Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 13 August 1885 — Page 10

$1 tllf lit

A FAMILY AFFAIR.

By HUGH CONWAY,5^*'*

Aythor of

"Called

called

Mr. Mordle, who was unable to see that his ordination vows debarred him from using such a convenient vehicle for getting from ono end of the parish to another, did a bold thing. Knowing that the bishop was staying at a country house some twenty-five miles away, he thre*- himself early one morning into the saddle or the seat, and used his nether limbs to such purpose that just before lunch time his card was sent in tQ,his lordship, and in ten minutes the bishop was gravely inspecting what Mrs. Pierrepont, when speaking to her friends, called a diabolical machine.

For some minutes the bishop stood on the doorsteps, weighing the innocence or guilt of the inanimate creature at his feet, Sylvanus the while pleading its cause with his usual brisk vehemence and jerky dexterity. He expatiated on the size of his parish, and on the wonderful assistance ho derived from this modern invention for getting quickly over the ground. He showed his lordship the convenient little bag attached to the back, in which he carried his books of deyotion, or, when occasion needed, some small creature comfort for the aged sick. He explained the action of the machine, and so raised the episcopal curiosity that an unheard of thing occurred. His lordship, gaiters and all, gravely installed himself in the seat, and, to ^the unutterable delight of several ladies and gentlemen who were gazing through the drawing-room windows, in a quiet, dignified, eisurely way, as behooves a bishop, actually propelled his sacred self down the gravel path find up again, with no further damage than cutting up the edges of his host's lawn and knocking a oouple of stones out of a rockery. The tricycle triumphed I Although the bishop did not embody a eulogistic notice of it in his next charge to his clergy, he has been 'known on several occasions to reoommend its use in outlying districts.

Like many other useful innovations, Syl-

svanusand

his tricycle lived down prejudice,

*ud were able to accompany each other to tazlewood House this particular afternoon in -uly.

Tlie "Tabbies" had driven into Blacktown but Miss Clauson was in the back garden. Bylvanus pulled his tricycle aside, so that it should be out of the way of other callers, then went to meet what fate had in store for them. Poor fellpw, he breathed a prayer as he crossed the le-vn. He had really very little hope but he felt he must make his confession before he struck his flag altogether.

It was a warm July afternoon. Beatrice, In a dainty white dress, looked deliciously cool as she sat reading in the shade of a sycamore tree. She smiled pleasantly when she saw her visitor approaching. Sylvanu^ would have given all he possessed to have seen her eyes drop shyly—to have noticed a blush rise to her cool, wjhite cheek. Mrs. Miller, the nurse, sat with the little boy on her lap some 1 ihort distance off.

After the first greeting, Sylvanus fetched one of those comfortable, carpet-seated chairs, several of which were scattered about, and sat beside Beatrice. They talked for awhile on ordinary subjects then, like a man, the curate resolved to come to the point. "I wish to say a few words to you alone, Miss Clauson. Will you walk into the house or the other garden with me?"

She looked surprised, perhaps troubled, "We ct" speak hero," she said, telling the nurse to take the child indoors. She kissed the little man tenderly as he was led away. "You are very fond of the child," said Sylvanus. "Very, very, fond of him." Then she turned her clear gray eyes upon him as one who waited for a promised communication.

He knew all was lost—or rather nothing had been his to lose. But he went on to the bitter end.

4'Miss

m2

,,!

Clauson—Beatrice," he said. "I

have come to-day to ask you if you could lovs .me—if you will be my wife!"

1' stǤ

Back" and "Dark

Days"

Sylvanus on bis tricycle was a lovely sight, but one which, upon its first introduction, filled Oakbury with consternation. To see a clergyman, in along black coat and broadbrimmed hat, working vigorously with muscular legs, ani sending himself along at the rate of ten miles an hour, was an upheaval of all traditions. Only his popularity saved him. Indeed, old Mrs. Pierrepont, a parishioner in a chronic state of aggrievedneBS, wrote to the bishop on the subject. Sh«

it a "bicycle machine," not exaggerating, but diminishing, so far as wheels went. The bishop was startled. A curate careering about the country on a couple of wheels did eeem out of place. So hi* lordship wrote to the rector of Oakbury on the subject, and the rector handed the letter to Sylvanus. So fat as be, the rector, was concerned, his curst* might have flown about on a broomstick if by so doing he kept the bother 6f the parish off his superior's hands.

