Love's bitterest cup (2024)

The good folk of our county always seized with gladnessany fair excuse for merry-making, especially in thedead of winter, when farm work was slack.

Now the marriage of the popular young doctor withthe well-liked young teacher was one of the best of excusesfor general outbreak into gayety.

True, the newly married pair wished to settle downat once in their pretty cottage home, and be quiet.

But they were not to be permitted to do so.

Every family to whom the young doctor stood in therelation of attendant physician gave either a dinner or adancing party.

Judge Paul McCann, an old bachelor, who was one ofhis most valuable patients—a chronic patient dying ofgood living, and taking a long, long time to do it in—gavea heavy dinner party, to which he invited only marriedor middle-aged people—such as the elder Forces,Grandieres, Elks, and—Miss Bayard, who did not attend.

This dinner came off on the Monday after the marriage,and was a great success.

Every one was pleased, except the young people whohad nothing to do with it.

4“Selfish old rhinoceros! Wouldn’t give a dancingparty because he’s got the gout! And Natty so fond ofdancing, too!” growled Wynnette, over her disappointmenton that occasion.

But the Grandieres consoled her and all the youngpeople by giving a dancing party at Oldfields on the followingWednesday, and inviting all the members, youngand old, of every family in the neighborhood.

This party was but a repetition, with improvements,on the New Year’s Eve party, just four weeks previous;for again there was a full moon, a deep, level snow,frozen over, and fine sleighing, and all circ*mstancescombined to make the entertainment a most enjoyableone.

This frolic was followed on Friday with a dancingparty given by the Elks at Grove Hill, to which the samepeople were invited, and where they talked, laughed anddanced as merrily as before.

And do you think that the descendant of the “Dook ofEngland” was one to neglect her social duties, or to beleft behind in the competition of hospitable attentions tothe bride and groom because her house was small andher means were even smaller?

Not at all! So she determined to give a dancingparty on the next Tuesday evening, and invite all theneighborhood with his wife and children, and “his sisters,aunts and cousins.”

“But, great Jehosophat, Aunt Sibby, if you ask allthese people, what are you going to do with them? Theycan’t all get into the house, you know!” exclaimed RolandBayard, while his aunt and himself were forminga committee of ways and means.

“That’s their business! My business is to invite themto a party, and to open the door. Their business is toget in the house—if they can. Do your duty, sez I!Without fear or favor, sez I! Do the proper thing, sezI! unregardless of consequences, sez I! My duty is to5give a party to the bride and groom, and I’m a-going todo it! Take your own share of the world’s play, sez I,as well as the world’s work, sez I! We can’t live ourlives over again, sez I!

“I think you have got that quotation wrong, auntie,”said Roland.

“’Tain’t quotation, you ignomanners! It’s verses outof the ‘English Reader’ as I used to study when I wentto school to young Luke Barriere, when he was youngLuke, and before he left off teaching and divested all hisyearnings into a grocery.”

“Well, you have got the lines wrong, anyway, AuntSibby.”

“I tell you I ain’t! What do you know about it?I’ve read more verse books than ever you knew the namesof! But that ain’t nothing to the point! What I wantyou to do is to take the mule cart and drive round theneighborhood, and invite all the company—everybodythat we saw at all the other parties! Every one of ’em—childunand all! When you do a thing, sez I, do itwell, sez I! What’s worth a-doing of at all, sez I, isworth doing well, sez I!”

“I might as well start at once, as it will take me allday to go the rounds. I’ll go harness up the mule now.”

“Yes, go; and wherever you happen to be at dinnertime there you stop and get your dinner. I shan’t expectyou home till night, because after you have givenout all the invitations, you know, I want you to call atold Luke Barriere’s grocery store and fetch me——Stop!have you got a pencil in your pocket?”

“Yes, Aunt Sibby.”

“Well, then, put down—Lord! where shall I get a6piece of writing paper? Hindrances, the first thing!It’s always the way, sez I!”

“It need not be writing paper. This will do,” saidRoland, tearing off a scrap of brown wrapper from aparcel that lay on the table.

“Now, then, write,” said Miss Sibby.

And she gave him a list for sugar, spices, candies,“reesins” and “ammuns,” “orringes” and “lemmuns.”

“Is this all?” inquired Roland.

“Yes, and tell Luke Barriere he must charge it to me,and tell him I’ll pay him as soon as I get paid for thatlast hogshead of tobacco I shipped to Barker’s.”

“All right, auntie.”

“And, mind, as I told you before, I shan’t expect youhome to dinner. You won’t have time to come. And Ishan’t get no dinner, neither, ’cause all the fireplace willbe took up baking cakes. Soon’s ever you’re gone, meand Mocka is a-going right at making of ’em. Thanksbe to goodness as we have got a-plenty of our own flour,and eggs, and milk, and butter! And when you havegot plenty of flour, and eggs, and milk, and butter, sezI, you’ll get along, sez I!”

“Very well, Aunt Sibby.”

“And don’t you forget to invite Luke Barriere to theparty, mind you! You mustn’t forget old friends, sezI!”

“Oh! And must I invite Judge Paul McCann?” inquiredthe sailor, with a twinkle in his eye, for you see

“No!” emphatically replied the old lady. “No!Them as has the least to do with old Polly McCann, sezI, comes the best off, sez I! There! Now go! Youain’t got a minute more to lose!”

The young man went out to the little stable behindthe house, and put the mule to the cart, and drove7around to the front door, to come in and get his overcoatand cap.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you, Roland! Hire the nigg*rfiddlers while you are out,” said Miss Sibby.

“I’ll remember, aunt,” replied the young man, drawingon his “surtout,” and, with cap and gloves in hand,hurrying out to the cart.

In another moment Miss Sibby heard the mule cartrattle away on its rounds.

She then tied on a large apron, rolled up her sleeves,washed her hands, and went into the kitchen to makecakes.

And all that day her two servants, Mocka and Gad,had a time of it!

Late in the evening Roland came back with a cargoof groceries, and the report that all the neighborhoodhad been invited to her party, and had accepted theinvitation.

“And now, Aunt Sibby, it is getting awfully serious!If they all come—and they will all come—where areyou going to put them? Here are only three rooms onthis floor—the kitchen, the parlor and the parlor bedroom,”said Roland, in real concern.

“Le’s see,” mused the old lady, looking around.“‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ sez I! And, Lordknows, as I have got the will, I must find the way! Theparty is given to the young bride and groom, and for thesake of the dancers, and they must have the preference.Le’s see, now: The bed must be took out’n the parlorbedroom and put upstairs. The folks as don’t dancemust sit in the parlor bedroom, with the door open, soas they may see the dancing and hear the music. Thenthe dancers must dance in this parlor, and the nigg*rfiddlers can play in the kitchen, with the door open, sothe music can be heard all over the house. The tworooms upstairs can be used for the ladies’ and gentlemen’sdressing rooms. Oh, there’s ample space! ample!8And we shall have a grand time, Roland!” said the oldlady of sixty-one with the heart of sixteen.

And her words came true. Everything was propitious.To be sure, the moonlight was gone; but thesky was clear and cold, and the stars sparkling with thebrilliancy that is only to be seen in just such winterweather, and the snow was deep and frozen hard, andthe sleighing was “hevvingly,” as the lady from WildCats’ described it.

And when all the company were assembled in MissSibby’s little, hospitable house, and divided into roomsaccording to her plan, there was really no uncomfortablecrowd at all.

Roland Bayard received all the guests at the door.

Gad showed the gentlemen upstairs into the littlenorth bedroom, and Mocka conducted the ladies up intothe little south bedroom.

Both these small attic chambers had been neatly preparedas dressing rooms.

As the guests came down, Miss Sibby, in her onlyblack silk dress and Irish gauze cap, received them atthe foot of the stairs, and took them in turn to theirappointed places.

The negro fiddlers were seated in the kitchen nearthe door, which was opened into the parlor.

The young people formed a double set on the parlorfloor.

The elders sat on comfortable seats in the parlor bedroom,with the door open, so that they could see thedancers and hear the music, while gossiping with eachother.

as the witches’ dance at Kirk Alloway.

“Miss Sibby!” cried Wynnette, in one of the breathlesspauses of the whirling reel—“Miss Sibby, for downright9roaring fun and jollification your party does whipthe shirt off the back of every party given this winter.”

“I’m proud you like it; but, oh, my dear Miss WynnetteForce, do not put it that there way! Whereverdid you pick up sich expressions? It must a been fromthem nigg*rs,” said Miss Sibby, deprecatingly.

“I reckon it was from the nigg*rs I ‘picked up sichexpressions,’ Miss Sibby, for the words and phrases theylet fall are often very expressive—and I take to themso naturally that I sometimes think I must have been anigg*r myself in some stage of pre-existence,” laughedWynnette.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, child; butI do know as you sartainly ought to break yourself ofthat there habit of speaking.”

“I do try to, Miss Sibby! I correct myself almostevery time,” said Wynnette, and then craning her neckwith dignity, she added—“What I meant to say aboutyour entertainment, Miss Bayard, was that it is far themost enjoyable I have attended this season.”

“Thank y’, honey, that’s better! A young lady can’tbe too particular, sez I!” concluded Miss Sibby. Butbefore she finished speaking the whirl of the reel hadcarried Wynnette off to the other end of the room.

The dancing continued until ten o’clock.

The fiddlers rested from their labors and took theirgrog.

The dancers sat down to recover their breath and topartake of refreshments in the form of every sort ofcake, candy, nut and raisin, to say nothing of appletoddy, lemon punch and eggnogg.

When all had been refreshed the music and dancingrecommenced and continued until midnight, when theywound up the ball with the giddy Virginia reel.

The hot mulled port wine was handed round anddrunk amid much laughing, talking and jesting.

Then the company put on their wraps, took leave of10their happy hostess, re-entered their sleighs and startedmerrily for their homes.

The lady from the gold diggings had partaken soheartily of all the good things provided by Miss Sibby,and had tested so conscientiously the rival merits ofapple toddy, lemon punch, eggnogg and mulled port,that she went sound asleep in the sleigh and slept all theway to Mondreer and on being roused up to enter thehouse she addressed the dignified squire as Joe Mullins,and remarked that she thought the lead was running outat Wild Cats’, and they had better vamose the gulchand go prospecting some’eres else.

However, she slept off the effects of the party andwas her own happy and hearty self at breakfast the nextmorning.

CHAPTER II
ODALITE

Among all the merry-makers there was one sad face—Odalite’s—whichno effort of self-control could makeotherwise than sad.

Odalite, for the sake of her young sisters, had joinedevery party, but she took no pleasure in them.

Now that all the distracting excitement was over, andshe could think calmly of the circ*mstances, they allcombined to distress, mortify and humiliate her. Theremembrance of that scene in the church, of which atthe time it transpired she was but half conscious, was toher so shameful and degrading that she secretly shrankfrom the eyes of friends and neighbors whom she wasobliged to meet at the various gatherings in the neighborhood.

Then the doubt of her real relations to the Satan whohad entered her Eden, the uncertainty of her true position,11and the instability of her circ*mstances, all gatheredaround her like heavy clouds and darkened, saddenedand oppressed her spirits.

That Anglesea had no moral claim on her she was perfectlywell assured. That her father would protect heragainst him she felt equally certain. But that the manmight have a legal claim upon her—supposing his marriagewith the Widow Wright to have been an irregularone—and that he might give her dear mother and herselftrouble through that claim, she was sorely afraid.

And then there was Le—her dear, noble, generous Le—whohad pardoned her apparent defection and hadsworn to be faithful to her and share her fate to the endof life, even though that fate should oblige them to liveapart in celibacy forever. Her heart ached for Le. Shehad had but one letter from him since he left the house,a month before. In it he told her that he had reachedhis ship only six hours before she was to sail, and thathe had only time to write a few farewell lines on theeve of departure. But these lines were, indeed, full oflove, faith and hope. He told her that he should keep adiary for her, and send it in sections by every opportunity.And he renewed all his vows of fidelity to herthrough life.

That was his first and last letter up to this time.But now she was looking for another.

This daily expectation and the weekly visits to Greenbusheshelped to occupy her mind, and enabled her toendure life.

Old Molly, the housekeeper there, who did not understand,and could not appreciate, the comfort and consolationthat Odalite derived from these weekly inspections,remonstrated on the subject, saying:

“’Deed, Miss Odalite, ’tain’t no use for you to take alldis yere trouble for to come ober yere ebery week to seeas de rooms is all opened and aired and dried—’deed itain’t. You can trust me—’deed you can. Now did you12eber come ober yere on a Wednesday morning, and notfind a fire kindled into ebery room in de house, and dewindows all opened, ef it was clear? And likewise, ifyou war to come at night, you’d find the fires all out, andthe windows all shut, and the rooms all dry as a toast.”

“I know I can trust you thoroughly, Molly, but yousee I like to come. It seems to bring me nearer Le, youknow,” Odalite replied, in her gentle and confiding way.

“Yes, honey, so it do, indeed. Well, it was a awfulset-down to us w’en dat forriner come yere an’ cut MarseLe out, an’ him a married man, too, Lord save us!”

“Hush, Molly. You must not speak of that person tome,” said Odalite, sternly.

“Lord, honey, I ain’t a-blamin’ of you. Well I knowsas you couldn’t help it. Well I knows as he give youwitch powders, or summut, to make you like him whedderor no. W’ite people don’t believe nuffin ’bout desewitch powders, but we dem colored people we knows,honey. But now he is foun’ out an’ druv away, we demall sees as you is a fo’gettin’ de nonsense, honey, ’causehe can’t give you no mo’ witch powders. Lor’! why, ifit had been true love you feeled for him, you couldn’ta got ober it as soon as you has, eben if yer had foun’him out to be de gran’ vilyun as he is, ’cause it woulda took time. But as it war not true love, but only witchpowders, you see you got ober it eber since he went away.Lor’! I knows about witch powders.”

“Please, Mollie,” pleaded Odalite.

But the negro woman, having mounted her hobby,rocked on:

“Neber mind, honey. You and Marse Le is young’nough to spare t’ree years, an’ next time he come home,please de Lord, we’ll all ’joy a merry marridge, an’ youan’ him to come to housekeeping ’long of us.”

Odalite took leave, and went home. That was theonly way in which she could escape the painful subject.

She found a letter from Le on her return. It was13dated last from Rio de Janeiro. It contained the dailyrecord of the young midshipman’s life on the man-of-war,and no end to the vows of love and constancy.

This letter came under cover to her mother. Itcheered Odalite up for days.

But again her spirits sank.

At length her health began to suffer, and then herparents took into consideration a plan that had beendiscussed a month before. This was to leave the plantationunder the competent direction of their long-knownoverseer and their family solicitor, and to take a furnishedhouse in Washington City for three years, duringwhich time they could place their two youngerdaughters at a good finishing school, and introduce theireldest into society.

It was Mrs. Force who had first proposed the plan,and it was she who now recurred to it.

“You know, dear Abel,” she said to her husband,while they were sitting together one morning in her littleparlor, “you know that two considerations press on usnow—the health of Odalite and the education of Wynnetteand Elva. I really fear for Odalite, and so doesDr. Ingle, if she should be permitted to remain in thisneighborhood, where everything reminds her of the distressand mortification she has suffered. Odalite musthave a thorough change. And no better change can bethought of for her than a winter in Washington. Thegay season is just commencing in that city, and with allthat we could do for her there Odalite would be sureto improve. Think what a contrast Washington in itsseason—Washington with its splendid official receptions,its operas and concerts, every day and night—would beto the secluded life we all lead here. And especiallywhat a contrast in the conception of Odalite, who willsee the city for the first time.”

“I appreciate all that; but, my love, your simple wish14to go to the city would be quite sufficient for me,” saidthe squire.

Mrs. Force turned away her head and breathed a sigh,as she often did at any especial mark of love or trustfrom her good husband.

“I should not express the wish on my own account,dear Abel. I have always been well content with ourretired life and your society alone. I spoke only for thechildren’s sake. I have told you why Odalite needs thechange, and now I wish to tell you how our residencein Washington will benefit her younger sisters. Wynnetteand Elva must go on with their education. Wewould not like to engage a stranger to come and takecharge of them here, just after such a public event asthat of the broken marriage, even if we could get one toreplace Natalie Meeke, or suit us as well as she did,which I am sure we could not. Nor, on the other hand,could we consent to send our children away from us.So I see no better plan for them, as well as for all, thanthat we should all go to Washington, where we can giveour Odalite the social life that she so much needs justnow, and where we can enter Wynnette and Elva as daypupils in a first-class school.”

“My dear, I see that you are right,” said Mr. Force.“You are quite right in regard to the wisdom of goingto Washington, so far as the benefit of our children isconcerned; nor do I see any hindrance to our leavingthis place without our care. Barnes is an invaluablefarm manager, and Copp is as capable an agent as anyproprietor could desire. We will leave the place in theircare. We can go at once, or just as soon as you canpack up. If we cannot secure a furnished house at oncewe can go to a hotel and stay until we can get one.”

“But—what shall we do with Mrs. Anglesea?” demandedMrs. Force, in sudden dismay as the vision ofthe lady from Wild Cats’ arose in her mind’s eye.

15Abel Force gave a long, low whistle, and then answered:

“We must invite her to go with us to Washington.”

“To——Invite Mrs. Anglesea to join our party toWashington?” gasped the lady.

“Yes. She will be charmed to accept, I am sure,”replied the gentleman, with a twinkle of humor in hiseye.

“But, good heavens, Abel! how could we introducethat woman into Washington society?”

“Very well, indeed. Very much better than we couldinto any other society on the face of the earth. Thewives of the high officers of the government are the leadersof society; the latter are under the dominion of thesovereign people, who flock to the city in great numbers,and from all parts of the country, and all ranks andgrades of the social scale; and you will find the drawingrooms of cabinet ministers and foreign ambassadorsfilled with companies more mixed than you could findelsewhere in the world. Our lady from the gold mineswill find plenty to keep her in countenance.”

“For all that,” said Mrs. Force, “I shall try to evadethe necessity of taking her with us.”

“My dear, we cannot, in decency, turn our guest outof doors; so the only alternative we have is to take herwith us or stay at home.”

“I think—she is so simple, good-humored and unconventional—thatI think I may explain to her the necessityof our going to Washington for the sake of thechildren, and then give her a choice to go with us or toremain here.”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Mr. Force. “And let us hopethat she will elect to remain.”

A little later in the day Mrs. Force had an explanationwith her guest, and put the alternative before her.

“You will understand, dear Mrs. Anglesea, the cruelnecessity that obliges us to leave our home at this juncture;16and now I wish you to be guided by your own impulseswhether to go with us to Washington or to remainhere as long as it may suit you to do so,” said the lady,in conclusion.

“You say you’re all a-gwine to a hotel?” inquired thevisitor.

“Yes.”

“Well, then, you don’t catch me leavin’ of a comfortablehome like this, where there’s plenty of turkeys, andcanvas-back ducks, and game of all sorts, as the nigg*rsshoot and sell for a song, and feather beds, and goodroaring fires, and cupboards full of preserves and sweetmeats,to go to any of your hotels to get pizened by theirmesses, or catch my death in damp sheets. No, ma’am,no hotels for me, if you please. I got enough of ’em atthe Hidalgo. I know beans, I do; and I stays here.”

“Very well. I shall be glad to think of you here; andI shall leave Lucy and Jacob in the house to take careof it, and they will wait on you,” said the well-pleasedlady of the manor.

“I’ll make myself comfortable, you bet, ole ’oman!and I’ll take good care of the house while you’re gone—youmay stake your pile on that!”

And so this matter was satisfactorily settled.

Preparations for departure immediately began, andsoon the news got abroad in the neighborhood that theForces were going to leave Mondreer and live in Washington.

CHAPTER III
ROSEMARY

“Rosemary, my dear, I wish you would not dance allthe time with young Roland Bayard when you happento be at a party with him,” said the grave and dignified17Miss Susannah Grandiere to the fair little niece who satat her feet, both literally and figuratively.

The early tea was over at Grove Hill, and the auntand niece sat before the fire, with their maid Henny inattendance.

Miss Grandiere was knitting a fine white lamb’s woolstocking; Rosemary was sewing together pieces for apatchwork quilt; and Henny, seated on a three-leggedstool in the chimney corner, was carding wool.

“Why not, Aunt Sukey?” inquired the child, pushingthe fine, silky black curls from her dainty forehead andlooking up from her work.

“Because, my dear, though you are but a little girl,and he is almost a young man, yet these intimate friendships,formed in early youth, may become very embarrassingin later years,” gravely answered the lady, drawingout her knitting needle from the last taken off stitchand beginning another round.

“But how, Aunt Sukey?” questioned the little one.

“In this way. No one knows who Roland Bayard is!He was cast up from the wreck of the Carrier Pigeon,the only life saved. He was adopted and reared by MissSibby Bayard, and I think, but am not sure, he waseducated at the expense of Abel Force, who never letshis left hand know what his right hand does in the wayof charity. But Miss Sibby has hinted as much to me.”

“Aunt Sukey, he may be the son of a lord, or a duke,or a prince,” suggested romantic Rosemary.

“Or of a thief, or pirate, or convict,” added MissGrandiere, severely.

“Oh, Aunt Sukey! Never! Never! Dear Roland!Aunt Sukey, I like Roland so much! And I have goodreason to like him, too, whatever he may be!” exclaimedthe child, with more than usual earnestness.

“Oh! oh! oh!” moaned Miss Grandiere, sadly, shakingher head.

“Aunt Sukey, no one ever has the kindness to ask a18little girl like me to dance except dear Roland. Othergentlemen ask young ladies; but dear Roland alwaysasks me, and he never lets me be neglected. And I shallnever forget him for it, but shall always like him.”

“Um, um, um!” softly moaned the stately lady to herself.

“And Roland told me he was named after a knightwho was ‘without fear and without reproach,’ and thathe meant always to deserve his name, and to be myknight—mine.”

“Dear, dear, dear!” murmured Miss Grandiere.

“What is the matter, Aunt Sukey?” inquired Rosemary,again pushing back her silky, black curls, andlifting her large, light blue eyes to the lady’s troubledface.

“Rosemary, my child,” began Miss Grandiere, without replying to the little girl’s question, “Rosemary, youknow the Forces are going to Washington next week?”

“Oh! yes; everybody knows that now.”

“And Wynnette and Elva are going to be put to schoolthere?”

“Yes, everybody knows that, too, Aunt Sukey.”

“Well, how would you like to be put to the sameschool that they are going to attend?”

“Oh, so much! So very much, Aunt Sukey! I neverdreamed of such happiness as that! I do so much wantto get a good education!” exclaimed the little girl, firingwith enthusiasm.

“Well, my dear child, I think the opportunity of sendingyou to school with Wynnette and Elva, and underthe protection of Mr. and Mrs. Force, is such an excellentone that it ought not to be lost. I will speak to mysister Hedge about it, and if she will consent to yourgoing I will be at the cost of sending you,” said the lady,as she began to roll up her knitting, for the last gleamof the winter twilight had faded out of the sky and itwas getting too dark even to knit.

19For once in her life Rosemary had forgotten to callfor the curtains to be let down and the candle to be litand the novel brought forth. For once the interests ofreal life had banished the memory of romance.

But Henny knew what was expected of her, and soshe put up her cards, went and lighted the tallow candle,pulled down the window blinds, replenished the fire, andreseated herself on her three-legged stool in the chimneycorner.

Rosemary, recalled to the interests of the evening,went and brought forth the “treasured volume” fromthe upper bureau drawer and gave it to her aunt to read.Then she settled herself in her low chair to listen.

It was still that long romance of “The Children ofthe Abbey” that was the subject of their evening readings.And they had now reached a most thrilling crisis,where the heroine was in the haunted castle; when suddenlythe sound of wheels was heard to grate on thegravel outside, accompanied by girlish voices.

And soon there came a knock at the door.

“Who in the world can that be at this hour, afterdark?” inquired Miss Grandiere, as Henny arose andopened the door.

Odalite, Wynnette and Elva came in, in their pokebonnets and buttoned coats.

“Oh, Miss Grandiere, excuse us, but yours was theonly light we saw gleaming around the edges of theblinds, and so we knocked at your door,” said Wynnette,who always took the initiative in speaking, as in otherthings.

“My dear child! how is it that you children are out,after dark?” inquired the lady.

“We have been making the rounds to bid good-by tothe neighbors. Mamma and papa went out yesterday,and we to-day. We are going to Washington next week,and we have come to bid you good-by now,” said Wynnette,still speaking for all the others.

20“But who is with you for protection? Who drove thecarriage?”

“Jake drove and Joshua came as bodyguard; but weare so late that I am afraid Mr. and Mrs. Elk and thegirls are asleep.”

“They are, my dears; and it is so late that I do notthink it right for you three children to be drivingthrough the country with no better protection than Jakeand the dog. You must send them home and stay allnight here. Then you will have an opportunity of biddinggood-by to William and Molly and the childrento-morrow morning.”

“Oh, Miss Grandiere, how jolly! I have not spent anight from home for ages and ages and ages!” exclaimedWynnette.

“But what will mamma say?” doubtfully inquiredElva.

“I fear, Miss Grandiere, that we ought to return hometo-night,” suggested Odalite.

“Nonsense, my dear child! You must do nothing ofthe sort. I will write a note to your mother and send itby Jake,” replied Miss Grandiere, who immediately aroseand went to get her portfolio.

“If it hadn’t been for Miss Sibby Bayard keeping usso long talking about her ancestor the ‘Duke of England’—shemeans the Duke of Norfolk all the time, but floutsus when we hint as much—we should have been heretwo hours ago, and been home by this time,” said Wynnette.

Miss Grandiere finished her note, put a shawl over herhead and went out herself to speak to the coachman andsend him home to Mondreer with her written message.

“Now take off your hats and coats, and tell me if youhave had tea,” she said, when she came back into theroom and closed the door.

“Oh, yes! we took tea with Miss Sibby while she toldus how a certain ‘Duke of England’ lost his head for21wanting to marry a certain Queen of Scotland,” repliedWynnette.

That question settled, the girls drew chairs aroundthe fire, and began to make themselves comfortable.

Rosemary could not bear to give up her reading, justat that particular crisis, too! So she thought she wouldentice her company into listening to the story.

“We were reading—oh! such a beautiful book!” shesaid. “Just hear how lovely it begins!”

And she took the book up, turned it to the first pageand commenced after this manner:

“‘Hail! sweet asylum of my infancy! Content andinnocence abide beneath your humble roof!—hail! yevenerable trees! My happiest hours of childish gayety——’”

“What’s all that about?” demanded Wynnette, thevandal, ruthlessly interrupting the reader.

“It is Amanda Fitzallan, coming back to the Welshcottage where she was nursed, and catching sight of it,you know, raises fluttering emotions in her sensitivebosom,” Rosemary explained, with an injured air.

“Oh! it does, does it? But she wouldn’t hold forthin that way, you know, even if she were badly stagestruck or very crazy,” said Wynnette.

“Oh! I thought it was such elegant language!”pleaded Rosemary.

“But she wouldn’t use it! Look here! Do you suppose,when I come back from school, years hence, andcatch sight of Mondreer, I should hold forth in thathifaluting style?”

“But what would you say?”

“Nothing, probably; or if I did, it would be: ‘There’sthe blessed old barn now, looking as dull and humdrumas it did when we used to go blackberrying and get ourankles full of chego bites. Lord! how many dull dayswe have passed in that dreary old jail, especially in rainyweather!’ I think that would be about my talk.”

22“Oh, Wynnette! you have no sentiment, no reverence,no——”

“Nonsense!” good-humoredly replied the girl, finishingRosemary’s halting sentence.

The little girl sighed, closed the book and laid it onthe table.

“The style of that work is very elegant and refined;and it is better to err on the side of elegance and refinementthan on their opposites,” said Miss Grandiere, withher grandest air.

“As I do every time I open my mouth. But I can’thelp it, Miss Susannah. ‘I am as Heaven made me,’ assomebody or other said—or ought to have said, if theydidn’t,” retorted Wynnette.

