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Moose on Marsh -on— THE MYSTERY OF THE ALDERS *y nomroa waxcsm. chaptkh il I WM down in the dining-room the next morning, with the unfailing puncvuelitr of a new-comer, at the aound of the breakfaet-bell, before any one else wag there. Mr. Barner came in in a few minutes, handsome, cheer ful, but rather preoccupied; and I was listening to his bright small talk with the polite stranger a smile, when I dis covered, without having heard any sound, that Mrs. Rayner was in the room. — ■ * * and was w £fV oubUHl * « yon naa known her five years ago." .i™ 6 , WM w in on# 0, tho «> moods of ahnost embarrassmg franknesa during which the only thing possible was to sit and listen quietly, with such sparins comment as would content him. 6 “ I dare nay,” he continued, “it will seem almost incredible to you. but she was one of the most brilliant talkers I have ever met, and four years ago she vn-ote a book which took LomTon by storm. If I were to tell vou the turn, ae i>lume under -as clinging. tscj were calmed to feel sleepy. you the nom which she wrote, you would be afraid of her, for it be came at once a sort of proverb for dar ing of thought and expression. We had a little boy then"—his voice seemed to tremble a little—"two years She had glided In like a ghost; 1 he ,W ° cb ! ,dren . standing at the table,- waiting best of caJ 1 the ' ounlI 7-i n the I was thankful to see that there was no I 8 p e nt the' season tow/; Tt wL^ duty she owed to society’then a- trace of the steadfast, eager gaze which had disconcerted mo on the night be fore, nothing but the limpest indiffer ence to mo in the way in which she hold out her baud when her husband introduced me. "She must have been pretty ten years ago,” I thought, as I looked at her thin face, with the fair faded com plexion and dull gray eyes. There was a gentleness about her which would have been grace still, if she had taken any pains to set off by a little womanly one of its brightest ornaments. We heard that the boy was “°‘ " cll ; n WO had no idea that his illness was serious. Well— I can scarcely speak of It even now—the child died, after only twe days illness, away from us. It was on her return from a ball that my wifr heard of it She sunk down into • I chair, dumb and shivering, without a word or a tear. When at last we suc ceeded in rousing her from this state, coquetry her slim girl-like figure smafl she to^k off her y/uti^™ tmn hands, and the masses of long have heard she was an heiress—ami flung them from her with a shudder ol disgust She has never looked at then since. He paused for a few minutes, and 1 sat waiting for him to continue, toe much interested to say much. “I hoped that the depression ink which she sunk would wear off; but instead, it only grew deeper. After hei boy’s death, my wife would never ever visit town again. When Mona wa* bom, I hoped she would reawaken fc interest in life. Instead of that, hei apathy deepened, until now, she raisei a barrier between herself and the lift around her which to strangers isofter insurmountable. I have been looking for an opportunity to tell you this. Mis* Christie, as I was afraid you wen offended by her strange manner tin other day when y du were reading Vt her. When I came in, I thought yoi looked rather frightened, and I sup posed that something you had read hac recalled her grief, and perhaps led U one of those outbreaks which some times cause me the gravest anxiety.” I understood what he meant; but 1 would not allow myself to appeal alarmed by the suggestion. Mr. Eaynei went ou: Inin nanus, ami me masses ol long brown hair which were carelessly and untKieomingly drugged away from her forehead and twisted upon her head. Then the door opened, and the serv- ante came in to prayers, with the elfish baby and u pretty delicate-looking child, blue-eyea and fair-haired, who was presented to mo as Haidee, my pupil. Nobody talked during the meal bnt Mr. Rayner, and the only other noticeable thing was the improper behavior of the baby, who aimed a blow with a spoon at her father when he passed her chaii to cut himself some cold meat. He saw it and laughed at her. “ It is a most extraordinary thing, Miss Christie," said he; " but that child hates me." I thought he spoke in fun; hut, be-i fore I had been long at the Alders, 1 found that it was true that this most unpleasant baby's strongest feeling was dislike of her father. ’ She would not even take sweets from bis hand. 1 “ Were you not surprised, Misr Christie," said Mr. Rayuer, during breakfast, “ at the wording of my ad vertisement?” "Yes, Mr. Rayner." " My wife was afraid that it would frighten off many desirable young f.u t is, the lady who has just left us, j ca i] e( j ,,p j n them by a reference to tin quite a typical instructress of forty, with prominent teeth and glasses, nearly frightened our lives out Sin wouldn’t talk, and .my wife wants • j cheerful companion. Moreover, she threatened to prosecute me for decoy ing her to ao damp a place. So we registered a solemn vow that we would have nothing to do with hoar an tiquity again.” “How could she say anything against such a lovely place?" said I. “Well, now, Miss Chriati'e, I have sometimes thought the place damp my self; but my wife has got attached tc it; haven’t you, Lola?" “ Yea,” said she, without a sign ol feeling or interest. “ And so we remain," ho went on, “ You must know. Miss Christie, that I am a penniless wretch, dependent