4"*

So

ft

have come to-day to ask you if you could love me 7" She did not answer. He fancied be heard her sigh yet that sigh gave him no hope. "That I love you, I need not say. You

mint h$ve seen that fox wy own clumsy faAinn I must have showntt" "I feared it was so," said Beatrice, dreamily.

"Yes,

it was, always trill bo so. Even as I

speak, I speak with little hope but, at least, you will hear and believe-I love ybu." His voice was so deep and earnest she scarcely recognized it.. He looked at her. Her lashes were cast down and tears were forcing their way through them. "Will you answer me?"' he said, tenderly. "Idonot insult you by speaking of wealth or rank in the world. If you loved a man you would care little for that. You would marry the

Tn*n

you loved in spite of all the

world." 8to shivered. Her mouth worked piteously. For a second a wild, joyful thought ran through the wooer's mind—for a second only. "IV iiidm van ri(rhU%f" he asked

S

v-*iW

1

4

'?h

1 t.hinV so—Vut, oh, Mr. Mordle, I un sc sorry for this." Her accent left ao doubt as to the gei iuiiienets of her regret. Had sho wronged kin to the greatest extent, it could not have "been more real

like a man he took his answer. Ho rose. His face was pale, but then a man's face is, so far as color goes, beyond his control. But his ™»TiTn»r and words were his own bondservants. "Wo can still befriends?' he jerked out in a very good imitation of his usual brisk manner. "If you wish it," said Beatrice, quietly, almost humbly "Of course I sh it. By-the-by, will you wish mo a pleasant holiday? I am c°^-8 away next week. France, Switzerland, the Rhine—all the rest of it."

Beatrico laid her hand on his arm. Don't, please, speak like that you mal^e me miserable." VjHhi*

Miserable?' "Yes. Do you think a woman does wot feel unhappy when she finds irbo cannot accept the love of a good man like yourself Do you think she believes he goes from her side and forgets all that has happened I don't think am to blame, Mr. Mordle, but anywaj I feel miserable."

He took her hand. "No, you are not tc blame. I was a fooL Never mind, I am •man also. I really was going away next week, unless—well, never mind what. When I back, if I am not cored of my folly, I can at least promise that even you will net MO any symptoms of disease. Good-bye."

Ho turned and left her. Even in his desolation he had the grnin of comfort that ho Lad not borno himself amiss. To Miss. Clauson, ut least, he must always stand far aboVe bis unfortunate name.

Still he was terribly upset. So much so that he walked to the end of the lane without remembering his tricycle, and was compelled to retrace his steps in order to recover the artificial means of propulsion. He felt this to be a peculiarly unfortunate incident, for, as be walked up to the

house, he

caught a glimpse

of Beatrice standing in a pensive, thoughtful \ttitude, gazing out of one of the windows. Nevertheless he mounted his metal steed bravely and sped away.

By the unwritten canors of art, it seems to me that a rejected suitor is expected, if a horseman, to dash his spurs into his charger's tanks and gallop away, anywhere, anywhere if a pedestrian, he should rush off in a frenzy, stride off with dignity, or lounge away with studied carelessness. The Rev. Sylvanus' manner of departure was certainly an impertinent invasion of comedy into the grim realms of tragedy. But in real life the two are alwpys inextricably mingled. Only in romances do we find them kept quite apart. This is not a romance.

CHAPTER VIII.

MBS. MILLER TAKES A. 'HOLIDAY. Mrs. Miller, the respectable, middle-aged widow who had, in spite of hor lack of properly authenticated service-testimonials, been installed in the place vacated by the nurse girl whose amorous tendencies sent such a thrill through Hazlewood House, continued to give the greatest satisfaction.. She was a living proof that a broom which swept clean when new, may continue to do so after the newness has departed. Moreover, Mrs. Miller was a broom which raised very little dust as it sweet.