As it was now bedtime it became necessary to attendto the sleeping accommodations of these unexpectedguests. But first it was in order to offer them somerefreshments. Henny was not required to draw a jugof hard cider, or to make and bake hoe cakes in thebedroom that night. Such “orgies” were only enactedby the aunt and niece in the seclusion of their privatelife.

But the corner cupboard was unlocked, and a storeof rich cake and pound cake, with a cut-glass decanterof cherry bounce, all of which was kept for company,was brought forth and served to the visitors.

Meanwhile, Henny went upstairs to kindle a fire inthe large, double-bedded spare room, just over MissSukey’s chamber.

“Miss Susannah,” said Odalite, while the group sataround the fire nibbling their cake and sipping theirbounce, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything in the world that I can do for you, Odalite,shall be done with the greatest pleasure,” earnestlyreplied the elder lady.

“I thank you very much, dear friend; and now I willexplain: I promised Le, before we went away, that I23would go to Greenbushes once a week to see that therooms were regularly opened, aired and dried. I havekept the promise up to the present; but now, you know,I have to go with the family to Washington. I haveno alternative, and for that reason I would like you tobe my proxy.”

“I will, with great pleasure, my dear.”

“I could not ask you to go every week, that wouldbe too much; but if you can go occasionally and see thatall is right, and drop me a note to that effect, it will—well,it will relieve my conscience,” concluded Odalite,with a wan smile.

“I certainly will go every week, unless prevented bycirc*mstances; and I will write to you as often as I go,to let you know how all is getting on there.”

“Oh, you are very kind, Miss Susannah; but I fearyou will find it a tax upon your time and patience.”

“Not at all. I shall have plenty of time, and littlethat is interesting to fill it up with. For let me tell youa secret. I intend to avail myself of the opportunity ofyour parents being in Washington to send my little Rosemaryto the same school that Wynnette and Elva willattend.”

“Oh, that will be jolly!” “Oh, that will be lovely!”exclaimed Wynnette and Elva, in the same instant.

“That is, if Mr. and Mrs. Force will not consider theaddition of Rosemary to their party an intrusion.”

“Why, Miss Susannah! How dare you slander myfather and mother right before my two looking eyes?”exclaimed Wynnette. “They will be just set up to haveRosemary! Besides, where’s the intrusion, I’d like toknow? The railroad and the hotel and the boardingschool are just as free for you as for me, I shouldthink.”

“Rosemary would board at the school, of course,” continuedMiss Grandiere.

“So shall Elva and I. If papa could have got a furnished24house we should have lived at home, and enteredthe academy as day pupils; but, you see, as papa couldnot get a house he and mamma and Odalite will live atone of the West End hotels, and Elva and I at theacademy.”

“And, oh! won’t it be lovely to have dear Rosemarywith us? We should not feel half so strange,” said littleElva.

“You will speak to your father and mother on thesubject when you go home, Odalite, my child; and Iwill call on them later. If they will take charge ofRosemary on the journey, and enter her at the sameschool with yourselves, I will be at all the charges, ofcourse, and I shall feel very much obliged,” said MissSusannah.

“You may rest assured that papa and mamma will bevery glad to take charge of dear little Rosemary; notonly for her sake and for your sake, but for our sakes,so that we may have an old playmate from our ownneighborhood to be our schoolmate in the new home,”said Wynnette.

“There is something in that,” remarked Miss Grandiere.

As for Elva and Rosemary, they were sitting closetogether on one chair, with their arms locked aroundeach other’s waist, in fond anticipation of their comingintimacy.

Henny now came in and said that the spare room wasall ready for the young ladies.

Miss Grandiere lighted a fresh candle, and conductedher visitors to the upper chamber, saw that all theirwants were supplied, and bade them good-night.

Soon after, aunt and niece also retired to bed; butRosemary could not sleep for the happiness of thinkingabout going to boarding school in the city along withWynnette and Elva.

Early in the morning William and Molly Elk, their25little girls, and in fact the whole household, with theexception of Miss Sukey, her niece and her maid, wereastonished to hear that there were visitors in the housewho had arrived late on the night before.

They prepared a better breakfast than usual in theirhonor, and gave them a warm welcome.

Soon after breakfast, Jake arrived with the familycarriage to fetch the young people home, and also with amessage from Mr. and Mrs. Force, thanking Miss Grandierefor having detained their imprudent children allnight.

“You and Rosemary go home with us, Miss Susannah.There’s plenty of room inside the carriage for six people,and we would only be five. Do, now! And let us havethis matter of going to school settled at once,” urgedWynnette.

Miss Grandiere hesitated, even though Elva joined inthe invitation. But when Odalite, the eldest and grown-upsister, added her entreaties to those of the others,Miss Sukey yielded, because she wanted to yield.

The girls then took leave of all their friends at GroveHill and entered the capacious carriage, accompanied byMiss Grandiere and Rosemary—that is, two of themdid. One was missing.

“Where is Wynnette?” inquired Miss Grandiere, asshe sank into the cushions.

“She is on the box, driving, while Jacob is sitting withfolded arms beside her,” answered Odalite.

“It is highly improper.”

“You cannot do anything with Wynnette, Miss Susannah.She will drive as often as she can. AndJacob’s presence beside her makes it safe, at least. Heis ready to seize the reins at any emergency.”

“Yes, but really—really—my dear Odalite——”

The sudden starting of the horses at a spanking pacejerked Miss Grandiere’s words from her lips, and herselfforward into little Elva’s arms.

26However, they arrived safely at Mondreer, wherethey were very cordially welcomed by Mr. and Mrs.Force.

When Miss Grandiere proposed her plan of sendingRosemary with them, to go to school with their ownchildren, the lady and gentleman responded promptlyand cordially.

“We have not selected our school yet,” Mr. Force explained.“We wish to get the circulars and personallyinspect the schools before we make our choice, but ifyou leave your niece in our hands, we shall do by herexactly as by our own.”

“I am sure you will. And I thank you from my soulfor the trouble you take. I shall sign some blank checks,for you to fill out, for any funds that may be requiredfor Rosemary,” gratefully responded Miss Grandiere.

The aunt and niece, at the cordial invitation of theForces, stayed to dinner, and were afterward sent homein a wide buggy driven by Jacob.

One day later Miss Grandiere broached to Mrs. Hedgethe subject of sending Rosemary to school with Wynnetteand Elva Force, at her own—Miss Grandiere’s—expense.

This consultation with the mother was a mere form,Miss Susannah knowing full well that it was the greatambition of Mistress Dolly’s heart to send her daughterto a good boarding school, and that she would considerthe present opportunity most providential.

All the arrangements were most satisfactorily concluded,and by the end of the following week, the Forces,with little Rosemary in their charge, had left Mondreer.

It was three years after the Forces left Mondreer,and they had never returned to it.

The farm was managed by Jesse Barnes, the capableoverseer, and the sales were arranged by Mr. Copp, thefamily agent, who remitted the revenues of the estatein quarterly installments to Mr. Force.

The lady from the gold mines remained in the house,taking such excellent care of the rooms and the furniturethat she had gradually settled down as a permanentinmate, in the character of a salaried housekeeper.

“I’m a-getting too old to be bouncing round prospectingwith the boys, and so I reckon I had better sit downin this comfortable sitiwation for the rest of my life,”she confided to Miss Bayard, one February morning,when that descendant of the great duke honored her bycoming to spend the day at Mondreer.

“That’s just what I sez myself. When you knowsyou’re well enough off, sez I, you’d better let well enoughalone, sez I. And not take after them unsettled peopleas are allus changing about from place to place, doingno good,” assented Miss Bayard.

“It’s a habit dey gibs deirselves. ’Deed it is, ole mist’ess.Nuffin’ ’t all but a habit dey gibs deirselves,” remarkedLuce, who had just come in with a waiter, onwhich was a plate of caraway-seed cake and a decanterof blackberry cordial to refresh the visitor.

“Just like my neffy, Roland. He was restless enoughafter Le went to sea, but after the Forces left the neighborhoodand took Rosemary Hedge with ’em, ropes norchains wouldn’t hold that feller, but he must go off toBaltimore to get a berth, as he called it. Thanks be togoodness, he got in ’long of Capt. Grandiere as first28mate; but Lord knows when I’ll ever see him ag’in, forhe is gone to the East Indies,” sighed Miss Sibby. Andthen she stopped to nibble her seed cake and sip herblackberry cordial.

“It’s a habit he gibs hisself, ole mist’ess. ’Deed it is.Nuffin’ ’t all but a habit he gibs hisself, and you oughtto try to break him of it,” said Luce, as she set thewaiter down on the table and left the room.

“Do you expect Abel Force ever to come home tohis own house again?” inquired Miss Sibby, betweenher sips and nibbles.

“Oh, yes, I reckon so, when the gals have finishedtheir edication, but not till then. You see they have alovely house in Washington, according to what MissGrandiere and little Rosemary Hedge tells us, and thechildren are at a fine school, so they live there all theyear until the three months summer vacation comesround, and then when Miss Grandiere goes to Washingtonto fetch her little niece home to spend the holidayshere, why, then Mr. and Mrs. Force takes their threedaughters and go traveling. And this next summer theydo talk about going to Europe, but I don’t know thatthey will do it.”

“What I sez is that they ought to spend their summersat Mondreer. When a family is blessed with theblessing of a good, healthy country home, sez I, theyought to stay in it, and be thankful for it, sez I.”

Even while the two cronies spoke the door opened, andJacob came in, with a letter in his hand.

“There! That’s from the ole ’oman now. I knowher handwriting across the room. And now we shallhear some news,” said Mrs. Anglesea, with her mouthfull of cake.

And she took the letter from the negro’s hands, andopened it without ceremony, and began to read it toherself, without apology.

29“Is it anything confidential?” demanded Miss Sibby,who was full of curiosity.

“No. I will read it all to you as soon as ever I havespelled it out myself. I never was good at reading writing,particularly fine hand, and, if I must say it, the ole’oman do write the scrimble-scramblest fine hand as everI see,” said Mrs. Anglesea, peering at the letter, andturning it this way and that, and almost upside down.

Presently she began to read, making comments betweenthe words and phrases of the letter.

“Well, it’s ‘Washington City, P Street, N. W., andFebruary 8th.’ Why, it’s been four days coming. Hereyou, Jake! When did you get this letter out’n the postoffice?” She paused to call the negro messenger, whostood, hat in hand, at the door.

“W’y, dis mornin’, in course, ole mist’ess,” replied theman.

“Don’t ‘ole mist’ess’ me, you scalawag! Are you sartainyou didn’t get it Saturday, and forget all about it,and leave it in your pocket until to-day?”

“Hi, ole—young—mist’ess, how I gwine to forgetw’en you always ax me? No, ’deed. I took it out’n depos’ office dis blessed mornin’, ole—young mist’ess.”

“How dare you call me young mist’ess, you——”

“What mus’ I call you, den?” inquired the puzzlednegro.

“Ma’am. Call me ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s better. Well, now the next time you go to thevillage, Jake, you just tell that postmaster if he keepsback another letter of mine four days, I’ll have himturned out. Do ye hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, now you may go about your business, and Iwill go on with my letter.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

30The man left the room, and the housekeeper resumedher reading:

“‘My Dear Mrs. Anglesea’: I wish she wouldn’tpile that name upon me so! If she knowed how I hatedit she wouldn’t. ‘I write to ask you to have the houseprepared for our reception on the eighth of June. Youwill know what is necessary to be done, and you maydraw on Mr. Copp for the needful funds. He has instructionsto honor your drafts.

“‘The girls expect to grad—grat—gral—gual——’

“Lord ’a’ mercy! what is this word? Can you makeit out, Miss Sibby?” inquired the reader, holding theletter under the nose of the visitor.

Miss Bayard, who had resumed her knitting aftermoderately partaking of cake and cordial, dropped herwork, adjusted her spectacles and inspected the word.

“It’s graduate, ma’am. That means finish their edication,honorable. Young Le Force graduated offenthe Naval ’Cademy before he ever went to sea as a midshipman,and my scamp, Roland Bayard, graduatedoffen the Charlotte Hall ’Cademy before he ran awayand went to sea as a common sailor. I s’pose these girlsis a-going to graduate offen the ‘cademy where they aregetting their edication, and I hope they will do theirselvescredit. When your parents do the best they canfor you, sez I, you ought to try to do the best you canfor yourself, sez I, which is the best return you canmake them, sez I.”

“To do the best you can for them, I should thinkwould be the first thing to think about, and, likewise,best return to make them. But now I’ll go on with myletter:

“‘The girls expect to graduate at the academic commencement,on the first of June’—graduate at the commencement!31I thought pupils graduated at the end!—‘afterwhich we expect to come down to Mondreer forthe summer, previous to going to Europe. I have muchnews of importance to tell you, which concerns yourselfas much as it affects us; but it is of such a nature thatit had best be reserved for the present. Expecting tosee you, I remain your friend,

“So they are actually coming home at last,” said MissSibby.

“Yes, actially coming home at last,” assented thehousekeeper. “But, look here. What does she mean bythat news as she has got to tell me which concerns sheand I both? I reckon it must be news of my rascal.Lord! I wonder if it is? I wonder if he’s been hungor anything? I hope to gracious he has! And then shewouldn’t mention it in a letter, but wait until she couldtell me all about it! It must be that, ole ’oman—myrascal’s hung!”

“I reckon it is! When a man lives a bad life, sez I,he must expect to die a bad death, sez I.”

“Well, I shan’t go in mourning for him, that’s certain,whether he’s hung or drowned. But we shall hearall about it when the folks come home. Lord! why, theplace will be like another house, with all them younggals in it!”

“I might ’a’ knowed somethin’ was up t’other Sunday,when I heard Miss Grandiere tell Parson Peters, at AllFaith Church, how she and Mrs. Hedge were both goingto Washington on the first of June. Of course, it isto the commencement they’re going, to see Rosemarygraduate along with the others.”

“But to hear ’em call the end of a thing its commencement,takes me,” said Mrs. Anglesea.

“So it do me. And if people don’t know what they’re32a-talking about, sez I, they’d better hold their tongues,sez I.”

“Young Mrs. Ingle will be mighty proud to have theold folks and the gals back. Lord! how fond she wasof them two little gals. To think of her naming hertwo babies after them—the first Wynnette and the secondElva. Let’s see; the first one must be two yearsold.”

“Wynnie is twenty-three months old, and Ellie is ninemonths; but they are both sich smart, lively, sensiblechildren that any one might think as they was older thanthat. But I don’t hold with children being took so muchnotice of, and stimmerlated in their intellects so much.Fair an’ easy, sez I; slow and sure, sez I, goes a longway, sez I.”

So, talking about their neighbors, as usual, but notuncharitably, the gossips passed the day. At sunset theyhad tea together; and then Gad brought around themule cart—the only equipage owned by the descendantof the great duke—who put on her bonnet and shawl,bid good-by to her crony, got into her seat and drovehomeward.

“Well, the ole ’oman has give me long enough noticeto get ready for ’em; but she knows there’s a good dealto be done, and country workmen is slow, let alone thenigg*rs, who is slowest of all,” ruminated Mrs. Anglesea,who resolved to begin operations next day.

CHAPTER V
THE FORTUNES OF ODALITE

To explain the mysterious letter written by ElfridaForce to her housekeeper, we must condense the familyhistory of the last three years, which had passed without33any incident worth recording, and bring it up to the timewhen events full of importance for good or evil followedeach other in rapid succession.

Mr. Force, on removing his family to Washington, inthe month of February three years before, took apartmentsin one of the best hotels for himself, his wife,and their eldest daughter, while he placed his twoyounger daughters and his little ward at a first-classboarding school.

The Forces had some friends and acquaintances inthe city, and to these they sent cards, which werepromptly honored by calls.

For the sake of Odalite, Mrs. Force chose to enter thegay society for which she herself had little heart.

The trousseau prepared for the girl’s luckless, brokenmarriage came well into use as an elegant outfit for thefashionable season in the gay capital.

Mr. Force escorted his wife and daughter to all thereceptions, concerts, balls and dinners to which theywere invited, and everywhere he felt pride and pleasurein the general admiration bestowed upon his beautifulwife and their lovely daughter.

But the instinct of caste was strong in the breast ofElfrida Force. She and her daughter were recipientsof many elegant entertainments, and she wished to reciprocate,but could not do so while living at a hotel.

His wife’s wishes, joined to his own longing for thefreedom of domestic life, added zeal to Abel Force’squest of a house.

But it was at the end of the session of Congress beforehis desire was gratified. Then a United Statessenator, whose term of office had expired, offered hishandsome and elegantly furnished house for rent.

Mr. and Mrs. Force inspected the premises, andleased them for three years.

They did not wish to go in at once, as the season wasat an end, and the summer at hand.

34But as soon as the retiring statesman and his familyhad vacated the house Mr. Force sent in a squad ofhousecleaners to prepare the place for the new tenants.

When the schools closed for the long summer vacationhe gave little Rosemary Hedge into the hands ofMiss Grandiere, who had come to Washington to fetchher home, and with his wife and three daughters leftthe city for an extensive summer tour.

After three months of varied travel the family returnedto Washington in September, and took possessionof the beautiful town house, near the P Street circle,in the northwest section of the city.

Then they replaced their daughters and their littleward at the same school—not as boarders, however, butas day pupils, for Mr. and Mrs. Force wished to havetheir girls as much as possible under their own care,believing home education to be the most influential forgood—or for evil—of all possible training.

When Congress met, and the season began, Mrs.Force took the lead by giving a magnificent ball, towhich all the beauty, fashion, wealth and celebrity of thenational capital were invited, to which they nearly allcame.

The ball was a splendid success.

The beautiful Elfrida Force became an acknowledgedqueen of society, and her lovely young daughter was thebelle of the season.

Had no one in the city then heard of her disastrouswedding broken up at the altar?

Not a soul had heard of it. Not one of those friendsand acquaintances of Mrs. Force whom she had met inWashington, for, be it remembered, she had written tono one of her daughter’s approaching marriage, and hadbid to the wedding only the nearest neighbors and oldestfriends of her family.

Odalite was saved this unmerited humiliation, at least—thoughmany who admired the beautiful girl wondered35that the lovely, dark eyes never sparkled, thesweet lips never smiled.

In this season she had several “eligible” offers of marriage—onefrom a young officer in the army; anotherfrom a middle-aged banker; another from an aged cabinetminister; a fourth from a foreign secretary oflegation; a fifth from a distinguished lawyer; a sixthfrom a brilliant congressman; a seventh from a fashionablepreacher; and so on and so on.

All these were declined with courtesy.

Odalite took very little pleasure in the gay life ofWashington, and very little pride in her conquests.

Her sole delight was in Le’s letters, which came toher under cover to her mother; but were read and enjoyedby the whole family.

Le certainly was a faithful servant of the great republic,and never neglected his duty; but yet his “mostchiefest occupation” must have been writing to Odalite,for his letters came by every possible opportunity, andthey were not only letters, but huge parcels of manuscript,containing the journal of his thoughts, feelings,hopes and purposes from day to day. And all thesemight have been summed in one word—“Odalite.”

She also sent letters as bulky and as frequently; andall that she wrote might have been condensed into a monosyllable—“Le.”

These parcels were always directed in the hand of hermother.

Ah! mother and daughter ever felt that the eyes of animplacable enemy were secretly watching them, so thatthey must be on their guard against surprise andtreachery.

They suffered this fear, although they never heardone word from, or of, Angus Anglesea. He might bedead, living, or imprisoned, for aught they knew of hisstate, condition, or whereabouts.

In the distractions of society, however, they forgot36their secret fears, for indeed they had no time forreflection. This was one of the gayest seasons everknown in the gay capital; reception, ball and concert followedball, concert and reception in a dizzy round; andthe Forces were seen at all! If they had purposely intendedto make up for all the long years of seclusion atMondreer they certainly and completely succeeded.

At the end of the season they took a rest; but theydid not leave Washington until June, when the schoolsclosed, and then they placed little Rosemary Hedge inthe hands of Miss Grandiere, who came to the city toreceive her, and they went to Canada for the summer.

As this first year passed, so passed the second andnearly the whole of the third.

It was in September of the third year that the monotonyof winter society and summer travel was broken bysomething of vital interest to all their lives.

They had just returned to Washington; replaced theiryoungest daughters and their ward at school, and settledthemselves, with their eldest daughter, in their townhouse, which had been renovated during their absence.

It was a season of repose coming between the summertravel and the winter’s dissipations. They were receivingno calls, making no visits, but just resting.

One morning the father, mother and daughter wereseated in the back piazza which faced the west, andwas therefore, on this warm morning in September, cooland shady. The piazza looked down upon a little backyard, such as city lots can afford. But every inch ofthe ground had been utilized, for a walk covered withan arbor of latticework and grapevines led down to aback gate and to the stables in the rear. On the righthand of this walk was a green plot, with a pear tree anda plum tree growing in the midst, and a border of gorgeousautumn flowers blooming all around. On the otherside of the walk was another plot with a peach tree andan apple tree growing in the midst, and a border of37roses all around. And the grapevine and the fruit treeswere all in full fruition now, and supplied the dessertevery day.

Mr., Mrs. and Miss Force were all seated in the pleasantQuaker rocking-chairs with which this back piazzawas furnished.

Mr. Force had the morning paper in his hands andhe was reading aloud to the two ladies, who were bothengaged in crochet work, when the back door opened anda manservant came out and handed an enveloped newspaperto his master, saying:

“The postmaster has just left it, sir.”

“And nothing else?” inquired the gentleman.

“Nothing else, sir—only that.”

“Only a newspaper,” said Mr. Force, laying it downcarelessly, without examination, as he resumed theUnion and the article he had been engaged in reading.

No one felt the slightest interest in the paper that layneglected on the little stand beside Mr. Force’s chair.Many newspapers came by mail, and but few of themwere opened. Mr. Force went on with his reading, andMrs. and Miss Force with their embroidery. And theneglected newspaper, with its tremendous news, laythere unnoticed and forgotten with the prospect of beingthrown, unopened, into the dust barrel; which must certainlyhave been its fate, had not Odalite chanced tocast her eye upon it and to observe something unfamiliarin its style and character. In idle curiosity she took itup, looked at it, and gave a cry.

CHAPTER VI
NEWS FROM COL. ANGLESEA

“What is it, my dear?” inquired her father, as Odalite,with trembling fingers, tore off the envelope andopened the paper.

38“It—it is—it is postmarked Angleton,” she faltered.

“Angleton! Give it to me!” peremptorily exclaimedAbel Force, reaching his hand and taking the sheet fromhis daughter, who yielded it up and then covered hereyes with her hands, while her father examined thepaper and her mother looked on with breathless interest.

“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed Abel Force, as his eyeswere riveted on a paragraph he had found there.

“What—what is it?” demanded Elfrida Force, in extremeanxiety, while Odalite uncovered her eyes, andgazed with eager look and lips apart.

“A scoundrel has gone to his account! The earth isrid of an incubus! Listen! This is the Angleton Advertiserof August 20th, and it contains a notice of thedeath of Angus Anglesea.”

“Anglesea—dead!” exclaimed mother and daughter,in a breath, and in tones that expressed almost everyother emotion under the sun, except sorrow.

“Yes, dead and gone to—his desserts!” exclaimed AbelForce, triumphantly; but catching himself up short, beforehe ended in a word that must never be mentioned,under any circ*mstances. “Here is a notice of hisdeath.”

“Read it,” said Mrs. Force, while Odalite looked theeager interest, which she did not express in words.

Abel Force read this paragraph at the head of thedeath list:

“Died.—On Monday, August 10th, at AnglewoodManor, in the forty-fourth year of his age, after a longand painful illness, which he bore with heroic patienceand fortitude, Col. the Hon. Angus Anglesea.”

“Dead!” muttered Elfrida Force, thoughtfully.

“Dead!” echoed Odalite, gravely.

“Yes! dead and—doomed!” exclaimed Abel Force,catching himself up before he had used an inadmissibleword.

39“Then, thank Heaven, I am free! Oh! I hope it wasno sin to say that!” exclaimed Odalite.

Her father stared at her for a moment, and thensaid:

“My dear, you were always free!”

“I could not feel so while that man lived,” she said.

“Why, what claim could the husband of anotherwoman set up on you?” demanded Mr. Force, in surprise.

“None whatever,” replied Elfrida Force, answeringfor her daughter; “but after all that she has gonethrough, it is perfectly natural that a delicate and sensitivegirl, like Odalite, should have felt ill at ease solong as her artful and unscrupulous enemy lived, andshould feel a sense of relief at his departure.”

“I suppose so,” said Abel Force, who was scanningthe first page of the Angleton paper. “And I suppose,also, that none of us exactly share ‘the profound gloom’which, according to this sheet, ‘has spread like aneclipse over all the land, on the death of her illustriousson.’ The leading article here is on the death of Anglesea,with a brief sketch of his life and career, and sucha high eulogium as should only have been pronouncedupon the memory of some illustrious hero, martyr,Christian, or philanthropist. But, then, this Angletonpaper was, of course, his own organ, and in his own interests,and in those of his family, or it would neverhave committed itself to such fulsome flatteries, evenof the dead, whom it seems lawful to praise and justifiableto overpraise.”

“Read it, Abel,” said Mrs. Force.

“Yes, do, papa, dear,” added Odalite.

Mr. Force read:

“THE GREAT SOLDIER OF INDIA IS NO MORE

“A profound gloom, a vast pall of darkness, likesome ‘huge eclipse of sun and moon,’ has fallen upon40the land at the death of her illustrious son. Col. theHon. Angus Anglesea died yesterday at his manor ofAnglewood.

“The Hon. Angus Anglesea was born at AnglewoodManor, on November 21, 181—. He entered Eton atthe early age of twelve years and Oxford at seventeen.He graduated with the highest honors, at the age oftwenty-two. He succeeded his father on December 23,182—. His tastes led him to a military career, and heentered the army as cornet in the Honorable East IndiaCompany’s service, in his twenty-fifth year. His distinguishedmilitary talents, his heroism and gallantry, hisinvaluable services during the Indian campaign, arematters that have passed into national history; and becomeso familiar to all that it would be impertinent toattempt to recapitulate them here.

“Col. Anglesea married, firstly, on October 13, 184—,Lady Mary Merland, eldest daughter of the sixth Earlof Middlemoor; by whom he has one son, Alexander,born September 1, 184—, now at Eton. Her ladyshipdied August 31, 185—. Col. Anglesea married, secondly,December 20, 185—, Odalite, eldest daughter ofAbel Force, Esq., of Mondreer, Maryland, UnitedStates, by Lady Elfrida Glennon, eldest daughter of thelate Earl of Enderby, who survives him. There is noissue by the second marriage.”

Abel Force finished reading, dropped the paper andstared at his wife and daughter, who were also staringat him. All three seemed struck dumb with astonishmentat the audacity of the last paragraph.

“Who is responsible for that?” demanded Mrs. Force,who was the first to find her voice.

“The reckless braggart who has gone to the devil, Isuppose! No one else could be,” said Abel Force, indignantly.

41“You are right. No one but Anglesea could have beenthe originator of such a falsehood.”

“And here is no mention made at all of the real secondmarriage and of the real widow; whom, by the way,he must have married within a few weeks after the deathof his wife. Yet! let us see! Great Heaven! unlessthere is a misprint, there has been an infamous crimecommitted, and a heinous wrong done to that Californianwidow, whose marriage with Col. Anglesea wasregistered to have taken place on August 1, 185—, fullsix weeks before the death of Anglesea’s wife, whichtook place on August 25th! And in that case—yes, inthat case the diabolical villain had the legal right, ifnot the moral right, to marry our daughter! GreatHeaven! how imperfect are the laws of our highest civilization,when men have the legal right to do that whichis morally wrong!”

