inn whffip we left Uietn, on other side of thin windy witdernwwnf ft place-" "Yes, ye«, nuclei Lftt us lo«e no Mme: let tn walk f.tst. Don't bo afraid •t tirinK mi I much stronger now."

They turned istto thesaiii-' P'Uh by which they hut approached r.irthgenna Tower in the afiornoon. By the tune thev had walketl over a little more than Ihe" first hundred yards of their journey JH -oh, the gnrduer's bov, sf.le out Irooi bohlnd the rulutas indosure at the north sido or the house, with hi* hoe in his hand. Tho sun had just sot, but there was a tino light still over the wide, ip^D inrf'twft of iMOtirj and Jacon s-uiMod to let tho old man and his nieco a further awsy from the building be?»re he followed thorn. The housekeeper's Instructions had directed blm Just to keep thom in sight and no more «*nd. he happoned to obsorvy that Uiev stopped and turned rouud to look behind them, he was to stop o, and

reten I to be digging with ids hoe. as if was at work on tho moorland, stimulated by the prornlsi of sixpence, if ko was careful to do exactly aa he had *H«n told, Jacob kept his instructions in his memory, and kept his eye on the two strangers, and promised as fairly to earn Che reward in proepcct for him as a boy

And now, my child, I shall tell you what it i* I am wry for," re*umod Unele Joseph, as they proceeded along the Mth. "I am sarry that have come out upon this journey, and run our little 1 risk, and ba«l our Httle scolding and notking. Tho word yea said in mv ear, Harsh, when I was getting you out of th« faint (and yon should hnve ^me out of it sooner, if tho muddle headed people of the dungeon hou*9 bad fceenqniokw with the water)- toe word

Jou

said in my ear was .aoh, but was enough* to tell uie I we have taken thlsjornney tn vain. I may hold niV Uingue, I may make tny l)e»t face at It mav be content to walk blindfolded with mystery that lets no pi-ep of day «Kht Intrt'my eyoa: fcut it ts ool the less true, that the one thing your heart waa QKNH set on doing, when we started on tins Journey, is the one thing aleo that yon have riot done. I k»«*w t'^ai, if I & no no in el an 1 a had Job-yea, yea, upon my life and flkith, tnere is no disguise to put upon it is, in your plainest English, a very bad teh.,r

As he concluded the expreeeloti of his nvmpithy in thes» qaaint term% tho d'read and di-OrnM, the watehftrt terror,

that marred the natoral noftww of Harub's even disappeared in an expression 01 sorrowful tenderoeea, which seemed to «ihack to theai all their beauty.

Don't bo aorry for me unr le,,f she •aid, stopping, and gently brushing

m*with

W hand some specks of dost

that lay 00 the collar of his coat, "I have suffered s« ma^h and suffered »o lomt

that

the baavie^diaapiwntnMrtiU

must dw« lightly over me now." .. £onH bearyow say it 5" cried Uncle Jeeeoh "You git® «w "»Kek* I can't

baZrwhen you talk to n»e tn this way. You shall have no more disappoint meats —no, you stall oot! I, liuchaoaoo. tho Obatiaate, the Hg-Headed, I

TWd*v

when I iha« hatt no «»ro

SLSii Ud Wllng. (••rtng^od WH1.1

voung woman, the lift I have become iCT. j-wl«5£ J'»e,2"V

•iv hand,

and wnen WM—

Bli8l§81t:

huUftJ mjr

life, and tako tliut an Fearing and failing, fearing and failing \f 1 told you all tba truth, I could tell do more, than thnU Let us walk on,

UITbe

resignation in her voice and nnn ner while she spoke was tberosigna ion of despair. It gave ber an "an»tu^ self pos^eeHlon. wbioh altered her, iu the eyes of Uncle Jofeph, almost past recognition. He looked at her in undisguised

^-No 1" he said, "we will not walk on we will walk Wk to the dungeon houfie we will make another plan we will.trv to uet at this devil's imp of alette- in some other way. I Ci.re tor no Munders. no housekeepers, no lietaicwI» I chro for nothing, but the getting vou the one thing you want, and the

takinu

r-.

vou home again as easy in your

mind as I tun myself. Come! let us go hflr»lc it is too Inte to go baok."

How too late? Ah, dismal, dingy, dungeon house of the devil, how I hutc you cried Une'® Joseph, l»oking back over the prosjwet, and shaking betli his fist." at Porthuenha Tower.