She was a pale-faced woman with strongly marked features. The nose was aquiline, the cheoks thin, almost hollow the mouth and chin told of a certain force of character, the eyes wero dark, and at times shone with peculiar brightness. In spite of the calm, methodical way in which she went about the place in discharge of her duties, one skilled in the study of the face would have said that this woman possessed a highly nervous temperament—that her quiet was but the result of years of self-control, that had she lacked that strong mouth and chin, Mrs. Miller's true nature wo .Id have shown itself at every hour of the day.

She was thin, and in the dark gowns which she invariably wore, looked almost ascetic. To men she presented few attractions. The under gardener who had been reprimanded, but not dismissed, found the change of nurses a sorry one for him. Had he wished to do so, I doubt if the most forward man servant would have dared to put his arm round Mrs. Miller's sorabro waist.

But her masters liked her, Miss Clauson likod hor, the boy liked her, and, above all, Whittakcr liked her. This last was an important matter, as in the servant's hall Whittaker, by virtue of long service andtirreproachable character, reigned supreme.

The new nurse was in many waysaservant after his own heart. She treated him with the respect which was his due, neither by word nor action ridiculed his masters—the crime common to nearly all the retainers of Hazlewood House. The only fault which Whittaker could find with Mrs. Miller was on account of her religious sentiments.

For Whittaker was an intelligent mun, who in his hours of leisure improved his mind. For theology he read good old-fash-ioned, one-sided works which prbved beyond doubt that through the porch of the parish church lay *3 only road to Heaveij. Every one know» that it is delightful to give a new-comer the benefit of one's own religions tenets—to point out where one is right and the other wrong. It was but natural that in a kindly, paternal way Whittaker should take an early opportunity of ascertaining Mrs. 'Millbr's orthodoxy.

He did this in the butler's pantry, whither sho had one day coino On some errand. It was on a Monday, and Whittaker began by commenting on Mr. Mordle's sermon of the preceding night. He little guessed what a storm hi« words would raise—how by sheer accident he had stumbled on away of turning this calm-looking woman into a wild enthusiast. But he had in fMt struck the fire from the flint.

She forgot all about her errand, and entered into religious discussion in away that took the male disputant's breath from him. She talked about selection and predestination— the utter inefficacy of works or faith to save— she pounded him with terrible texts which cut off the hope of mercy from all save the elect, until poor old Whittaker fairly gesped. His one-sided studies furnished no weapons with which to meet her vehement attack. All he could do was to. shake his head pityingly and sigh for the state of her mind. In this he was little different from many reputed teachers of men.

J®

Suddenly, as if remezhbdriag where sue was, Mrs, Miller grew calm, but evidently by a great effort at pelf-control. She even apologized for her a*citejnept, which she hoped Mr. Whittaker would forget, Then she left him.

In his responsible position his first thought was that his masters ought to be informed of the heterodox views held by the nurse. But this seemed scarcely fair to the woman, who^ fh spite of all, went to church as regularly ae the other servants. So he did not mention the matter to the Talberts, but, overtaking Mr Mx»r«iia as 'j* «ci cm dav walk*

gpff

-f'

xog into the town, he, with all respoct, told him what strange ideas Mrs. Miller held on religious subject's. This may seem presumption on Whittaker's part, but the truth is, that the dream of hL lifo was, that hod not fate mado him a butler he might have been a clergyman. And a very imposing one hs

I or qa do

0

She pounded Mm with terrible texts until Whittaker fairly taumetL "Ah I" said Mordle. "Calvinism—dreary religion—most dismal and dreary of all."

The curate was rather short with Whittaker. IIo thought tho old servant rather a nuisance and somewhat of a prig. "W.ill you 6ee her and talk to her, strf asked Whittaker, respectfully. "No—Calvinists are incurable. Bat to rieue you, Whittaker, I'll preach at her ome Sunday."