“Oh! oh! I will never acknowledge the validity ofthat marriage ceremony! I will never call myself thatman’s widow, or wear a thread of mourning for him!”exclaimed Odalite, who could be very brave now that hermother’s great enemy was dead, and her mother foreversafe from his malignity.

“You need not, my dear. Nor need the poor Californianwoman ever suspect that any darker wrong than therobbery of her money has been done her. Why, either,should we be so excited over this discovery? It is nonew villainy that has come to light. It is simply thathe really wronged the Californian widow instead of you.The man is dead. Let us not harbor malice against thedead. He can harm us no more,” said Abel, in hiswish to soothe the excited feelings of his wife anddaughter. But ah! he knew nothing of the greater causethose two unhappy ladies had had for their detestationof their deadly enemy.

42But now he was gone forever, and they were deliveredfrom his deviltries. It was

that so deeply moved them both. All felt it, even Mr.Force, who soon arose and went out for a walk to reflectcoolly over the news of the morning.

Elfrida and Odalite went into the house and tried tooccupy themselves with the question of luncheon andother household matters, but they could not interestthemselves in any work; they could think of nothing butof the blessed truth that a great burden had been liftedfrom their hearts, a great darkness had passed awayfrom their minds.

Late in the afternoon Wynnette, Elva and Rosemarycame in from school.

Odalite told them that Col. Anglesea was dead, andshowed them the paper containing the notice of his deathand the sketch of his life.

At first the children received the news in silent incredulity,to be succeeded by the reverential awe withwhich the young and happy hear of death and the grave.

Wynnette was the first to recover herself.

“Oh! Odalite, I am glad, for your sake, that you arefreed from the incubus of that man’s life. I hope it isno sin to say this, for I cannot help feeling so,” she said.

“I hope the poor sinner truly repented of his iniquityand found grace even at the eleventh hour,” breathed thepitiful little Elva.

“I don’t know,” sighed quaint little Rosemary, foldingher mites of hands with sad solemnity. “I don’tknow. It is an awful risk for any one, more particularlyfor a man like Col. Anglesea.”

“‘The vilest sinner may return,’ you know,” pleadedElva.

“Yes, he may, but he don’t often do it,” said Wynnette,putting in her word.

43“Let me read the notice of his death and the sketchof his life,” suggested Odalite, for she had only shownthem the paper containing these articles.

“Yes, do, Odalite,” said Wynnette.

Odalite read the brief notice, and then she turned tothe sketch and said:

“This is longer, and I need not read the whole of it,you know.”

“No. Just pick out the plums from the pudding. Inever read the whole of anything. Life is too short,”said Wynnette.

The other two girls seemed to agree with her, and soOdalite began and read the highly inflated eulogium onCol. Anglesea’s character and career.

The three younger ones listened with eyes and mouthsopen with astonishment.

“Why, they seem to think he was a good, wise, braveman!” gasped little Elva.

“That’s because they knew nothing about him,” exclaimedWynnette.

“Isn’t there something in the Bible about a man beinga good man among his own people, but turning into avery bad man when he gets into a strange city where thepeople don’t know who he is?” inquired Rosemary, verygravely.

“I believe there is, in the Old Testament somewhere,but I don’t know where,” answered Elva.

“That was the way with Anglesea, I suspect. He wasa hypocrite in his own country; but as soon as he cameabroad he cut loose and kicked up his heels—I mean hethrew off all the restraints of honor and conscience,” explainedWynnette.

Odalite resumed her task, and read of Anglesea’sbirth, his entrance into Eton, and afterward at Oxford,his succession to his estates, his entrance into the army,his marriage to Lady Mary Merland, the birth of hisson, and the death of his wife.

44There she stopped. She did not see fit to read theparagraph relating to herself; and to prevent her sistersfrom seeing it, she rolled up the paper and put it intoher pocket.

They did not suspect that there had been any mentionmade of his attempted marriage to Odalite, far less thatit had been recorded there as an accomplished fact; butthey wondered why his marriage to the lady of ‘WildCats’ had not been mentioned.

“And is there not a word said about his Californiannuptials?” demanded Wynnette.

“No, not a word,” replied Odalite.

“Ah! you see, he wasn’t proud of that second wife!She wasn’t an earl’s daughter!”

“I wonder how Mrs. Anglesea will take the news ofher husband’s death, when she hears of it,” mused Elva.

“Ah!” breathed Wynnette.

Their talk was interrupted by the entrance of theirfather, who had just come in from his long walk.

“Oh, papa!” exclaimed Wynnette, “we have justheard the news! Oh! won’t Le be glad when he hearsit?”

“My dear children,” said Mr. Force, very solemnlyand also a little inconsistently, “we should never rejoiceat any good that may come to us through the death ormisfortune of a fellow creature.”

“But, oh, papa! in this case we can’t help it.”

“There’s the dinner bell,” said Abel Force, irrelevantly.

CHAPTER VII
THE EARL OF ENDERBY

Washington City in the month of September is veryquiet and sleepy. The torrid heat of the summer is passingaway, but has not passed.

45It returns in hot waves when the incense of its burningseems to rise to heaven.

No one goes out in the sun who is not obliged to go,or does anything else he or she is not obliged to do.

The Forces lived quietly in their city home duringthis month, neither making nor receiving calls.

The subject of Col. Anglesea’s death and of Le’s returnvery naturally occupied much of their thought.

Le was expected home at the end of the three yearsvoyage—then, or thereabouts, no one knew exactly theday, or even the week.

Letters notifying him of the death of Angus Angleseawere promptly written to him by every member ofthe family, so eager were they all to convey the newsand express themselves on the subject.

Even little Elva wrote, and her letter contained acharacteristic paragraph:

“I am almost afraid it is a sin to be so very glad, asI am that Odalite is now entirely free from the fear thathas haunted her and oppressed her spirits and darkenedher mind for nearly three years. I cannot help feelingglad when I see Odalite looking so bright, happy andhopeful, just as she used to look before that man bewitchedher. But I know I ought to be sorry for him,and indeed I am, just a little. Maybe he couldn’t helpbeing bad—maybe he didn’t have Christian parents. Ido hope he repented and found grace before he died.But Rosemary shakes her head and sighs over him. But,then, you know, Rosemary is such a solemn little thingover anything serious—though she can be funny enoughat times. Oh, how I wish it was lawful to pray for thedead! Then I would pray for that man every hour inthe day. And now I will tell you a secret, or—makeyou a confession: I do pray for him every night, andthen I pray to the Lord that if it is a sin for me to pray46for the dead He will forgive me for praying for thatman. Oh, Le! how we that call ourselves Christiansshould try to save sinners while they live!”

It was on a Saturday, near the middle of October,when answering letters came from Le—a large packet—directedto Mr. Force, but containing letters for eachone. They were jubilant letters, filled full of life, andlove, and hope. Not one regret for the dead man! notone hope that he had repented and found grace, as littleElva expressed it. Clearly, Le was one of those Christianswho can rejoice in the just perdition of the lost.

His ship was at Rio Janeiro, on her return voyage,he wrote, and he expected to be home to eat his Christmasdinner with the uncle, aunt and cousins who weresoon to be his father, mother, wife and sisters. TheNew Year’s wedding that was to have come off threeyears ago should be celebrated on the coming New Yearwith more éclat than had ever attended a wedding before.Now he would resign from the navy, and settledown with his dear Odalite at Greenbushes, where itwould be in no man’s power to disturb their peace.

Le wrote in very much the same vein to every memberof the family, for, as has been seen in the first partof this story, there never was such a frank, simple andconfiding pair of lovers as these two who had beenbrought up together, and whose letters were read byfather, mother and sisters, aunt, uncle and cousins.

To Elva, in addition to other things, he wrote: “Don’ttrouble your gentle heart about the fate of Anglesea.Leave him to the Lord. No man is ever removed fromthis earth until it is best for him and everybody else thathe should go. Then he goes and he cannot go before.”

“That is all very well to say,” murmured poor Elva;“but, all the same, when I remember how much I wished—somethingwould happen to him—for Odalite’s sake, I47cannot help feeling as if I had somehow helped to killhim.”

“Well, perhaps you did,” said Wynnette. “I believethe most gentle and tender angels are all unconsciouslythe most terrible destroyers of the evil. I have readsomewhere or other that the most malignant and furiousdemon from the deepest pit will turn tail and—no,I mean will fly, howling in pain, wrath and terror, frombefore the face of a naked infant! Ah! there are wonderfulinfluences in the invisible world around us. Youmay have been his Uriel.”

“But I didn’t want to be—I didn’t want to be!” saidElva, almost in tears.

“No, you didn’t want to be while you were awake andin your natural state; but how do you know, now, whatyou wanted to be when you were asleep and in yourspiritual condition?”

Elva opened her large, blue eyes with such amazementthat Wynnette burst out laughing.

And nothing more was said on the subject at thattime, because Mr. Force, who had left a pile of otherunopened letters on the table while they read and discussedLe’s, now took up one from the pile, looked at it,and exclaimed:

“Why, Elfrida, my dear, here is a letter from Englandfor you. It is sealed with the Enderby crest.From your brother, no doubt.”

“The first I have had for years,” said the lady, asshe took the letter from her husband’s hands.

It was directed in the style that would have been usedhad the earl’s sister lived in England:

It had been forwarded from the country post office tothe city:

Elfrida opened it and read:

“My Dear and Only Sister: I have no apology tooffer you for my long neglect of your regular letters,except that of the sad vis inertia of the confirmed invalid.That I know you will accept with charity andsympathy.

“I am lower in health, strength and spirits than everbefore. I employ an amanuensis to write all my letters,except those to you.

“I shrink from having a stranger intermeddling witha correspondence between an only brother and sister,and so, because I was not able to write with my ownhand, your letters have been unanswered.

“In none of them, however, have you mentioned anypresent or prospective establishment of any of your girls,except that, years ago, you spoke of an early, very earlybetrothal of your eldest daughter to a young naval officer.You have not alluded to that arrangement lately.Has that come to nothing? It was scarcely a match befittingone who will some day, should she live, be my successorhere.

“Your girls must have grown up in all these years.Let us see. Odalite must be nineteen, Wynnette seventeen,and little Elva fifteen. Two of them, therefore,must be marriageable, according to Maryland notions.Write and tell me all about them. And tell me whetheryou will come into my views that I am about to open toyou.

“I am lonely, very lonely, not having a near relativein the world, except yourself and your family. I wantyou all to come over and make me a long visit, and thentry to make up your minds to the magnanimity of leavingone of your girls with me for so long as I may haveto live; or, if one girl would feel lonesome, leave two, tokeep each other company. You and your husband mightbe quite happy with one daughter at home.

“So I think. What do you?

49“My plan may be only the selfish wish of a chronicsufferer, who is nearly always sure to be an egotist. Consultyour husband, and write to me.

“Give my love to my nieces, and kindest regards toMr. Force, and believe me, ever, dear Elfrida,

Mrs. Force having read the letter to herself, passedit over without a word of comment to her husband.

Mr. Force also read it in silence, and then returnedit to his wife, saying:

“This matter requires mature deliberation. We willthink over it to-night, and decide to-morrow.”

“Or, as to-morrow is the Sabbath, we will write andgive my brother our answer on Monday,” amended thelady.

“Yes, that will be better. It will give us more timeto mature our plans,” assented Mr. Force.

“What is it?” inquired Wynnette, drawing near herparents, while Elva and Rosemary looked the interestthat they did not put into words.

“A letter from your Uncle Enderby, my dears, invitingus all to come over and make him a long visit.”

“Oh! that would be delightful, mamma. Can we notgo?” eagerly inquired Wynnette.

“Perhaps. You will all graduate at the end of thiscurrent term, and then, perhaps, we can go with advantage,but not before.”

“Oh, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful!” sang Wynnette,in the words of a revival hymn.

“But what will Le and Odalite do?” inquired littleElva, who always thought of everybody.

“Why, if Le and Odalite are to be married in Januarythey can go over there for the bridal trip, you know,”said Wynnette. “They will have to go somewhere on awedding tour—all brides and grooms have to—and the50reason why is because for the first few weeks after marriagethey are such insupportable idiots that no humanbeings can possibly endure their presence. My privateopinion is that they ought to be sent to a lunatic asylumto spend the honeymoon; but as that cannot be done,we can send our poor idiots over to Uncle Enderby.Maybe by the time they have crossed the ocean seasicknessmay have brought them to their senses.”

“Thank you, for myself and Le,” said Odalite, laughing.

“Without joking, I really think your plan is a goodone,” said Mrs. Force. “Whether we all follow in Juneor not, it will be an acceptable attention to my brotherto send our son and daughter over to spend their honeymoonat Enderby Castle.”

There was more conversation, that need not be reportedhere, except to say that all agreed to the plan ofthe wedding trip.

On the following Monday, Mr. and Mrs. Force, havingcome to a decision, wrote a joint letter to the Earlof Enderby, cordially thanking him for his invitation,gladly accepting it, and explaining that the marriage oftheir daughter, Odalite, with Mr. Leonidas Force, wouldprobably come off in January, after which the youngpair would sail for England on a visit to Enderby Castle.That if all should go well, after the two younger girlsshould have graduated from their academy, the wholefamily would follow in June, and join at the castle.

It would be curious, at the moment we close a letterto some distant friend, could we look in and see what,at that moment, the friend might be doing.

At the instant that Mr. Force sealed the envelope tothe Earl of Enderby, could he have been clairvoyant, hemight have looked in upon the library of Enderby Castleand seen the sunset light streaming through a richlystained oriel window upon the thin, pale, patrician faceand form of a man of middle age, who sat wrapped in51an Indian silk dressing gown, reclining in a deeply cushionedeasy-chair, and reading a newspaper—the LondonEvening Telegram.

And this is what the Earl of Enderby read:

“We take pleasure in announcing that Col. the Hon.Angus Anglesea has been appointed deputy lieutenantgovernor of the county.”

CHAPTER VIII
ANTICIPATIONS

With the assembling of Congress, in the first week ofDecember, the usual crowd of officials, pleasure-seekers,fortune hunters, adventurers and adventuresses pouredinto Washington. Hotels, boarding houses and privatedwellings were full.

The serious business of fashion and the light recreationof legislation began.

Mr. Force went down to the capitol every day to listento the disputes in the House or in the Senate.

Mrs. Force and Odalite drove out to call on such oftheir friends and acquaintances as had arrived in thecity, and to leave cards for the elder lady’s “day”—theWednesday of each week during the season.

Letters came from Le. His ship was still delayed foran indefinite time at Rio de Janeiro, waiting sailingorders, which seemed to be slow in coming.

Le’s letters betrayed the fact that he was fretting andfuming over the delay.

“Don’t know what the navy department means,” hewrote, “keeping us here for no conceivable purpose underthe sun. But I know what I mean. I mean to resignas soon as ever I get home.

52“If there should come a war I will serve my country,of course; but in these ‘piping times of peace’ I will notstay in the service to be anybody’s nigg*r, even UncleSam’s!”

Odalite, Wynnette and Elva cheered him up with frequentletters.

Christmas is rather a quiet interlude in the gay life ofWashington.

Congress adjourns until after New Year.

Most of the government officials—members of the administrationand of both houses of Congress, and manyof the civil service brigade, leave the city to spend theirholidays in their distant homesteads.

In fact, there is an exodus until after New Year.

The gay season in Washington does not really beginuntil after the first of January.

The public receptions by the President and by themembers of the cabinet take the initiative.

Then follow receptions by members of the diplomaticcorps, by prominent senators and representatives, and bywealthy or distinguished private citizens.

Mr., Mrs. and Miss Force went everywhere, and receivedeverybody—within the limits of their social circle.

Odalite, for the first time in her short life, enjoyedsociety with a real youthful zest.

There was no drawback now. Her mother’s deadlyenemy had passed to his account, and could trouble herno more, she thought. Le was coming home, and theywere to be married soon, and go to Europe and see allthe beauties and splendors and glories of the Old World,which she so longed to view. They were to sojourn inthe old, ancestral English home which had been the sceneof her mother’s childhood—ah! and the scene of so manyexploits of her ancestors—sieges, defenses, captures, recoveries,confiscations by this ruler, restorations by that—events53which had passed into history and helped tomake it. She would see London—wonderful, mightyLondon!—St. Paul’s, the Tower. Oh! and Paris, andthe old Louvre!—Rome! St. Peter’s! the Coliseum! theCatacombs!—places which the facilities of moderntravel have made as common as a market house to mostof the educated world, but which, to this imaginative,country girl, were holy ground, sacred monuments, wonderful,most wonderful relics of a long since dead andgone world.

And Le would be her companion in all these profoundenjoyments! And, after all, they should return homeand settle down at Greenbushes, never to part again, butto be near neighbors to father, mother, sisters andfriends; to give and receive all manner of neighborlykindnesses, courtesies, hospitalities.

Odalite’s heart was as full of happy thoughts as is ahive of honey bees. Her happiness beamed from herface, shining on all who approached her.

If Odalite had been admired during the two past seasonswhen she was pale, quiet and depressed, how muchmore was she admired now in her fair, blooming beauty,that seemed to bring sunshine, life and light into everyroom she entered.

Mrs. Force felt all a mother’s pride in the social successof her daughter.

But to Odalite herself the proudest and happiest dayof the whole season was that on which she received aletter from Le, announcing his immediate return home.

“This letter,” he wrote, “will go by the steamer thatleaves this port on the thirteenth of January. We haveour sailing orders for the first of February. On thatday we leave this blessed port homeward bound. Windsand waves propitious, we shall arrive early in March,and then—and then, Odalite——”

54And then the faithful lover and prospective bridegroomwent off into the extravagances that were to beexpected, even of him.

Odalite received this letter on the first of February,and knew that on that day Le had sailed, homewardbound.

“He will be here some time in the first week ofMarch,” said Mrs. Force, in talking over the letter withher daughter. “Congress will have adjourned by thefourth. All strangers will have left. The city will bequiet. It will be in the midst of Lent also. I think,Odalite, that, under all the circ*mstances, we had betterhave a very private wedding, here in our city home,with none but our family and most intimate friendspresent. Then you and Le will sail for Europe, makethe grand tour, and after that shall be finished, go to mybrother at Enderby Castle, where we—your father, andsisters, and myself—will join you in the autumn. Whatdo you think?”

“I think as you do, mamma, and would much preferthe marriage to be as quiet as possible,” Odalite assented.

“After you and Le leave us we shall still remain inthe city until the girls shall have graduated. Then wewill go down to the dear old home for a few weeks, andthen sail for Liverpool, to join you at Enderby Castle.”

“That is an enchanting program, mamma! Oh! Ihope we may be able to carry it through!” exclaimedOdalite.

“There is no reason in the world why we should not,my dear,” replied the lady.

Odalite sighed, with a presentiment of evil which shecould neither comprehend nor banish.

“And now,” said her mother, “I must sit down andwrite to Mrs. Anglesea and to Mr. Copp. The house atMondreer will need to be prepared for us. It wantedrepairs badly enough when we left it. It must be in a55worse condition now; so I must write at once to givethem time enough to have the work done well.”

And she retired to her own room to go about her task.

When Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary came home inthe afternoon, and heard that Le had sailed from Rio deJaneiro, and would certainly be home early in March,they were wild with delight.

When, upon much cross-examination of Odalite, theyfound out that the marriage of the young lovers was tobe quietly performed in the parlor of their father’shouse, and that the newly married pair would immediatelysail for Europe in advance of the family, whowere to join them at Enderby Castle later on, theirecstasies took forms strongly suggestive of Darwin’stheory concerning the origin of the species. In otherwords, they danced and capered all over the drawingroom.

“We want Rosemary to go with us, papa, dear,” saidElva.

“We must have Rosemary to go with us, you know,mamma,” added Wynnette.

“That is not for us to say,” replied Mr. Force.

“It is a question for her mother and her aunt,” addedMrs. Force.

But the little girls did not yield the point. Rosemary’sthree years’ association with them had made heras dear to Wynnette and Elva as a little sister. Andwhen they found out that Rosemary was heartbrokenat the prospect of parting from them, and “wild” toaccompany them, they stuck to their point with the pertinacityof little terriers.

Now what could Abel Force—the kindest-heartedman on the face of the earth, perhaps—do but yield tothe children’s innocent desire?

He wrote to Mrs. Hedge and to Miss Grandiere, proposingto those ladies to take Rosemary with his daughters56to Europe, to give her the educational advantageof the tour.

In due time came the answer of the sisters, full ofsurprise and gratitude for the generous offer, whichthey accepted in the simple spirit in which it was made.

And when Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary were informedof the decision there were not three happier girlsin the whole world than themselves.

The same mail brought a letter from the housekeeperat Mondreer, who was ever a very punctual correspondent.

She informed Mrs. Force that such internal improvementsas might be made in bad weather were alreadyprogressing at Mondreer—that all the bedsteads weredown, and all the carpets up, the floors had beenscrubbed, and the windows and painting washed, andthe kalsominers were at work.

But she wanted to know immediately, if Mrs. Forcepleased, what that news was that she was saving for apersonal interview. If it concerned her own “beat,” shewould like to know it at once.

“Why, I thought you had told her, mamma,” saidOdalite, when she had read this letter.

“No, my dear. I did not wish to excite any new talkof Angus Anglesea until you and Le should be marriedand off to Europe. I shrink from the subject, Odalite.I am sorry now that I hinted to the woman havinganything to tell her.”

“But, mamma, ought she not be told that he is dead?”

“He has been dead to her since he left her. In goodtime she shall know that he is dead to us also. And,my dear, remember that he was not her husband, afterall, but——”

“Oh! don’t finish the sentence, mamma! What willLe say?” sighed Odalite.

“Nothing. This will make no difference to you or toLe. That ceremony performed at All Faith, three years57ago, whether legal or illegal, was certainly incomplete—themarriage rites arrested before the registry was made.You have never seen or spoken to the would-be bridegroomsince that hour; and now the man is dead, andyou are free, even if you were ever bound. Let us hearno more on that subject, my dear. Now I shall have toanswer this letter, and—as I have been so unlucky as tohave raised the woman’s suspicions and set her to talking—Imust tell her the facts, I suppose. And—as for hersake as well as for our own, I choose to consider herthe widow of Angus Anglesea—I shall send with theletter a widow’s outfit,” concluded the lady, as she leftthe room.

The whole remainder of that day was spent by Mrs.Force in driving along Pennsylvania Avenue and upSeventh Street, selecting from the best stores an appropriateoutfit in mourning goods for the colonel’s widow.

These were all sent home in the evening, carefullypacked in a large deal box, which, with a letter at itsbottom, was dispatched by express to Mrs. Angus Anglesea,Charlotte Hall, Maryland.

CHAPTER IX
VALENTINES AT MONDREER

It was the fourteenth of February, St. Valentine’sFeast and All Birds’ Wedding Day!

It was a bright morning, with a sunny blue sky, anda soft breeze giving a foretaste of early spring.

Miss Sibby Bayard had come by special invitation todine, and take tea with the housekeeper at Mondreer.

The two ladies were seated in Mrs. Force’s favoritesitting room, whose front window looked east upon thebay, and whose side window looked north into the woods.

58A bright, open wood fire was burning in the wide fireplace,at which they sat in two rocking-chairs with theirfeet upon the brass fender.

Mrs. Anglesea had the edge of her skirt drawn up asusual, for, as she often declared, she would rather toasther shins before the fire than eat when she was hungry,or sleep when she was sleepy.

Miss Sibby was knitting one of a pair of white lamb’s-woolsocks for her dear Roland.

Mrs. Anglesea was letting out the side seams of herSunday basque.

“It is the most aggravating thing in this world that Iseem to be always a-letting out of seams, and yet alwaysa-having my gown bodies split somewhere or other whenI put them on!” said the widow, apropos of her work,as she laid the open seam over her knee and begansmoothing it out with her chubby fingers.

“You’re gettin’ too fat, that’s where it is. You’regettin’ a great deal too fat,” remarked plain-spoken MissSibby.

“Well! That’s just what I’m complaining of! I’mgetting so fat that the people make fun of me behind myback; they’d better not try it on before my face, I cantell them that!”

“How do you know they make fun of you at all?”

“By instick! I know it. And besides, this very morning,when Jake came from the post office, what did hefetch me? Not the letter from the old ’oman, as I wasa-hoping and a-praying for! No! but a big onwelopewith a impident walentine in it!”

“A walentine!”

“Yes, ma’am! A most impident one! A woman—no—ahaystack dressed up like me, with impident versesunder it! I wish I knowed who sent it! I’d give ’emwalentines and haystacks, too, for their impidence.”

“Oh, don’t yer mind that! It was some boys orother! Boys is the devil, sez I, and you need never to59expect nothing better from them, sez I! You can’t getblood out’n a turnip, sez I! nor likewise make a silkpurse out’n a sow’s ear, sez I, and no more can’t you expectnothing out’n boys but the devil. Why, la! I got awuss walentine than yourn! Found it tucked underneathof the front door this morning. Jest look at it!”said Miss Sibby, drawing a folded paper out of herpocket, opening and displaying it to her companion.

“See here,” she continued, pointing out its features asshe spread it on her knee. “Here a tower, with a manon the top of it and a crown on the head of him, andhis arms stretched out just as he has chucked an old’oman over the wall! And here’s the old ’oman halfwaydown to the ground with her hands and feet flying. Andonderneath of it all is wrote, ‘Descended from a duke.’That’s meant for me, you know! It’s a harpoon on meand the Duke of England! But I don’t mind it! NotI! It’s nothing but their envy, sez I. The birds willpick at the highest fruit, sez I!”

“I think they ought to be well thrashed! Wish I hadhold of ’em!”

“Lemme see yourn!” said Miss Sibby.

Mrs. Anglesea stood up and took a folded paper fromunder one of the silver candlesticks on the mantelpieceand handed it to her visitor.

A haystack, dressed in Mrs. Anglesea’s style andcrowned with her head, and not a very violent caricatureof her face. Evidently, like Miss Sibby’s valentine, thework of some waggish amateur.

“It’s the truth of the thing that gets me. I am gettingto be a haystack,” said Mrs. Anglesea.

“Well, what do you do it for?” inquired Miss Sibby.

“How can I help it?” demanded her companion.

“Reggerlate your habits. Do by yourself as you doby the animyles, sez I!”

“I don’t understand you.”

“Well, I’ll try to ’splain. When we want to fatten60fowl, we shut ’em up in coops so they can’t move roundmuch; and we feed ’em full, don’t we?”

“Yes.”

“And when we want to fatten pigs, we shut ’em upin pens so they can’t run round much, and we feed ’emfull, don’t we?”

“Yes! But what of that?”

“Well, them innicent fowls and quadruples are ourkinfolks in the flesh, if they ain’t in the spirit anyways,and what’s law to them is law to us.”

“You’re too deep for me, ole ’oman!”

“Well, then, to come to the p’int——”

“Yes, down to hard pan.”

“If you want to get fatter and fatter, till you can’tpass through ne’er a door in this house, you keep eatingas much as you can, and sitting into rocking-chairs aslong as possible!”

“Oh, Lord!”

“And you’ll keep on a-getting fatter and fatter, until—untilyou’d do to go round the country in a show.”

“Oh, Lord! Next time I see young Dr. Ingle I’ll askhim wot sort o’ vittels produces fat and wot’ll make onlyskin and bone and muscle,” said the widow, in dismay.

“Yes, I reckon you’d better do that! It’s getting dangerousin your case, you know! As for me, I am fatenough; but never too fat. I always wariate betwixt ahund’ed and twenty-five to a hund’ed and thirty. But Inever go beyond a hund’ed and thirty. Moderation is ajewel, sez I! Lord! here’s somebody a-coming! Who isit, I wonder?” exclaimed Miss Sibby, breaking off in herdiscourse and going to the front window. “Why, it’sTommy Grandiere! And he and Jake a-bringin’ in of abig box!” she continued, as the “carryall” stopped beforethe door, and the farmer and the servant lifteddown a box.

“It’s new curtains, or rugs, or something for the house.They’re alluss a-coming,” observed Mrs. Anglesea.