It is tjo late, uncle," she repeated. "Too l»to, because the opportunity is lost: to.i late, because, if 1 could bring it back, I dare not go near the Myrtlo Room again. My last hope vas lo change thehidin« place of the Letter, and that last hope 1 have given up. I have onlv one object in life left now von mav help mo* in it

but

sentence,

I can no tell 011

IJOW, unless you come 011 with-me hi once—unless vou will say nothing more about going back to Portbgenna low 6JT ne'e Joseph began to expostulate. His niew stopped him in the middle ot a

ty touching him on the

'shoulder and pointing to a particular spot 01. the darkening slope of the inooi belore them.

Look! she s&id, "thero i? somebody on the path behind us. Is it a boy, or a man?" ..

Un- le Joseph looned through the fad inn light and saw a tlgure at sjune little distance. It seemed liko the tiguroofn boy, and he was apparently yagyd in digging on tho moor.

Ijnt us turn round and go at once, pleaded Sarah, before the old man couM answer her, "I can't sav what I want to say to you uncle, until wo aro safe uuder shelter at the inn."

T!u wont on, until they reached the highest ground 011 the moor. There they stopped, and looked ba.'k again. There rest of their way lay down-hill and the spot on which they stood was the last point from which a view could be obtained of Portbgenna Tower.

We have lost sight of the boy, said Uncle Joseph, looking over the ground below them.

Sarah's vounger and sharper eyes Iwre witness to* the truth of her uncle's words —the view over the moor was lonely now in evcrv direction, as far as she could see. Before goii on agaiu, she moved a little away from the old man, and looked at the tower of the ancient house, rising heavy and black in the dim light, with the dark sea background stretching behind it Hko a wall.

The tears filled her eyes, and shut out tho view. She rejoined her uncle, and, taking bis arm again, drew him rapidly a Mv step* along the downward path —then ehecko'J ber-elf, as if struck a Kud ien suspicion, and walkei hack fe-w picfis to the highest ridge of the ground. I am not •ure," she R*id, replying to her com panion's look of surprise, "I am not sure wbetli£f wi have seen the last yet of that boy who was digging on the moor.".

AH the words passed her lips, a figure stole out from behind oue of the large fragments of granite rook which were scattered ovor tho waste on all sides of them It waa once more the figure of the b»v and again he began to dig,without the slightest apparent reason, on the barren ground at his feet.

Yes. yes, I see," said Uncle Joseph, as his nieee eagerly directed hia attention to tho suspicious figure. "It is the same boy, ami he ia digging still—and, if vou pies-o, what of that?"

Sarah did not attempt to answer. "Ijet us get on." she aaid, hurriedly. "Let us get on as fast a» we can to the inn."

The turned again, took the downward path before them. In lees than a minute thev bad lost aightof Porthgouna Tower,"of the old church, and of the whole of the western view. Still, though there was now nothing but tho blank darkening moorland to look back *t, Marah persisted in stopping at fronuent Intervals, as long as there was any light left, to glance behind her. She made no remark she offered no exouso for thus delaying the journey back to the inn. It was onlv when they arrived within sight of tho lighta of the posttown that she ceased looking back, and that ahe R|nkfl to her companion. The ftiw words sVo add reused to nim amounted to nothing moro than a request that he would auk tor a private sitting-room, an soon as they reached their placo of soiourn for the night.

They ordered bedaat the inn, and were shown into the beet parlor to wait for supper. Tho moment they were nlone Sarah drew a chair cloe to the old man's aide, and whispered these words in hia $ar

Uncle! we have been followed every step of the way from Portbgenna Tower to tbia piam." "80. ao! And bow do yon know that?" Inquired Uncle Joseph.

Hush! Somebody may be listening at the dottr, somebody may be creeping under the window. You noticed that bov who was digging on the moor—

Hah! Why, Sarah! do you frighten vmiraelt, do you try to frighten me about ii boy?"

Oh, not so loud! not ao load! They have laid a trap for o*. Uncle! I suspected it when we first entered the door* of Portbiremia Tower I am sure of It now. What did all that whispering mean botworn the housekeeper and the steward when w« first got lot# the ball? I watched their iCacee, and I know they were talking about us. They were not balf surprised enough at seeing tts, not half surprised enough at hearing what we wanted. Don't laugh at me, ncle! There is real danger it is no fancy of mine. The k»y»—come closer—the key» of the nor*h moon hare now new labels on them: the doom have all been numbered. Think of that! Think of the whispering when we came in, and the whispering afterward. In the housekeeper's room, wnen yon got op to go away You noticed the sudden change in thai man's behavior after the housekeeper

t. ——.