on my wife; am I not, Lola?" He turned playfully to her. “Notquite that," said she, gently, but with no more warmth than bsfore. “ Practically I am, 1 ’ he persisted. " She was an heiress, I a ruined spendthrift, when she married me. 1 id she trusted roe; and the only con dition she would allow her friends to make was that I should settle In the country—out of reach of temptation, you aee. Miss Christie." He spoke with some feeling, and looked affectionately at his wife; but she remained as impassive as ever. I could not help feeling rather sorry for Mr. Rayner. Ho was always kind and attentive to his wife; but she was always the same, limp, nerveless, apa thetic, speaking when necessary in a low, soft voice, slowly, with many pauses. She had a habit of letting the last words of a sentence die away upon her lips, and then, after a few mo ments, as if by an effort, she would say them aloud. I soon grew quite afraid of her, and, being anxious to shake off this strange difiiaence, I offered to read to her when my short hours of study with my nupil were over. She accept ed my offer, and I went into the draw ing-room that very afternoon and read past, or even by a sudden vivid flash o! memory. At such times only I, witt the power of my long-tried affection, can calm her instantly. Do not im agine that she would ever be violent, but she might be incoherent enough tc frighten you. Tell me, had she said anything that day before I came iri which alarmed or puzzled yon?" “No, Mr. Rayner; she soaroely spoke while I read to her.” “Was there anything in what you were reading likely to call up mem ories of the dreadful time to which I have alluded?" “I think not No—none." •T need not warn you. Miss Christie, to avoid all reference to that subject in! talking to her. 1 still hope she may recover her former health and spirits, ; and consent to move away from this place for a little change. 1 have often begged her to do so, but so far withonl success. 'I can not bear to bi harsh with her, and there is an iron strength of resistance in that woman of strong in-, tellect, but weak frame, which 1 can not overcome. But believe me that underneath all she has a warm heart still. And I am sure yon will spare • little sympathy for me, condemned to see the wife I adore living a shut-up life, as it were, seem in;, to ignore ;he undying affection of whieh she must still be conscious." There was something so winn.ng in his voice and manner as he said these last words that I felt for the moment even more sorry for him than for her, and I took the hand he held out as he rose to go, and looked up with all the frank sympathy I felt. He seemed touched by it, for, as if by a sudden im- i pulse, he stooped and let his lips lightly touch my hand; then, pressing it once more in his, with a look of almost grateful kindliness, he left the room. I was a little suptised by this demon stration, which I thought rather out of £ lace to a dependent. But he was an npulsive jnan, the very opposite in all things to his cold, statuesque wife, and the anion between them seemed some- several obapters In “Adam Bede." I| ^uios like a bond between the dead and stopped at "the end of each chapter waiting for some comment, but she only said: “Thank you,” very gently, and, when I asked if I should go on: "Yes. if it will not tire you." Presently I found out that she was not listening, but that site was sitting with her handsin her lap, while her eyes were fixed on the garden outside, with a deep sadness in them which contrasted strangely with her usual apathetic in difference to all things. Still I read on, until such • heavy despairing sigh broke from her pale lips that I invol untarily stopped short in my reading, and raised my eyes, with tears in them, to hers. She started and turned toward me. A little color came to her cheeks; I could see her breast heaving through the muslin gown she wore; she half stretched out one hand toward me, and in another moment 1 believe she would have called me to her side, when a voice from behind her chair started us both. Mr. Rayner had entered the room so •oftly that we had not heard him. “You look tired, my dearest Lola," said he, gently; “you had twitter go and Be down for a little while." At the sound of her husband's voice Mrs. Rayner had shrunk back into her usual statuesque self, like a sensitive plant touched by rough fingers. I timidly offered to read her to sleep, bnt she declined, and took the arm her hus band held out, and left the room with him. After that, her reserve toward ms was greater than ever; she seemed re luctant to accept tlie smallest service of common courtesy at my hands. I was hurt ns well as piusasloa by this; and, being too young and timid to make any further advanees, the distance be tween me and the silent sad lady grew greater than ever. An attempt that Mr. Rayner made a few days after the above scene to draw ns together only sent us further apart. Ho came into the school-room just as Haidee and I were finishing the day’s lessons, and dismissed her Into the gar den. “ The child is very like her mother should not have *p«.k , In the face: don’t you think so?” said you know she com - Horn the house on he. “Bull am afraid she will never the marsh? have her mother's i r.ngth of intellect. My wife docs not give herself the airs of a clever woman. But rou would the living. When! thought over aU that he had told me, after he had left the room, it was impossible not to oome to the con