61As she spoke the door opened, and Jake’s head appeared,while Jake’s voice said:

“’Ere’s Marse Tom Grander, mum.”

Mr. Grandiere entered the room.

“Good-day, Mrs. Anglesea! Miss Sibby, glad to seeyou! I was up at Charlotte’s Hall this morning, andsaw a box at the express office for you. As I was comingdown this way, and thought maybe it would be aconvenience to you for me to fetch it along, I just gavea receipt for it and fetched it. So here it is in the hall.”

“I thank you, sir, which it is a convenience! Notknowing as there was a box there for me, I might haveleft it for a week. Thanky’, sir! Won’t you sit down?”inquired Mrs. Anglesea, placing a chair for the newcomer.

“No, I thank you, ma’am. I have to go. But Iwould like to ask: Have you heard from Mr. and Mrs.Force lately?”

“Not for ’most a fortnight. But they are comingdown in June.”

“In June? Yes, so I heard. Good-morning, Mrs.Anglesea. Good-morning, Miss Sibby.”

And the visitor hurried away.

“What’s in that box, do you think?” inquired MissSibby.

“Oh, curtains, or stair carpet, or rugs, or somethingfor the house! They are allus a-coming! Only I ’mostin general get a letter first to tell me where to send forthem,” said Mrs. Anglesea.

“I would like to see the pattern o’ them rugs and curtainsand things! Fashions do change so much, I wouldralely like to see what the present fashion is! Ef youdon’t keep up with the times, sez I, the times will leaveyou behind, sez I!”

“Well, we’ll open the box after dinner, Miss Sibby,but we can’t before. Dinner is ready to go on the table62now, and it mustn’t be spoiled by keeping. It’s springlamb and spinach, raised under glass——”

“Spring lamb and spinach the fourteenth of February!Never!” exclaimed the descendant of the Howards.

“Yes, but it is. Having the conveniences to do itwith, I don’t see why we shouldn’t have the luxuries.Having the hotbeds, why not the spinach? That’s whatI say to Jake and to Luce. And let me tell you themnigg*rs live just as well as I do.”

“Lamb and spinach!” gasped Miss Sibby.

“And that ain’t all. Fresh fish, caught in the baythis morning, to begin with. And meringo pudding tofinish off with. And a good bottle of wine to go all theway through with it. It isn’t often as I meddle withthe wine cellar, though the ole man and ’oman did tellme to help myself—give me carte wheel, as they calledit, to do as I please with what’s left in the vault. Mostof it, to be sure, was took to Washington. Still I nevermakes free with the wine, ‘cept on high days and holidays.And there’s the bell, so now we’ll go in to dinner.”

CHAPTER X
THE BOX

The tête-à-tête dinner was greatly enjoyed by thesegossips. They lingered over it as long as it was possibleto do so.

“Talkin’ o’ walentines,” said Miss Sibby, apropos ofnothing, “when I was young there wa’n’t no walentinesmade to sell. They was only made by ladies with finetaste for the work. They were cut out of fine paper,heart-shaped when folded, and scalloped circle whenopen, and finified off with ‘lilies and roses and other63fine posies,’ and with written verses. Ah! I have knownold Mrs. Grandiere—Miss Susannah’s mother—spenddays and days cutting out and decorating walentines forthe young people to send to their sweethearts. And theywas all complimentary, and never impident. No sichthing as buying of a walentine ever heard of. And nowthey’ve got ’em in every shop window. But timeschanges, sez I, and them as lives the longest, sez I, seesthe most, sez I.”

“I don’t think as your valentine or mine came outof the shops, Miss Sibby. I never seen any like them inshops. I think they was handmade by some youngvilyun or other.”

“That is so. And the same scamp as made yourn, sezI, likewise made mine, sez I. And now as we’ve gotdone our dinner, hadn’t we might as well go and seethem new-fashioned rugs and things in the box? If youhave got anything to do, sez I, why, go and do it at once,sez I. Ain’t that so?”

“Yes, and we will go and open the box. Jake, bringa chisel and a clawhammer here, and life that big boxout o’ the hall into the little parlor,” said the widow,calling to the one manservant, and then leading the wayback to the sitting room.

Jake soon appeared with the box—a heavy deal case,four feet square—on his shoulder, and carefully loweredit to the floor.

“Now rip off the lid,” said the widow.

Jake, with considerable labor, opened the box.

“And now we shall see them new-fashioned rugs. Andif I like ’em, I’ll send to Baltimore by Mark Truman’sschooner, and buy one to lay before my fireplace, soon’sever I get paid for that last hogshead of tobacco,” saidMiss Sibby, as the lid of the box flew up under Jake’svigorous applications of the clawhammer.

The two women stooped over the open case.

First came a roll of coarse brown paper; then a layer64of finer paper; then a large, folded parcel of bombazineand crape, which, on being unwrapped, turned out to bea made-up, deep mourning dress.

“Oh, this must be a mistake!” said Mrs. Anglesea.“This box must have been intended for somebody else.”

And she turned up the lid and read the directionagain.

“No! It is directed to me, sure enough, but it mustbe a mistake, all the same. And I reckon the mistakewas made at the store where all the things was bought,and they misdirected the box, and sent me these things,and sent them rugs to the party these was intended for.Lord! how careless people is, to be sure! But now letus see for curiosity what is in the box.”

And while Miss Sibby looked on with the greatestcuriosity, Mrs. Anglesea unpacked the case.

More tissue paper; then a folded mantle of bombazine,trimmed with crape; then a black merino shawl;then half a dozen pair of black kid gloves; then anotherdress of black cashmere; then half a dozen pairs ofblack hose; then an inner wooden box, which, beinglifted out and opened, was found to contain two compartments.In one was a widow’s black crape bonnet,with long, heavy black crape veil; and in the other awidow’s cap of crêpe lisse, and another of fine, whiteorgandie.

When all these were laid out on the table the twowomen stood on either side of it, looking at each otherand at the articles before them.

“Well, I reckon I’d better put ’em all back again, andwait till I hear from the owner,” said Mrs. Anglesea.

“I reckon maybe you better read this letter first. Ithink it must have been flung out accidental when thepaper was took off the top of the things in the box,” saidMiss Sibby, as she stooped and picked up a white envelopefrom among the waste paper under the table, andwhich had just caught her eye.

65“To be sure! This is directed to me, too, and in thehandwriting of the ole ’oman, too. Now I wonder Ididn’t see this before. I do reckon now she has sentthese here things down to me to give to some one whois going in mourning.”

So saying, Mrs. Anglesea opened the letter, and beinga frank soul, spelled it out aloud:

“My Dear Mrs. Anglesea: I received your letter,and hasten to reply. I should have preferred to giveyou my serious news in person, but since you insist onit, I give it you now in writing. Under all the circ*mstances,I need not fear even to give you a shock, whenI tell you that Col. Angus Anglesea died at——”

“Good Lord! then the man is dead, sure enough!”exclaimed the widow, breaking off from her readingsand looking up at her companion.

“Lord ’a’ mercy! So he is! But read on! Don’tstop! Let’s hear all about it!” exclaimed Miss Sibby.

“Oh, I can’t! I can’t! It seems so strange! He wasso strong and healthy I thought he’d live forever almost!I thought he’d outlive me, anyways. And nowhe’s dead! It don’t seem possible, you know,” said thewidow, with a total change of manner.

“Why, Lord! I thought you suspicioned as it wasyour husband’s death as Mrs. Force was a-keeping fromyou.”

“No, I didn’t. It was all my nonsense. I hadn’t anotion as he could die, and he the perfect pictor of lifeand health. And to be cut off in his prime!”

“Why, woman, you seem like you was sorry for theman as robbed and deserted you!”

“Don’t speak of that now, Miss Sibby. It’s mean tospeak ill of the dead, who can’t answer you back again!”said the widow.

66“And now I know you are sorry for him. And yetyou ’lowed if he was dead you would not go into mourningfor him!”

“Yes, but I didn’t think he was dead then, or that hewould ever die in my lifetime. I—I didn’t know,” saidthe widow, in a breaking voice that she tried hard tosteady.

“Well! them as would understand a widdy, sez I,need to have a long head, sez I! I knowed as youwas awful tender-hearted and pitiful, Mrs. Anglesea.But I ralely didn’t think as you’d take on about him.”

“I’m not taken on about nobody. But a womanneedn’t be a wild Indian, or a heathen, or cannibal, Ireckon. A Christian’s ’lowed to have some sort o’ feelin’s.Now let me read the rest of my letter.”

And she resumed the perusal of her epistle, but insilence. She read all the particulars of Anglesea’s deathas they were given by Mrs. Force in her own writing,and also in the slips cut from the Angleton Advertiserand inclosed in the letter. All except the concludingparagraph of the eulogy, giving the statement of histwo marriages. These were cut off, in kindness to her,who thought herself his lawful wife.

When she had finished she gave all into Miss Sibby’shands, and sat and watched in moody silence while theold lady adjusted her spectacles and slowly read themthrough.

“They speak very highly of the poor man in that therenewspaper. He must have repented of his sins and madea good end, after all,” said Miss Sibby, very solemnly,as she returned letters and papers into Mrs. Anglesea’shands.

“It was very thoughtful of Mrs. Force to send medown this box of mourning—very thoughtful. And Iam very thankful to her for it,” murmured the widow,as if speaking to herself.

67“Then you will go in mourning for him?” said MissSibby.

“Of course I shall.”

No more was said just then.

Miss Bayard stayed to tea. And then, seeing that herfriend was very much depressed in spirits, she volunteeredto stay with her all night; a favor for which thewidow was really very grateful.

The next morning, however, the elastic spirits of thelady from the mines had risen to their normal elevation,and Miss Sibby, with relieved feelings, left Mondreer tospread the news of Angus Anglesea’s death far and widethrough the neighborhood.

And it is perfectly safe to say that the woman whomhe had so deeply wronged was the only individual in thewhole community who felt the least pity for his prematuredeparture.

CHAPTER XI
“MERRY AS A MARRIAGE BELL”

Congress adjourned on the fourth of March, andwithin a week from that time the crowd that alwaysfollows in their wake left Washington, and the citydropped into comparative repose; for not only were allthe receptions over, the multitude departed, but the seasonof Lent was on.

The Forces enjoyed this time of rest from the world.They attended old St. John’s Church three times a week,and lived quietly between whiles, looking forward withpleasant anticipations to the arrival of Le, and to allthe delights that were expected to follow that event.

Le arrived on Easter Sunday morning. His ship hadreached New York on the day before. He had obtainedleave of absence, and he had only time to catch the latest68train to Washington, “on the run,” leaving all his luggagebehind him and having not a moment to telegraphhis friends of his approach.

He reached the city at twelve o’clock midnight, andnot wishing to wake the family up at that hour, hetook a room at a hotel.

But by sunrise the next morning he was up anddressed, had paid his bill, taken a hack from the sidewalk,and was on his way to P Street Circle, to look uphis uncle’s city house.

That Easter Sunday the family were assembledaround the table in the pleasant breakfast room of theirhouse, which looked out upon the circle, where alreadythe parterres were brilliant and fragrant with the earliestspring flowers—hyacinths, pink, blue and white;daffodils golden; tulips flame and fire color; jonquils,like golden cups in silver saucers; bridal wreath; yellowcurrant burning bush—all budding, but not yet blooming.All the grass of a tender emerald green. All thetrees just bursting into leaf. Birds singing only as theysing on a spring morning.

“What a beautiful Easter Sunday is this! Not acloud in all the sky!” said Odalite, as she turned fromthe window to take her seat at the table.

Mr. Force stood up to ask a blessing, but the doorbellrang sharply and he sat down again.

And before any one could put a question the door flewopen and Le rushed in like the wind.

Every one jumped so suddenly from the table thatchairs were overturned in their haste to welcome thewanderer.

There followed much handshaking, hugging and kissing,rather mixed and confused, until Le found Odalitein his arms. Then he came to a stop and held her therewhile he answered questions.

“Hadn’t an idea your ship was near port. When didyou get in?” inquired Mr. Force.

69“Anchored yesterday at half-past two, got leave, andcaught the three train. Hadn’t time to telegraph, oreven to pack a portmanteau. Can any one lend me theloan of a clean change of linen?” inquired Le, with alook of distress.

“Of course! You shall go to my room and help yourself.But you don’t look much in want,” replied hisuncle.

“Now sit down, Le. We were just about to beginbreakfast when you came in,” said Mrs. Force, as themanservant in attendance placed another chair at thetable for the newcomer.

There was silence for a few moments while Mr. Forcesaid the grace.

Then the confusion of Babel began again. All askedquestions, and without waiting for them to be answered,asked others. Wynnette and Elva, who were home forthe Easter holidays, seemed to run a race with theirtongues as to which could talk fastest and most. Mr.and Mrs. Force had much to ask and to tell. Odalite,and even quaint, little Rosemary, put in a word whenthey could get a chance.

It is always so when a sailor returns from a long voyageto his family circle.

There was but little breakfast eaten that morning,though they lingered long at the table—so long that,at length, Mrs. Force felt obliged to ask the question:

“Are you going to church with us this morning, Le?”

“Of course I am, auntie. I should be worse than aheathen not to go, if it were only to give thanks for mysafe and joyful arrival at home,” replied the young man.

“That is right, my boy. I like to see you hold fast tothe faith and practice of your forefathers in this untowardgeneration,” said Mr. Force.

“Well, then, since you are going with us, Le, dear,you had better get ready. We have but little time,”advised the lady.

70“Come with me to my room, Le. My underclothingwill fit you well enough, I am sure. Bless you, my boy!you have caught up to me in size,” said Mr. Force, as hearose from the table to conduct the midshipman.

The ladies of the circle also went to their chambers toget ready for church.

And this was Le’s welcome home.

Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary had a week’s holidaywith which they were all the more delighted because oftheir dear Le’s presence.

Although, as in love and duty bound, he devoted himselfalmost exclusively to Odalite, yet he found time totake a little notice of his younger friends—to tell themhow much they had grown, how greatly they had improved,how womanly they had become since he sawthem three years before, and so on and so on.

During this week the preparations for Leonidas andOdalite’s marriage were discussed.

It was decided that the wedding should take placeon the first of April.

“All Fools’ Day! What a commentary!” exclaimedWynnette, when she learned the decision.

No one had thought of its being All Fools’ Day whenthe date was fixed; and now that it was so fixed, thecirc*mstance was somewhat too trivial to warrant anychange in the time. So on the first of April the happyevent was appointed to come off.

“I should like to ask Roland Bayard to come up to bemy groomsman,” said Le, to no one in particular, sincehe spoke in full family council.

“Why, I thought he was at sea!” said Mr. Force.

“No, uncle, he has just got home. I had a letter fromhim this morning. He had seen the arrival of my shipin the papers and naturally addressed his letters here. Isuppose his aunt gave him your address.”

“Quite likely. She knew it.”

“Queer, isn’t it?” ruminated Le. “Roland and I do71happen to make our voyages and returns simultaneously,or nearly so, and without any possibility of intendedconcert of action.”

“Well, if you happen to start about the same time fora voyage of the same length, you will be apt to returnabout the same time, I suppose!”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“And now, Le, my boy, in regard to inviting youngBayard here, do so, by all means. Ask any of your particularfriends. And ask them to come a day or sobeforehand, so as to be ready for the occasion.”

“Thank you, Uncle Abel; but I think Roland is theonly one whom I care to invite.”

“Does the liberty you have given Le include us all,papa, dear?” inquired Wynnette.

“In what respect, my dear? I don’t understand you.”

“May each of us invite one or more very particularfriends?” Wynnette inquired.

“You must consult your mother and Odalite aboutthat,” replied Mr. Force, good-humoredly.

“Whom do you wish to ask, Wynnette?” inquired hermother.

“Why, only the Grandieres and the Elks.”

“You mean the young people, of course?”

“Yes, mamma, dear.”

“Let me see. There are about eight of them, allcounted—six girls and two boys. Well, my dear, youknow this wedding is to be a private one, in our ownparlor, and no company is to be specially invited to thewedding. But you may write and ask your youngfriends to come and make us a visit for a week or two, sothat they may be in the house about that time.”

“Oh, thank you, mamma, dear! that will be best ofall!” exclaimed Wynnette, in delight.

And that same day she wrote to Oldfield and to HillGrove to ask the young Grandieres and Elks to comeup to Washington about the last of March to make a72visit, mentioning that Leonidas had got home from sea,and that he and Odalite were to be married on the firstof April, and hoping that they would come in time towitness the wedding, which was to be a very quiet onein their own parlor.

Wynnette knew that such letters as these would insurea visit from those to whom they were written. Andshe was right. In a very few days came answers fromOldfield and Grove Hill. All the invited accepted theinvitations, and would report in Washington on the thirtiethof March, two days before the wedding.

“Let us see,” again reflected Mrs. Force. “There arenine guests coming in all—counting six Grandieres, twoElks and young Bayard. Of them six are young girls,and three are young men. How shall we dispose ofthem?”

“Oh, mamma, dear, we must pack, like we used to doin the country. Elva and Rosemary and myself cansleep in one room. The four Grandiere girls can sleepin the large double-bedded room. The two little Elkscan have the little hall chamber and sleep together. AndRoland Bayard and the Grandiere boys and Le can havethe large attic room, and sleep on cots. Never mindwhere you put young men and boys, you know!” saidthis little household strategist.

“Well, we must do the best we can for them,” repliedthe lady, and she turned her attention to other matters—tothe details of Odalite’s simple trousseau, which wasonly to consist now in a white silk wedding dress, a graypoplin traveling dress, a navy-blue cloth suit for the voyageacross the ocean, and a few plain, home dresses andwrappers, with plenty of underclothing.

All the preparations were completed on the morningof the thirtieth. Even Odalite’s trunk was packed, nothingbeing left out but her bridal dress and travelingsuits.

Just before tea on the afternoon of the thirtieth, there73was the expected inroad of the Goths and Vandals, inthe forms of the young people from Oldfield, Grove Hilland Forest Rest.

They all traveled by the same train and arrived at thesame hour—a laughing, talking, hilarious, uproarioustroupe.

They were met with a joyous and affectionate welcome.

“And where is my little Rosemary? Where is myquaint, small, young woman?” inquired Roland, whenhe had shaken hands with all the rest.

“Why, here she is! Here she has been all the while!”exclaimed Wynnette, dragging the shy girl forward.

“What! not that tall young lady? Miss Hedge, I begten thousand pardons. I was looking for a little girl Iused to ride on my shoulder!” exclaimed Roland, inaffected dismay, as he took her tiny hand and raised itto his lips.

Now, Rosemary was not tall, except in comparison towhat she had once been. Rosemary was still small andslight—“a mere slip of a girl,” as every one called her.She colored and cast down her eyes when her old friendpretended to treat her as a young lady.

He saw her slight distress and vexation, and immediatelychanged his tune.

“Why!—yes!—sure enough! This is my little Rosemary,after all!” he exclaimed.

And then she looked up shyly and smiled.

“Come! Let me show you your rooms, girls. Andyou, Leonidas, convey these young men heavenward.You young Shanghais will have to roost in the loft atthe top of the house. Beg pardon. I mean you younggentlemen will be required to repose in the attic chambersof the mansion. Indeed, we shall all have to bepacked like herrings in a barrel. Beg pardon, again.I mean like guests at a hotel on Inauguration Day. But74the more the merrier, my dears,” sang Wynnette, asshe danced upstairs in advance of her party.

Have you ever been in the aviary at the zoo, when allthe birds have been singing, chattering and screamingat once?

If you have, you will have some idea of the conditionof Mrs. Force’s house on this first evening of their youngguests’ arrival.

They chattered in their rooms, they chattered all theway down the stairs, and they chattered around the teatable.

The extension table in the dining room had beendrawn out to its full length to accommodate the partyof sixteen that sat down to tea.

All these young people sitting opposite each otherat the long board, and under the full blaze of the chandeliers,showed how much they had grown, changedand improved during the three years which had elapsedsince their last meeting and parting in the country.

Odalite was the most beautiful of the group. She wasnow nineteen years of age; her elegant form was rathermore rounded, her pure complexion brighter, her eyesdarker, and her hair richer; her voice was deeper andsweeter; and all her motions more graceful than before.

Wynnette was seventeen; tall, thin and dark; with thesame mischievous eyes, snub nose, full, ripe lips, andshort, curly, black hair.

Elva was fifteen, tall for her age, thin, fair, withsoft, blue eyes, and light, flaxen hair.

Rosemary Hedge was also fifteen years old, but verytiny for her age, with slender limbs and little mites ofhands and feet, a small head covered with fine, silkyblack hair, a fair, clear, bright complexion, and large,soft, tender blue eyes.

The four Grandiere girls—Sophy, Nanny, Polly andPeggy—whose ages ranged from fourteen to twenty,were all of the same type, with well-grown and well-rounded75forms, fair complexions, red cheeks and lips,blue eyes, and brown hair; except for difference in ageand size, never were four sisters more alike.

The two Grandiere boys, whose ages were nineteenand twenty-two, were like the girls, with the same well-knitforms, blooming complexions, blue eyes and brownhair—only their features were on a larger and coarserscale, and their faces were freckled and sunburned.

The two Elk girls, Melina and Erina, were respectivelythirteen and sixteen years old, and both bore acertain family likeness to Rosemary Hedge, except thatthey were not so tiny in form or dainty and delicate infeatures and complexion. They had the large blue eyesand the fine black hair, but their faces were thin andtheir complexions sallow.

Perhaps the most improved of all these young peopleduring the preceding three years were the two gallantyoung sailors, Leonidas Force and Roland Bayard, withtheir tall forms, broad shoulders, deep chests, fine heads,handsome faces and full beards—only with a difference;for Le’s hair and beard were of a rich, silky brown,while Roland’s, alas! were of a rough, fierce red.

Upon the whole, the group of young folk around thetable was very fair.

CHAPTER XII
THE MARRIAGE MORN

The first of April was a perfect day. The sky was acanopy of deepest, clearest blue. The sun shone in76cloudless splendor. The trees in all the parks were infull leaf or blossom. The grass was of that fresh andtender green only to be seen at this season. The springflowers were all in bloom, with radiance of color andrichness of fragrance. Birds were singing rapturouslyfrom every bush and branch.

“A lovely day! Just the day for a wedding!” saidNanny Grandiere, as she threw open the shutters of herbedroom window, that looked out upon one of the mostbeautiful parks of the city.

Her three sisters, who occupied the same double-beddedroom with herself, sleeping two in a bed, jumpedup and ran across the room to join her.

“Yes, a beautiful day! ‘Blessed is the bride that thesun shines on,’ you know. Oh! I am so glad we allcame here!” said Polly.

“And I am glad it is going to be a quiet wedding,with only ourselves. Oh, girls! I should not have wantedto come if they had been going to have a grand wedding,after the manner of these fashionable city people. Ishould have been scared to death among so many finestrangers. But now it will be real jolly!” said Peggy.

“And Mr. Force says that as there are enough of uswe may have a dance, after the bride and groom havegone,” chimed in Sophy.

“‘After the bride and groom have gone!’” echoedNanny. “That will be ‘Hamlet’ without the Prince ofDenmark.”

“Well, it can’t be helped. We must have the dancewithout them or not at all. You know the ceremony isto be performed at half-past seven, the refreshmentsserved at eight o’clock, and the bride and groom willleave the house at nine to catch the nine-thirty train toBaltimore, where they will stop. To-morrow morningthey go on to New York, and the day after that theysail for Liverpool,” exclaimed Sophy.

“Yes, I know; but I don’t know why it should be so.77I think they might just as well stay here and dance allnight with us, and take an early train straight throughto New York, as to start from here this evening and stopall night in Baltimore. I think it would be kinder inthem, considering how far they are going, and how longthey will be away.”

“But it would be so fatiguing to Odalite. At least,Mrs. Force said so. This is her plan,” Polly explained.

“Well, we had better hurry and dress. It is verywarm in this room. Think of feeling summer heat onthe first of April in a room where there is no visiblefire! Oh! this heating by steam and lighting by gas isjust wonderful!” exclaimed Sophy.

“I like open wood fires and astral lamps best,” saidNanny.

“Oh! but the modern improvements are so clean andtidy!” put in Peggy.

“I wonder what our colored servants would say tothem,” mused Polly, aloud.

“And even others—Miss Sibby, for instance. Whatwould Miss Sibby say to gas and steam?” suggestedSophy.

“Oh! I can tell you what she would say,” exclaimedWynnette, who suddenly entered the room, and mimickedthe old lady. “She would say: ‘Them as has theleast to do with gas and steam, sez I, comes the bestoff, sez I.’ That would be her ipse dixit, for she don’tbelieve in newfangled notions, as she calls our boastedmodern improvements.”

“Oh, Wynnette! Already dressed! and we not halfready! We shall be late, I fear,” exclaimed Sophy.

“You will that, if you don’t stir your stumps—I meanaccelerate your action,” replied frank Wynnette.

“Well, don’t wait for us. You go down to breakfast,and don’t let them wait. I always lose my senses whenI try to dress in a hurry,” said Nanny, sitting down ona hassock to put on her gaiters. “There! I said so! I78have gone and put my right foot on my left boot!—Imean, my left foot on my right boot!—I mean——Idon’t know what I mean! Please go down, and don’tbother!”

“Don’t go crazy; there’s time enough. Breakfastwon’t be ready for half an hour yet,” laughed Wynnette,as she danced out of the room.

The flurried girls composed themselves as well as theycould, and completed their toilets. Then they wentdownstairs to the parlor.

They found all the family and guests assembled.

“I hope we did not keep you waiting,” said Sophy,the eldest sister, after the morning greeting had beenexchanged.

“Now, papa, don’t flunk. Beg pardon. I mean, don’tsacrifice truth to politeness. Let me reply. Yes, MissGrandiere, you did keep us waiting just one minute anda half,” said Wynnette, pointing to the clock on themantelpiece.

But Mr. Force had already given his arm to MissGrandiere, and was leading the way to the breakfastroom.

The others followed.

It was a merry breakfast. Yet the two happiest onesat the table were the most silent. Leonidas and Odaliteneither originated a joke nor laughed at the joke of anyother.

“Such is selfishness of love and joy,” whispered Wynnetteto Rosemary, who was her next neighbor at thebreakfast table.

When the meal was over, the young people—with theexception of the betrothed pair, who were away somewheremooning by themselves—returned to the parlor,to discuss the duties and pleasures of the day.

“We must decorate the drawing room,” said Wynnette.“No, Messrs. Grandiere and Bayard, you are notto go to the capitol, or the departments, or to the White79House, or to the patent office, or to the Smithsonian, orto the arsenal, or to the Navy Yard, or to the UnitedStates jail, or to the National Insane Asylum—that, Ithink, includes ‘the whole unbounded continent’—nor toany other public institution; no, nor on any other sightseeingexpedition. You are just to get a Washingtondirectory for your guide, and you are to make the roundof all the conservatories in the city, and you are to bringus loads and loads and loads of the very best flowersto be had, and you are to order a marriage bell in orangeflowers, with ropes of orange flowers, and you are to order——Takeout your tablets, if you have any; if not,tear the margin off the morning paper, and make amemorandum, for I know the weakness of your mindsand memories. Now, then you are to order the mostæsthetic bouquet in the world for the bride, and you areto order nine of the next most utterly utter for thebridesmaids—for the Lord forbid that the bridesmaids’bouquets should be equal to that of the bride!”

“Ten bouquets! Nine bridesmaids, you say! Why, Ithought—I thought—this was to be a private wedding,”said Roland Bayard, driving his fingers through his redhair.

“And so it is, my dear. We are a very small companyof family friends, and that is the very reason whyevery man-jack and woman-jenny in the company mustbe an officer. Like the village militia, don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t see, and I don’t understand.”

“Well, then, to come down to the level of your poorlittle wits, here are ten of us girls—Odalite, Wynnette,Elva, Rosemary, Melina, Erina, Sophy, Nanny, Pollyand Peggy. Only one of us—Odalite, to wit—can bethe bride, or the captain, say, but all the rest of us meanto be bridesmaids or officers, say!”