•poke to him—yon mu«t hare noticed u? They let its In too tarily. and tfcey let as ont too easily. No, no I I am not

drfu^lT'ff There was some se-f-ret

'''v"

letting ne Into the nwe,

sod some secret motlr? for letting ua out

again. That boy on the moor betrays it, $t nothing else does. I saw him following us all the wuy here, as plainly aa I see you. I am not frightened without^ reason this time. As surely as wo two are together in this room, there is a trap laid for us by tho pooplo at Portbgenna Tower!" 'A trap! What trap? And how? and why? and wherotoro?" Inquired Uncle Joseph, expressing bewilderment by waving both his hands rapidly to and fro close before his eyes.

They want to mako me sp'ak, thej want to* follow me, they want to find out where I go, they want to ask me questions," she answered, trembling violently. "Uncle! you remember what I told you ot those cra?.?d words I said to Mrs. Frank land—I ought to have cut my tonuue out rather than huvospjkon them! They have done dreadlul mischief- I am certain of it—dread I ul mischief already. I have made myself suspected! I *l»nll bo questioned if Mrs. Frank land finds rae out again. She will try to find me out we shall be inquired after here we must destroy all tin -e of where wo go to next wo must make sure that tho people at this inn can answer no question Oh, Uncle Joseph! whatever we do, let us make sore of thm!" »ood," :-flid tho old man, nodding his head with a perfeo'.ly self-satisfied air. "Be quae easy, my child,and leave it to me io make'sure. When j-ou arc gone to bod I shall send forlhe landlord, mid I shall sav, 'Get us a little carriage, it" you please, Mir, to take us back main morrow to the coach for liu ro.'

No, no, no we must net biro a car riage here." And I sav, yes, ves, yes! We wul hire a carriage here, because I will, first of all, make sure with the landlord. Listen. I shall say to him, 'If tin rcome after us, poople, with inquisitive looks iu their eyes and uncomfoi table questions in their mouths—il you uloise, Sir, hold vour tongue.' Then, I shall wink my eye, I shall lay my flui er, so. to the side of my nose, I shall givo one little laugh that means much—and, crick crack 1 have made sure of the landlord: and there- is an end of it!" "We mu?t not trust tho landlord. Uncle wo must not trust any Lo.iy. When we leave this place to-morrow we must leave it on foot, and take care that

uN*v-

or again!'' she whispered to herself. "Never, never, never again Her eyes wandered away to the church, and to the cemetery inclosure by its side, bareIv distinguishable now in tho shadows of tho coining night. "Wait for mo a little longer," sbo aaid, looking toward th« burial-ground with straining eyes, and pres-i"T her hand on ber bosom, over tho pl ce where the book of Hymns lay hid. "Mv wanderings are nearly at an end tho day for my coming home again is not far off!''

living soul follows us. Look! h*re is a map of West Cornwall hanging op on the wall, with roads and cross roads all marked on it. We uiay find out, beforehand, what direction wo ought to walk in. A nipht's rest will give me all tho^trength

Uncle Joseph shruggod his'shoulders resignedly when his niece gave her reasons for wishing to continue the journey 011 foot. "There is much tramping through dust, and much looking behind us, and much spying, and eplng, and suspectiug, and roundabout walking in all this," he said. "It is by no mean*so easy, my child, as making soreol the landlord, and witting at our ease 011 the cushions of the stage-coach. But if you will have it so, so shall it be. What you please Sarah what you please—that is all the opinion of my own that I allow mvHolf to have till we are back again at Truro, and aro resting for good and all at the end of our journey."

At tho end of your journey, uncle dare not say at the end of mi»c." Those few words changed the old man's face in an instant. Lliseyes fixed repronuhfullv on his niece, his ruddy cheeks lost their color, his restless hands dropped suddenly to his side*. "Sarah!" he said, in a low, quiet tone, which seemed to have no relation to tho voice in which he spoke on ordinary occa«iens —«.Sarah have jou the heart to leave me again?"