It may bo presumed that Mrs. Miller did lot inflict her Calvinism upon Beatrice, as latter seemed to find the now nurse perfectly suited to her duties. It was clear that Mrs. Miller bad become strangely attached :ohur young mistress. Nothing seemed to ive her such pleasure as performing any small personal service which Miss Clauson re{uired. When Beatrice passed her, the wonan's dark eyes followed her with an expression of almost dog-!ike affection. On her jart Beatrice treated the nurse with a consideration not always shown by tho most amiable toward their servants. It was vulgarly said among the household that Mrs. Miller, quiet as she was, had managed to get She length of Miss Clauson's foot.

Whether Mrs. Miller was unduly favored »r not, things at Hazlewood House ran on anoothly. Perhaps it was the perl^ct order in which the gear worked that induced tho aurse to take a day's holiday.

It was the day after Mr. Mordle had WWIIA and lost his venture. Horace and Herbert, pottering about the gardens, saw tho brighthaired boy oing out in charge of the parlor aiaid. This was an infraction of rulej which yiuld not be overlooked. They demanded the ause, und were told that Mrs. Miller had gone for a day's holiday.

Of course the brothers said no more but, jpon seeing Beatrice, they mentioned the matter to her. "Yes," she said, "I told her she might go for the day."

The Talberts were too polite to blame Beatrice in words, but a slight elevation of four lyebrows showed their owners' discontent Beatrice, in giving a servant a holiday, taken a liberty. "Where has she gone?" asked Herbert, who liked to know that his servants wero spending their time properly. "To London, I suppose," said Beatrice, carelessly.

Now the way in which Mrs. Miller spent her holiday was as follows: She rose at an early hour and walked from Hazlewood House to the cross roads. Here she waited until the lumbering, old-fashioned 'bus came in sight She took a seat in it, and was in due time deposited at the Blacktown station. At Blacktown she took the train to Weymouth, which fashionable watering place she reached about 11 o'clock.

It was, however, clear that sho had not come here to enjoy a day at the seaside. Instead of going at once to the gay esplanade, she sought the shades of the general waiting room—here she remained an hour.

She then embarked in another train one that ran on a single line of 'railway—ran nearly the whole of its way with the sea on one side and a mighty hill of smooth, rounded pebbles, known as the Chesil Beach, cm the other, whilst in front of it loomed tall, serrated, precipitous cliffs, at the foot ol which was its destination.

Mrs. Miller paid no attention to the natural scencry of the place. She stepped from the train and walked out of the little station in a methodical, business-like way. It was evident that the woman had not come so tar on a mere pleasure jaunt

It was a burning day. The sun shot down its rays fiercely* on the treeless, shadeless, barren island, or so-called island. Mrs. Miller's black garments seemed scarcely suitable to such weather—her frame certainly not strong enough to toil up those cliffis of oolitic limestone which frowned down upon her. No wonder she turned to the cabstand. The two or three cabs which it boasted were rickety old machines, but the horses which were between the shafts were strong ones. Horses need be strong to earn a

'THJfl TEK&E HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE.

living

in this

land. She drove a bargain after the manner ol her kind, then took her seat In one of the dusty vehicles. She was driven through the little gray town, which lies at the foot of and stretches along way up the hill. The horse toiled up the steep street, on and on until the occupant of the cab looked down on the tops of the houses which fh$ hod just passed. Then a turn, lad a Ut of leva ground, another turn and a steep hill so on and on in a zigzag course until the table land which lies at the top of Portland island was »Qmeko^r reached, an event which must have been grateful alike to the borss and the occupant of the cab, supposing the latter only oossessed of nerves of ordinanr streifeth and therefore apt to rebel against being drawn up hills as steep as the side of a house.