“Ah! And where are your rank and file?”

“Oh, the outside world, who are not invited to thisentertainment. The officers must not be too familiar with80the privates. And we are going to have an exclusivejollification. And now I hope you understand. Andyou had better be off at once, because we want all theflowers delivered by noon. And don’t attempt to goanywhere or do anything until you have executed thisorder,” said Wynnette, in conclusion.

Roland Bayard and the two Grandieres walked off.

Then little Elva whispered to her sister:

“Oh, Wynnette, those flowers will cost from thirty tofifty dollars. You know what awful prices mamma hadto pay for decorating her rooms every time she had aparty.”

“Well, what then?” inquired the thoughtless one.

“Why, those poor fellows will have to pay for them,and I don’t believe they have five dollars apiece.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Wynnette. “What a scatter-brain Iam!”

And she ran out without bonnet or shawl, and wasso fortunate as to catch the three young men, who hadstopped at the gate to buy a paper from a newsboy.

“Say!” called Wynnette. “Come here, you Roland!”

And he came.

“I forgot to tell you. Have those flowers charged tomy father. Mr. Abel Force, you know. They willunderstand. They have all supplied mamma for all herparties. You understand?”

“Yes, I understand. All right,” said Roland.

And Wynnette ran into the house, and Roland walkedon and joined his companions.

But the deceitful, double-dealing young spendthriftnever had bud or blossom charged to his host, but paidcash for all the flowers, thus making a deep hole in hissavings of three years.

The day was spent in making the small final preparationsfor the wedding.

At noon the flowers came, fresh and blooming andfragrant, because just taken from their stalks. Besides81the bouquets, there were—according to orders—“loadsand loads and loads” of flowers to decorate thedrawing room and the supper table.

The girls carefully laid away the bouquets, and wentto work to decorate the rooms.

In the sliding doors between the front and rear drawingrooms they made an arch with festoons of orangeblossoms, and from the middle of the arch hung a beautifulwedding bell of orange flowers. Under this theymeant that the marriage ceremony should be performed.They meant to have everything their own way, or, totell the literal truth, Wynnette meant to have everythingher way, and to have every girl back her in that determination.

The arch finished, they decorated every available partof the room with flowers, until the place looked less likean apartment in a dwelling house than a bower in fairyland.

When their labor of love was completed the girlsjoined the family at an early dinner.

And when this was over they flew away to dress forthe evening.

Still Wynnette had everything her own way. It wasshe who had decided that the six girls from the countryshould be enlisted as extra bridesmaids, “because,” shesaid, “it will please them, and give them somethingpleasant to talk about for a long time to come.”

She had said to her mother:

“They are going to be Odalite’s bridesmaids.”

And Mrs. Force had not objected. It was a matterof such little import.

She had said to Odalite:

“These girls have all brought their white organdiedresses, white roses, white gloves, and the rest, to wearto the wedding! And they want to stand up with youand smile every time you smile, and sigh every time yousigh, and howl every time you cry! You know! they82want to back you in this game! I mean they wish to beand—they are to be your supernumerary bridesmaids!”said Wynnette, emphasizing the last clause, so theremight be no possible misunderstanding.

Odalite was so happy that in answer to this she onlyquoted from Edmund Lear’s delicious “Book of Nonsense”:

And so it was settled that there were to be one groomsmanand nine bridesmaids. A most unheard-of arrangement;but as Wynnette emphatically declared—therewas no law against it.

And now the girls were off to their rooms to dressfor the occasion.

CHAPTER XIII
“A QUIET WEDDING”

At seven o’clock they were all assembled in Mrs.Force’s room, waiting for the summons to go down.

They were all dressed with the simple elegance thatbecame the occasion.

Odalite wore a white silk-trained dress, with a laceoverdress looped with lilies of the valley, and a lace veilfastened to her hair by a spray of the same delicateflower. She wore no jewelry. It was a whim of thebride to wear nothing on this occasion that she had wornon that of her first broken bridal—not even the samesort of materials for her dress, or the same sort offlowers for ornaments. Her bridal was very plain and83inexpensive. But no flowers could have bloomed morebeautifully than her cheeks and lips, and no diamondsshone more brilliantly than her eyes. The light of happinessirradiated her face and form—her whole presence and atmosphere.

The nine bridesmaids were all dressed very nearlyalike.

Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary had white tulle dressestrimmed with rose-colored ribbon.

Sophy, Nanny, Polly and Peggy Grandiere worewhite organdie dresses trimmed with light blue ribbon;and Erny and Milly Elk, white swiss muslin suitstrimmed with bright yellow ribbon.

Mrs. Force wore a pale mauve damasse silk.

No one except the young bride wore any headdressbut their own tastefully arranged hair.

It was to be a quiet wedding, you know—a very quietwedding, with none but the family friends.

There came a rap at the door.

Wynnette, who was nearest at hand, opened it.

“Tell your mother, my dear, that the Rev. Dr.Priestly has come,” said Mr. Force, who stood without.

But Mrs. Force had heard the voice, and answered forherself:

“We are ready and waiting. Come in.”

He entered, smiling on the bevy of beauties that methis eyes.

He singled out his daughter, kissed her on the forehead,and drew her arm in his to take her downstairs,mentally applying to her the pretty line of Tennyson:

He led her down and the others followed in pairs.

He led her into the parlor, where stood the portlyform of the Rev. Dr. Priestly, in full canonicals, andsurrounded by a small group of four young men—to84wit: Leonidas Force, the bridegroom; Roland Bayard,his best man; and Messrs. Ned and Sam Grandiere,nothing in particular.

The bridegroom advanced, bowed and received thebride from her father’s hand and led her up before theminister, who now stood under the floral arch betweenthe front and rear drawing rooms, and from which thefloral wedding bell hung.

The bridegroom and the bride stood before the minister—RolandBayard, best man, stood on his right; Wynnette,first bridesmaid, stood on her left; behind themthe eight white-robed girls formed a semicircle. Mr.Force stood on their right, with Mrs. Force on his arm.She was pale and trembling. He perceived her state,and whispered:

“I suppose every mother suffers something in seeingher daughter married, even under the most auspiciouscirc*mstances! But look at Odalite and Le! See howhappy those children are, and recover your spirits.”

She glanced up in her husband’s kind face and smiled.

The doorbell rang sharply. Perhaps it was the utterstillness of the house—in the solemn pause of expectancy,as the minister opened his book—which made thatsound reverberate through the air like a sudden andperemptory summons.

Mrs. Force looked up anxiously.

“It is of no consequence, my dear. Some chancecaller, who does not know what is going on here. But Iprepared for such an event by giving orders to the hallboy not to admit any one, but to tell all and sundry whomight come that we are engaged,” whispered Mr. Force.

“Hush!” she murmured, but she looked relieved.“Hush! Dr. Priestly is about to begin.”

The minister, in fact, began, in a very impressivemanner, to read the opening exhortation, and every eyewas fixed upon him and every ear bent to hear him.

There was some movement in the hall outside. Mrs.85Force started and turned her head. Her husbandstooped and murmured low:

“Don’t tremble so, my dear! It is only the servantspressing close to the door to steal a look at the wedding.They would not let any visitors in. And even if theyshould make such a mistake, it would be no great matter!”

“Hush!” she answered, in the lowest murmur. “Donot talk! Attend to the ceremony.”

Uninterrupted by the inaudible whisper between husbandand wife, the ceremony was proceeding. And noone moved or spoke, until the minister, lifting his eyesfrom the book in his hands, inquired gravely:

“‘Who giveth this woman to be married to thisman?’”

“‘I do,’” answered Abel Force, stepping forward,taking his daughter’s hand with tender solemnity andplacing it in that of Leonidas, who bowed with deep reverenceas he received it.

Then Abel Force retreated to the side of his pale andagitated wife, whispered with a smile:

“Just what your father did for me, my love! Justwhat Leonidas may have to do for Odalite’s daughterssome twenty years hence! The order of nature, dearwife! And we must smile and not cry over it.”

But Elfrida Force was not grieving over the marriageof her daughter. There was nothing in that marriage togive her pain; everything to give her satisfaction. Odalitewas marrying no stranger, but Leonidas, who hadbeen brought up in her home, who loved her, and wasbeloved by her as an only son. And Odalite was not tobe taken away from her, but was to live on the adjoiningplantation to their own, where, if they pleased, motherand daughter might meet every day. Altogether a mostperfectly satisfactory marriage, in which her soul wouldhave delighted but for a nameless dread of approachingevil—a dread which she could neither comprehend nor86conquer—a dread of impeding ill which was fast growinginto terror of an immediate death blow.

“Oh!” she breathed. “When it is entirely over—‘finished,done and sealed’—and they are off at sea, then,and then only, shall I be able to breathe freely.”

Meanwhile the solemn rites went on to the conclusion,and once more Odalite, with her hand safely clasped inthat of her bridegroom, heard spoken over them theawful warning: “Those whom God hath joined together,let not man put asunder.”

There was a pause, but no interruption on this occasion—ashort pause, and then the solemn, pathetic, beautifulbenediction was pronounced upon the newly marriedand indeed happy pair.

And then Leonidas took his bride by her hand, togive her the sacred, sealing kiss, when—before his lipscould meet hers—he was suddenly seized from behindand violently hurled to the other end of the room.

CHAPTER XIV
A MEAN RETALIATION

The intruder was Col. Angus Anglesea, who caughtOdalite to his breast, and with his arm firmly claspingher waist, stood, haughty, insolent and defiant, in themidst of the thunderstruck group.

A scene of indescribable confusion followed. Thebride fainted, the bridesmaids shrieked, the old ministerdropped his book, and fell back in the nearest chair, ina state bordering on apoplexy.

87The men, panic-stricken by amazement for a moment,now pressed forward.

Anglesea glared at them.

“This woman is my wife!” he said.

Le instantly recovered himself, and dashed madly forward.

Heaven only knows what he might have done, but hewas intercepted, and held as in a vise by Mr. Force,who sternly said:

“Le, there must be no violence here. This madmanmust be dealt with by law, not by violence.”

“‘This madman!’” shouted the infuriated youth,struggling desperately to free himself. “‘This madman,’is it? This scoundrel, steeped to the lips in viceand crime! This——”

“Le, be quiet! Would you murder, or be murdered?”demanded Mr. Force, holding the young maniac firmly.Then turning to the intruder, he said, in a calm, commandingtone: “Col. Anglesea, leave the house.”

“When I have accomplished that for which I camehere,” answered the intruder, smiling superior.

Young Bayard made a dash at him.

“Roland!” exclaimed Mr. Force, in a peremptorytone that arrested the steps of the young man. “Stop!I will have no struggle in my house. If the man doesnot leave quietly, he shall be taken off by a policeman.”

But now all Abel Force’s attention and energy wererequired to control the young lion whom he held.

“Let me get at him! The thief, who married a richwidow only to rob and desert her! The bigamist, who,having a living wife, tried to deceive and marry awealthy, betrothed maiden, only to rob and ruin her!The forger, who invented and published a false accountof his own death that he might entrap his victim intoanother marriage, and take a mean revenge by cominghere with pretended claims to stop it! Oh! but he shall88die for this!” roared the youth, foaming with rage andstruggling fiercely to free himself.

“Le! Le! be quiet, I say! You are stark, staringmad!” exclaimed Abel Force, holding the young manfast, though it took all his strength to do it.

He might as well have talked to a cyclone.

“This felon!” thundered the youth—“this felon, whohas broken every law of God and man! This felon, Isay, who should have been in the State prison twentyyears ago, serving out a life term! And you see himwith my wife in his arms, and you will not let me go!Oh!”

Here Mrs. Force, commanding herself by a great effort,went up to where Col. Anglesea stood holding Odaliteto his bosom, and clasped her hands, raised her eyesto him, and pleaded:

“Oh! for dear mercy’s sake, give me my poor child!Don’t you see that she is fainting, dying?”

Somewhat to her surprise, Anglesea placed Odalitein her arms, saying, lightly:

“So that you do not take her out of the room! Youknow that she is my wife! And——”

“Edward Grandiere! Be kind enough to step andbring in a policeman—two of them, if possible,” saidMr. Force, who had all he could do to hold Leonidas.

“Uncle! uncle! I don’t want to hurt you, but, by mysoul, if you don’t let me go, I shall be compelled to hurtyou!” exclaimed the maddened and writhing youth.

But the strong, mature man held him in arms thatwere like iron cable chains.

“I tell you I shall hurt you, uncle!”

“Very well, Le! Hurt me! But I shall hold you allthe same.”

“Why won’t you let me kill him?” yelled Le.

“Because, though he deserves death, you would commita crime.”

“Oh, Heaven! must I bear this?”

89“Be patient, Le! Let the law deal with this man!Edward Grandiere, I asked you to go for a policeman!”

“Yes, sir! I only stopped to ask Roland where Ishould find one,” said the young countryman, apologetically,as he hurried away.

At this point Mrs. Force had led Odalite to an easy-chair,where she recovered from her fainting fit only tofall into a paroxysm of hysterical sobs and tears. Herheartbroken mother sat by her side. Her bridesmaidsstood all around her, too much frightened to offer theleast comfort or assistance.

Col. Anglesea approached this group.

Odalite, who was sobbing convulsively, shuddered,and covered her eyes with her hands.

The bridesmaids, who all knew him, for he had dinedoften at the tables of their parents, regarded him infear and horror, and cast down their eyes to avoid lookingat him.

But Angus Anglesea ignored them all, passed them,and, addressing Mrs. Force, said, almost apologetically:

“I did not wish or intend to make a scene. But itwas more than even my self-possession could endure tosee my wife in the arms of another man, who was aboutto kiss her. I only want my just and lawful rights.You, madam, know that your eldest daughter is my lawfulwife. Knowing this, I would ask you why you permittedyour daughter to commit a felony that exposesher to the penalty of the laws for such cases made andprovided?”

“We thought that Odalite was free to marry. Wethought that you were dead,” said Elfrida Force, whohad suddenly grown superstitiously afraid of this man,who seemed to be a Satan in strength, subtlety and unscrupulouswickedness.

“You thought I was dead! Upon what ground? Iam in the prime of life, and in the height of health.”

90“We saw the notice of your death in a paper sentto us.”

“Really? Well, that is rather startling. I shouldlike to see that paper.”

At this moment Dr. Priestly came up, and said:

“This is all very terrible. I—I do not understand itin the least.”

“It is easily explained, sir. A false report of mydeath reached my wife there. She, believing herself tobe a widow, contracted marriage with that young gentlemanyonder, who seems to be executing a war dance inthe arms of my father-in-law!” replied Col. Anglesea.

“Oh, Dr. Priestly! will you be so kind as to go andassist Mr. Force in bringing Leonidas to reason?”pleaded the lady.

“Ye-yes! Of course! Oh, this is terrible, terrible!In the whole course of my ministry I never met anythingso terrible. But, sir,” he said, suddenly breakingoff in his discourse and turning to Col. Anglesea, “yousaid that this young lady believed herself to be a widowwhen she contracted marriage with Mr. Force. But shewas never known here as wife or widow. I have knownher for more than three years as Miss Force.”

“That certainly requires explanation, as our marriagewas not a secret one, but was solemnized in the face ofday and before a large congregation——”

“And then knocked as high as the sky by the droppingdown upon you of your Californian wife! Oh,you hoofed and horned devil!” said Wynnette, suddenlyjoining the group and unable longer to restrain herself.

The Rev. Dr. Priestly stared.

“Oh! what am I saying? I mean, reverend sir”—Wynnettebegan, apologetically—“I mean that this gentleman’sattempted marriage with my elder sister wasarrested at the very altar by the appearance of a ladyfrom St. Sebastian, who claimed to be, and proved herselfto be, his lawful wife.”

91The old minister looked perplexed and helplessly fromthe earnest girl to the scornful man.

“After that my sister went from the church to myfather’s house, and lived under our parents’ protection.Of course, she was still Miss Force. The unfinishedceremony could not have changed her name or condition,even if the Californian had been an impostor, which shewas not. This cowardly dead beat and mean skala——Oh!I beg pardon, I am sure, Dr. Priestly. I shouldhave said: Col. Anglesea, here present, knows that shewas not an impostor, and he knows that he has no claimon Odalite. He only comes here to make a scene. Hismarriage was broken off at the altar by the appearanceof his wife, and he is determined that Odalite’s shall bebroken off, for the day at least, by the appearance ofhimself, with the claim that he is her husband. It is‘tit for tat,’ you know. ‘What’s good for the gander isgood for the goose,’ you see. Oh, dear! Excuse me!I mean it is his revenge, reprisal, commending back ofthe poisoned chalice, don’t you know?”

“Madam, is this true?” inquired the bewildered minister.

Mrs. Force did not reply. She dared not. She wasso utterly subdued by the appearance of her archenemy,under such inexplicable circ*mstances, she could onlyignore his question and repeat her request:

“Oh! Dr. Priestly, you are a man of peace. Pray goand help my husband to bring our young relative toreason.”

The old minister unwillingly trotted off and arrived onthe scene of action in good time, for Mr. Force’s strengthwas beginning to give way under the struggles of hisprisoner to escape without hurting his captor.

“You see that man standing among the ladies, whomhis presence insults and contaminates, and you will notlet me get at him!” cried Le.

“My dear boy, I will not have a fight in my parlor,92and in the presence of women and children, do you understand?Wait for the police. We will have himpeaceably arrested and taken off. Then our interruptionwill be over. The marriage ceremony was concluded,you know. As soon as we get rid of this madman—forof course he is a madman—you can get readyand take the train for Baltimore, just as if nothing unpleasanthad happened.”

Mr. Force spoke in a clear and ringing voice, andwas heard by Col. Anglesea, who laughed out aloud andderisively.

At that moment Roland Bayard and Grandiere camein, convoying two policemen.

So rapidly had the events occurred which take so longto report, that ten minutes had not elapsed since the firstappearance of Col. Anglesea on the scene, nor threesince the departure of the young men in search of thepolicemen.

“Ah! here you are!” exclaimed Abel Force, in a toneof relief.

“Yes, sir!” said Roland Bayard. “We were so fortunateas to meet the two officers at the corner of thestreet!”

“And strangely enough, they were on their way to thehouse,” added Ned Grandiere.

“Some of the servants must have had the discretion togo for them. Well, officers, I am glad that you are here,and I hope you will be able to do your unpleasant dutyquietly,” said Mr. Force. And pointing directly to theintruder, he added: “I give that man, there, AngusAnglesea, in charge for a violent breach of the peace.Take him away at once.”

The policemen stared at the speaker, and then at Col.Anglesea, in a very unofficial sort of way, and finallywalked up to the colonel, and one of them said:

“I don’t understand it, sir! What does it mean?”

93“He’s drunk, I guess! But that need not hinder yourduty. Go and serve the papers on him at once.”

The policeman came back to Mr. Force and offeredhim a folded document.

“What is this? What nonsense is this?” inquiredMr. Force, without taking the paper, because both hishands were still engaged in holding Le.

“Take it and read it, sir, if you please,” said the officerwho had served it. “It is addressed to yourself.”

“Roland,” said Mr. Force, addressing young Bayard,“I don’t want to get you into a fight with your brother-in-arms,by asking you to hold Le; but will you pleaseopen that paper and hold it up before my eyes that Imay read it?”

Roland bowed in silence, took the paper, opened itand stared at it for a moment, before he held it up to hishost to be read.

CHAPTER XV
THE WRIT OF HABEAS CORPUS

Abel Force began to peruse the document andfrowned as he went on. And well he might!

For it was no less than a writ of habeas corpus, issuedby a judge of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia,ordering Abel Force to produce the body of OdaliteAnglesea, otherwise Odalite Force, before him thenext morning, April 2, at 10 o’clock.

Abel Force, as has been seen, was a law-abiding man.On this trying occasion, under this galling insult, hecommanded himself with wonderful power.

“Very well,” he said. “You have done your duty. Iwill obey the order. Take that man away with you. Hehas committed a gross breach of the peace; but let thatpass for the present.”

94At this moment Col. Anglesea came up and said:

“I will meet you before the judge to-morrow morning.For the present, having seen the writ of habeascorpus served upon you, I withdraw. Good-evening, sir.Ladies, good-evening.”

And with as courtly a bow as if he were leaving thedrawing room of a duch*ess, Col. Anglesea went out, followedby the policemen.

“Now be still, Le! This shall be settled equitably to-morrow.For the present nothing more can be done,”said Mr. Force, as with a long breath of relief he atlength released his prisoner.

But Le was no sooner free than he dashed out of theroom and out of the house in pursuit of his enemy.

“Let him go!” said Abel Force, in desperation. “Lethim go. But I do not think he will catch Anglesea. Hehas probably taken a carriage, for I heard wheels rollaway from the door before I released Le.”

“Sir, can I be of any further service here?” inquiredthe aged minister, coming forward.

“No, reverend sir, you cannot; but you will perhapstake some refreshments before you leave,” replied Mr.Force.

“Not any, I thank you. This has been a most agitatingevening. If I can serve you in any manner, atthis trying crisis, pray command me.”

“We thank you very much.”

“If my presence to-morrow can avail in any way——”

“I do not think it can, yet I should be glad to haveyou come.”

“I will meet you,” said the rector. And after shakinghands all around he left the room.

Mr. Force stepped quickly over to where his wife satby his daughter’s easy-chair, holding her hand.

Odalite’s violent paroxysm of distress was over, butshe still sobbed with a low, gasping breath as she layback in a state of exhaustion.

95He looked at the girl and sighed. He would havespoken to her, but his wife raised her hand in warningand said, in a low tone:

“Leave her alone for a little while. She is very muchprostrated, but will rally presently.”

“Elfrida,” he said then, bending over the lady’s chair,“Elfrida! can there be any truth in that man’s pretendedclaim to our child? Not that it will make anydifference in the end, for I swear by all that is sacred,he shall never possess her! But you remember when weread that sketch of his life in the Angleton Advertiser,we noticed that the date of the death of his first wife,as given there, was some weeks later than the date of hismarriage with the California widow.”

“I remember,” said the lady, faintly, for her heart,her mother heart, seemed dying within her.

“And such being the case, we should be thankful thatOdalite’s marriage with Le was stopped just where itwas. It would have been most disastrous if the manhad reappeared and set up his claim to Odalite weeks ormonths after the marriage had been consummated.”

“Indeed it would!” replied the lady. “And yet, Abel,it may all be a fraud. He may have no claim on herwhatever. If he could contrive to have published afalse obituary of himself, could he not even more easilyhave inserted in the sketch of his life attached to it afalse date of the death of his wife?”

“Indeed he could. The whole question of his right toOdalite hangs upon the true date of Lady Mary Anglesea’sdemise. If she died before his Californian marriage,then is the Californian woman his lawful wife,and Odalite is free. If, on the contrary, as is made toappear in that fraudulent obituary notice, Lady MaryAnglesea died since the marriage with the Californian,then was that second marriage a felony, laying himliable to prosecution for bigamy, and to imprisonment athard labor in the State’s prison, and his third incomplete96marriage ceremony with our daughter only anawkward entanglement, which affords him a false excuseto lay claim to her, and which it may require thewisdom of the law courts to unravel. I have no doubtas to the final issue. We must be prepared to meet thevillain in court to-morrow. We must prove the arrestof the marriage ceremony at All Faith Church, threeyears ago, by the appearance of the would-be bridegroom’swife. Fortunately we have ‘a cloud of witnesses’to that fact. Besides ourselves, all the youngpeople who are our guests were present at the churchon that occasion. Cheer up, my love!” he said, goingover to the other side of Odalite’s chair, and bendingover her. “Your perfect freedom and happiness is buta question of time. And meanwhile you will remainunder my protection.”

“Dear papa! I cause you much trouble, do I not?”she inquired, tenderly, putting her hand in his.

“No, dearest! You never caused me any trouble inall your life! A scoundrel has given us both trouble;but it cannot last long. If the hearing should not bedecisive to-morrow, I must ask for time and get theCalifornia lady up here. Also, later, that will takemore time, I must send a trusty messenger over to Englandto ascertain from parish registers and tombstonesthe exact date of the death of Lady Mary Anglesea. Butthrough all, as you are a minor, you must and shall remainunder my protection. Take courage, love!”

“There is Le!” exclaimed Mrs. Force, as the halldoorbell rang, and the door opened, and a hurried stepwas heard approaching the drawing room.

Mr. Force started up, and went to meet the midshipman.

“I could not find the poltroon! He has run away,as he did on that first occasion, when I sent Roland tohim!” exclaimed the youth. “But yet he shall notescape me!”

97“Come here, Le,” said Odalite, in a gentle voice.

And the boy crossed the room and knelt before her,placing both his hands in hers.

It was the old, instinctive, knightly gesture of allegianceand loyalty.

“What is it, Odalite?” he inquired.

She bent and kissed his forehead, and then she said:

“My lover and husband, you would do anything forme to-night? Would you not?”

“Anything, Odalite! my love and queen! anything!I would live or die for you! I would forego the dearestwish of my heart for you!” he exclaimed, lifting herhands and pressing them to his lips, and then placingthem on his head—another old knightly gesture of allegianceand loyalty.

“Kiss me, Le! Kiss me with the kiss that seals ourmarriage vows,” she said.

He started up, and caught her to his bosom, and kissedher fondly, fervently, reverentially.

“Now, Le, I wish you to promise me to forego vengeanceon your ‘dearest foe.’ To use no violence towardthe wicked man who has caused all our trouble;because, dearest dear, there can be no violence withoutlawbreaking, and no lawbreaking without such consequencesas would inflict the deepest sorrow, the fiercestanguish on me. And I have already suffered so much,you would not have me suffer more. You will promiseme, Le?”

“Yes, my best beloved! Yes, my sovereign lady! Iwill promise all you ask—even to the renouncing of myjust vengeance and the leaving of that incarnate fiendto the law. I wish it could hang him! I hope, at theleast, it will send him to the State prison! I will do allthat my queen——”

“Your wife, Le.”

“My angel wife requires me to do. And I will endureall that she requires me to endure.”

98“Meantime—although we must have patience untilthis case is decided, as it must be decided, in our favor—weare husband and wife. Never dream that I canconsider myself in any other light than as your wife, orthat I could think of you in any other way than as myhusband. We shall not be separated, but remain, aslately, members of the same family, inmates of the samehouse; living as a betrothed couple, or as brother andsister, until this cloud from the depths of Tartarus hasbeen cleared away from between us. Do you promise,Le?”

“Everything! Everything you wish, Odalite.”

“That is my dear, brave, loyal Le!”

There was something in this interview—that had beenheld in the sight and hearing of all the little company—thatso touched all hearts that the boys and girls gatheredaround the young couple with looks of heartfeltsympathy. The girls kissed Odalite and pressed thehands of Le. The boys shook hands with Le, and looked“unutterable things” at Odalite.

“My dear,” said Mr. Force to his wife, “I think youhad better take our daughter off to your own apartment.It grows late, and she is tired. And we have a tryingday before us to-morrow.”

This was the signal for the dispersion of the littlegroup. And they all bade good-night and retired.

So ended Odalite’s second wedding day.

CHAPTER XVI
THE NEXT MORNING

It was a drizzling, chilly, cheerless day—one of thoserelapses into winter into which early spring sometimesfalls.

99Not one of the family had been able to sleep well aftersuch a harassing evening as they had passed.

They assembled around the breakfast table with palefaces and careworn looks.

The table was full, and even crowded, with familyand guests—sixteen in all.

Odalite was the last to come in. Her face was deathlywhite, and showed signs of an anxious and sleeplessnight. Yet she greeted the whole party with a wansmile and a slight bow as she took her seat.

Not one word was said of the ordeal soon to be passedthrough. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Force would allude toit, and no one else durst.

The conversation went on, or, rather, failed to go on,in abortive jets.

Subjects were started, but fell.

Some one said it was a horrid day, so different fromyesterday, and more like November than April.