Have I the courage to stay in Cornwall? That is the question to ask me, uncle. If I had only my own heart to consult, oh, how gladly I should Uvo under your roof—live under it, if you

would

let mo, to

v/.•-1 "i'jv.-t ii"

fTEKBE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENIIMu MAIL.

I want and wo have 110

luggage that we can not carry. have nothing but your knapsack, and 1 have nothing but the little carpet-bng you lent me. We can walk six. seven, even ton miles, with resting by tho way. Come here, and look at the map—pray, pray come and look at the map!"

Protesting against the abandonment of his own project, which he declaied, and sincerely believed to be perfectly adapted '.o meet the emergency in which they were placod. Uncle Joseph joined his niece in examining the map. A little neyond tho post-town a cross-road was marked, running northward at right angles with the highway that led to Truro, and conducting to another road, which looked largo enough to be a coach road. an .I which led through a town of suflicient importance to have its nam? printed in capital letters. On discovering this, Sarah proposed that they should follow tho cross-road (which did not appear on the map to bo more than five or six miles long) on foot, abstaining from taking any conveyance until they had arrived at the town marked iu capital lotters. By pursuing this course ther woult\ destroy all trace of their progress a.ter leaving tho post-town, unless, indeed, they were followed on foot from this placo, as they had been followed over the moor. In tho event of »ny fresh difficulty of that sort occurring, Sarah had no better remedy to propose than lingering on the road till alter nightfall, and leaving it to tho darkness to baiHe the vigilance of any person who might be watching in the distance to see where they wont.

dying day! But

my lot is not cast for such rest and such happiness as that. The fear that I have of Iwing questioned by Mrs. Frank laud drives ine awsy from Portgeuna, away from Cornwall, away from you. Even my dread of tbe letter being found Is hardly so great now as my dread of being traced and questioned. I have said what ought not to have said alreadv, It I And myself in Mrs. FVankland^i presence again, there Is nothing that tbe might not draw out of me. Oh, my God to think of that kind-hearted lovely young woman, who brings hap ptneaa with her whowver she goes, bringing terror to me! Terror when her pitrUig eyes look at me terror when her tender band touches mine! Uncle! when Mrs. FranklanA comes to Porthgonna.tho very children will crowd about W—every creature In that poor vlliage will be drawn toward the light of her beanty and her goodness, as if It was the sunshine of Heaven itself and I__|, of all living being,—must shun her as If she wss a pestilence 1 The day when she comes Info Cornwall ts the day when I must go ont of It—the day when we two must aay fkrowell. Don't, don't add to tbe wretchedness of that, by hsfctng me If I haw tbe heart to leave you! For my dead mother's sake, Uncle Joseph, believe tnat I am grateful. believe that It Is not my own will that takes me away when I leave you •sain She sank down on. a sofa near her, laid her bead, with one long, deep sigh, wearily on the pillow, sod spoke no

tears gathered thick in Uncle Joseph's eyes as be sat down by her side. He took one of ber banda, and patted and stroked It aa though be were eoothing a little child. "I wll bear it ss well as I am, Samh," be whispered fWnt!y. \.-.d I will aay no more. Yon will me sometimes, when I an left

all alone Yon will give a little Hmeto Uncle Joseph, for the poor dead motber'a sake?"

Shetnrned toward him suddenly, and threw both her arms round his neck with a passionate energy that was strangely at variance with her naturally quiet, selt-ropressed character. "I will write orten, dear I will write always," she whispered, with her head on bis bosom "If I am ever in any trouble or danger you shall know it." She stopped conlusedly, asif the freedom of her own words and actions terrified her, unclasped her arms, and, turning abruptly away from the old man, hid her face in her hands. The tyranny of the restraint that governed her wbr.le life was all exprosed—how sadly, how eloquently!— 111 that one llttlo ae.iiou.

Uncle Joseph rose trom tho *ofa and walked gently backward and forward in Hie room, looking anxiously at hU niece but not speaking to her. After a while the servant came in to prepare the table for supper. I- we- a \m me interruption, lor it obliged Sarah to uiaxo an effort to recover her self possession. Alter the meal was was over the uncle and niece separated at oncn lor the night, without venturing to exchange another word nn the subject ot their approaching Sep:! rut lull.

When they met tho next morning the old man had not recovered his spirits Although io tried to speak as cheerfully

usual, there wus something

••'irftngoly i-ubdned and quiet about him in voice, looii and manner. Sarah's lieait smote ber 118 she saw how sadly bo was altered by the prospect of their paiiing. Shof-aida few words of consolation and hope but he only waved h)^ band negatively, in his quaint foreign manner, and hastened out ofthn room to find the landlord and ask for 'l.e bill.