clusion that the fault in this most un comfortable household was chiefly on the side of Mrs. Rayner. I had never . seen a more attentive, long-suffering 1 husband, nor a more coldly irritating wife. I judged Mr. Rayner to be a so- ciable man, fond of conversation and society. It was true he often spoke satirically of the society the neighbor-1 hood afforded, and made me laneh by ‘ his humorous descriptions. But 1 fan- cit'd that, dull as it might be, he would ! have been glad of such society as there wss in the vicinity, and from the bit terness with which he laughed at the paltry pride of small country gentle- ; men, I imagined he must have been 1 snubbed by some of th-nv The first Sundav aasnr my arrival was so wet that we could not go to church, so that I had been there a fort night before I saw a general gathering of the inhabitants. But qp the very day previous to this event I had an en counter with two of the ladies of tho neighborhood which left a most un pleasant impression upon my mind. Haidee and I were taking our morning walk, when a big Newfoundland dog rushed through a gap in the hedge and frightened my poor little pupil »o much that ahe began to acream. Then a young girl of about fourteen or fifteen, to whom the dog belonged, came up to the hedge, and eaid that she was aorry he had frightened the child, but that he would not hurt her. And she and L having soothed Haidee, exchanged a little talk about the field and her dog before we parted, my pupil and I go ing on by the road while the girl re mained in the field. We were only a few steps away when I heard the *ojoe of another girl addressing her rather was that yon were talking to, Alice?" , , , Tho answer was given In a lower voice. •Well,' the oil r went on, “yon i to her. Don’t CHAPTER HL The shook m hy those few overheara woras—“ion anoum not save spoken to her. Don’t you know she comes from the house on the marsh?’’—wa» so great that I lay awake half tho night, asking mvself whether it would lie wise to stay in a house to which h wss oiaJj that a mystery of re ,u s C At last, when in somewhat and IL „ I made up my mim to 5 et down those unlucky words as tho prejudiced utter ance of some narrow-minded country pin, to whom tho least touch of uncoil- ventionality seemed adreadful thing. Although Geldham church was only a short distance from the Alders, Mrs. Rayner was not strong enough to walk; ao she and her husband drove there in the brougham, while Haidee and I went on foot. W e started before them, and Mr. Rayner was carefully helping hit wife out of the carriage as’we got to the gate. When she had alighted we all went into the little church. There was a square family pew jusl in front of ours, which was empty when we took our seats; but, when I rose from my knees, I found fixed upon me, with a not very friendly sure, the eyet of a girl two or three years older than myself, whom I recognized as the own er of the voice which had said of me. “Don tyou know she comes from th* house on the marsh?" By her side, therefore also facing me, was the younger sister, with whom I had talked. As for me, I felt that I hated them both, and was glad when the gentle man who was evidently their fathei changed his position so that he almosl hid them from my sight Next to him sat a stout lady, who wore a black silk mantle covered with lace and beads anc a white bonnet trimmed with yellow bows and unlikely clusters of roses. Mj heart sunk curiously when I caughi sight of the third person in the row, at the further end of the pew. It was Mr Laurence Reade, my friend of the dog cart; and I felt as if a trusted ally had suddenly proved to be an officer in th« enemy’s camp. Having found mysell in au uncongenial household, I had un consciously looked forward to seeing again, at some time or other, the only person I had met since I came to Nor folk to whom no associations of mys tery or melancholy were attached. And now to meet him with those hor rid girls! He was their brother evi dently, for the elder harpooned him sharply with her sunshade several times for dozing during the service: but, when the sermon began and he had settled himself sideways in the cor ner with the plain intention of sleeping through the entire discourse, and thf devout girl made a desperate lunge al him to rouse him once for all, he quiet ly took tho weapon from her and kicked It under the seat. I rejoiced at this, and so missed the text, which wa< given out during the struggle. When the .sermon was over, and w» filed out of church, I noticed that old Mr. Reade exchanged a few word* wither. . Rayner rather stiffly, whilt the two girls deliberately turned theii heads away from us. But Mr. Laurence Reade hung back behind the rest of his family, and stopped tc speak to Haidee, wne was holding my hand. He asked her io give him a kiss, and she refused -and I was very f lad. Of course i 1 wa /d tytore- uke her for ru : ■> -a, i> , instead, I looked carefully . r. o: ,er way and pretended not to bo . y. re of the Uttle comedy. “ Oh, Haidee, you shouldn’t turn away from your friends!” said he, in his musical voice, with rather more of grave reproach than the occasion re- q.'u-ed—to a child. At dinner Mr. Rayner was very severe indeed in his comments upon rustic wits and rustic governors, call ing them sheep and donkeys and other things. Then he grew merry and made jokes about them, and I laughed; and, finding in me an ap preciative listener, his spirits rose still higher, and I