Some timebeforo tho cab reached thetof) of tho cliffs it bad at intervals passed gangf of men working by tho roadside. At a distance these men looked little different from ordinary navvies, but a closer inspection showed that the garments pf most of theqa consisted of a dark yellow jers§y pgyered by a sleeveless jacket pf light fustifig ep some such material This* jacket, moreover, wat stamped in various places with the government broad arrow. Every man wore gaiten and a curiously-shaped cap, under which no hair tras visible. Occasionally one might be ieen who moved with a certain stiffness in hit gait, as ftemethinjj Fhicii he would willingly have dispensed with restrained the natural elasticity of bi9 Umgr fimbs. Psreaad there the monotony Of the Attire vras brokea by the appearance pf some Who were dressed in blue instead at yell?w$ but fek4P altogether the dresp, if poprfarteWe and endiying, was scarcely, one, wbicb »snau beta? a free

agent would choose fat The gangs which Mrs. Miller passed on the roadside were for the most part engaged in handing lumps of turf from iimn to *»«. They performed these duties in a listless, perfunctory manner, although, standing on the hillside above every bond of workers, wero two men in long dark coats with tho shiniag buttons of authority, and each of these men held a rifle with fixed bayonet.

Farther away in the quarries could be seen many other such gangs, digging, delving, hauling, wheeling barrows, and performing other operations needful for extracting the Portland stone from the ground.

After passing various sentries, and driving fee* some distance along the level ground, Mrs. Miller's cab reached a beautiful, tull, hat. tressed wall skirting this it turned at right angles, and very soon drew up before an Imposing entrance built of gray stone, and bearing over the archway the royal arms of England. This was the entrance to her majesty? prison of Portland.

In front of it, across the road, stretched the governor's garden, Still brilliant with flowers and looking like a glorious oasis in the midst of a barren land. A man who in the discharge of his duties has to live on the top of Portland island wants a garden or something of that sort Without it the monotony of the place would drive him mad.

But Mrs. Miller did not even look at the gay beds. She dismounted, and after tolling the cabman to wait for her, walked boldly through the prison gate.

She was immediately accosted by a portly, good-tempered-looking janitor, whose gold* laced cap spoke of superior standing. He ushered her into a little waiting-room just inside'the gate, and asked her to state her business. Mrs. Miller's business was to see one of the convicts, by name Maurice Harvey.

Now, convicts are only allowed to see their friends once in six months so the janitor shook his head dubiously. Still, as Mrs. Miller was a most respectable-looking woman, he said he would mention the matter to the governor. He begged the lady to takeachair and then left her.

She sat for some time in the bare little waiting room, the walls of which weredeconueawitft notices requesting visitors to tin prison not to offer the warders any money but to deposit such donations as they wished tx make in boles that were hung against the wal for the benefit of discharged prisoners and th officers' schools respectively. After a whilf tho good-natured janitor returned. Ho tolc Mrs. Miller that the convict had not eeen friend for many months, so upon bis rcturz from work ho would be asked if he would like to see her. She must give her name.

She wrote it down, then waited patiently. By and by there was a measured tramp

1

many heavy feet, and rfhe knew the con vie ti were returning to dinner. After tho tramj had died away awarder made his appearance and told her to follow bim,

It was but a step. He opened a door in the rear of the waiting room, and Mrs. Millei found herself in a«p!ace which could suggest nothing else than a den at a zoological garden, one side of the room being formed ol iron bars about six inches apart, and opposite was a similar den with its front turned towards it and entered by another door, and betwcoa tho two was ft space, a narrow den, entered by another door and containing a •tool.

Presently the door of the middle den opened and awarder entered and seated himself upos the stool then the furthest door opened, and one of the blue-habitod convicts walked up to tho bars and gave his visitor a nod of careless recognition.

AS a rule, wnen a tcmaie mend is per mitted to see a convict there is weeping ana wailing. Hands are stretched out through the bars across the open space, and if the two persons aro of ordinary stature, fingertips may just meet This is better than nothing. Time was when no open space divided the friends they could fcigg and almost embrace through one set of bars. But it was found that the visitor's kiss often transferred a half-sovereign from her mouth to the convict's. A kindly action, no doubt, but one which when discovered led tho into trouble, knocked off good-conduct marks, and lengthened 'his time of imprisonment. So now there is a space of something like five feet between the visitor and the visited.