Soon after breakfast, to the surprise of the people at the inn, they sc-t forth continue th' irjourney 011 foot, Uncle Joseph carrying his knapsack on his back, and his niece's carpet bag in bis hand. When they arrived at the turn ing that led into the cross road, they boih s«topped r.nd looked back. Tnis time thev saw nothing to alarm them. There \v»'n no living creature visible on the broad l.igb w.-.y over which they had been walking for he last quarter of an hour, alter leaving the inn "T.e v.-av is clear," said Undo Joseph, as

they

turned iuto the cross ro id.

"Whatever might have hapnoned yesterday, there is no' ody following us now

Nobodv that we can see," answered Sarah "but I distrust the very stones by the roadside. Let uslo«k back often uncle, be Hire vo allow ourselves to feel secure. The more I think ot it, the more I dread tho snare that is laid for us by those people at Porthgenna Tower."

You say ns Sarah. Why should they lay a snare*for me Because thev have seen you in my mpany. You'will be safer from them when we are partpd and that is another reas-.n, Uncio. Joseph, why we should bear the misfortune of our separation apatiently aa we can."

Are you going far, very far away, Sarah, when you leave me?" '•J dare not stop on my journey till I cm feel that I um lost in the great world of London. Don't look at me so fcudly I shall never forget my promise I shall never rget to write I have friends— not friends like you, hut still friends—to whom I can go. I can te- safe from discovery nowhere but in l/»ndon. My danger Is great—it is, it is, indeed I know, from what I 1 ave seen at Porthgenna, that Mrs. Frankland has sin in torest already in finding me out and I ani certain that, this interest will be increased ton-fold when si heats (as she is sure to hear) of what happened yesterdav in tho house. Tf they should trace vou to Truro, 0I1. be careful, uncle! be careful how you deal with them 5 be careful how you answer their questions!"

I will answer nothing, my child. Hut tell me—!'r I want to know all the little chances that thero are of your coming back—tfil me, if Mrs. Frankland finds tbe letter, what shall you do then

At that question Sarah's hand, which had bet resting languidly on her uncle's arm while they walked together, closed on it suddenlv. "Even if Mrs. FranklAnd gets into the Myrtle Room." sbo said, stopping and looking affright.edlv about her whi'e she replied, "she tnav not find the letter It is folded up so small it is hidden in such an unlikelv place."

But ifshe aoe» find it?" "If slicdoes, there will be more reason than ever for my being miles and miles away." AH ^ie gave that answer she raised both lier hands to her heart, and pressed them firmly over it. A sligh distortion passed rapidly across her features ber ev«s closed her face flushed all over—then turned paler agfin than ever. Sbo drew out ner pocket handkerchief, and passed it several times over her ace, on which the perspiration bad gathered thickly. The old man, who had looked behind him when his niece stopped, under tbe impression that she had just seen somebody following them, observed this latter sctlon, and asked ifsho lelV too hot. She shook bor head, and took his arm again to go on, breathing, as he fancied, with some littie difilculty. IIo proposed that they should sit down by tho roadside and rest a little but i-he only answered, "Not yet." So tbey went on for another half hour then turned to look behind thom again, and,still seeing nobody, sat down for a llttlo whllo to rest on a bank by the wayside.

After stopping twice more at convenient resting plaws, they readied the end of tbe cross road. On the highway to which it led them tbey were overtaken by a man driving an empty cart, who oiferod to givo them a lift as mr as the next town. They accepted the proposal gratefully and arriving at the town, att«r a drive

of balf an hour, were set

down at tho door of the nrlndpal Inn. Finding on inquiry at this place tbey wore too late for the coach they took a pnvate oonveyancofwblchbrought them to Truro late fa tho afternoon. Throughout the whole of the journey, from the ftr%**rn a* time Portb

time wlen they left the post town of nna to the time when they atop- .,/ Sarah's desire, at the coach office In Truro, they bad seen nothing to

tbsei

ped, W office In Truro, they bad seen nothing excite the smallest suspicion that their move men ts were being observed. None ol tbe people whom tbey saw in the in• habitea places or whom they passed on tbe road appeared to take more than the moat casual notice of them.