And several others said yes, or some word to the sameeffect, and that subject dropped dead.

Some one mentioned that the “English Opera Troupe”would perform the “Bride of Lammermoor” that evening.

No one answered that venture except Mr. Force, who,as a mere matter of form and politeness, said he believedso.

Ned Grandiere said it was good growing weather forthe crops.

But no one complimented him by a reply.

And at length the dull repast was over, and all arosefrom the table.

It was now nine o’clock, and raining hard. At tenMr. Force and Odalite were required to arrive beforethe judge.

As the party left the breakfast room, the guests dispersedto parlor, library, or chambers, as their inclinationsled them.

100Mrs. Force called Odalite, and went upstairs, followedby all her daughters, to prepare for her drive tothe courthouse.

Le followed his uncle into a little smoking room atthe back of the hall. Neither of the men went there tosmoke. Mr. Force went there to be alone while hewaited for his wife and daughter, and Le to speak to hisuncle.

“Uncle Abel, can I have a word with you?”

“As many as you please, or as time will permit, myboy. Come in.”

They entered the room, and took seats at the littleround table, on which stood pipes of every description,cigar cases, tobacco pots, tapers, ash saucers and all theparaphernalia of smoking.

“Uncle Abel,” inquired Le, as soon as they wereseated, “have you secured counsel?”

“No, Le, nor shall I do so. To engage counsel wouldbe to give the case more importance than I choose togive it. It is a simple habeas corpus. A very informalmatter, and, in this instance, a very impertinent one—anabuse of the privilege of habeas corpus. I do notneed counsel, and shall not have any. I shall tell mystory to the judge. I do not even know that I shall calla witness. That is all that will be necessary. I have nofears of the result.”

“Uncle Abel, I must go with you before the judgethis morning.”

“No, Le!” emphatically objected Mr. Force. “No,Le! I cannot have my daughter, my young and innocentchild, exposed to the ignominy of standing betweentwo men, each of whom claims her as his wife.”

The young man was shocked at the presentation ofthe case from a point of view he had never contemplatedbefore, and too greatly confused for a moment to makeany reply. At length he said:

101“But, Uncle Abel, we know who has the right to her!We know that she is my wife!”

“No, Le, we do not know that. We only think weknow it. We thought we knew that Angus Anglesea wasdead and in Hades. But you see he is alive, and inWashington.”

“That is a nuisance; but his being here gives him noclaim on Odalite.”

“None as you and I think. But we do not know whatthe law may decide, Le. It is of no use going over thewhole situation again. You know it, as well as I do.Angus Anglesea married Ann Maria Wright, August 1,18—. Of that transaction we have abundant proof. IfAnglesea were then free to contract that marriage, thenis he the lawful husband of Ann Maria Anglesea, hissecond wife. But, on the other hand, if his first wife,Lady Mary Anglesea, did not die until the twenty-fifthof that same August, then his marriage with Ann MariaWright, on the first of the said month, is null and void,and he was free to contract marriage at the time that hemarried my daughter, and Odalite Force is his legal secondwife.”

“Oh, Heaven! oh, Heaven! oh, Heaven! What shallI do?” exclaimed the youth, starting up in a frenzy.

“‘We must be wise as serpents and harmless asdoves,’” said Mr. Force; “for, Le, we have to deal withone who has the malice and subtlety of a demon fromthe deepest abyss. He is absolutely unscrupulous. Ido not know, mind you, but I firmly believe he has falsifieddates to suit his own base purposes. I believe alsothat he designedly laid a trap for us by which he couldsatiate his vengeance.”

“I—I shall kill him, and hang for it!” burst forth theboy.

“No, you won’t, Le. You came of Christian parents,and have had a Christian training. You will do nothing102unworthy of your race and education,” calmly repliedMr. Force.

“Uncle!” exclaimed the youth, “how came that falsepublication of his death, with time, place and circ*mstancesall complete, in the newspaper of his own village?It is amazing. It is incredible that such a fraudcould have been perpetrated.”

“Yes, it is amazing and incredible. And yet we knowthat it is a fraud, since the man is alive and well. Howit was done I do not know. Why it was done I can wellunderstand. It was done as a trap to catch us, and placeus in a false and humiliating position. I have no doubtthat, from the hour of his ejection from our house andhis ignominious retreat from the neighborhood, he meditatedvengeance. I have no doubt he lay in wait, watchingus for these three years past, giving no sign of hisexistence, leaving us to suppose that we were finally ridof him, but all the while watching and waiting for yourreturn, Le, to see what would come of it. I believe thathe knew the course of your ship as well as you did yourself—knewwhere she went and when she was orderedhome. Then he manufactured this false evidence of hisdeath, with time, place and circ*mstances all complete,as you said, with obituary eulogy, sketch of his life andcareer, and including his marriage with Lady MaryMerland, the date of her death, August 25, 18—, andhis second marriage with Odalite Force——”

“I—I—uncle, I am quite anxious to hang for thatman!” panted the youth.

“But we are not willing to let you, Le. Your executionwould be of no sort of comfort to Odalite, or anyof us. Now let me go on. All these concocted and publishedfalsehoods had but one end—to entrap us all intoa false sense of security, and to allow you and Odaliteto contract marriage on your return from sea. I haveno doubt that within ten days after your ship sailed fromRio de Janeiro, homeward bound, he sailed from Liverpool103to New York, under an assumed name, and that hehas been in the country ever since, and lately in thecity, watching for your wedding day, so that he mightturn the tables, and snatch your bride from your possessionat the very altar, as it were, and so humiliate usall in retaliation for his exposure at All Faith Church.”

“Oh, the demon! the demon! Any fate would becheaply bought at the cost of sending him to——”

“Le! Le! control yourself! Remember your Christianparentage and training, and do not speak and actlike any border ruffian. Remember also that we do notknow the man has falsified the date of his wife’s death.We only think so.”

“Uncle, suppose the judge to-day should decideagainst us—should adjudge Odalite to be the wife ofthat devil, and give her to him—what then?”

“I do not for a moment anticipate any such decision,”said Mr. Force.

“Yet, it is possible,” muttered Le.

“But most improbable. The case, I think, from everypoint of view, is too clearly in our favor.”

“You think, but you do not know. Our thoughts havemisled us up to this moment, and may be misleadingus now. But admitting the possibility that the decisionmay be against us—that Odalite may be given into thecustody of Anglesea——”

The father’s face darkened and flushed.

“I would not give my child up to the scoundrel!”

“But suppose the court were to order you to do so?”

“I would resist, and take the consequences. I wouldnever give my child to that devil! I would sooner—Heavenknows that I would sooner throw her alive intothat lion’s cage in the circus at the Smithsonian Parkover there!”

“But, uncle, suppose, in case of your resistance, theofficers were ordered to do their duty and take thewoman from you by force, to give her to the man. You104know such might be the effect of your resistance. Whatthen?”

The father’s face darkened like a thundercloud. Hiseyes, under their black brows, flashed like lightning.

“Le,” he said, “why do you torture me by such improbablesuppositions? In such a case I should—Icould be another Virginius, and give my child instantdeath to save her.”

“No, uncle, you would not. You came of Christianparents, and you have had a Christian training. Youwould do nothing unworthy of your race and your education.Uncle, remember your Christian parentage andtraining, and do not speak and act like a heathen Roman,”said Le, solemnly.

The two men looked at each other in comic embarrassmentalmost approaching laughter, had not the matterbeen so serious.

“We have been letting imagination run away withus, Le. You and I have been getting ourselves into unnecessaryheroics. There will be nothing to justify it.It is true that we have the most infernal villain to dealwith that ever disgraced the human form, but he mustbe dealt with by law, and not by violence. All will bewell,” said the elder man.

“Uncle, it was I who got into heroics first, and thenstung you into the same state. But really now, I do notthink that I shall have any occasion to murder Angleseaand swing for it, or that you will have any cause toenact the Roman father and slay your daughter to saveher. Wait for my coup.”

“If I had been that same Roman father, it would nothave been my own kid I’d have killed, you bet. It wouldhave been t’other I’d have gone for. I mean, I nevercould see the sense of Virginius slaying his own daughter,and running amuck through the streets of Rome, insteadof doing execution on the minion of Appius Claudius105in the first place. It was wrong end foremost, likemost of the heroic dodges.”

Of course it was Wynnette who spoke. She wasstanding within the open door.

“What do you want, my dear?” inquired her father.

“Mamma sent me to look for you, and tell you that itis half-past nine. She and Odalite are ready, and thecarriage is at the door.”

“Thank you, dear. Tell mamma that I will be withher in a moment,” said Mr. Force, as he arose from hisseat.

Wynnette ran off with her message.

“So, uncle, you will not allow me to go with you tothe examination?” inquired Le.

“By no means! On no account, dear boy! You yourselfshould not wish it under the circ*mstances.”

“All right. Who is going with Odalite besides yourself?”

“Her mother, her two sisters, Rosemary Hedge, andthe four Misses Grandiere.”

“They can’t all go in one carriage.”

“No; no one but Odalite, her mother and the eldestMiss Grandiere will go in our carriage; the others willgo by the street cars, under the escort of Roland Bayard.I take a crowd of ladies with me not only as witnessesto the broken marriage at All Faith Church—for theyoung men could have answered that purpose—but asthe most fitting, proper and delicate support to mydaughter. I take only one man, Roland Bayard, notonly as the most important witness, who brought Anglesea’sCalifornian wife from San Francisco to St. Mary’s,but also as a proper escort for the young ladies in thestreet car. But you, Le, should, in delicacy, absentyourself.”

“At least, I will not press my company on you, uncle.But perhaps I may be there later. Don’t let anything106discourage you, no matter how the case seems to begoing. Wait for my coup,” said Le.

Mr. Force was drawing on his light overcoat in thehall, to which they had walked during this conversation,and he scarcely heard or heeded the youth’s last words,which seemed to be so significant.

They met Mrs. Force and Odalite at the front door.

“The girls have gone on in the cars before. Roland iswith them. I told them to wait in the vestibule of theCity Hall until we should join them,” said the elderlady.

Odalite said nothing. She was white and still, as shehad been at the breakfast table.

It was pouring rain.

When the front door was opened Mr. Force and Leonidasboth took large umbrellas from the hall rack andheld them over the heads of the two ladies as they passedfrom the house to the carriage.

When the two latter had entered and taken their seats,Mr. Force followed them, and Le closed the door.

“I shall bring her back with me,” said the elder man.

“I am sure that you will,” replied the younger.

The carriage drove off, and Le re-entered the house,muttering to himself:

“Let them wait for my coup!”

CHAPTER XVII
BEFORE THE JUDGE

Mr. Force with his party drove directly to the CityHall.

It was still raining hard, when they arrived—so hardthat when the carriage drew up before the broad flightof steps leading up to the main entrance of the building,107Mr. Force, upon alighting upon the pavement, had totake out one lady at a time, and lead her under the shelterof a large umbrella up into the hall.

They found Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary, with thethree younger Grandiere girls, all under the escort ofRoland Bayard, waiting for them in the vestibule.

When all the party were assembled, they musteredquite a formidable company—eleven in number.

“I never was in a courthouse in all my life before!I feel just as if I was going to be tried for murder orlarceny, or something, myself! I know I shall never beable to hold up my head again!” whispered Elva, in afrightened voice, to Wynnette.

“And I reckon I shall be tried for murder, if ever Iget a good chance to let daylight through that foreignbeat!” replied Wynnette, too mad to mend her phrasesas she usually did.

“Don’t be distressed, Elva, dear! We are not goinginto court. This is a case to be heard in chambers,”Roland explained.

“Chambers!” echoed, in a breath, all the girls, whoseonly idea of chambers was bedrooms.

Before Roland could explain further, Mr. Force hadcome in with Odalite on his arm, and hurried the wholeparty up another flight of stairs and along another passage,until they reached a door at which a bailiff stood.

The latter opened the door, in silence.

The whole party entered a large and well-furnishedroom, where, on this cold and rainy second of April, abright coal fire was burning in the grate. The floor wascovered with a dark red carpet, the windows shaded withbuff blinds, now drawn three-quarters up, because theday was dark, and the walls were lined with tall bookcases,filled with well-worn volumes, mostly bound incalf. Several library tables, loaded with folios and stationery,occupied the middle of the spacious apartment.

In a large leathern chair, at one of these tables, sat a108venerable man, with white hair and a benign countenance,a judge of the Supreme Court of the District ofColumbia, whom, for convenience, we will call JudgeBlank.

There was a grave young man standing near him,who might have been clerk or private secretary.

And seated in another armchair, at some little distance,was Col. Anglesea, looking as careless as if hewere making a morning call.

He, too, seemed to be without counsel or witnesses.

Mr. Force came forward with his party, bowed to thedignitary, whom he frequently met in social life andknew very well, and saluted him with a—

“Good-morning, judge,” as if he, too, had justdropped in to make a morning call.

“Good-morning, Mr. Force,” replied his honor, risingand looking about him.

Seeing the large party who had entered the room, heturned to the young man in attendance, and said:

“O’Brien, find seats for these ladies.”

When they were all seated, Mr. Force remained standingbefore the judge, with only the table between them.

Col. Anglesea sat back at ease in his chair, with hischin a little elevated, playing carelessly with the charmsattached to his watch chain.

There was a short pause, and then Mr. Force, layinga document on the table, said:

“Your honor, I return the writ with which I havebeen served. My daughter, Odalite Force, is present.”

“Take a seat, Mr. Force,” said the judge, and then,turning to the young man whom he had called O’Brien,he took from his hand a paper and began to read it tohimself.

There was silence in the quiet room.

“This is not a bit like I thought it was going to be. Idon’t feel at all scared now! Why, I know Judge109Blank! He used to pat me on the head every time hesaw me!” whispered Elva to Wynnette.

“Hush, hush! you mustn’t talk here. Yes, it is quietenough here, for that matter! Executions are quietnearly always. We read, ‘The execution was conductedin a quiet and orderly manner,’ and yet a man has beenhung and choked to death, or perhaps a woman,” whisperedWynnette, most inconsistently talking more thanthe sister whom she had rebuked for breaking silence.

“Oh, Wynnette! why will you talk of such horrid,horrid things?” demanded Elva, in a frightened tone.

“Because I am thinking of the price. I am countingthe cost of sending that earthworm to Hades——Hush!”

The judge had finished reading the document in hishand, and turning slowly to the respondent, said:

“Mr. Force, you are charged herein, under oath, byCol. Angus Anglesea, of Anglewood Manor, England,with having, on the twentieth of December, 18—,forcibly abducted, and for three years past and up tothis present, illegally detained the person of his wife,Odalite Anglesea—otherwise Odalite Force. Whathave you to say to this charge?”

“I say that it is absolutely false and malicious frombeginning to end! The young lady here present, towhom he so insolently refers, is my daughter, OdaliteForce, a maiden and a minor, under my own immediateprotection,” replied Abel Force.

“Col. Angus Anglesea will step forward,” said thevenerable judge.

The colonel arose, bowed and came up to the table.

O’Brien handed him the New Testament.

He bowed again with hypocritical devotion and tookthe formal oath to speak “the truth, the whole truth,and nothing but the truth.”

“Col. Anglesea, will you now state the grounds uponwhich you claim this lady here present, Odalite Force,110or Anglesea, as your wife, and charge Abel Force, herfather, with forcibly abducting and illegally detainingher?” said the judge.

“I will,” replied the colonel. And he began his statement:

“Three years and four months ago, on the twentiethof December, 18—, in the Church of All Faith, in theParish of All Faith, in the State of Maryland, I marriedOdalite Force, here present, daughter of AbelForce, also here present. The Rev. Dr. Peters, rectorof All Faith, performed the marriage. Mr. Abel Forcegave away the bride. At the end of the ceremony amadwoman burst into the church, forced her way to thealtar and created a disgraceful disturbance, into thedetails of which I need not go. Mr. Force, with the helpof some of his neighbors, seized his daughter, tore herfrom my arms and conveyed her to his home, where hehas forcibly and illegally detained her ever since. I seeone man and several young women who were witnessesof the whole transaction, and may be put upon the standto corroborate my testimony,” concluded the colonel.

“Oh, Lord!” muttered one and all of the girls, aghastat the proposition.

“Col. Anglesea,” questioned the judge, “you say thatthis happened more than three years ago. Why has notthis complaint been made sooner?”

“Imperative business summoned me immediately toEngland and detained me there. I wrote many lettersto my wife, imploring her to come over to me—letterswhich perhaps never reached her, for she never repliedto them. I then sent a messenger, the Rev. Dr. Pratt,to see her in person, and try to induce her to come overto England under his escort and join me at Anglewood,where I impatiently awaited her. But my reverendcourier failed to find her where I had left her, at herfather’s country seat, Mondreer, and heard that she waswith her family in Washington. He came here in111search of my wife, but again failed to meet her. Hewas told that she was traveling with her family inCanada. In short, my agent failed to find her, and returnedto England from his fruitless errand.”

“Lord! how that man can lie!—I mean, what recklessassertions he can make!” said Wynnette, in a low tone,to Roland.

“I like your first way of putting it best,” mutteredyoung Bayard.

Col. Anglesea was going on with his statement:

“I was bound to England by business, which was atthe same time a most sacred duty. It is needless to gointo the description of that business and duty. It hasnothing to do with this case further than it held me fastfrom coming to this country in search of my wife; fromwhom I had never heard directly since our violent partingin the church. Nor did I hear any news of her untillast March, when a rumor reached me that she wason the eve of marriage with a cousin of hers, a Mr.Leonidas Force, a midshipman in the United StatesNavy. I took measures to find out the truth about thisreport, and having satisfied myself of it, I set sail forNew York, where I arrived only three days since. Itook the first train to Washington, and reached the cityyesterday morning. I inquired the address of Mr. AbelForce and went directly to his house. I was refusedadmittance. I asked to see my wife, but was refusedthe privilege.”

“Oh, Lord! how that man can lie! I mean, how hecan falsify the sacred truth!” panted Wynnette.

“Stick to the first form, my dear! The terse Saxonis the strongest,” muttered Roland.

Col. Anglesea continued:

“Knowing the desperate character of the man I hadto deal with——”

“Oh! just hear him talking about our gentle, lovelypapa!” whispered Elva.

112“Never mind! I’m putting it all down! He’s onlypiling up ‘wrath against a day of wrath.’ Spinning outrope enough to hang himself. I’ll give it to him! He’llcatch it!” panted Wynnette.

“Knowing, I say, the character of the man I had todeal with,” concluded Anglesea; “knowing from bitterexperience that not even the holy ground of the house ofGod was sacred from his murderous violence——”

“Rosemary Hedge! make Roland Bayard kick thatman out of the courthouse and horsewhip him in thepublic streets!” fiercely whispered Wynnette.

“Hush, hush, dear child! We are in the presence ofthe judge. Wait. I will deal with him later,” murmuredyoung Bayard.

“Rosemary Hedge! tell Roland Bayard if he don’tkick that man out and lash him, you will never marryhim!” hissed Wynnette, through her clenched teeth.

“He never asked me to,” replied Rosemary, in hertiny voice.

“Silence,” said the judge, noticing for the first timethe excited whispering in the corner.

“There! I told you so! Next thing we’ll be kickedout,” muttered Wynnette, most unreasonably, since sheherself had caused all the disturbance.

A dead silence fell among the group of girls whileAnglesea went on with his statement:

“I applied for, and obtained, the writ of habeas corpusfrom your honor, ordering the abductor of my wifeto bring her before you. So armed with the power ofthe law, I went to the house of Abel Force last nightand entered it, and not a moment too soon. I found mywife standing with a young man whom I at once recognizedas Mr. Midshipman Force, before a minister ofthe Gospel who had just pronounced the marriage benediction.I saw the writ served, and then left the house.I have no more to say but this, that I might have broughta criminal charge against her!”

The venerable judge now turned his face, impassiveas that of the Sphinx, toward Abel Force, who throughoutthe trying ordeal of Anglesea’s false testimony andinsulting demeanor had maintained his self-possessionand commanded his temper.

He now arose and came forward, took the prescribedoath, and began his statement:

“My daughter, Odalite Force, was never married toAngus Anglesea. On the twentieth of December, 18—,at All Faith Church, in Maryland, she went through aportion of the marriage ritual with him; but that ceremonywas never completed. Before the final declarationwas delivered, before the benediction was pronounced,the further proceedings were interrupted bythe entrance of a lady who claimed to be the wife ofAngus Anglesea, the would-be bridegroom——”

“An impostor! An adventuress!” exclaimed Col. Anglesea.

“And who proved herself to be the wife of AngusAnglesea, to the satisfaction of all present, by producingher marriage certificate.”

“Forgery! forgery!” exclaimed the colonel.

“I took charge of the certificate at the time and haveit with me. Will your honor examine it?”

And Abel Force drew from his breast pocket a foldedpaper which he handed to the judge.

“A clever forgery, your honor!” said Anglesea, whilethe judge unfolded and read the document.

“This,” said the judge, slowly reading the paper, “appearsto be the certificate of the marriage of AngusAnglesea, of Anglewood, Lancashire, England, colonelin the Honorable East India Service, with Ann Maria114Wright, widow, of Wild Cats’ Gulch, California. It issigned by Paul Minitree as officiating clergyman, andby several other persons as witnesses. What is themeaning of this, Col. Anglesea?”

“It is a forgery, your honor!” impudently replied thecolonel.

The judge turned and looked at Abel Force.

“So he said when it was first produced by his wife inchurch,” replied the latter; “but we telegraphed to St.Sebastian and got the record of the marriage from theparish register of St. Sebastian telegraphed back to us,word for word. I have preserved that telegram. Willyour honor examine it?”

And Mr. Force drew from his pocket a roll of whatseemed measuring tape, which he handed to the judge,who patiently unwound and carefully read the long dispatch.

“This appears to be a full corroboration. What haveyou to say about it, Col. Anglesea?”

“I say that it is a forgery! I say that there is a conspiracybetween the woman and the priest. I deny intoto the authenticity of the marriage certificate and ofthe telegram that seems to support it. They are boththe work of the same hands. Any one who can writemay fill in the printed form of a marriage certificate.Any one may send a telegram to any effect they please.I repeat that I deny in toto the truth of the certificateand of the telegram. They may be easily proven to befalse. Let an accredited agent be sent to St. Sebastianto examine the register. It will take time, but I amwilling to wait for justice,” said the colonel, with anappearance of candor and moderation calculated to deceiveany one who did not know him.

The judge turned again and looked at Mr. Force.

“Certainly. I am perfectly willing, nay, extremelyanxious, that this matter should be sifted to the very115bottom. I have no doubt or fear of the result,” saidAbel Force.

“In the meantime,” said Anglesea, “I shall pray yourhonor that my wife will be taken from the custody ofher father and delivered into my keeping.”

“That cannot be done while this question is in doubt,”said the judge, with the same impassive face.

“Then I will pray that my wife be taken from thecustody of her father, whom I cannot trust, and placedin that of the sheriff, or of some third party, with whommy rights will be safe,” persisted the man.

“We will consider.”

“If your honor will adjourn the case for twenty-fourhours I will undertake to bring this man’s wife intocourt. She is at present living at my country seat, Mondreer,in the capacity of housekeeper.”

An insolent, insulting laugh from Anglesea interruptedthe speaker for a moment.

“She is in the service of Mrs. Force, and in chargeof our country home during our absence,” continuedAbel Force, controlling his temper, and speaking quietly.

“You may adjourn the case, your honor, for the sakeof producing this woman; but when she shall be producedshe will be nothing more than an impostor—anadventuress. The only true test of this question will beto send an accredited agent to California to search theparish register of Sebastian. Two agents may be sent,for that matter; one on my part, one on the part of Mr.Force. That will secure fair play; but they will find norecord of any marriage between me and any womanwhatever. How should they? Why, your honor, I was,in that August, 18—, not in California, nor in any partof America; not on this side of the Atlantic Ocean, buton the other side, in England, at Anglewood Manor, attendingon my invalid first wife, Lady Mary Anglesea,who died suddenly on the twenty-fifth of that sameAugust. How, then, could I have been in California,116and married to this adventuress who has been broughtforward as my wife? Here is the notice of my firstwife’s death. You will see that it occurred on thetwenty-fifth of August, just twenty-four days after I amstated to have married this California widow. Willyour honor be pleased to examine it?”

And Anglesea drew the little printed slip from hispocketbook, and passed it to the judge.

That venerable dignitary read it, and looked somewhatpuzzled. In fact, the case was growing more involvedat every turn.

“Your honor must perceive that if I were in attendanceon my invalid first wife, who died on the twenty-fifthof August, at Anglewood Manor, England, I couldnot well have been in St Sebastian, California, courtingand marrying that impostor who claimed me.”

The judge looked exceedingly perplexed.

“Or if I could by any possibility have married thisCalifornian woman on the first of August, as the falsecertificate states, that marriage would not have beenlegal because my first wife was then living, and liveduntil the twenty-fifth, when she died. And, consequently,in either case, I am the husband of this younglady, Odalite Anglesea, here present.”

CHAPTER XIX
LE’S “COUP”

At this moment there was a slight movement at thedoor, and Leonidas Force entered the room, advancedand bowed to the judge, and then handed a writtenpaper to the father of Odalite.

Mr. Force took the paper, read it, started, and passedit on to the judge.

117His honor took it, read it slowly, and laid it on thetable before him.

Mr. Force had resumed his seat.

Col. Anglesea remained standing immediately infront of the judge.

Le stood a little to the right, near the end of the table.

There was silence for a few moments.

Col. Anglesea was the first to speak again.

“In view of the evidence that I have offered to provethat I am the legal husband of Odalite Anglesea, herepresent, I pray your honor that my wife be deliveredinto my custody, or if such may not be, then into that ofthe sheriff, or of some other person whom I can trust.”

“Col. Anglesea,” began the judge, speaking veryslowly and deliberately, “what did you say was the dateof your first wife’s death?”

“The twenty-fifth of August, as you may see by theobituary notice in your possession.”

“Ah! but in what year?”

The colonel’s well-guarded face changed. He seemeddisturbed, but quickly recovered himself, and answered:

“Oh! why, in the year 18—, the same year, of course,as well as the same month, in which I have been accusedof having married the California widow—which, as Iam not endowed with ubiquity, is impossible.”

“You say, then, that your first wife died on August25, 18—?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“On what date was this notice inserted, and in whatpaper?”

“In the London Times of the twenty-sixth. It isusual, I believe, to publish the obituary notice on the dayafter the death,” said the colonel, with great dignity, asif he considered this cross-examination rather irrelevant,if not even impertinent.

“London Times of the twenty-sixth of August, 18—?”

118“Of course. Yes, your honor,” replied the colonel,scarcely able to control his annoyance.

At that moment Le drew from his breast pocket afolded newspaper, which he passed to Mr. Force, who,in turn, submitted it to the judge, saying respectfully:

“Here, your honor, is a copy of the London Times towhich reference has been made. If your honor will examinethe obituary column, you will see that the noticeof Lady Mary Anglesea’s death is ‘conspicuous by itsabsence.’”

Col. Anglesea flushed and paled visibly while thejudge turned over the paper and examined it.

“I hold here a copy of the London Times of August25, 18—, the date you mentioned as containing theobituary notice of your wife’s death; but I fail to find itin the list of such notices,” said the judge.

“Will your honor allow me to look at that paper?”inquired Anglesea, struggling, and partly succeeding, inrecovering his self-control.

“Certainly,” replied the judge, and he handed it over.

“Where did this paper come from?” frowningly inquiredAnglesea of Mr. Force.

The latter gentleman replied by a wave of his handtoward Leonidas Force, who still stood near the right-handend of the table before the judge.

“I procured it from Mr. Henry Herbert, an Englishgentleman, whose acquaintance I made since my returnfrom sea, and who, as I casually found out, takes theLondon Times, and keeps a file of it.”