thought before dinner was over that I had never heard any one talk more amusingly. I think Mrs. Rayner made only one remark, and that was when I was furtively wiping some tears of laughter from mv ayes, she asked me: "Do you care to go to church thia afternoon, Misa Christie?" I suppose I looked rather snubbed, for Mr. Rayner broke in: “Poor jrirl, how frightened you look at the thought! Know then. Miss Christie, that it is not one of the condi tions of residence under this moist bnt hospitable roof that you should trudge backward and forward to church all Sunday, with intervals of pious medita tion. We never go ourselves more than one*. But I had quickly made up my mind that I had better go. Indeed, I liked going to church; and, even if I had not acquired the taste already, the dullness of the Sunday before—whieh I had spent in the drawing-room with Mrs. Rayner and Haidee would have made me love it. Sol said I should like to go, and, as there was no afternoon ser vice at Geldham, Mr. Rayner told ma the way to church at Gullingborough, the next parish, which was not far old It was a sultry summer afternoon, but to be alone and out of the somber atmosphere of the Alders was a relief. I passed a park, among the trees of which I saw a big square white house; an American chair stood on the grass in the shade, and a young man in a light suit, with cravat hanging loose, was lying at full length in it He had a cigar in hia mouth, a book in his hand and onarustio table'was • half empty glass containing some liquid with ice hi IL I only glanced that way but recognized the gentleman as Mr. Laurence Reade. He saw me, I think, for he started np and coughed; bnt I was looking the other way, and I thought best not to hear hia. As 1 turned the angle of the park, I glanced again at the white house, and I saw, with a little surprise, Mr. Beads run ning toward it I got to church in very good time, and, being given a seat in the chancel. I could watch the country people as they filed in; and just before aervios began, Mr. Laurence Reade, having exchanged his li£ht sail for church- going attire, strode up l nid ile aisls and banged the i' r of ' s pew upon himself. And, re. .••ruber .ig how cool tho iced drink looki... .p i how cozy the arm-chair appeared, , U night it did Mm credit to coma to ohuron tho Sec ond time. Tho sky had grown very dark by thf rime service was over, and the ooc* slc'.al rolling of distant thunder threat ened o storm. It was nearly bail an hour's walk to the Aldere; my way lay where there was Uttle or no shelter, and my umbrella was a small one. However, there was nothing to be done but to 'tart. I had left all ehance oi shelter behind me, when the rain came pouring down. I stopped, gathered up mv skirt round me, gave n glance round to too that no one was in sight, and then ran for my life. Before!bad gone many yards, I beard somoont riuninr after ae* ondthoaMfr I voice caning: “jn.ss itinotier* iran on without heeding him, ashamed ol my plight; but he would not take thi rebuff, and in a few more steps he had caught me up, and taking away my small umbrella, was holding his larg< one over me. He opened a gate to tht right that led into a field. “Bnt this is tho wrong way. I hav< to turn to the left, I know." said I "There ia a shed for carts here when we shall get shelter." said he. And in a few minutea we reached It and I found myself under a low root watching the downpour outside. A few days before I might have foun* something to enjoy in this curious en counter with my friend of the dog-cart but the rudeness and suspicion of hii sisters had made me shy with him 8< I merely sat there and looked straigli in front of me, while he, infected by my reserve, leaned against the aide o the shed and looked at me. “I wish it would leave off," I re marked, stupidly, at length “Are you in such a hurry to get baol to the Alders? It is no dryer than i is here." “But at least one can change one’: boots.” “Have you got your feet wet? Yot will be laid up with rheumatic fever* oi something of the kind," said he, anx iouslf. "Oh, no, no,” said I. “It isn’t that But Mr. Rayner will be anxious." “Mr. Rayner; and Mrs. Rayner won’t she be anxious too?” "Oh, Mrs. Rayner is never anything At least—I mean,” said 1, “she is s< reserved that—’’ “That you like Mr. Rayner best?" ‘Oh, yes!” He drew himself up rather coldly. “So do most ladies, I believe.” “One can’t help liking a person wh< talks and laughs, and is bright am kind, better than one who never speaks and glides about like a ghost, am looks coldly at you if you apeak ft her.” “Perhaps ahe means to be kind,’ said he, gently. "Then ahe ought to make her mean ing plainer. She can't think it is kim to fix her eyes upon me as if 1 wen something not human, if I laugh; ft give me her hand so coldly and unre sponsively that it seems like a dca< hand in mine, and at other times ft take no more notice of me than if 1 were not there. Besides, she know) that it is the first time I have ever left home, and she must see sometimes that I am not happy." Then I remembered that I had nc right to make this confession to a com parative stranger, and added, quickly: " I ought not to talk as if I were ill- treated. I am not at all. If she wouk only not be quite so cold!" “ Perhaps her own troubles are very heavy and hard to bear." “Oh, no, they are not!” I replied, confidently. “At least, she has a kind husband and a pretty home, and every thing she can w ish for. And I think il is very selfish of her to give herself up to brooding over the memory of hei dead child, instead of trying to pleast her living husband." "Herdead child!" "Yes. She had a boy who died some years ago, and she lias never got ovei it That is why she is so reserved." "Oh! How long ago did this boy die?” asked he, in a curiously incred- ulous tone. "About five years ago, I think Mr. Rayner said.” ‘*Qh, then it waa Mr. Rayner whe toId%ou?" “Yes.” “And Mrs. Rayner has never got over It?" 6 "No. It seems difficult to believe, doesn't it, that a brilliant woman who wrote books and was much admired should fade like that into a kind ol shadow?'' “Oh, she wrote books! Did she tell you so herself?" “No—Mr. Rayner.” “Oh! Did Mr. Ravner tell yon any more?’’ ' J ’ The irony in his tone was now so un mistakable that I hesitated and looked np at him inquiringly. “I am sure he must have told you that he is a very ill-used man and a very long-suffering husband, and asked you to pity him. Didn’t he, Mias Christie? Ah, I see he did!" he cried. I could feel the blood rushing to my checks; but I was indignant at havinj • «ii!>mit to this catechism. *• Mr. Rayner never asks Impertinen questions," 1 said, severely. The young man drew back and mat tered: “I beg your pardon.” I war sorry directly; but my dignity forbad* my calling him back to retract tb< ■nub. Yet I was dying to know the reason of his violent prejudice against Mr. Rayner. To my relief, in a few minutes he came back to me of his own accord. “ Mias Christie," he began, nervous ly, “I am afraid I have offended you. Won’t you forgive me for being carried a little too far dv my interest in a lady who heraelf confessed that she ia away from her friends for the first time anil not—very happy?" I could not resist snoh an appeal; 1 looked up amiling: “ Oh, I am not at all offended! But I should like to know what reason you have for thinking so ill of Mr. Kay- ner.” “Perhaps lam wrong," he said. “It is not hii fault that, with all hi* cleverness, his ease o> manner ia noi quite the ease of a gentleman.” 1 considered for a moment and then said, timidly: “Won’t you tell m< anything more? I am alone in th* world and need all the knowledge lean get of the jieonle 1 live among to guide me in my conduct." He seemed to debate within himseil for a moment, and then drawing neai said, very earnestly: “Seriously, then, Misa Christie, 1 would advise you to leave the Aider* as soon as you possibly can, even be fore you have got another i-ngageraent Yon are in the midst of more danger- than you can nossibly know of. mori probably than I know of myself, mon certainly than I can warn yon against.’’ His voice waa very low as he finished, and while w« both remained silent, a dark figure suddenly appeared befon ua, blocking out the light. It was Mr. Ray: uer. Mr. Reade and I starteO guiltily. The new-comer had ap C rouched ao qnietiy that wa had not eard him; haid he heard us? Mr. Rayner was in the brightest o' humors; and hia first words dispell*- my fear that he might have overbear* the warning that Mr. Reads had just given me. He cenght eight of me first. “At last, Misa Christie! It was a happy thought of mine to look for jrou here. But how in the world did you discover this place of ref:•"e?*’ Then, turning, he saw my compn lion. “Hallo, Laurence! Ah, this explains the mys tery! You have been playing knight- errant, I aee, and 1 am too late in the field; but I shall carry off the lady, after •eat me off with it to meet tooJL. The rain soon began to fall leas heavily, and we seized the opportunity to make our escape. We all went to gether as far as the park gates, where Mr. Reade loft us. “Nice young fellow that,” said Mr. Rayner, as soon as the other waa out of ear-shot. “Handsome, frank and good-natured. He is worth all the rest of his family put together. Father- self-important, narniw-minded old sim- nleton; mother- ill-dressed vegetable, kept alive by a tense of her own digni ty as the penniless daughterof an Karl; sisters—plain stuck-up nonentities; y. linger brother—dunce at Eton. But they haven’t been able to spoil Lau rence. You don’t understand the rustle mind yet. Miss Christie. I assure you there are plenty of people in this parish who have condemned me to eternal punishment because I play the violin.” “Doyou play the violin? Oh, I am so fond of it!" “Are you? Poor child, you had bet ter not acknowledge the taste as long us you remain in this benighted spot; they class it with the black art. How ever, you shall hear my violin some evening, and give me your opinion of As we entered the garden gates I saw a woman's figure on our right. I could not recognize her on account of the darkness, and only guessed it was) Mrs Rayner. The idea of those great weird eyes watching me made me un comfortable. Mr. Rayner did no* look that way and left me in the hall, going to his study, while I went into our little school-room to put my church service away. The French window had not oeen closed, and 1 walked up to it to see whether the rain had come in. The sky was still heavy with rain-clouds, so that it was quite dark indoors, and while I could plainly see the woman 1 had noticed stepping over the flower beds on the lawn, and making her way to the front of the house, she could not see me. When she came near enough for mo to distinguish her figure, I saw- that it was not Mrs. Rayner, but Sarah, the housemaid. 