With these two there was no weeping, nc stretching out of hands. In fact, as Mrs. Miller looked at the caged creature in front of her an expression very nearly akin tc hatred settled on her strongly-marked features. Yet, in spite of his close-clipped crown, shaven cheeks and ugly attire the convict was by no means ill-looking. His eotures were straight, and might even have been called refined. He was above the middle height, broad shouldered and healthy looking. His teeth were good, and his hands, although rough and hardened with toil, were not tho hands of one who has labored from his childhood. His eyes had a cruel, crafty look in them but this look might have been acquired since his incarceration. Indeed, Mra. Miller hod noticed tho same expression in the eyes of every convict whom she had met on the road to the prison. libs. Miller looked through her bars at the convict the convict looked through his ban

Mrs. Miller looked through her bars at the convict at Mrs, Miller the warder between them sat pn his gtogl publimely indifferent, and for a While thpre ^ras silence, lite convict was the firs* to break $t. "Oh, it's you, is it?' he said.

a.

"Yes, it's me," said Mrs. Miller. "Well, what do you want? To see how 1 am getting onf"

He ppoke quite jpuntQy. His visitor gazed ft( bin* pcornfuJly, MQh. {'m in splendid health," he continued, tfffeyucally, Jm twice the man I was when 1

p*me

here. Regular hours, regular meals,

fpgular work, Constitution quite set up. No

ler with fetich bitterness that the lmfttssiVe warder glanced at her, and wondered what manner of prisoner's friend this was.

The prisoner's face changed. He scowled at her as darkly as she had scowled at him. "When will your time be up?' she asked sharply. "Can you tell mef she added, turning to the warder. "Can't say exactly," answered the warder. "He's in blue, so he's In his last year."

Mrs. Miller shuddered. Her hands clenched themselves involuntarily. "I want to know," die said, addressing the convict, "what arrangements you will be willing to make when you come out That is the object of my visit"

Tho man looked at her mockingly. "I have thought of nothing as yet," ho said, *''except the joy I shall feel at onco more returning to the arms of my devoted wife."

Tho woman's dark ayes blazed. She leaned her face against the bars and glared at the shaven faco before hor. "How much money do you want?" she whispered.

The conviot shrugged his uninterestinglooking shoulders. "Money is an after consideration I am pining for connubial felicity."

She turned and paced the narrow space. The warder grew quite interested in the interview. As a rule his duties were very monotonous. He recognized the fact that the present conversation was oat of the ordinary run. The woman seemed to have forgotten hia presence. She stamped her foot and turned fiercely to tho convict "Look here," she said, "will you go to America, Australia, anywhere) Money will be found." "Certainly not," said the polite convict "Besides, sir," he added, turning to the warder with an assumed air of deference, "I believe it is a sine quA non, I mean it is indispensable, that for some time I must report myself to the police once a month?'

The warder nodded. "God help us!" murmured the woman. Then turning to the oonvict, she said: "You'll let me know when you are ra leased?' "Oh, yes. I'll let you know fast enough You'll be one of the first I shall come and sec. Now, if you've nothing more to say, I'll ask to be taken back to my dinner. Good and plentiful as the fare is, I like it warm better than cold."

The stolid warder oould not help smiling The time usually allotted for an interview with a prisoner had by no means expired. It was anew experienoa to find a convict of his ovm free will curta&ing his privilege. Hs turned inquiringly taMrs. Miller.

"(Jot anything mora to aaked. "No," she answered sullenly. The convict made her a polito bow as turned and walked to tho door of her own den. She stood outside on tho gravel for a moment, and gazed moodily after No. 1,080 as he was con ducted by his guardian across tho open space and vanished from sight round the chapel oa the way to his own cell. Then she entered the waiting room, where she found the civil oJlcial who hod at first accosted her.

From him sho ascertained the proper office at which the inquiry she wanted answered should be made and upon applying there learnt that No. 1,080, supposing he continued to conduct himself as he had hitherto done, that is, earning the maximum of eight good marks a day, would obtain his ticket-of-leave in about six months' time. "Then what becomes of him?' she asked. "Do you just put him outside the gate, and tell him to bo off?'