It was five o'clock when tbey entered the office at Truro to ask shout conveyances running In tbe direction of Exeter. Tbey were

Inlormsd

that a

ooacb would start in an hour a time, and that another ooacb would pass through Truro at eight dock the next

D1"rYongwill

not go to-night?" pleaded

Unaie Joseph. "Yon will wait, mjr efciUL and rest with me till to-morrow? I had better go, uncle, while I bare loot little resolution left," wai the ssd •newer. nut you are so pale, to tired, and ao weak." 1 ihall never be stronger than I am now. Dont set my owu heart again*

met It Is hard enough to go without that." Uncle Josenh sighed, and said no more. He lea the way across tho road and down tbe by-strcet to his nonse. The cheerful man in tbe shop was polishing apiece of wood behind the counter, sitting in the same position hi which Sarah had seen him when she first looked through the window on her arrival at Truro, llo bad good news for his master of orders received, but Uncle Joseph listened absently to all that his shopman said, and hastened into the little back

fts

wrlor without the faintest reflection of customary smilo 011 his face. "If I had no shop and no orders I might go away with you, Sarah," he said, when he aud his nieco were alone. "Aie! Aie! the setting out 011 this journey bas boen the only happy part of it. Sit down and rest, my cnlld. I must put my rest face upon it, and get you some tea."

When tha tea tray had ^een placed on tho table, he left the room, and returned aftor an absence of some little time with a basket in bis band. When the porter came to carry the luggage to tbe coach office, he would not allow the basnet to be taken uway !t tho same tin-:e, but sat down and placcd it between his feet while ho occupied hiinselfin pouring'out a cup of tea bis niece.

The musical box still hung at his side in its traveling case of leather. Assoon as he had poured out tbe cup of tea, I10 unbuckled t'-o strap, removed the covering from the box, and placed it on the table near him. His eyes wandered hesitatingly toward Sarah as ho did thi» he leaned forward, bis lips trembling a little, his hand trilling uneasy with the empty leather case that now lay

his

knees, and said to ber in low, unsteady tones You will hear a little farewell song of Mozart It ma3' be along time, Sa rah, before he can play to you again. A little farewell song, my child, b-fore you go?"

His hand stole up gently from the leather case to tbe table, and set tho box playing the same air that Sarah had hoard on the evening when she entered the parlor alter her journey from Somersetshire, and found him sitting alone listening to the niKsic. What depths of sorrow thero were now in those few simple notes! What mournful mc:«lories of past times gathered and swelled in the heart at the bidding of that one little plaintive melody! Sarah could not summon the courage to lift ber eyes to the old man's face—they might have betrayed to him that she was thinking of the days when the box that he treasured so dearly played the air they were listening to now by the bedside of his dying child.

The stop had not been set, and the inelodv, after it had come to an end, began again. But now, after the first few liars, the notes succeeded one another more and moro slowly—the air gtew less and less recognizable—dropped at last to ibree notos, following each other at long interval?—then ceased altogether. Tho chain that governed the action of the machinery all run out Mozart's farewell song was silenced on a sxddon, like a voice that bad broken down.

The old man started, looked earnestly at bis niece, and threw tne leather ease ovor tho lox, as if bo do*ired to shut out tbe sight of it. "The music stopped so," he whispered to himself, in his own language, "when little Joseph died! Don't go!" be added, quickly, in English, before Sarah had time to leel surprise! at the singular change that had taken plnco in his voit-e and manner. "Don't go! Ti.ink better of It, and stop with me.''

I have no choice, uncle, but to leave you—indeed, indeed, I have not! You iion't think me nngratelnl? Comfort me at the last moment by telling me that!"

Ho pressed her hand in siloce, and kissed her on both cheeks. "My heart is very heavy for you, Sarah," he said. "The fear has come to me that it is not for your own -good that you are going away from Uncle Joseph now 1 have 110 choice," she sadly repeated "110 choice hut to leave you." "It Is time, then, to get the parting over." The cloud of doubt and tear that had altered bis lace, from the moment when the music came to its untimely end, seemed to darken when he had said those words. He took up tho basket wnich be had kept, so carefully at his foot, and led the way out in silenco.

They were barely in time the driver was mounting to his eeat when they got te the coach office. "Ood preserve you, my child, and send you back to me soon, su'fo and well. Take the basket on your lap there are some litllo things iri it for your journey." His voice faltered at the last word, and Sarah felt his lips pressed 011 her band. Tho next instant the door was closed, and sho saw hltn dimlv through her tears,standing among the idlers 011 tho pavement, who worn waiting to see tbe coach drive off.

