The Darlington news. (Darlington, S.C.) 1875-1909, January 16, 1896, Image 3
The House on Marsh
—OH—
THE MYSTERY OF THE ALDERS
ST JXOBSOiaB w.
CHAPTBB XT, •
Laurence had promised to come to:-*
me early next morning. So when ♦hat
time arrived I put on my white froek
and a broad sash or palest lemon and
pink that I had bee#saving for some
great occasion. Then I slipped Into
the garden to gather a flower to wear
at my throat. I purposely chose a
faded rose in the hope that Laurence
might notice it and get me one him
self to wear. But jnst as I had done
this Mr. Rayncr came out and pro
tested I should not wear such a mis
shapen thing as that. So he gathered
a lovely tea rose and found a bit of
long soft moss to put around it This
was not what I wanted at alL Laur
ence would never dare to suggest that
this was not pretty enough to wear.
After breakfast I went to the school
room with Haidce. I was not in my
usual instructive mood, and when I'
heard the front door-bell ring I thought
Laurence had come for me and 1
should soon see hir: My heart sunk
within me when I heard his steps ro
turning through,the hall.
At dinner Mr. R; ner said brightly
“Mrs. Manners wanted-you to go and
help her prepare for the afternoon’s
festivities. Miss Christie; but we wen
not going to let you fag yourself oul
laying tallies for a lot of dirty children,
so I said you should come later.” I felt
for the moment that I quite disliked
him, though it was really only another
proof of his kindness and care for* me.
After dinner, he himself accompanied
Haidee and mo to the High Field,
where the bazar and tea took place;
Mrs. Rayncr was not coming until
later. 1 saw Laurence standing out
side the larger but less sbowr marquee;
ho looked very grave antt gloomy, and
did not come forward toward ua im
mediately as I had expected. Was he
oflended because I had not come
earlier? Surely he must have known
how much I wanted to do sot Hit
cider sister, much to my surprise, came
out to meet me.
“Wo have been waiting for you such
a long time, Miss Christie,” she said;
“we have kept a place for you.”
I followed her into the marquee.
We passed the places where cheap
toys, mats, dolls, crochet shawls and
other useful trifles were for sale.
But the custom of former years,
when the sale had been chiefly for the
village ucople, w;is not forgotten; and
one end was piled up with undercloth
ing end children's frocks and a quan
tity of cheap crockery and ironmon
gery, the contributions of Beacons-
burgh tradesmen. At this, decidedly
the least intcrestingcomcrof the whole
bazar, Miss Reade asked me if I would
mind standing,
“We close this part for you, because
you said you would like to have plenty
to do; and wo know you are patient”
I think 1 would rather have sold
some pretty things too; but of course
somebody must s dl the ugly ones, and
I looked carefully over the things un
der my charge when Laurence at last
strolled in and came up to me. He
shook hands with a loving pressure,
but bo only said:
“How do you do. Miss Christie?
They expected you earlier.”
Ami I felt so much chilled by the
commonplace words and the “Miss
Christie,” that I could scarcely an
swer. But, as he stooped to push un
der the stall a box that was sticking out,
ho said, in a very low voice:
“I must speak to you presently. You
must make soma excuse to get away, :
and I'll watch you and meet you. I|
have some bad news—at least, X don’t,
know whether you will think it bad
news.” ■ j
His whisper got so gruff during those
last words that 1 longed to kneel down \
on the ground by him and put my arms
round his neck and tell him not to;
mind, whatever it was; but I could only I
say softly, as I bent over a bundle of
night-caps:
“Of course I shall think it bad if you
do.” j
And ho just glanced up with a look ,
that made mo hold my breath and al
most forgot where I was, and bis Up-
touched my frock as he rose, and I
knew th d the bad news was still notso
bad as it might be.
Just then Lady Mills and her party
anived. J thought 1 had never seen
any one look so winning as Lady Mills,
herself, with her cream-colored gown
covered with lace and bunches of rmle
roses in her hat and on her dress. The
ladies with her were licautifully dressed
too. There were a number of gentle
men with the ladies, and I heard Lady
Mills say that she had given them
strict orders that, after a certain time,
they were to buy up all that was left on
the stalls. As for me I knew the fine
gentlemen would not want any thing
for sale at my stall, and so I went
quietly on selling to the village people
and doing a very good business. How
ever, when the gentlemen did lounge
in, one who was tall and had a long
fair mustache looked for a long time at
the things in my stall and asked the
price of a tea kctilc. I thought ho was
amusing himself, but he bought it, and
then two more gentlemen came straight
t.) my comer and oue bought a grid
iron and the other a soap dish. Then
the first one came back and spent so
long a ■time looking over things that 1
could not attend to my village custom
ers. Finally he bought a toasting fork.