Tho officer smiled. "Oh dear, no. He is asked if ho has any friends to go to, or where ho wants to go to. His fare is paid to that place. He is given a suit of clothes and a little money. After that he must do the best he can."

Mrs. Miller looked thoughtful. "Is there anyone I could write to and ask to be toJd the day he will come out?' she asked. "Certainly. If you area relation or friend, and willing to look after him, and wrote to tbe governor to that effect, no doubt you would hear from him." "Thank you," said Mrs. Miller. Then she gathered up her black skirts and left the ison. She found her cab and was driven ick to the railway station. It was some timo beforo the train left for Weymouth so she climbed to the top of the Chesil Beach and sat down gazing out over tho sea. Her lips moved, although the rest of her body was motionless. She was praying, and the petition sho offered up was that Heaven in its mercy would remove from earth a certain convict beforo tho day came upon which he would bo entitled to demand his freedom. A curious prayer for a religious woman to make, but after all not stranger than the prayers offered up by antagonistic armies.

The train started at last and took her to Weymouth. Hero she obtained refreshment, of which, indeed, she stood much in need. Somehow she made a mistake in the time, nud missed the afternoon train. The consequence was that it was past eleven o'clock when she rang the bell of that methodicallyconducted establishment, Hazlewood House. And the rule of Hazlewood House was that no servant should on any pretence be- out of doors after half-past nine or, unless the presence of company demanded it, out of bed after half-past ten.

Her masters were in waiting, and at once took her to task. She explained that sho had missed the train. "What train?" asked Horace. /$ "The train from Weymouth, sir." "But Miss Clauson told us you were gone to London." "Miss Clauson made a sir."

Horace felt nettled at the idea of any one who hald even a vicarious authority from himself making a mistake. So he said, with some asperity, "This must not occur Mrs. Miller." "And," added Herbert, "the next time you want a holiday kindly mention the fact to us as well as to Miss Clauson. We have a rule in theso matters."

Mrs. Miller curtsied, and left the room. "She is a curious looking woman," said Horace. "I wonder if we were right in taking Iter without a character M*'

CHAPTER ix.

a.

JUXRINO AT CONCLUSIONS.

Mr. Mordle went away the next week. He carried his sorrow with him, manfully resolved to do all he could to leave it on the summit of Mont Blanc or the Matterhorn, to sink it in tho Lako of Maggiore or Como, or to cast it upon tho flowing Rhine. He told himself With such cheerfulness as he could fnuster that ho was deeply wounded but not killed. Beforo ho tied the label oo his portmanteau Uo discharged what his keen sense of honor told him was a duty. He called on the Talberts and informed them how ho bad fared with Beatrice, 1

whic.k d^®

lying beforo my term's up." I MI bad the wine to bot-1 Ttaeweekly can be had on subscription glance Qf pay dying before my term's up. Jim afraid, there asu't." aaicLMrs. Mil

tie I would work at it ten hours a when the brothers heard that Mr. wished particularly to see them, he was asked

*?:.n*sr

'"-ntWg1V

to step down into tbe cellar. Into the cellar he went Nbt a bad place an such a sultry day. He found Horaco seated on a low stool, with his. long straight legs spread on either side of the cask, in •something of the attitude of a reversod Bacchus. He was filling the bottles with the golden fliiud, whilst Herbert stood near and after dipping the corks into a little basin full Of wine, manipulated them with a cork squeezer and eventually drove them into their resting-place by aid of a small spadochaped mallet As each bottle was filled, corked, and put aside, Herbert made a chalk mark on a board, and every fourth mark ha crossed with another, so that the tally could be easily counted. The whole performance was beautifully methodical and business-like, reflecting great credit on the actors.