1 stood rather In awe of this woman; she was ao tall and so thin, and had such big eager eyes and such a curiously constrained manner. She waa only a few steps from the win dow where 1 stood completely hidden by the curtain, when Mr. Rayner passed quickly and caught her arm from be hind. She stopped short with a sort of gasp. “What were you doing in tha shrub bery just now, Sarah?'’ ho asked, quiet ly. "If you want to take fresh air in the garden, you must keep to the lawn and the paths. By walking over the beds yon do damage to the flowers— and to yourself. If you can not re member these simple mles, you will have to look out for another situation." She turned round sharply, “Another aituatn’ Me!" “Yes, you. Ti ouid be sor ry to part with such an old servant, yet one may keep a aervant too long.” "Oldl I wasn’t always old!” she broke out, passionately. “Therefore you were not alwaya In receipt of such good wages as you get now. Now go in and get tea ready. And take care the toast is not burned again." I could aee that she glared at. him with her great black eyes like a tigress at bay, but she did not dare to answer again, but slunk away cowed into tha house. 1 was not surprised, for the tone of cold command with which he spoke those last insignificant words in spired me with a sudden sense of fear of him, with a feeling that 1 was face to face with an irresistible will, such ae I should have thought it impossible for light-hearted Mr. Rayner to inspire. The whole scene had puzzled me a 'ittle. What did Sarah the housemaid ant to stand lika a spy in the shrub bery for? How had Mr. Rayner aeen and recognized her without seeming to look in that direction? Was there any deeper meaning under the words that ha«f passed between them? There was suppressed passion in the woman's manner which could hardly have been stirred by her master’! orders to keep to the garden paths and not to bum the toast; and there was a hard de cision in Mr. Rayner’s which I had never noticed before, even when he was seriously displeased. If he were to speak to me in the tone that he had used to Sarah, I felt that I should run away or burst into tears, or do something equally foolish. At tea-time Mr. Ray ner was as bright as usual, and laugh ingly declared that they should never trust me to go to church by myself again. That night 1 pondered Mr. Reade's warning to me to leave the Alders, but I soon decided that the question was qnite unpractical. For, in fact, there was no tangible reason I could offer for wishing to go. The danger* Mr. Reade nad hinted at so vaguely could not be mentioned so long as they ex isted only aa his suspicions. My father was dead and my mother had been left with but little to live upon. She had been glad to accept an offer to superin tend the household of a brother who had recently lost hia wife. My uncle, I knew, would give me a home while I sought a situation, but experience had taught me how few people wanted the services of “A young lady aged eight een who preferreu children under twelve.” Besides, what a bad recom mendation it would be to have left my first situation within a month. Sol decided to remain .where 1 certainly was. on the whole, well off. The next morning I could not help noticing how much better I was look ing than when I lived in London. In stead of being pale 1 had now a pink color In my cheeks, and my eye*, seemed to look larger and bnghft-i than they used to do. After a min ute’a pleased oontenipiation of mj altered appearan* • • — 1 from the glass in shame. »• ...t would my mother say if she coaid see how vain her daughter was growing? Without another look I went down stairs. Mr. Rayner was alone in the dining-room. He put do* n his newspaper and smiled at me. “ Come into the garden for a few minutes nntii the rest of the family as sembles," said he; and I followed him to the lawn. The morning ran left this side of the nouse in shade. The birds were twit tering in the Ivy, the dew was sp/*rk ling on the grass and the scent of the flowers was deliciously sweet. “ Looks pretty, doesn’t it?" said Mr. Rayner. “ Pretty! It look* and smells like Paradise! I mean—” I stopped and blnahed, afraid he would think the speech profane. Bnt he only langhed very pleasantly. I was smelling a rose while I tried to recover the staid demeanor I cultivated as most suitable to my profession. When I raised my eyes, he was look ing at me still laughing. “You are fond of roses?" “Yes, very, Mr. Rayner." "But don't you think It was very ■Ux of Beauts to ctooaa only a ism wnen her mTher as Red ner wnat ne should bring her? Now if you were Beauty w iat would you ask papa to bring you? A Prince?” I blushed and shook my head. “No, not yet,” I said, smiling rather mis chievously. “A ring, a bracelet, a brooch?" “No. Mr. Rayner. I should say a rose like Beauty—a beautiful Marshal Niel rose. I couldn't think of any thing lovelier than that" “That is a large pale yellow rose, isn’t it? I can't get it to grow here." We had sauntered back to the din ing-room window, and there, staring out upon us in a strange fixed way, was Mrs. Rayner. She continued to look at us, and especially at me, as if fa-oinated, until we were close to the window, when she turned with a start; and when we entered the room the in tent expression had faded from her lusterless eyes, and she was her usual lifeless self again. At dinner time Mr. Rayner did not appear; 1 was too shy to ask Mrs. Ray ner the reason, and I could only guess, when tea time came and again there was no place laid for him, that he had gone away somewhere. 