By tho time tbey wcro a little way out. of ttio town she was able to dry her eyes and look into the basket. It contained a pot of jam and a liorn spoon, a small inlaid work box from the stwck in the shop, apiece of loreigu looking cheeso, a French roll, and a little paper packet of money, with tho words, "Don't be angry written on it in Uncle Joseph's hand. Sarah closed the cover of the basket again, and drew down hor veil. She had not felt tbo sorrow of the parting in all its bitterness until that mcment. Oh, how hard It was t: be banished from the sheltering home that was offered to her by tbe one friend she bad left In the world

Wh«lo that thought was In her mind, the old man was Just closing the

door

his lonely parlor. His eyes wandered to the tea tray on the table, and to Sarah empty cup, and be whispered to himself In his own language .-.gain "Tl»e music stopped »o, when little Joseph died

CHAPTER XVII.

AX ot.i RUIKXN AJ*D A HBW

somenK,

In declaring, positively, that tbe boy whom abe hud seen digging on tbe moor had followed her uncle and herself to the post town of Portbgenna, Sarah bad smarted the literal truth. Jacob had tracked them te tbe inn, bad waited a little while about tbe door to ascertain if there was nay likelihood of their continuing their journey that evening, and had then returned to Portbgenna Tawer to nvtke bis report, and to claim bis promised reward.

Tbo same night the housekeeper and the stoward derated themselves to tho joint production of a letter to Mrs. Frankland, informing berof all that bad taken place, from the time when tbe visitors first marie their appearance to tbe time' when tbe gardener's boy bad followed them to the door of tbe inn. Tbe oonposition was plentifully garnished throughout with the flowers of Mr. Mender's rhotorio, and was, by neceenary eensequenoe, inordinately long narrative, and hopelessly confused aa a statement of (beta.

It Is unnecessary to aay that tbe letter, with all Its dsn Its snd absurdities, was reed by Mrs. Frankland with tbe deepeat interest. Her husband and Mr. Orrtdge, to both of whom abe communicated Its oontente,were aa rauoh amaaed and perplexed by it aa she wss herself Although tbedfcsoovery of Mrs. Jaaepb*a

departure for Cornwall bad led them to consider it within the range of possibility that she might appear at Portbgenna and although the housekeeper had been written to by Roaamond under tbe influence of that idea, neither she nor her husband were quite prepared for such a *f* speedy confirmation of their suapidona as they had now received. Their astonishment, however, on first ascertaining the general purport of tbe letter, was as nothing compared with their astonishment when they came to th ose particular :es in it which referred to Unde osenh. Tbe freeh element of complicatiou imparted to tho thickening mystery of Mrs. Jazeph and the Myrtle Room, by the entrance of the foreign stranger on thesoene, and by his intimate connec» tion with the extraordinary proceedings that had taken plaoe in the house, fairly baflled them all. The letter was read again and again was critically dissected paragraph uy paragrah was carefully annotated by the Doctor lor tho purpose ol extricatirg arl tho facts that it contained from the mass of unmeaning words in which Mr. Munder had artfully and lengthily involved them and was finally pronomced, after all tbe pains that bad been taken to render it iutalligible, to be the most mysterious and oewtldering document that mortal pen had ever produced.

The first practical suggestion, after tho letter had been aid aside in despair, emanated from Rosamond. She pro-H posed that her husband and herself (the baby included, as a matter of course) should start at once for Portbgenna, to question the servants minutely about |J tho proceedings of Mrs. Jazeph and tho foreign stranger who had accompanied S. her, and to examine the premises 011 tbe^" north side of the house, with a view of discovering a clew to the locality of theFt Myrtle Room, while even's w'eie still fresh in tho memories o( wittiess?s. Tho plan thus advocated, however excellent^ in itself, was opposed by Mr. Orridgeon 9 medical grounas. Mrs. Frankland had 3 caught cold by exposing herself toojfc carelessly to the air on first leaving her room, and the Doctor refused tograut^ her pennissuyt to travel for at least aS week to come, if not for a longerK period.