With their native politeness, tbe moment Mr. Mordle came in sight they ceased their occupation. Horace turned the tap and ros» from the half filled bottle Herbert left tbe cork half driven in. They greeted their visitor and apologized for bringing him down to the lower regions. Although they wore large coarse white aprons, fashioned somewhat like a girl's pinafore, they looked two well-bred gentlemen. "I say," said the curate nervously, "you know I'm off the day after to-morrow."

mmsm

I say* said the citrate, nervously. "Yes. We wish you a pleasant trip." "Thanks. Sure to enjoy myself. I want

ay to himf to tell you something before I go." They begged him to spe&k. They thought it w«* •ome petty parish matter on his mind. 'c "Do you mind taking off your aprons for ai minute? Somehow my news doesn't seem to

Atia with them." Mr. Mordle was a privileged person. He Oould say and do what few others could. Moreover, his manner showed them he hul something of importance to communicate.

Without a word they untied their pinafores, folded them up and laid them across the sherry cask. "Shall wo go up stairs?" asked Horace. "Oh dear, no. This will do capitally. What I- want to tell you is this: Last week I asked Miss Clauson to marry me. She refused. Thought you ought to know."

Horace looked at Herbert Herbert looked at Horace. They stroked their beards medi-. tatively, but for some time neither spoke. "Well," said Mr. Mordle, "that's all." "I think, Mordle," said Horace sadly, "you should have consulted us first" "Quite so," said Herbert. "Don't see it atalL Miss Clauson isof age. But it doeent matter—I tell you now."

The brothers shook their heads gravely. "I tell you," said Sylvanus, "because I'm going away to cure myself. When I come back I should like to be able to visit you as ,. before. You needn't bo afraid."

Miss Clauson must decide," said Horace. 0 "Exactly so," said Herbert l§f So the matter was left, and Mr. Mordle went away on his hard-earned holiday with nl clear conscience, if a heavy heart If

The brothers returned to their fascinatingfe occupation and worked away for some time| in silence. Three dozen of sherry must haver been bottled before Horace spoke: "It is time Beatrice was married." "Yes," said his brother "but she isn't a: marrying girl. She takes after us, think."'

There was always a comfort in' this reilection especially now, when the fame of Miss Clauson's good lookshad sproad through half' Westshire.

It was indeed time that a suitable suitor made his appearance. The chances were that in a year or two the girl might fall into her uncles' old-maidish ways. For the Talberts were now getting into a domestic groove down which it seemed likely they would slide until the end of their lives. They had of course seen tho great world and the vanities thereof, and now they found that there was nothing like home, sweet home—especially when the disposition of the home-lover is such that he takes an immense interest in every detail which makes up that sweetness. With the exception of the perennial visit to town, they had not left Hazlewood House for any length of time since they settled down to rule its fortunes. They went to London this year for the last week in May and the whole of June. But Miss Clauson did not accompany them. She said outright that she hated London, an! loved Oakbury and its belongings. So at Oakbury she stayed. A very curious choice on the part of a young lady who might, had she wished "to do so, have spent the London season mingling in the pursuits and gayeties of what is called the upper circle.

However, her decision was a certain relief to her uncles. Had she selected to accompany them to town, they would hardly have known what to do with her. A handsome niece staying with them at their hotel would be—well, if not a nuisance, a responsibility. Approving as they did in the main of her treatment of Lady Clauson, they could not counsel her to go to her father'3 house. There were, of course, many families they knew who would have been glad to have taken charge of a niece of theirs, but Beatrice's staying at another establishment whilst Sir Maingay was in town would clearly show the world that there was a family feud. Nothing in the Talberts' eyes was worse than a proclaimed family foud. Hence it was that even now they spoke of Beatrice as only being on a visit to them. This delicacy on their part was a costly matter, for had they brought themselves to consider the girl as part of the house, they might with perfect justice and propriety have associated her with themselves in the June audit, so giving Horace another opportunity of showing hia skill in accounts nnrf estimates.

[The continuation of this best of all the world-famous romances of Hugh

They were very busy bottling off a quarter Cask of sherry. They found that buying their wine iu wood saved them Heaven knows how Conway will be found in the Saturday much. Now, bottling wine it a nice, digni-' and weekly editions of the GAZETTE fled, yet, withal, cheerful operation, in the The daily is delivered at 15c per week

,no5 9^ may be bought of the newsboys

day- So I at the office for $1.50 per year.l '. Mordle

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