1 was sure of it when he had not reappeared the next morning, and then I became conscious of a slow but sure change in Mrs. Ray- ners's manner. She did not become talkative or animated like any other woman; but it was as if a statue of stone had become a statue of flesh, feeling the life in Its own veins and grown conscious of the life around it This change brouglrt one strange symp tom; she had grown nervous. Instead of wearing always an unruffled stolid ity, she atartea at any unexpected sound. This change must certainly, I thought be due to her husband's de parture; but it was hard to tell whether his absenoe made her glad or sorry, or whether any such vivid feeling as glad ness or grief canaed the alteration in her manner. On the second day of Mr. Rayner’s absenoe Sarah came to the school-room, laying that a gentleman wished to speak to me. In the drawing-room I found Mr. Laurence Reade. “I have come on business with Mr. Rayner, but as he il out 1 ventured to trouble you with a commission for him. Miss Christie." “I don’t know anything about busi ness," I began. “Perhaps Mrs. Ray ner"— "O I couldn’t trouble her with so small a matter.” And he disclosed the nature of his errand, whieh was of trifling importance. Considering this fact he occupied a great deal of time in explaining it. Hu talked about Sun day, and hoped I had not caught cold; and then he went away. Audi found, by tho amount of hemming Haidee had got through when I went back to the school-room, that he had stayed quite a long time. Nothing happened after that until Saturday, which was the day on which I generally wrote to my mother. After tea l took my desk up-stairs to my own room. I hatl not written many lines before 1 heard tho faint tone of a vio- lin. At first 1 could distinguish only a *■ of the melody, then there nd a sound as of an open- after that Schubert’s beau- alt" rang out clearly If enchanted. It must r come back. I had not he said he played the vioiin, that lie could play like that. 1 must hear better. I shut up my half- finished letter hastily in my desk and slipped down-stairs with it 1 stole softy through the hall, and as I passed the drawing-room door Mr. Rayner, without pausing in his playing, cried: "Come in!" 1 was startled by this, for I made no noise; but I put my desk down on the bail table and went in. Mrs. Rayner and Haidee were there, the former with n handsome shawl, brought by her husband, on a chair be side her, and my pupil holding a big wax doll whieh she was not looking at; the child never cared for her oolls. Mr. Rayner, looking handsomer than ever, sunburnt, with his chestnut hair in disorder, smiled at me, and said, without stopping the music: “1 have not forgotten you. There is a •mtvenir of your dear Ixmdon for you," and nodded toward a rough wooden box, nailed down. I opened it with much difficulty; It was from Convent Garden, and in it, lying among ferns and cotton-wool, were a dozen heavy beautiful Marsha’ Niel rosea. I sat playing with them in an ecstacy of pleasure, intoxicated will music and flowers, until Mr. Raynei put away his violin, and I rose to say good-night. “Lncky Beanty?” he said, laughing, as he opened the door for me. •’Then is no beast for yon to sacrifice youraell to in return for the roses." I laughed back and left the room, and, patting my desk under my flow- era, went toward the staircase. Sara! was standing near the foot of it, wear ing a very forbidding expression. "So you're bewitched too!” she said, with a short laugh, and turned sharply toward the servant’s hall. And I wondered what she meant and why Mr. and Mi*. Rayner kept ir their service such a very rude ana dis agreeable person. [TO BK CONTIS1IKD ] Tobacco Barn and Gin-House Insurance. O EPRESENTING THE SOUTH & North Ameican Lloyds, and the ’ York and Chicago Lloyds of Sew York City, I am prepared to write all clases of Fins Inschahck at Extrkmkly Low Rath*. J. BART WHITE, Agent for Darlington County, 8.C. Aug. 1— Creditor’s Notice. ALL persons having claims against the estate of T. A. Gandy, deceased, will present them properly proved, and all pe*sons indeb’e 1 to said es tate will make payment forthwith to H. M. SMITH, Nov 21—St Administrator. KW aoAo. C. ft D., I.KAVKS FOR: Florence, Hartsvll’s, Wadesboro, Florence, Hartsville, C. 8. A N , Sumter. Bennett sville, *7.30 a. m *9.20 a. m. t9 13 a. m. tfl 05 p. m 14 30 p. m 17 20 a. m. 18 05 p. m t7 25 a. in. 18 00 p, m. 11 00 p. m. 32.05 p. m. Sumter, 'Sunday only. tDaily except Sun dav. IMondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, ITuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday*. STA TE OF SO UTH CA ROLINA. County of Darlington. COURT OF COMMON PL.KAS. G. J. McCowu and John M. MeOown, copartners under the name and style of G. J McCowu ft Bro., Plain- t<ns, against Lucy Jordan, William Jordan, Janies Jordan, Clark Jordan, Charles. Jor dan,Paul Jordan, John Jordan,Man- dy Jordan, Nona Jordan and Fan ny Jordan, Defendants. Summons for Relief. (Complaint not Served.) To the Defendants I.uey Jordan, 'Wil liam Jcilan, James Jordan, Clark Jo •dan, Charles Jordan, Paul Jor dan John Jordan. Mandv Jordan, Nona Jordan and Fanny Jordan: You are hereby summoned and re quired to answer the eoniplaint m this action, which is tiled in the office of tlie Clerk of the Court of Common Pleas for said county, and to serve a copy of your answer to the said com plaint on tlie subscribers at their of fice at