The next proposal came from Mr. Frankland. He declared it to bo perfectly clear to his mind, that tl only: chance of penetrating the mystery of tho$ Myrtlo Room rested entirely 011 tbo dis-| coveryof some meatisot communicating^, with Mrs. Jazeph. He suggested that they should not trouble themselves to think of any thing unconnected with the^ accomplishment»f this purpose and ho^ proposed that the servant then in at-? tendance on him at West Winslort—a*, man who had been in his employment' for many years, and whose zeal, activity and inteliigecco could be thoroughly depended on—should be sent to Porthgenna forthwith, to start the necessary inquiries, and to examine tho premises^ carefully on tbe north side of the house/

This advice was immediately acted on. At an hour's notice the servant stirted foi Cornwall thoroughly in-, strncted as to what he was to do, and{ well supplied with money, in o*se he found it necopsirv to employ many persons in njaklngthe proposed inquiries. fn due course oftimo he sent report! of his proceedings to his master. It. proved to be of a mast discouraging na-' tore.

All traco of Mrs. Jasseph and her companion bad been lost at the post town of1 I o.thgenna. Investigation* bad beonf made in every direction, but no reliable information had been obtained. lVople in totallv different parts ol the country oeclared readily enough that they had"seen two persons ausw ring to tho dosciiption of the lady in the dark dress and the old foreigner but when they were called upon to state too d'rocvioji which the two strangers wero traveling, tho answers received turned out to be of the IIIIMI pur-zlin/ and '.ont radiu'.ory kind. No pains had *ieen spiued, no necessary expenditure of money bad been grudged but, so far, no results of the slightest vain? had been obtained. Whether tbe Lady and the foreigner bad gone east, west, north or south, was moro

than

Mr.

Frankland's

scrvetit. at

the present stage of tbe proceedings, could take it 011 himself to say. The report of the examination of the north rooms was not more satisfactory. Here, sgain, nothing o( ain importance coul 1 be discovered. Tho servant had ascertained that there were twenty-two rooms 011 the uninhabited side ol the bouse six on the ground floor opening Into I he deserted garden eight on iho first floor and eight above that, 0:1 tbo second story. He had examined nil tho doors careful] from top to bottom, and, had come to tho conclusion that none of th"m iiad been opened. The evidenco afforded bv tbe lady'sown actions led to no hing. She had, if the testimony of the servant could bo trusted, dropped the kevs on the lloor of the ball. Sbo was found, as the housekeeper and too steward asserted, Ivingin a fainting condition, at tbo top of the landing of tho flr*l flight of stairs. The door ophite to her, In this position, showed no more tract's of having been recently opened than any of the other doors of the other twenty-one rooms. Whether tbo room to which she wished to gain access was one ol tho eight on the first floor, or whether sbo had fainted on her way up to the higher range of eight r^inson the second lloor, it was impossible to de-. termine. Tno only conclusions that could be fairly drawn from tbo events that had taken place in tbe bo 11 so wero two in number. First, it might bo taken for granted that the lady bad been distnrbed before ~e had been ablo to use tbe keys to gain admission to tho Myrtle Room. Secondly, it might bo assumed from the position in whl :hsho was found on the stairs, and from tho evidenso relating to the dropping ol tbo keys, that the Myrtle Room was not on. the gronnd floor, but wae one of tho sixteen rooms on the first and second stories. Beyond this, tbe writer of tho report had nothing further to mention, except that he had ventured to deddo on waiting at Porthgenna, In the event of bis master having any furthor instructions to communicate.

What was to be done next That was necessarily tbe first question suggested by tbe servant's announcement of the nnsncoeasfnl result of his inquiries at Portbgenna. How it was to be answered was not very easy to discover. Mrs. Frankland baa nothing to suggest, Mr. Frankland had nothing to suggest, the Doctor bad nothing to suggest. Tbo more Industriously tbey all tbroo htinted through their minds for a new idea, the less chance there seemed to be or their succeeding In finding one. At last Roaamond proposed, in despair, tnati^ tbey should seek tbe advice of aorno fourth person who conld be depended^on, anl aaked btr husband's permission, to write a confidential statement of their difficulties to the Vicar of Long Beckley.

Doctor Chennery was their oldest friend and adviser be bad known thom both as children be was well acquainted with the history of their families be felt a fatherly interest in the'rTortunea •nd be peaaeeaed that Inralnable quality of plain, clear beadod common sense wbiob marked blm out as the very man who would be most likely, well as moat willing, to help them. "w"r" [Chartson Seventh Prig*."]