“Ah!” said Col. Anglesea. “I was certainly underthe strong impression that the notice of my wife’s deathwas inserted in the Times of the day after the occurrence;but, as I really had nothing to do with the mattermyself—such matters are usually attended to by thefamily solicitor, minister, or some other than the chiefmourner—I could not have been certain, and should nothave undertaken to give the precise date, as to which I119must have been mistaken. And now that I reflect uponthe matter, I remember that Lady Mary Anglesea diedat Anglewood Manor at precisely 11:53 P.M., on thetwenty-fifth, and, of course, the notice could not havereached London in time for insertion in the issue of theTimes of the twenty-sixth. It may have first appearedin the issue of the twenty-seventh, or even of the twenty-eighth,and it may have never appeared in the Times atall, but in some other paper. I do not know. I fear Itook the matter so for granted that the notice appearedin the Times on the day after the death, that I spokehastily and unadvisedly,” concluded the colonel, withthat air of candor he could so well assume.

“But you must remember from what paper you cutthe notice that you have so carefully preserved,” suggestedthe judge.

“I did not cut it from any. There, again, is anotherreason why I cannot be sure of the date, or even of thename of the paper in which it was inserted. A thoughtfulfriend of the family—I do not remember who,whether it was our rector or some other—cut it out andgave it to me as a memento some days after the funeral.But, your honor, it seems to me that the date of thepublication of the notice of the death is of very littleconsequence, as the fact remains that the event occurredon the twenty-fifth of August, 18—, while the marriagewith which I am charged is said to have taken place onthe first of the same month, which, if it did, was clearlyillegal and of no effect, and constitutes no barrier to themarriage with Odalite, my present wife, which wassolemnized at All Faith in the December following.But I say, on the contrary, that the marriage which Imyself witnessed and arrested in the house of Mr. AbelForce, yesterday, April 1st, between Odalite Angleseaand Leonidas Force, was illegal, criminal and felonious;and I might now bring my wife before the criminalcourt on the charge of bigamy.”

120“Col. Anglesea, you will do well to remember thatthis is not a criminal court, nor are we investigating acriminal charge. And govern yourself accordingly,”said the judge, speaking for the first time with greatseverity in tone and look.

Angus Anglesea bowed and was silent.

“As this question of my daughter’s freedom to contractmarriage has been raised, your honor, I will craveyour indulgence while I call your attention to this paperwhich I hold in my hand. It is a copy of the AngletonAdvertiser, of August 20th, and contains an obituarynotice to the ‘late Angus Anglesea, of Anglewood,colonel,’ etc., etc., with a sketch of his life and career,and a high eulogium of his character. This paper appearsto be the organ of his family, published in his owntown of Angleton, and on his manor of Anglewood, andshould be some authority in their affairs. And yet itpublishes the death of the master of the manor, whostands living before us. Even if my daughter had been,as she certainly never was, the wife of Angus Anglesea,such evidence as this—appearing to be true, though itwas false—of the death of the man whom she had notseen for more than three years, or since her incompletemarriage with him was broken off at the altar by theappearance of his wife, would have seemed to leave herfree to contract marriage without a shade of reproach.This paper was sent to me through the English mails,in duplicates, the first of which reached me in September,and was soon after forwarded to his wife, Mrs.Ann Maria Anglesea, at Mondreer. The second camethree days later. Will your honor look at it?”

The judge took it, slowly examined the obituary noticeand glowing eulogium of the late Col. Angus Anglesea,of Anglewood Manor, etc., etc., looked in amazementfrom the death notice to the living subject, andthen laying down the sheet, with a frown, said:

121“Mr. Force, this extraordinary publication has nothingwhatever to do with the case in hand.”

Abel Force bowed in submission and sat down. Hispoint, however, was gained. The judge had seen thepaper, and could not help drawing his own conclusions.

Judge Blank then arose to give his decision, and said:

“Col. Angus Anglesea, it is not necessary to entervery deeply into the merits of this case. You havefailed to prove any marital rights over the person ofOdalite Anglesea, otherwise Odalite Force. I, therefore,remand her, as a minor, into the custody of herfather, and I dismiss the case. Mr. Force, you can takeyour daughter away.”

Abel Force bowed deeply to the judge, and walkedtoward the group of ladies who were anxiously awaitinghim.

Col. Anglesea stepped aside to let him pass, but hissedin his ear:

“There are other tribunals. And yet I will have mywife!”

Abel Force disdained reply, but gave his arm to Odalite,and told Le to give his to Mrs. Force.

And so they left the presence of the judge.

CHAPTER XX
AFTER THE ORDEAL

The capricious April weather had changed for thebetter. The rain had ceased. The sky was clear. Thesun was shining.

As our party stood on the steps of the City Hall,waiting for their carriage to come up, Le spoke asideto the father of Odalite:

“Uncle, it is but two o’clock. Can we not drive immediately122to St. John’s rectory, and have the interruptedmarriage of yesterday completed? I supposewe would have to begin again at the beginning and haveit all over again. Still that would give ample time tocatch the New York express train, and reach the cityin time to secure the Russ a for Liverpool.”

While Le spoke Mr. Force regarded him with amazement.When Le ceased Mr. Force replied:

“No, certainly not, my dear boy. No such plan canbe entertained for a single moment. We do not know,since that scoundrel’s return, whether Odalite is free tomarry. Nor shall we ever know until the date of LadyMary Anglesea’s death is definitely ascertained. If shedid not die until the twenty-fifth of August, 18—, asthe fellow insists that she did not, then was the ceremonyhe went through with the Widow Wright no marriageat all, and the rites performed at All Faith betweenhimself and Odalite legal and binding. Youknow that as well as I do, Le.”

The young man’s face grew dark with despair.

“In any case you will never give her up to him!” hecried.

“Never, so help me Heaven! Nor can I give her toyou, Le, until she shall be proved to be free.”

“I thought, when the judge remanded her to yourcustody and dismissed the case, it was—his action wasequivalent to declaring her free.”

“He had no power to do that. But in a doubtful case,when the self-styled ‘husband’ cannot prove his right tothe woman in question, who is claimed by her father ashis unmarried daughter and a minor, it is clearly theproper course to deliver her into the keeping of herfather, always providing the father be a proper man totake the charge. No, Le, the judge has simply left thecase where he found it. You might have noticed, too,that he referred to my daughter as Odalite Anglesea,otherwise Odalite Force.’”

123“I thought he quoted that from the writ.”

“He did, yet his doing so was significant.”

“Oh, Uncle Abel, is there no way out of all this misery?Uncle Abel, it is worse than death! Is there nohelp for us under the sun?” demanded the youth, witha gesture of despair.

“Yes, Le. Be patient.”

“I have been patient for three long years, only to begrievously disappointed at the end!” bitterly exclaimedthe boy.

“Come, Le, listen to my plan. You know that we areall invited over to England to pay a long-promised visitto my brother-in-law, the Earl of Enderby. You knowthat you and Odalite were to have gone there after yourmarriage tour to join us at Castle Enderby.”

“And that plan has all fallen through with the rest,”complained Le.

“Not entirely, my boy. You cannot have a honeymoonanywhere just now. But we can go abroad together,and spend the summer in England. We can takeadvantage of our visit to investigate the particulars ofLady Mary Anglesea’s death. If we find that she diedprevious to the marriage of that villain with the WidowWright, then was that marriage legal, and Mrs. AnnAnglesea is Angus Anglesea’s lawful wife, and our Odaliteis free. If this should be the case, Le, I wouldoffer no obstacle, suggest no delay, to your immediatemarriage. By the way, Le, was that file of the Timesyou spoke of a complete one?”

“Oh, no, sir. Nor could I find a complete file in thecity. From Mr. Herbert’s file the twenty-seventh, twenty-eighthand thirtieth of August were missing, andthere was no notice of Lady Mary Anglesea’s death inany that remained.”

“Well, we can find a perfect file in London. We canalso find the Anglesea parish register, and possibly somemonument or tablet or memorial window of the deceased124lady which will give us the true date of herdeath. We cannot possibly fail to find it, Le. We shallbe sure to do so. And if the discovery proves Odaliteto be free, you shall have her the next hour, or as soonas a minister can be found to marry you.”

“And, on the other hand, uncle, if the facts do notshow her to be legally free, still you will never, neveryield her to that man?” anxiously persisted Le.

“I have told you no—never! I would see her deadfirst. Be assured of that. Why, Le, that scoundrelknows that he can never touch a hair of my daughter’shead.”

“Then why did he enact the villainy of last night andthis morning if it were not in the hope of getting herinto his possession?” demanded the youth.

“He acted from a low malice, to annoy us; if possible,to humiliate us. He knew that that was all hecould do, and he did it. There, Le. There is your car,and the other young folks are going to board it. Followthem, my boy.”

“But may I not go in the carriage with you and Odalite?”pleaded the youth.

“No, dear boy. There is no room for you. MissGrandiere goes with us. We are four, and fill the fourseats. Hurry, or you will miss the car.”

Le ran down the steps, and saved the car.

All this time Odalite had been standing in the rearof her father, and between her mother and her friendSophie Grandiere. Her veil was down, and it was sodoubled as to hide her face. All three of the ladies weresilent.

When Le had left his side, Mr. Force turned towardthem, and said:

“I ordered the carriage to come for us at about aquarter after two. I had no idea we should be out beforethat hour, and have to wait.”

125“Well, we have not had long to wait, and here itcomes,” replied Mrs. Force.

And the party walked down the steps, entered thecarriage, and drove homeward.

The Forces, except when they gave a dinner, alwayskept up their old-fashioned, wholesome habit of diningin the middle of the day. Their usual dinner hour washalf-past two, and they reached home just in time totake off their bonnets before sitting down to the table.

After dinner Mr. Force called a consultation of Mrs.Force, Odalite, Leonidas, Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary,in the library, for he said that all who were interestedin the question about to be raised should have avoice in the discussion.

When they were all seated he began, and said:

“Mrs. Force and myself have called you here, mychildren, to help us to decide whether, under the circ*mstancesthat have lately arisen, we shall go to Englandas soon as we can get off, or whether we shall carry outour first intention of waiting until June for the schoolcommencement at which you three younger ones expectto graduate. Court-martial fashion, we will begin withour youngest. Little Rosemary, what do you thinkabout it? Shall we wait two months longer, until yougraduate, or shall we go at once? You are to go withus whenever we go, and so you are an interested party,you know. Come, speak up, without fear or favor!”

But it was no easy matter to get the tiny creatureto speak at all.

Looking down, fingering her apron, she managed atlast to express her opinion that Mr. and Mrs. Forceought to decide for them all.

“No, no! That won’t do at all! No shirking yourduty, Liliputian! Tell us what you think,” laughed themaster of the house.

“Well—then—I—think—it would be nice to go atonce.”

126“And miss your scholastic honors?”

“Yes,” muttered the child, looking shyly up from herlong eyelashes. “I would rather miss them than missgoing to England.”

“All right. One for the immediate voyage. Now,Elva?”

“Papa, I wish you would let Odalite settle the question.We all would like Odalite to have her own way,”said the affectionate little sister.

“Quite right; we shall come to Odalite presently; but,in the meantime, we want your own unbiased feelingabout it.”

“Indeed, indeed, my feeling is to do just what Odalitewants me to do! Please, please, let me hear whatOdalite says before I decide.”

“Very well, then, so you shall. Now, Wynnette?”

“Papa, I think we had best go at once. It is verywarm here in the latter part of May, and all throughJune, and it will be so delightful on the ocean——”

“But your graduation, Wynnette?”

“Oh, papa! we shall not lose anything by losing thoseexercises. We are learning nothing new now. We aregoing over and over the old ground to make ourselvesverbally perfect for the examination. So, indeed, byleaving school at once we shall lose nothing but theparade of the commencement.”

“We score two votes for the immediate voyage. Odalite,my dear, you have the floor.”

“Papa, if I could go to Europe immediately withoutdetriment to the education of these girls, I should bevery glad to go. But I think everything should yieldto the interests of their education,” said Odalite.

“You have heard what Wynnette says, my dear—thatthey are adding nothing to their stock of knowledgein the last two months at school. Only perfecting themselves,in parrot-like verbiage, to answer questions at127the coming examination. They will lose nothing but thepageantry of the exhibition.”

“Then, papa, I think I would like to go very soon.”

“And now, so would I, papa,” put in Elva.

“Quite so! Four in favor of the voyage. Now, Le?”

“Uncle, you know my anxiety that we be off. Iwould go by telegraph, if I could.”

“Five! Well, my dears, Mrs. Force and myself arealready agreed that, upon all accounts, it is best that weshould sail by the first Liverpool steamship on whichwe can procure staterooms for so large a party as ours islikely to be. I will write to the agent of the Cunardline by to-night’s mail. It is very necessary that weshould go to England, without delay, not only to seeour relative, Lord Enderby, whose health is in a veryprecarious condition, but also to investigate matters inwhich Odalite’s and Le’s welfare and happiness aredeeply concerned. Rosemary, my dear, write and tellyour aunt of our changed plans in regard to the timeof the voyage. Children, this is the second of April. Ithink we will be able to sail by the twenty-third, atfurthest. So you may all begin to get ready for yourvoyage,” said Mr. Force, rising to break up the conference.

CHAPTER XXI
PREPARING TO LEAVE

Mr. Force went at once to his writing desk to writeletters—one to the New York agent of the Cunard lineof ocean steamers; another to his overseer at Mondreer,and a third to Miss Grandiere.

When all these were dispatched he joined his familycircle in the parlor.

The talk ran on events of the day.

128“The proceedings were much less formal than I hadsupposed they would be,” Mrs. Force remarked.

Mr. Force laughed, and said:

“This reminds me of the first habeas corpus case Iever witnessed. In my youth I was traveling in the farWest, and stopped, to get over an attack of chills, at thefirst house that would take me in. It was a better sortof log cabin, on the farm of Judge Starr, one of thejudges of the Supreme Court of the State; and it wasoccupied by the judge, his wife and a hired boy. I hadto sleep in the loft with the hired boy. The judgeand his wife occupied the room below as parlor, bedroom,dining room and kitchen——”

“Oh, what living for civilized and enlightened humanbeings!” exclaimed Mrs. Force.

“He lives in a five-hundred-thousand-dollar housenow, my dear, and if it were not irreverent to say so,I might almost add that his ‘cattle’ are ‘upon a thousandhills.’ But that is not the point now. On the morningafter my arrival I heard the judge say to his wife—foryou could hear through the gaping planks of the loftfloor every word that was spoken in the room below—Iheard him say:

“‘That case of little Valley Henley will come up to-day.’

“‘Will it?’ she replied. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what todo, Nick! You leave it to the child herself.’

“‘I will,’ said the judge.”

“And yet they say women have no power! Andhere was the wife of one of the judges of the supremecourt of the State, ordering him what to do!” exclaimedWynnette.

“Well,” continued Mr. Force, “about ten o’clock, havingtaken a warm cup of coffee, brought up to me byMrs. Judge, and having got over the fever that followedthe chill, I arose and dressed and went downstairs.But Mrs. Judge was ‘in the suds,’ and the room was full129of hot steam; so I walked out into the back yard, whereI found the judge in his red shirt sleeves, sawing wood.Almost before I could say good-morning, came the hiredboy and proclaimed:

“‘They’re come.’

“‘Bring them right in here,’ said the judge, and hethrew down his saw and seated himself astraddle thelog on the wood horse.

“And then came half a dozen or more of men with apale, scared little girl among them. An orphan child,she was, with plenty of money, and she was claimed bytwo uncles, one of whom had taken out a writ of habeascorpus, to compel the other to bring her before the judge,to decide who should have her.

“Well, there was a lawyer on each side, and witnesseson each side, and plenty of hard swearing and bold lyingon both sides. And the judge sat in his red flannel shirtsleeves, astride the log on the wood horse, and strokedhis stubble beard of a week’s growth, and listened patiently.The poor little object of dispute stood and trembled,until the judge noticed her and lifted her upon hisknees, put his arm around her waist and held her there,saying:

“‘Don’t be afraid, little woman. No one shall hurtyou in any way.’

“And the child plucked up her little spirits, and thejudge listened first to one lawyer and then to the other,while they each exhausted all their law on the case, withoutaffecting the issue in the least degree—for the resultlay in the will of that helpless, orphan child, whose littlehead lay against the judge’s red shirt. While they alltalked themselves hoarse, the judge listened gravely, butspoke never a word.

“And Mrs. Judge came in and out of the yard, hangingher clothes on the line.

“When they could talk no longer they were obliged to130be silent, and then the judge lifted the child’s head fromhis bosom, sat her up straight, and asked her:

“‘Now, my little woman, let us hear what you havegot to say, as you are the most interested party. Whichuncle had you rather go and live with?’

“It was some time before the frightened child foundcourage to open her lips, but when, reassured by themanner of the judge, she did speak, it was to the purpose.

“‘Oh, sir, please, I want to go back to dear UncleBen! Mamma did leave me to Uncle Ben; indeed, indeed,the Lord knows that she did! And I don’t knowMr. Holloway! And no more did she! I never sawMr. Holloway till he came here after me to take meaway off to Portland.’

“‘Very well, you shall go back to Uncle Ben,’ saidthe judge, and raising his voice, he continued: ‘Mr.Benjamin Truman, here is your niece and ward. Takeher, and take care of her.’

“A rough backwoodsman came forward and took thelittle maiden in his arms and kissed her, and thentouched his hat to the judge on the wood horse and ledthe happy child away.

“And then a polished gentleman threw himself into apassion, and used objectionable language that mighthave subjected him to fine and imprisonment, had thelaw been administered to him in its severity. But thegood judge only said:

“‘If you are not satisfied, there’s the orphans’ court—though,I have no doubt, that also would leave thechild in the custody of her present guardian.’

“And with this the judge got off his ‘bench,’ took uphis saw and resumed his work.

“And half the crowd went off swearing and threatening,and the other half laughing and cheering. Thatwas my first experience in habeas corpus. Judge Starrhas risen to wealth, power and position since then; children131came to him among other good gifts, and his eldestdaughter has lately married an English nobleman, whois quite as noble ‘in nature as in rank.’”

“Oh, I like that judge! I am glad he rose in theworld!” exclaimed little Elva.

“I would like to see him,” murmured poor Odalite,won for the moment from the contemplation of her ownwoes.

“My love, for the last three years you have met himmany, many times,” said her father.

“Met him!—here, in Washington? But I don’t rememberany Judge Starr.”

“That was a fictitious name. I could not use his realname in telling such a story—though I don’t know why,either. But, my dear, he is now one of the judges ofthe Supreme Court of the United States. You cannotfail to identify him.”

“Oh, I know! I know!” exclaimed Odalite, with abright smile.

“Who was it? Which was it? What was his name?”came in a dozen tones from the young people present.

“No; since papa has not named him, I must not,” saidOdalite.

And then the sound of the supper bell summonedthem to the table.

Two days after that Mr. Force received a letter fromthe New York agent of the Cunard line of steamers, tellinghim that the first steamer on which they could accommodateso large a party as the Forces’ would be thePersia, which would sail on the twenty-eighth of May.There were not so many ocean steamers then as now,and people had to secure their passages a long way beforehand.

“The twenty-eighth of may! Nearly two months!What a nuisance! But it is because there are so manyof us! Seven cabin passengers for the first, and two forthe second cabin! However, wife, I will tell you what132we will do: We will go down to Mondreer to spend theintervening time; and we will give up this house atonce. You know our lease expired on the first of April—twodays ago—and we are only staying here a fewdays on sufferance, because the house is not wanted atthis season. Yes; we will go down to Mondreer. Whatdo you say?” inquired Abel Force of his wife, to whomhe had just read the agent’s letter.

“We will go down to Mondreer as soon as the Grandiereshave finished their visit. We invited them for aweek, you know, and they have been here but three days,and have seen but little of the city. And as to the house,I suppose we will pay at the same rate at which weleased it, so long as we shall stay,” replied Mrs. Force.

The evening mail brought a letter from Beever, theoverseer at Mondreer, giving good accounts of the estate;and also a letter from Miss Grandiere, acquiescingin Mr. Force’s plans, and begging on the part of hersister, Mrs. Hedge, as well as on her own, that Mr. andMrs. Force would use their own judgment in all mattersconnected with Rosemary and the voyage; only stipulatingthat the child should be sent home to visit herfriends before going abroad.

Mr. Force wrote and mailed three letters that afternoon.One to the New York agent of the Cunard steamships,engaging accommodations for his whole party forthe Persia, on the twenty-eighth of May; another toBeever, expressing satisfaction at the report of affairsat Mondreer, and announcing his speedy return with hisfamily to their country home; and a third to Miss Grandiere,telling her that Rosemary would be with her in afew days.

Then Mr. Force turned his attention to the youngguests of the family, and put himself out a little to showthem around Washington City and its suburbs.

Mrs. Force, meanwhile, at the head of her household,was busy with her packing and other preparations for133their removal to Mondreer and their after voyage toEurope.

Every day she sent off boxes by express to Mondreer.

And so the week passed.

Nothing, meantime, had been heard of Col. Anglesea,until Mr. Force put a private detective upon his track,who reported, at the end of the week, that the colonelhad left Washington for Quebec.

That was a relief, at least.

It was the tenth of April before the Grandieres finallyconcluded to return home, and then Mrs. Force, supportedby her own girls, begged that they would remainuntil the whole family were ready to go to Mondreer,that all might travel together; for the lady did not wishthat the news of Odalite’s second interrupted weddingshould reach the neighborhood and get distorted by gossipbefore their own return to their country home.

It was, therefore, on a fine day, the twelfth of April,that the large party of family and guests left the cityhome in the care of the janitor sent by the landlord, andtook the train en route for Mondreer.

CHAPTER XXII
FAREWELL VISIT TO MONDREER

It was a long day’s ride, and it was dark when theirtrain ran into the little station where it stopped for halfa minute.

The large party got out, and they found a muchlarger party collected to meet them.

There was old Tom Grandiere—as the master of Oldfield134was beginning to be called—with an ox cart tocarry his tribe of sons and daughters home.

There was William Elk, with an old barouche whichhe had brought to meet his niece.

There was Miss Sibby Bayard in her mule cart, cometo fetch Roland.

Lastly, there was Mrs. Anglesea, in the capaciousbreak, driven by Jacob, come to fetch the whole Forcefamily home from the station to Mondreer.

And there were such hearty, cordial greetings as areseldom heard in this world.

“Welcome home, neighbors!”

“We have missed you!”

“Thank Heaven you have come back!”

And so on and so on! All speaking at once, so that itwas difficult to tell who said what, or to reply distinctlyto anything.

Yet the Forces all responded in the most cordial mannerto these effusive greetings, in which Mrs. Force andOdalite detected an undertone of sadness and sympathywhich both mother and daughter understood too well.

“They have heard of our new humiliation, althoughwe have never written of it! Yes, they have all heardof it, though no one alludes to it,” was the unutteredthought of mother and daughter.

“Lord’s sake, ole man, hoist them children up hereand get in! Don’t stand palavering with them people allnight! I’m gwine to drive you all home myself. I onlybrought him for show! I wouldn’t trust him to takeus home safe over bad roads in the dark,” said Mrs.Anglesea, from her seat on the box beside the coachman.

“Well, my girls and boys, have you been so spoiled byyour gay city life that you will never be content withyour dull, country home again?” demanded ThomasGrandiere, as he helped his big daughters to tumble upinto the ox cart.

“Oh, dad, it was perfectly delightful! But we are135glad to get home and see you, for all that!” answeredSophie.

sentimentally sighed Peggy. And all the other sistersand the brothers chimed in with her.

“Washington is well enough, but they are all too indifferentabout the crops ever to amount to much, Ithink,” said Sam Grandiere, and his brother Ned secondedthe motion. And so that party waved a last adieuto the Forces and drove off.

“Your mother and your aunt are both at our house,Rosemary, and so I came to fetch you over there,” saidWilliam Elk, as he helped his little mite of a niece intothe old barouche. “You don’t grow a bit, child! Areyou never going to be a woman?” he further inquired,as he settled her into her seat.

“Nature puts her finest essences into her tiniest receptacles,Uncle Elk!” said Roland, who called everybodyelse’s uncle his own.

But William Elk had driven off without receiving thebenefit of the young man’s words.

“Roland, come here and get into this cart afore thishere brute goes to sleep and drops down. There’s a timefor all things, sez I, and the time to stand staring aftera young gal, sez I, isn’t nine o’clock at night whenthere’s an ole ’oman and wicious mule on a cart waitin’for you, and a mighty dark night and a rough road aforeyou, sez I!” called Miss Sibby, from her seat.

“All right, aunty, I’m coming.”

And the young fellow jumped into the cart, took thereins from the old lady, and started the mule at a speedthat made the animal co*ck his ears and meditate rebellion.

By this time Mr. and Mrs. Force, their three daughtersand Leonidas were seated in the break.

Mrs. Anglesea was on the box, driving. This she so136insisted on doing that there was no preventing her exceptby enacting a scene.

“Jake’s getting old, and blind, and stupid. I’m notgoing to trust my precious neck to him, you bet! I havelost a good deal, but I want to keep my head on myshoulders,” she had said, as she took the reins fromJake, who immediately folded his arms, closed his eyesand resigned himself to sleep.

“You had better let me drive if you are afraid totrust Jake, Mrs. Anglesea,” suggested Mr. Force.

“You!” said the lady from Wild Cats’, in a tone of ineffablecontempt. “Not much! I’d a heap rather trustJake than you! Why, ole man, you never were a goodwhip since I knowed you, and you’ve been out of practicethree years! Sit still and make yourself comfortable,and I’ll land you safe at Mondreer. Old Luce will havea comfortable tea there for you, and strawberry shortcake,too. Think of strawberries on the twelfth of April!But I raised ’em under glass. And so my beat wasn’tdead, after all! And I in mourning for him ever sincethe fourteenth of February! Well, my beat beats all!I shall never believe him dead until I see him strungup by a hangman and cut up by the doctors—of whichI live in hopes! No, you needn’t worry. Jake’s fastasleep, and he wouldn’t hear thunder, nor even the dinnerhorn, much less my talk!”

“How did you hear that Col. Anglesea had turned upagain?” inquired Mr. Force.

“Why, Lord! ole man, it’s all over the whole country.You couldn’t cork up and seal down news like that! Itwould bu’st the bottle! I believe some one fetched itdown from Washington to the Calvert House, and thenit got all over the country; and Lord love you, Jakeheard it at the post office and fetched it home to thehouse. And then—when Beever got your letter, andnot a word was said about the wedding, and Miss Grandieregot two—one from you and one from Rosemary—and137nothing said neither about no brides nor grooms, wefelt to see how it was. And now there’s lynching partiessworn in all over the neighborhood to put an end to thatbeat if ever he dares to show his face here again. Oh!the whole neighborhood is up in arms, I tell you!”

“I am very sorry my good neighbors’ sympathydemonstrates itself in that way,” said Mr. Force.

“You can’t help it, though!” triumphantly exclaimedthe lady from the diggings, as she gave the off horse asharp cut that started the whole team in a gallop, andjerked all the party out of their seats and into themagain.

“As a magistrate, it is my bounden duty to help it,”returned Mr. Force, as soon as he recovered from thejolt.

“Look here, ole man! You take a fool’s advice andlay low and say nothing when lynch law is going roundseeking whom it may devour! For when it has feastedon one wictim it licks its chops and looks round for another,and wouldn’t mind gobbling up a magistrate ortwo any more than you would so many oysters! Leastwaysthat is how it was at Wild Cats’. And I tell you,our boys out there woudn’t have let a beat like him cumberthe face of the earth twenty-four hours after his firstperformance, if they could have got hold of him. It’sa word and a blow with them, and the blow comes first!Now, for goodness’ sake, do stop talking, ole man! Ican’t listen to you and drive down this steep hill at thesame time without danger of upsetting! Whoa, Jessie!What y’re ’bout, Jack? Stea—dee!”

And the lady on the box gave her whole attention totaking her team safely down Chincapin Hill and acrossthe bridge over Chincapin Creek.