Darlington, 8. C., within twen ty days after tlie service hereof, ex clusive of tlie day of such service; and if you fail to answer the complaint within the time aforesaid, the piain- tiffs in this action will apply to the Court for the relief demanded in the complaint. WOODS V MAC FARLAN, Plaintiffs’ Attorneys. Oct. 4 D. 1895. To tiie Defendants Paul Jordan, John Jordan, Manly Joidan, Nona Jor- dan ami Fanny Jordan: You will take notice that the com plaint herein was filed in the office of the Ciera of tlie Court of Common Pleas for Darlington County, South Carolina, on Oet. 4,1895. WOODS & MAC FARLAN, Plaintiffs’ Attorneys. Oet, 81 «■ J Health Ordinance. Darlington, 8. C., June 24, l8#5. B E n ORDERED AND ORDAINED: That the following Rules and Regulations, passed and adopted by the Board of Health of the town of Darlington, S. C., having been ap proved hy the Town Council of the town of Darlington, 8. C., are hereby declared to be Ordinances of tlie said Town. W. F. DARGAN, J. W. EVANS, Mayor. Clerk. R.ILKS AftR -KkC*IJUATIiINS OF THfC Boai*p oF-tip>i.y*i 4v thk Town Kulel. Thsrany person, who. in any uiauner, hinders or obstructs the Health Officer of this Hoard, or any member of this Hoard, or any author- ' ized Officer of tlie town acting under authority of tlie Board, in the inspec tion of premises within theTown lim its; or in the abatement of any nui sance, whieh, in the opinion of the Board, is deemed prejudicial to tlie public liealtli; or in tlie discharge of any duties prescribed hy tlie said Board of Health, tor the correction and preservation of tlie sanitary con dition of the Town, shall be punished by a tine of not more than Fifty Dol lars, oi by imprisonment not exceed ing thirty days torevery such offense. Rule II. That any person who re fuses or neglects to abate or remove tuy nuisance, or anym >tter, or any thing, which, in the opinion of tlie Board of Health, is likely to endan ger tlie public health, after having, been directed to do so by the Healtli Officer, or any member of said Hoard of Health, shall be punshed by a fine of not less than Fifteen Dollars or by imprisonment not exceeding thirty days for every such offense; and in such went of said refusal and neglect it slia 1 ’ be tlie duty of the Health Of ficer to have removed or abated such nuisance; and all expenses incurred by reason of such removal or abate ment shall be recovered, as is legally provided for, from tlie tenant or own er of the property ou whicn said nui sance is found. Rule 111. That any person who al lows a dead animal to remain on auy premises within the corporate limits of the Town to him or her belnging, or by him or her controlled, foa long er period than twenty four hours, shall be punished by a fine o not less than Five Dollars, or by mprisou- ment not exceeding thirty days. Rule IV. Tiiat on and after Dec. 31, prox., it shall be unlaw for any person or persons to keepany hog or nogs on any premises within the cor porate limits of the Towug;and any [lerson or persons so doi u hall b n punished by a fine of not less than Ten Dollars, or by ImprLonu e Jt not exceeding thirty days, or both, at tlie discretion of said Hoard ot Health, or Rule V- Section 1. That it shall be the duty of all physicians practic ing within tha town to report to the Secretary of the said Board of Health ihe names and residences of all per-. . sons coming under their professional care who are afflicted witli any conta gious or infectious disease; said re port to be made to the Secretarv, eith er verbally or in writing, within two days after such disease is contracted. Section 2. That it shall be the du ty of all physicians and mid-wives to report to the Secretary of this Board ill births, together with sex and race, happening within the corporate lim its of the Town; said report to be de livered to the Secretary of the Board, either verbally o* in writing, within two day« *f*er occurrence of such birth or births. Section 3. That it shall be the du ty of all physicians and undrtakers to report to the Secretary of this Board all deaths occurring within the cor porate limits of the Town, together with cause of death, name, residence, age and rrce of deceased; said report to be delivered, either verbally or m writing, witliin two days after such death or deaths. Section 4. Any physician, mid-wife or undertaker failing to comply with the requirements of this Rule will he fined not less than Five Dollars or more than Fifty Dollars at the dis cretion of said Board Rule VI. That t shall be the duty of the Health Ufflcer of this Board to visit and personally inspect ell prem ises within the corporate limits of the Town: and any premises fount! to be in an unhealthy or unsanitary condi tion, the owner or tenant thereof will be punished by a fine of from One Dollar to Fifty Dollars, or imprison ment not exceeding thirty days, or both, at the discretion of said Board. RuleVII. That *ny person who ob structs in any way the drains, water- courses or ditches of the Town, or who throws paper, rags, trash, - bage or any other refuse mattei .n the streets, or ou the Public ftcuare, or on or about either of tbe banks of Swift Creek, or who irders it thrown in any of such places, shall be punish ed bj a fine of not less than One Dol lar or more than Ten Dollars, or by imprisonment tor not less than thirty ^ays, or both, in the discretion of said Board. By order of ‘he Board: W. J. GARNER. M. D.-r D. P. LIDE, President. Secretary. Jun27—