When he had pone away, Laurence
came up again, and ho was not at all
amused when I told him about the
funny purchases the gentlemen had
made.
They Came again, and some more of
!hem, too; at last the first one rctumetl
for the third time and bought up every
thing I had for sale, including a num
ber of mouse traps.
Presently Lady Mills asked Mrs.
Manners if she could not spare me to
help in the other marquee, and after
looking at me anxiously, as though she
were sending mo into the lions don,
Mrs. Manners asked mo to go. But
the other ladies at our stall did not
like it at all.
The other marquee looked like fairy
land. Lady Mills gave me-a big
basket of flowers, and told me to walk
up and down and ask people to buy
them. But I did not like that; so 1
stood in tne corner with my basket,
until the tall, fair man, who had
bought so many things of me, came
up and gave me half a crown for one
little bud. And then Laurence found
mo and never once left my side while
we were in the tent. Ho told me
every body saia I was the prettiest
girl there, which was, of course, all
nonsense; but it was very nice to hear
him say so. When I had sold all the
flowers, ho whispered:
“Now let us slip out, and we can
talk."
So we tucked my basket under one
of the stalls, and went out of the tent
into a lane near the field)
and Laurence's taoe grew very anx
ious and nnhappy ay I asked Uni what
was the metier.
“ I ahall have to go awajb Violet,"
•aid he, looking at me very intently.
“ Go awayl .Why-why?” said l
with tears rnsMng to my eye*. I had
not expected any thing so dreadful as
that
“ My mother has decided—has boon
persuaded—that she must go away to
the Riviera to escape the wet season
we are threatened with, and I shall
have to go with her.”
“But you will come back? Yon will
soon come back, won’t you?”
“I don’t know. I don't know-whal
may happen while I am away. I don't
know what the plots and plans may b«
of the person who has caused me to be
sent away.”
“What do you mean? What person,
Laurence? Your mother—your sis
ter?”
Laurence looked at me without an
swering, in the same searching, intent
way as before, for a minute or two.
then he said:
“Listen, Violet You are such an in
nocent little thing that I don’t know
how to toll you what I must”
I could not help looking rather fright
ened at this opening; and he stopped *
little while to comfort me before h«
went on:
“Lsut night when 1 had left you amf
got home, I found Mr Rayner jus)
reaving the Hall. I went straight ts
the study to speak to my father Then
is mane sympathy between him and
me tmn letween any of the rest of us.
I told him plainly of my love for you
and I aaked him to find some oocupa
tion for me, in an office, or on • farm,
or somewhere that I might have ahonu
to take you to before the year waa out
And the dear old dad said yen had s
sweet face and he should like you for i
daughter. But my mother rulea him
with a pretty tight hand, and she wanti
me to marry some one with money.
‘ kn
go w
naif
ntr-four and knee
my own mind and did not care whai
she wanted. But he begged me noi
to offend her, and then said: 'Sh<
has just been to tell me some
thing that may have a bearinj
on. the matter. It seems she hse sel
her heart on going to the Riviera, and
insist* on you going with her. Now,
supposing I stock a farm for you whilt
you are away, you can step into it di-1
rectly you come back—and you car,
try your hand at farming for a year oi 1
two, and keep it warm for Jack, whe i
wants to take to it, he says. Wbec >
you are living away from us, yon will I
be more your own master, and yout
mother Will have to submit to yout
marrying whom you like So don'l
say a word to her, till you come back.'.
I didn’t much like this; but I couldn’t j
say ‘No’ to my father—he has been sc I
good to me—and I couldn't refuse tc;
with my mother; nevertheless 1 was.'
atf mad, all the same, for I know
who had persuaded her to this."
“Do you? Who?”
“Mr. Rayner. Haven't you noticed
how he has been steadily getting ronud i
my mother for the last two weeks, till h< j
rules her as surely as she rules mj
father? I wondered what he was d»
Ing it for; now I eae.”
