The Darlington news. (Darlington, S.C.) 1875-1909, December 05, 1895, Image 3
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—