“But I don’t, Laurenee. What
should he persuade her to go awav
for?”
Laurence looked at me earnestly.
“To get me away.”
“To get you away? Why should he
do that?”
“He doesn’t like me, Violet, and he
doesn't want me to have yon."
“Oh, indeed, you are mistaken, Lsu.'
rencel He has often praised you.”
“Yes; that is his cunning. But I tell |
you he would stick at nothing to pro-1
vent my marrying you,” said he ex
citedly. “He is a bad man—”
“ Oh, Laurence, you sbonldn’t say |
that! T know him better than you do, I
and I know that he is goodness and
kindness itself.”
“ Violet, you are no wiser than a
child. How can you see the way he
treats his wife, and yet call him good?”
“ His wife! Ah, I know all about
that, bat—I must net tell yon. Indeed
he is not eruel to her, as you think.
Laurence. I know all about it; I do,
indeed.”
“Well, then, since I must say It,
what do you think of the way he treats
you? Doesn't he show he cares for you
more than for her? Can t you see that
he is making love to you?’^
“ Laurenee!” cried I, aghast “How
dare yon say anch a thing? What have
I done that you should thjnk so ill of
me as to think I would lot a man who
is married make love to me? How
could you tell me you lovad me, think
ing that? 1 will never speak to you
again.”
I turned sharply from him, and was
back in the field among the people be
fore he could Stop me. Tea waa being
given to the children, and I went to
help; but the enjoyment of the day was
gone. In a dazed state I was still
handing about cake, too miserable and
excited to know qu'te what I was do*
ing, when Lady Mills and Mr. and Mrs.
Rayner came up to me. Thislady had
tn ken a fancy to me, and had begged
Mr. and Mrs. Rayner to let me go
home with her to stay until Mondayi
and they had consented. At anothei
time this invitation would have mad<
me half mad with delight, but now il
seemed only to overwhelm mo wltk
terror at the thought of going .among
so many strangers. However, they
sent me home to prepare what things 1
wanted, and told me to make haste.
As I was packing a muslin froek 1
had never yet worn, and wishing I had
something handsomer for the occasion,
I suddenly thought of the paste pen
dant Mr. Rayner had given me. Thai
would look quite dazzling peeping out
of the muslin and lace round my throat
So I packed that and a piece of black
velvet to wear it on; and I was scarce,
ly ready before Jane came up to say
that Lady Mills’ carriage waa at th«
gate waiting for me.
But just outside the hall door I met
Laurcnoo, with a rose in his hand.
“Violet, Violet, don’t go without a
word to me! Here—throw away that
rose and wear mine."
•T will wear yours," said I;. “but 1
can’t throw away this one till it is dead.
That would be ungrateful.”
“Did Mr. Rayner give it you?”
“Yes.”
He snatched out of my hand the rose
I had just taken from him, and flung it
away.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Christie,
for my presumption in thinking you
would accept mine after his.
evening.”
He strode off toward the plantation
path, and he would not turn round
when I called “Laurence, Laurenoel”
I omtld not stay to run after him, even
If 1 had been able to overtake him; so,
with tears in my eyes, I plunged into
the flower bed where bis rose Dad fall
en and picked It up, and put Mr. Ray-
uer’s gently ou the ground instead, it
was an ungrateful thing to do; but 1
must do what Laurenee wished, even
if he d d not know it
And sowilfc • very homj heait I m
up the path to tne earn age, ana (UrteoT
on a visit which waa to be etnngelj
eventful to me. i
CRAFT1B XVL
There were four ladlet already In the
eerriage which waa waitieg for me at
the gate-Lady Mills herself, with an
other more matronly-looking lady by
her side, whose name, I already knew,
wae Mrs. Cunningham; and on the op-J
posits seat w^re a younger lady with a;
rather sharp expresalon, named Mrs.
Clowes, who was considered very clever,
and an unmarried one some years oldei
than I. 1 made the third on that scat;
but there was plenty of room for us all i
Wo drove back first to the High Field, 1
where there was a dog-cart waiting,-!
with a gentleman . in it smoking; and
standing by the horse’s head, alsoOrltb
a cigar In bis month, was the tall fail
gentleman whose face 1 now seemed to
know the best of all. As soon as we :
drove' nj>, he came to the aide of the,
carriage.
“You are horribly c.-owded in there;
let me take Mise—MLi Caristie in the
dog-cart."
“No, Tom; Mias Christie it bettotj
where *he is."
I was glad Ladv Mills would not let
me go, for I did aot care much about
the gentleman they called “Tom,” and
Laurence did not Tike him either. The ,
drive from Gcldbam to Denham Court
was about seven miles and through ■
beautiful country. I waa shown to my
room a* soon a* we arrived. I had not
much time to grieve over my quarral
with Laurence about the rose, but I did
•bed a few tears and thought I should
not be able to enjoy myself at all at
this pretty place without him. Then I
put on my muslin froek and fastened
the black velvet around my throat with
the glittering, flashing pendant upon it,
and a little Tower down pinned to the
lace edging the red roee Laurence had
r iven me. I looked so much nicer than
had thought possible that I wished
Laurenee could see me.
I had left my room and was going
along the corridor when I met a man
who looked exactly like the mysterious
visitor to the Alders, whom Mr. Ray
ner had described as “a gentleman,
and whom I had seen two nights before
going into the stable with Sarah and
Tom Parkes. But this man stood
aside with the inanner of a servant
not of a gentleman: I hurried past
him, quite shocked at the resemblance,
for of course a friend of Mr. Rayner
oould not be a servant at Denhi
Court.
I wandered Into the conservatory
and was admiring the rare collection
of beantifnl flowers when the gentle
man called “Tom” came up to ms
and said:
“Nicely kept place. Isn’t It? Shall
I cut you some flowers?”
“By no means. I could not think of
allowing these plants to be robbed for
me.”
“Now, that is yonr pride. Miss
Christie, which prevents you from ac
cepting favors. But I suppose one
must not expect humility from a lady
who wears such diamonds;” and he
glanced again at my pendant, as he
had done several times while we talked.
“They are not real diamonds,” said
I, laughing. “They are only paste.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Then allow me to congratulate
you, Miss Christie, on possessing the
very best imitation of the real thing
that I have ever seen. I know some
thing about diamonds and 1 never was
deceived before.”
“Look! I will go to the door,” said
I, for the light was fading, “and then,
as you are such a good judge, you will
be able to tell.”
I walked to the door, and he bent
his face down close to mine and exam
ined my pendaut carefully. Presently
he gave a slight start.
“Am I taking too great a liberty in
asking if titer initials on the other
side of that?
“Yes, there are,” sai l I, surprised.
“And will you tell me what they
are?"
I hesitated. If this gentb man
should persist in thinking the ornament
to be genuine diamonds, he would con
sider ft strange that Mr. Rayner should
give such a preseu, to his child's gov
erness; so I said, quietly:
“I would rather not tell you ’
“I beg your pardon. I have sees
only one ornament exactly like this,
but it was real diamonds.”
"What was it worth?” said I.
“About fifteen hundred pounds.”
“And yon thought I had on an oma-
“Ak.! _
way In-which
into y onr pool
in the conservatory
child, 1’ have a set that
ranch—no finer then tc
diamonds and cat’s
with them under my piUiMr,
my maid doesn't know where they
art.”
A showed my astonishment.
“Believe me, when yon travel Kboot
on a series oi visits, as I am doing mom,
and are obliged to intrust yonr dress*
ing-easc to a careless mid, it is no un
necessary precaution.”
“But I shouldn’t take so much toon
Me with my paste pendant,"said L
She shook h* r head at me, with ■
laugh, and said dryly:
gb. and said dryly:
T should with such
paste as yours,
gentlemen came iau
brought from town
asm
gallantry
Finally hephanged the topio
ment worth fifteen hundred ounds?"
said I, laughing heartily. “Oh, if the
E erson who gave it me could know,
ow he would laugh!”
He caught at my words.
“He would laugh, would hef
1 was annoyed with myself, for I
bad not meant to let out even the sex
of the giver of my pendant He con
tinued:
“He would be pleased, I should
think, to have his paste taken for dia
monds.”
I did not answer, but only laughed
again.
“Have anv of the ladies seen it yet,
Miss Christie?”
“No; and for fear that they should
make the same mistake that yon have
made, I shall not iet them,” said I.
And 1 had raised my hands to take it
off when Mrs. Cuuuinghau and anoth
er ladv came into the conservatory.
The elaer lady's eyes fell upon the tin-
lucky trinket at once.
“What are you taking that off for,
my dear? It is lust what you want
round ths throat."
“Because I have been teased about
wearing diamonds, and they are only
sham ones; and. I don't want to be
teased anymore,” said L rather trem
ulously.
“Never mind Tom, my dear. Don’t
take oft your pretty pendant for him.
They are certainly very like, tliough,”
said she, looking first at them and
then into my face. “Here, put them
on again and snap your fingers at
Tom.
I raised the velvet obediently, and
the gentleman called Tom came softly
behind me and took the ends from my
trembling fingers and fastened them
himself round my throat again.
“After this experience I watched
rather curiously to see the effect the
pendant would have on the rest of the
party when I met tlu m at the general
gathering at dinner, and I noticed that,
while my pendant attracted the atten
tion of tne ladies, the gentlemen looked
more at myself. Sir Jonas, Lady Mills'
husband, a kind, gray-haired gentle
man, who looked o.d enough to be her
father, took me in to dinner, and
eouraged me to talk.
After dinner Mrs. Cunningham took
me to the other end of the room.
“It is no businev of mlue who rave
you that pendant, rav dear? but nave
you any more ornaments of tiif kind,
and. If so, where do you ksfii ta»—F
she said, gravely.
“Oh. I nave no morer' !
“And I keep this in aa oM sase in the
- corner of nr deek."
- .
And then
One of them
that day a parcel of new Wallace, bat
the l&diee all declined to play
til they had tried them over privately;
and the gentlemen seemed so moM
disappointed that, having looked them
over and seen that they were very easy,
I offered to play for them, when I
got through the first one they were all
in ecstasies and I received quite ait Ova
tion. Those who bad begun to dance
joined with the others in
And I played the rest of the waltses,
enjoying it very much. Then the gen
tleman they called Tom led me to a
deep window where there were seats,
and gave me one, while he threw him-
self into another beside me.
Ha complimented me highly, bat fay
this time I had become so accustomed
to praise that I was not embarrassed
and parried his gallantry without
blushing,
by saying:
“1 wonder if yon know
I know? Do you know
implies, of Crawley Hall?"
“Have yon ever been-further
than this—Staffordshire—Derbyshire?"
“No, never.”
He was looking on the ground; he
raised and fixed his eyes suddenly on
my face as he said: v.
“Do you know the Dalstonsf”
“N-o.” said I, rather hesitatingly.
“Not Lord Dalston, with his different
crazes? You speak as if you were not
sure.”
“I am sure I don't know him,” eai
I. “But I was trying to remembt
what I have 'beard about him, for
seem to know the name quite well.”
In the most gravely persistent man
ner Mr. Carrntiiers went on probing
my memory about Lord Dalston; but 1
could not even remember where I had
heard the name mentioned before.
When, e! last, long past the hour
whrn the household at the AMers re
tired to rest, we dispersed to our
rooms, I made a Mistake in my cor
ridor, and found m; ■*elf in one*wbich
led to the servants' wing; and I heard
a man’s voice that I knew saying per
suasively:
“Don’tbe in such a hurry! She won’t
be up for baif an hour yet, nor my man
either. I never get a word with you
now.”
Suddenly it flashed upon me whose
the voice was. It was the voice b had
heard talking to Sarah in the planta
tion, the voice of Mr. Rayner’s mys
terious friend. And the person ho was
talking to, and with whom he proceed
ed to exchange a kiss, was Ladv Mills’
maid! It was a stran ,;e thing, but one
about which I eould no longer have a
doubt- The respectful m: n-servant I
had met before ainaur in the corridor
and the visitor who was shown into the
study at the Alders as a gentleman,
and who was yet onfamilior terms with
Tom Park eg and Sarah, were one and
the same person!
I was very sleepy, and very much pre-
sceupied with Mils curious discovery
wh-rt I got to my room; but. before I
ut to bed, I put, ss I thought, my
>'autifcl but unfortunate pendant safe
ly Inside my desk, r.-solved not to wear
it again.
CHAPrSlt XTTL
I was np next morning before any
one else and went out into the garden.
I was walking across the lawn when I
suddenly came face to face with Tom
Parkes, in bis Sunday clothes. He wae
disconcerted and tried to avoid me, but
I accosted him at once.
Tom-Tom Parkes. don’t you know
me—Miss Christie?” I said.
Lor’ yes, Mist, to be sura," said he
awkwardly touching Hs hat
"Why, you must have -known me,
Tom! You looked ss if you had seen a
ghost!”
“Well, the truth is. Miss, asking your
f ardon,” said Tom, sheepishly, “that
didn’t want yon to see me. You see.
I’ve been took on here as extry under-
f ardener and help, and the head gar-
encr he don't like I/Ondoners, and I
don't want him to know as I’m a Lon
don chap. So, If you lie so good. Miss,
as not to mention as you've seen me
before, 1 should take It kind.’’
“Very well, Tom, I won’t betray
you,” 1 replied, laughing; and then I
went Into brcakfait.
The bells of Denham ChureS had be
gun to ring before breakfast was over,
and Lady Mills wanted to know who
wasgoing.
“Do try to make up a respectable
number,’^ said she. “Wo scandalize
the neighborhood quite enough as it is
by not going to bed at ten o'clock and
other wtckffl practices. And last week
we were only three at church oat of a
party of seventeen.”
“Are you going MisaChristie? I’ll
go if you w ill find all the places for
said Mr. Carmthers.
And when we g; t to church—’
mustered eight altogether he sat bv
me, and picked ou: from among the
books the biggest church-service he
could find, which he put in front of me
when tho collect was given out, whis
pering:
“Find it for me, please.”
At first I would not take any notice,
for it was just like playing in church;
but he began maLing such a disturb
ance, rustling the leaves of his book,
looking over those of his neighbors,
am dropping with a crash ad I
within reach on the ledge before him,
that I was obliged to find it for him,
and all the other places too daring the
service, just ns If he had been alittle
boy. But I was very angry all the
time, and when wees me out I would
not speak to him. Ho came, however,
and walked by my side, while I talked
to somebody eLc, and at last ha said,
meekly:
“ 11 ave I offended yon?”
“Yes,” I said: “ I tkink you are very
irreverent."
“ I did not moan to be irrqvarent,"
hcaaid, in a still meeker too*.
“ I don’t bclh ts going to ohureh does
people like you any good at ail," re
marked L gravely.
And Mr. Carruthere burst oat laugh
ing, and said it was Tary wrong of me
to discourage him just whoa ho wanted
to try to b# good.
Moot of the peoi
afternoon Jmt
5V
walked
garden,
•table Wl
What • rfliy
little mystery,
man to Mr.<
ha knew t
“Be la mlnat jmd
had. Fr* had Mm six i
and of late I’ve given np
altogether, ha doea It for me
batter.”
I began to wander whether this mys
terious man servant waa mm» poor re-
lotion of Mr. Rayner's wbo- had taken she 1
to this way of earring U* Bring, bat
was ashamed of it. had who came pri
vately to see his richer connections, to
•pare them the talk of tiianeighba
•bout what people like the Beadaa, for
inetance, would certainly consider a f
diagram. So I said nothing;
more about him to Mr. Carru there, who f
fitting near me, smoking,
teasing me to read a Sunday
paper, wUoh 1 did not think right.
After a time I left him and went to
mynsom to are bow the pendant I had
left in my desk would look at my throat
with some flowers I bad just pinned
there. But when I unlocked my daak
and opened the shabby case ia which
Mr. Raynef had given it to me, the pen
dant waa gone., Nothing sire fat the
iteriooa disappearance. At first I
ught I would tell Lndy Milk of my
.out mj courage failed me. I
This
Stephana, fork ks
that
same; and, Hi
father in
bare bean
ciety. It waa very t
come to Lady Milk,
am kindly.
' And he ebook bands with
Lady MiHs kksad me. and i
to bed without my knowing ei
the enormity of the breach of ]
1 had committed
. (Sir Jonas the next i___.
drive me to the Aiders,
bad# me a very ~
lust as I wae sitting in
waiting for Mr Jonas tot
beside me, Gordon, Mr.
mysterious servant, cans
his stolidly respectful
said:
“I think thk k something of
You must have
wby 1 aid not wear my pendant, t for I found it on the
had come to the conclusion that afraid it has bean si ^
And he put my pendanTinto my'kands.
1 was so much astonished that ha
was gone before f eon
him; and then, turning it wmr in
hands, I found that the little dhield on
Which the initials wire engraved hod
been wrenched o!t
Was Gordon himself the
had he repented? Or bad T
who took it been ashanted to
in person? Or hsd I realty dropped IA
only dreamed that 1 pat k sway?
th, 'desk had bean disturbed.
careful search without success. I was
pertain I had placed it in my desk bo-
fore retiring.
It had been stolen—by whom I con 14
not guess. I wss frightened by its
mysterious ~ ' “
thou; ’
loss, but my courage
feared it would lead to a scene, thst the
servants would be snspeqted, to I re
solved tossy nothing aboutit, although
t felt the loss more than I had ’thought
womible.
So I went down-eiaim to dinner with
a piece of plain black velvet round my
throat, told Mrs. Ctenningham, who
asked wby I did not wear m
that I
it was too handsome an ornament for
a girl in my position, and heard Mr.
Carru there say that the same remark
would apply to my eyes.
It was a fine night, not cold, though
there was a light breeze; and after din
ner some of ns went into the garden,
and I among them, for I was afraid
they would make me play the waltne
again although it was .Sunday.
Mr. Carru there came into the garden
and joined me, asking me to warn with
him.
So we went through the gate and .by
a narrow foot-path over the gram
down to the river. We stopped when
we got there, by toe hpat-house, and
Mr. t smithere said it would b* a love
ly night for a sail.
“Yea, if it were not Sunday," Isold,
ftmidly.
No other objection occurred
He looked down at me, as if b
about something, and then .said:
■You are right You see, I respect
your scruples, if I do not share them;”
and he took out fak watch. “It k just
a quarter to twelve. By the time I have
got the boat ready it win be Monday
morning, and then there will bo noth-
Sir Jonas left me i
the Alder* ■
ing: against it
He had
one foot In the boat before I
eould do more than say:
“But Mr. Camttiters, ft k an late.
What would Lady Mills say?”
“I’ll make ft aH right with Lady
Mills; and you are *uch a good little
girl that nobody will think any thing
of what yon do..
I did notteadenlaad thk Speech so
well theft as I did later; bat it gave
me a sense of uneasiness, which how
ever was but momentarv, far be talked
and mode ate langh until be had the
boat ready, ana we heard the Mg
church-clock strike out twelve.
“Now, antes* that clock k fast, omr
consciences are free. Give me your
hand. Step carefully. There yon are.”
I waa in th« boat, smiling with pleas
ure, yet ready t* Seyoathtevery move
ment, for I had sever been on tho wa
ter before.
“There isn’t much wind; bnt I think
there k enough to bring na back, aoi’U
tailyoo.” " . -
I dis—gaged my hands Aram the
shawl I waa jhseunad in, and, ovmv
whelmed Ire n aenae of by new reopen
sibility, did aa 1 was told without.a
word. And, as there wa
steering reqaired. 1 fell to
LftHrenos..
“You are not thinking of me,"
Mr. Carruthere^ quietly.
I started, blushed, and pulled the
rent line at one*.
“Why k ft.” be aaked, suddenly,
“that a woman never cares for the man
who loves her best?”
“Doesn't she—everf" I aaked ant-
iooftlr.
“I—I am afraid not," said he, hi a
very low voioe.
“Bat how k the to tell?" I
tremulously.
“I think toe eon MI beet by thefoek
her,’’
gaae
ner a i_
r - ■ Wteii
me sc? Oh. what mkht s
her wickeddkBke; - "
her? Ifaidai waa'
1 op for tbs day. So 1-went
hoping there was i
Laurence, but was 1
no letters, for ate. At
tMva appeared ratbag
Raynor remarked ft
any batter far my oft
pation evidently did a
In toe afternoon It
to Haidee’s mom. ,1
and ft waa without fire,
why they did not move
waa toauy to. into t
I turned away my head.
“If,” he went on, still in the i
soft voiee quite close to my ear. “abo
raises her Ups to his and then tries to
read in his eyes the amotion ‘
foe her—”
“But I did,” said I quickly,
to him with my heart besting fast t
toe remembrance of *
kka.
Mr. Carruthers drew bock, etraaed
his m attack* and looked at me m
quite a different manner.
“You have not lived bD yonr fife ia
thvi country. Miss Christie, I think.’’
said he, dryly
And I saw in a moment, by the
change in hk look and voiem '
had done. He had been JU''
to me, white 1 was tUnklngt.
but Laurence. I put out myhand tol