“Oh! how glad I am to see the dear old woods and thecreek and the bridge once more!” said little Elva, fervently.

“‘See!’ Why, you can’t see a mite of it! It is as138dark here as the bottom of a shaft at midnight. Nomoon. And what light the stars might give hid by themeeting of the trees overhead. ‘See,’ indeed! There’simagination for you!” replied Mrs. Anglesea.

“Well, anyhow I know we are on the dear old bridge,and going over the creek, because I can hear the soundof the wheels on the planks and the gurgle of the waterrunning through the rocks and stones,” deprecatinglyreplied Elva.

“Why don’t you say ecstatically—

That’s the way to go on if you mean to do it up brown!”chaffed Wynnette.

“Oh, how can you be such a mocker! Are you notglad to get home?” pleaded Elva.

“Rather; but I’m not in raptures over it.”

“Look here, young uns! Stop talking; you distractme. I can’t listen and drive at the same time. And ifyou will keep on jawing you’ll get upset. These roadsare awful bad washed by the spring rains, and if we gethome safe it will be all owing to my good driving! Onlyyou mustn’t distract me by jawing!” said Mrs. Anglesea.And having silenced every tongue but her own, shedrove on slowly by the light of the carriage lanterns,which only shed a little stream directly in front of her,talking all the time about the negligence of the supervisorsand the carelessness of the farmers in sufferingthe roads to be in such a condition at that time of theyear.

“This could never a been the case if you’d been home,ole man! You’d a been after them supervisors with asharp stick, you would! But, Lord! the don’t-care-ishnessof the men about here!” she concluded, as she drewup at the first broad gate across the road leading intothe Mondreer grounds.

139Her passengers thought, but did not say, that if thelady on the box could not listen and drive at the sametime, she could certainly drive and talk pretty continuouslyat the same time.

“Here, you lazy nigg*r, Jake! Wake up and jumpdown and open this here gate!” exclaimed Mrs. Anglesea,giving the old sleeper such a sharp grip and hardshake that he yelled before he woke and said he dreameda limb of a tree had caught him and knocked him outof his seat.

However, he soon came to a sense of the situation, halfclimbed and half tumbled down to the ground andopened the gate to let the break pass through.

The house was now in sight and lighted up from garretto basem*nt.

“Oh, how pretty!” cried Elva.

And Wynnette mocked her good-humoredly.

“I told Luce to do it and leave all the window shuttersopen so you could see through. Lord! tallow candles arecheap enough, ’specially when you make ’em yourself.And there was an awful lot of beef tallow last killing torender down. I couldn’t tell you how many candles Irun—about five hundred, I reckon! Well, here we areat the house, and——Oh, Lord! Jake, jump down andhold that dog, or he’ll break his chain and jump throughthe carriage windows!” cried Mrs. Anglesea, as theystopped before the house.

Indeed, Joshua was making “the welkin ring” withhis joyous barks and his frantic efforts to get at thereturning friends, whose presence he had scented.

“Let him loose this instant, Jake! Unchain him, Isay!” exclaimed Wynnette. And without waiting forher orders to be obeyed, she sprang from the carriage,fell upon the dog’s neck, and covered him with caresses.

“Oh, you dear, good, true, trusty old fellow! To knowus all again after so many years! To be so glad to seeus! And to forgive us at once for going away and leaving140you behind. You would never have left us, wouldyou, my dog? Ah! dogs are a great deal more faithfulthan human beings.”

While Wynnette with her own hands unloosed thechain, the other members of the family alighted fromthe break.

And Joshua, released from restraint, dashed into themidst of the group, barking in frantic raptures, anddarting from one to another trying to turn himself intoa half a dozen dogs to worship at once a half a dozenfalse gods in the form of his returning friends.

They all responded to Joshua’s demonstrations, andthen entered the house, closely followed by the dog, whodid not mean to lose sight of them again.

In the lighted hall they found all the family servantsgathered to welcome them home.

“Oh, dear mist’ess, we-dem all frought as you-demhad forsook us forever and ever, amen!” said Luce,bursting into tears, as she took and kissed the hand hermistress offered.

CHAPTER XXIII
LE’S PLAN

When all the greetings were over the family wereallowed to go upstairs—still in custody of the dog, whokept his eye on them—and take off their traveling suits.

Mrs. Anglesea walked ahead to see that every one wascomfortable.

Every bedroom was perfectly ready for its occupant,well lighted by candles in silver candlesticks on the mantelpieceand on the dressing bureau, and well warmedby a bright little wood fire in the open fireplace, whichthis chilly April evening rendered very pleasant.

“One thing I do grieve to part with, even in the lovely141spring, and that is our beautiful open wood fires!” saidElva, as she sat down on the rug, with Joshua lyingbeside her, before the fire in the bedroom occupied byWynnette and herself.

“So do I! I am always glad when a real cool eveningcomes to give us an excuse to kindle one,” Wynnetteassented.

But the tea bell rang, and they had to leave the brightattraction, and, closely attended by Joshua, who resolvedto keep them in view, go down to the dining room, whereall the family were assembled.

This apartment was also brightly lighted by a chandelier,which hung from the ceiling over the well-spreadtable, and warmed by a clear little wood fire in the openchimney.

“Strawberries and wood fires! The charms of summerand winter meeting in spring!” exclaimed Wynnette,glancing from the open chimney to the piled-upglass bowl of luscious fruit that stood as the crowningglory of the table.

“Raised under glass, honey. And a time I had tokeep the little nigg*rs from stealing them! Childrenmay be little angels, but I never seed one yet as wouldn’tsteal fruit when it could get a chance.”

“I think they instinctively believe that all the fruitthat grows belongs to them, or at least, as much of it asever they want, and—maybe they are right,” said Mr.Force.

“That’s pretty morality to teach the young uns! Youought to be ashamed of yourself, ole man. That’s notmy way, nohow. I spanked every one of them littlenigg*rs with a fine new shingle until they roared again,every time I caught ’em at the strawberries; and, providentially,there were plenty of new shingles handy—leftby the carpenters who put the new roof on the backporch,” said the lady from the mines.

But no one replied; and as Mrs. Force had taken her142seat at the head of the table, all the party gatheredaround, while the dog stretched himself on the rug beforethe fire and watched his family. They wouldn’tget away again for parts unknown, and stay three years—notif he knew it!

It was late when they sat down to tea, but as theywere all very hungry, and this was their first meal athome after years of absence, they lingered long aroundthe table.

And when at last they arose and went into the drawingroom, still “dogged” by Joshua, it was only for ashort chat around the fire, and then a separation for thenight.

“Jake, put that dog out,” said Mrs. Anglesea, whocould not all at once forget to give orders in the houseshe had ruled for three years, even now when the mistresswas present.

Jake advanced toward the brute, but Joshua laid himselfdown at Wynnette’s feet and showed all his fangsin deadly fashion.

“’Deed, missis, it’s as much as my life’s worf to techdat dorg now,” pleaded Jake.

“Let Joshua alone,” said Wynnette; “he shall sleepon the rug in my room, shan’t you, good dog?”

Joshua growled a reply that was perfectly well understoodby Wynnette to mean that he certainly should dothat very thing in spite of all the wildcat women increation.

And so when all went upstairs, the dog trotted upsoberly after his little mistress, and when the latterreached their room, he laid himself down contentedly onthe rug, and watched until he saw them abed and asleep.Then he resigned himself to rest.

“Oh! the rapture of being at home again!” breathedlittle Elva, standing on the rose-wreathed front piazza,and looking forth upon the splendid April morning,when the sky was blue, and the bay was blue, and the143forest trees of tenderest green, and the orchard treeswith apple blossoms, peach blossoms, all like one vastparterre of blossoming flowers; and the tulips, hyacinths,jonquils, daffodils, pansies, japonicas, and all the wealthand splendor of spring bloom on the flower beds on thelawn were radiant with color and redolent of perfume.

“Oh! the rapture of being at home!” said little Elva,softly to herself, as she gazed on the scene.

“‘Hail, blest scenes of my childhood!’” sentimentallymurmured a voice behind her.

Elva turned quickly, and saw, as she expected to see,the mocking face of Wynnette.

“Oh, Wynnette! how can you make such fun of me!”inquired Elva, in an aggrieved tone.

“To prevent other things making a fool of you. Comein, now, to breakfast. They are all down, and I cameout to look for you.”

The girls went in together, and took their places atthe table.

When the breakfast was over, Le asked his uncle forthe loan of a horse to ride over to Greenbushes.

“I want to take a look at the little place, which I havenot seen for three years and more,” he explained.

“Why, certainly, Le. Take any horse you like. Andnever think it necessary to ask me. Are you not as a sonto me?” said Abel Force.

“I did hope to be your son, sir, in every possible senseof the word, but that hope seems dead now,” sighed theyoung man.

“Not at all, Le! We have only to prove a fraud inthe alteration of the date of Lady Mary Anglesea’s deathto set aside every imaginary barrier between you andOdalite.”

“But, sir, he denies that there ever was any marriagebetween himself and this Californian lady. He declaresthat it is all a conspiracy between the woman and thepriest, that the marriage certificate is a forgery, and the144telegram a fraud, and he defied us to go or send to St.Sebastian to test the matter. Now if this Californianlady is not Anglesea’s wife——” Le paused. He couldnot bring himself to conclude the sentence.

“If the Californian is not his wife, Odalite is, no matterat which date the first wife died,” said Mr. Force,finishing the unspoken argument.

“Yes, that is what I meant to say—only I could not.”

“My dear Le, have you the least doubt as to the realityof that St. Sebastian marriage, whatever may be said ofits legality?”

“No, none in the world. Still I want further proofof it. I want to go to St. Sebastian and search theparish register, as he challenged us to do!”

“Bah! He only did that out of bravado, to annoy usand to gain time. He no more believed that we wouldeither go or send to St. Sebastian than he believed thathe would ever be permitted to touch the tip of Odalite’sfinger as long as he should live in this world! He actedfrom a low spite, without the slightest hope of any othersuccess.”

“Notwithstanding that, Uncle Abel, upon reflection,I shall go to California and search that parish registerand bring back with me absolute, unquestionable proofof that marriage to take with us to England. Then,when we can prove that Lady Mary Anglesea’s deathoccurred before Col. Anglesea’s second marriage, weshall know Odalite to be free to become my wife. Don’tyou see?”

“Yes, Le; but when do you propose to go to Californiaon this quest? You know we sail for England insix weeks from this.”

“I shall start to-morrow, and lose no time! travelexpress! do my work as quickly as it can be done thoroughly—forto do it most thoroughly must be my firstcare—then I shall travel express coming home, and sobe back again as soon as possible.”

145“Well, my boy, go!” said Mr. Force. “I approveyour earnestness, and may Heaven speed you.”

CHAPTER XXIV
WHAT FOLLOWED THE RETURN

“Now, ole ’oman, I want you to go all over the house’long o’ me, to see for yourself how I’ve done my duty,”said the lady from Wild Cats’, as she followed Mrs.Force from the breakfast room on the day after thereturn of the family to Mondreer.

“Indeed, Mrs. Anglesea, I have no doubt you havedone perfectly well,” replied the mistress of the house,deprecatingly.

“Yes, but I want you to see that I have. Now comeinto the storeroom,” said the housekeeper, resolutelyleading the way, while Mrs. Force obediently followed.

“Now look at them there rows of pickles and preserves,and jams and jellies, on them there shelves. Allmade by my own hands. Them on the top shelf is threeyears old, and all the better for their age. Them on themiddle shelf was made last year, and is very good.Them on the bottom shelf is the newest, and wants alittle more age on ’em.”

“I’m afraid you worked too hard in making up thesethings, and also denied yourself the use of them, sincethe shelves are so full.”

“Who? Me? Not much! I own I did work hard.I like work. But as to denying myself anything good toeat, jest you catch yours to command at it, if you can;and if you do, jest let me know, so I can consult a maddoctor to find out what’s the matter with my thinkingmachine. No, ma’am. I don’t deny myself nothinggood to eat. You bet your pile on that. Fasting never146was no means of grace to me. I had plenty of picklesand preserves at all the three meals of the day. And sohad the two nigg*rs. Lord! why, next to eating myself,I love dearly to see other people eat.”

“I am very glad you enjoyed yourself,” said Mrs.Force.

“You bet! And now look into this closet, and see thedried yerbs and roots and berries I have got here. Seenow!”

“A great store, indeed.”

“All gathered by my own hands, and with the dew on’em, before the sun was up, and shaken and dried in theshade by me. And now look here at this shelf full ofboxes of honey. I ’tended to it all myself. I hivedeleven swarms of bees since you have been gone. And Idid want to complete the dozen so much. But, Lord! itis always so. Just because I wanted to, they got awaywhile I was at church one Sunday morning. You can’tbeat any religion into bees. They didn’t mind breakingthe Sabbath no more than a wild Indian. But I’ll morethan make up that dozen next season, you bet.”

“You have done admirably well to have saved somany.”

“Think so? Well, now come out into the meat house,and see the barrels of salt pork and beef, all corned bymy own hands, and the sugar-cured hams and the smokedtongues. Oh, I tell you!”

Mrs. Force followed her manager out of a back doorinto a paved yard and across it, to a small detachedbuilding of stone, set apart for the purpose to which theable housekeeper had put it.

We cannot follow the two women through all theround of inspection, into the smoke houses, meat houses,poultry yards, etc., but will only add that the lady wasgratified by all she saw, and was liberal in commendationof her deputy.

“Now come into the house, and we’ll go upstairs into147the linen room, and then up into the garret to look at thecarpet and woolen curtains, and blankets and things,laid up in lavender for the summer, and if you find ahole unmended in anything whatsoever, or a patch puton crooked, jest you let me know it, will you, and I’ll goright straight off and consult that same mad doctor Imentioned before, to see if anything’s the matter withmy headpiece.”

When the inspection of the house was entirely overMrs. Force was very earnest in her expressions of satisfactionand gratitude to the faithful and capable manager.

“You are a much better housekeeper than I ever was,Mrs. Anglesea,” she said, as they came downstairs together.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Gifts is divers. You’ve got agift of working in silks and worsteds, and beads andthings, and playing on the pianoforty, and speaking inall the lingoes of the Tower of Babel. But you can’tkeep house worth a cent. And the Lord knows whatwould a-become of you all if it had not been for ole AuntLucy. Now she’s a fairish sort of a manager, thoughshe can’t come up to me. No, ma’am! I never graduatedfrom no college. I can’t play on nothing but theJew’s-harp, and I can’t speak any language but what Ilearned at my ole mother’s knee. But, Lord! as forgood housekeeping and downright useful hard working,I can whip the coat offen the back of any man or anywoman going.”

“I think that few can excel you,” said Mrs. Force, asthey entered the little parlor.

“You bet!” said the lady from the diggings, as shedropped heavily into an armchair and panted. “And Ididn’t learn to keep house at Wild Cats’, neither! Lord,no; there wasn’t much chance to keep house in a logcabin with a dirt floor, and not even a loft or a lean-to!It was from my good ole mother I learned all I know!148And little use it was to me at Wild Cats’. And, oh!when I think of the gold diggings, and my poor ole manleaving of a comfortable home to go and live in a poorshanty, and dig in the bowels of the earth for nigh elevenyears to make his pile, and then to die and leave it allbehind for that grand vilyan to rob me of——Butthere! Lord, what’s the use of thinking of it when I’vegot as fine a goose in the roaster before the kitchen fireas ever swam upon a pond, as rich a green gooseberry piein the oven as ever was baked! And so, ole ’oman, I’llleave yer now, ’cause I can’t trust ole Luce! She ain’tthe ’oman she used to be by a long shot. She’s sort o’getting blind, I think,” concluded the housekeeper, asshe arose and left the room.

Mrs. Force sat back in her chair to rest after her tourof the house and yard.

While thus resting she heard the sound of carriagewheels, and then a gay bustle before the front door, thevoices of Wynnette and Elva mingled with the voices ofa lady and gentleman, the laughing of a child, the crowingof a baby, and the barking of a dog.

Presently the hall door opened and all this merry confusionof sounds rolled into the hall and into the drawingroom.

And before Mrs. Force could arise from her chair togo and see what could be the matter, her door was suddenlythrown open and Wynnette, all aglow with excitement,burst into the room, exclaiming:

“Oh, mamma! It is Natalie! Dear Natalie and—andtwo babies! Dr. Ingle brought them in his gig, andhe is only waiting to speak to you, to leave them herewhile he goes his round among his patients, and then hewill call and take them home! But, oh, mamma, Iwant you to make him promise to come back and stay todinner and spend the evening—will you? Oh, mamma,Natty is looking so lovely, and her babies are justheavenly!”

149“My dear, impetuous Wynnette, stop and take breath!Of course Natalie and her children must spend the day,and the doctor must return to dinner. Come! I willgo to them,” said Mrs. Force, as she arose and went intothe drawing room, followed by the delighted Wynnette.

CHAPTER XXV
THE FIRST VISITORS

As soon as Mrs. Force opened the door Dr. Inglestepped rapidly to meet her, with both hands extended.

“Welcome back to us! Dear friend! Only this morningwe heard of your arrival through Ned Grandiere,who came to my office early to ask me to call and seeone of the colored folks on his farm; but Natalie immediatelytook a fit, and declared that I must bring herand the babies here before going anywhere else! Sohere they are, and now I must be off to Oldfields.”

Before the doctor had half finished this speech Natalieherself was in Mrs. Force’s arms, laughing and cryingfor joy.

“Well, well! I must say good-by, madam!” exclaimedthe doctor, rather impatiently, as he held out hishands to the lady of the house.

“I suppose I must not detain you from your patients;but I cannot let you go until you have promised to returnto dinner, and to spend the evening with us,” saidMrs. Force.

“I thank you! I promise! Good-morning!” Andthe doctor bowed himself out of the drawing room.

“Oh, you sweet little thing! You lovely, lovely littlething!” cooed Elva, seated upon a hassock, with the fewmonths old baby across her lap.

“These are your children, Natalie? What fine children150they are,” said Mrs. Force, as they all resumedtheir seats.

“Do you think so? I am glad you think so,” repliedthe proud young mother. “Come here, Effie, and speakto this lady,” she continued, taking a little, white-robedtoddler by the hand and leading her up to Mrs. Force.

The little one stood before the lady, with her chindown on her bosom, and her soft brown eyes turnedshyly up to her hostess.

“Make your courtesy now to the lady,” said hermother.

The little creature obeyed and dropped her courtesy,still turning her soft brown eyes, full of reverence andadmiration, up to her hostess’ face.

“So this is my little namesake?” said Mrs. Force,lifting the child upon her lap.

“Yes, named Elfrida, for you and Elva; but we callher Effie, and she calls herself Essie,” said the youngmother.

“Ah! is that your name, little one?” inquired thelady, stroking the child’s curls.

“Es, ma’am—Essie,” replied the baby.

“And what else besides Essie?”

“Essie—Indy, ma’am.”

“Oh, Essie Ingle—is that it?”

“Es, ma’am; Essie—Indy.”

“And how old are you, Essie?”

“Me—two—doin’ on fee.”

Mrs. Force looked at the mother for a translation ofthese words.

“She is two years, going on three,” laughed little Mrs.Ingle.

Mrs. Force continued her catechism of the child, whoanswered in broken baby language, but with rare intelligence,and still with such simple reverence and admirationas touched the lady’s heart.

“Oh, Natalie!” she said, “can there be anything more151spirit-searching to a grown-up sinner than the innocentreverence and trust of a child! Lo! they think us sowise and so good, while we know ourselves to be so foolishand evil! Ah me, Natalie!”

Young Mrs. Ingle made no reply, but looked puzzledand distressed while little Essie put up her hand timidly—reverentially,and stroked the fair cheek of thelady, with some vague instinct of tenderness and sympathy.

“Oh, mamma, look at little Wynnie! sweet, littleWynnie! You have not noticed her yet!” said Elva,reproachfully, as she arose, and brought the infant toher mother.

“Wynnie?” inquired Mrs. Force, looking up intoNatalie Ingle’s face, as she sat Essie on the carpet andtook the babe on her lap.

“Yes, we have named her Wynnette, and we call herWynnie. She is not christened yet. We waited for youto come home,” Natalie explained.

They were interrupted by other visitors.

The Rev. Dr. Peters and Mrs. Peters came to welcometheir old friends to the neighborhood.

“Three years and three months since you left theneighborhood, madam,” said the rector, when the firstgreetings were over. “And dear, dear, what changesthree years have made! Your two younger daughtershave grown so much! Wynnette is a young lady. Elvasoon will be one. And Odalite, madam? I hope she iswell.”

“Odalite is quite well, thank you, Dr. Peters. Shehas gone over to Greenbushes, but she will be back todinner. You and Mrs. Peters, I hope, will give us thehappiness of your company for the day,” said the lady.

“Thank you, very much; but on this first day afteryour return home——”

“Now, doctor, I will take no denial. Wynnette, mylove, go and tell Jacob to put up the doctor’s carriage152and horse. Mrs. Peters, will you lay off your bonnethere, or will you go to a room?”

“I will go upstairs, if you please, dear. You see Ihave my cap in this little bandbox,” replied the rector’swife.

So they had come to stay! And, of course, Mrs.Force knew that well enough when she invited them.

An old couple, like the good rector and his wife, couldnot be expected to come so long a drive only to make ashort call.

Mrs. Force conducted her latest guest upstairs to aspare room, where the old lady took off her black Cantoncrape shawl, and her black silk bonnet, and put onher lace cap with white satin ribbons.

And then they went down together.

When they returned to the drawing room they foundthe place deserted.

Wynnette had carried off young Mrs. Ingle and thetwo babies to her own and Elva’s room, which was nowconverted into a day nursery, where Natalie, seated ina low rocking-chair, was putting her baby to sleep, whileElva, with a picture book, was quietly amusing Essie.

“Now, Natty, dear, as you know you are quite athome, you must excuse me, and let me go down to Dr.Peters, who is alone in the drawing room,” said Wynnette,as she kissed her ex-governess and dear friend andleft the chamber.

But when she reached the hall below she found thatthe good rector was well taken care of.

Through the open hall door she saw him and herfather walking up and down the piazza, enjoying the finespring day, and smoking some of the squire’s fine cigars.

So Wynnette went into the drawing room, where shefound her mother and the rector’s wife, who had justentered the place.

More visitors.

The gallop and halt of a horse was heard without, and153soon after Mr. Sam Grandiere, escorted by Mr. Forceand Dr. Peters, entered the drawing room, and madehis bow to the lady of the house and her guest, and thenshook hands with Wynnette and sat down, looking asred-headed, freckle-faced, bashful and awkward as ever.

He remarked that it was a fine day, though bad forthe wheat crop, which wanted rain; and then he hopedthat Mrs. Force and the young ladies felt rested aftertheir journey.

Mrs. Force thanked him, and replied that the wholefamily were quite recovered from any little fatigue theymight have felt.

The rector, to help the bashful young fellow out, inquiredhow he had enjoyed his trip to Washington, andwhat he thought of the city.

Young Sam was not to be “improved” in that way.He made a characteristic reply. Ignoring every objectof interest within the city’s bounds, he answered that hethought the land about Washington very poor indeed,and very badly farmed, and crops looked very unpromising.He thought the soil had been too hard worked,and too little manured, and that it wanted rest and food,so to speak.

“But the city, my dear boy, the city! What do youthink of the city, the great capital of a great nation?”persisted the minister.

“The city!” Well, Mr. Sam Grandiere didn’t thinkmuch of the city. There didn’t seem to be much downright,solid, earnest business going on there, like therewas in Baltimore; and, for his part, he didn’t see howthe people lived, except such as were in the service ofthe government. No, bad as the country was roundabout Washington, the city was even worse—even lessproductive.

The rector took up cudgels in defense of the nationalseat of government; spoke of the public buildings—the154capitol, the departments, the patent office, the navy yard—andso on.

But Mr. Sam Grandiere could not see any profit or“produce” in any of them.

So the rector gave him over to a reprobate spirit.

Presently Mrs. Ingle—having left both her babiesasleep upstairs, with Elva lovingly watching over them—camedown into the drawing room and greeted theminister and his wife, and also Mr. Force, whom she hadnot earlier seen.

“You have grown plumper and rosier in the last threeyears, my dear. I should scarcely recognize in you thepale, delicate young bride whom I gave away to theworthy doctor. Ah! I see how it is! He has enforcedthe laws of health,” said the squire, as he warmly shookher hand.

“Yes; that is it,” replied Natalie. “He makes mylife a burden to me with régime and hygiene.”

At this moment Le and Odalite walked into the room.

Le shook hands with the rector and his wife, whileOdalite literally threw herself into the arms of Natalie.

And a few minutes later, when she had greeted allher parents’ guests, she went upstairs with young Mrs.Ingle to feast her eyes on the sleeping babies over whichElva was proudly and tenderly watching.

There the two friends sat down and had a good, longtalk—all about the young doctor’s prospects, the youngcouple’s home, the neighbors, and so forth; but not oncedid they speak of Odalite’s trials. Odalite herself neveralluded to the subject, nor did Natalie dare to do so.

And it may here be said that the reticence which wasobserved in the seclusion of the bedchamber was practicedin the social circle of the drawing room.

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Force mentioned the subject oftheir family troubles, nor could their guests venture todo so.

Elfrida dreaded the indiscreet tongue of the lady155from Wild Cats’; so she was greatly relieved, when shewent out to caution Mrs. Anglesea, to hear that honestwoman say:

“Let’s try to be jolly this one day, and forget all aboutmy rascal and our troubles! ’Deed, do you know I havetold everybody in this county how he treated me, sothat they all know it as well as their a b c? And that’sa rhyme come out of time. I didn’t intend it, but I can’tmend it. I say! hold on here! there is something thematter with my headpiece! I never composed no poetrybefore and didn’t mean to do it now! It come out soitself! But you needn’t be afeard of me talking aboutSkallawag Anglesea! I’m sick to death of the name ofhim!” concluded the lady from the mines.

Mrs. Force then turned to receive young Dr. Ingle,who had just driven up in his gig and was now enteringthe front door, while old Jake took his equipage aroundto the stables.

Half an hour later dinner was served. And, in spiteof all drawbacks, it proved a happy reunion of oldfriends.

After dinner the carriages were ordered, and the visitorsdeparted.

CHAPTER XXVI
LE’S DEPARTURE

One day Le spent in going around the neighborhoodto see the old friends and neighbors, whom he had notseen for more than three years. The next day he stayedhome at Mondreer, and spent nearly the whole of it incompany of Odalite.

At night the squire drove him to the railway station,accompanied by Odalite, Wynnette and Elva, as oncebefore. Also, Le was permitted to sit on the back seat156beside Odalite, and when there he held her hand in hisas on the previous occasion.

They reached the railway station in such good timethat they had about fifteen minutes to wait in the littlesitting room; and there the last adieus were made, whenthe train came in.

“It is not for a three years’ absence at sea this time,my dear! It is scarcely for three weeks. Before themiddle of May I shall be with you again—pleaseHeaven,” said Le, as he pressed Odalite to his heart in alast embrace, before he jumped into the car to be whirledout of sight.

Mr. Force with his daughters waited until the soundof the rushing train died away in the distance, and thentook them back to the carriage and drove homeward.

Again, as before, they reached home about ten o’clock,to find Mrs. Force and the lady from the diggings waitingup for them—only on this occasion they were notsitting over a blazing hickory wood fire, in the dead ofwinter and night, with a jug of mulled wine steaming onthe hearth; but they were sitting on the front piazza, ona fine spring evening, with a little table, on which wasarranged a pitcher of iced sherbet, with glasses and aplate of wafer cakes.

“Well, he went off gay and happy as a lark, and wehave come home chirp and merry as grigs!” said Wynnette,as she tore off and threw down her straw hat andseated herself at the table.

“Oh, I hope he will have a pleasant journey and agood time altogether! He can’t fail to get all the evidencehe wants, ’cause it’s right there, you know! AndI give him a letter to Joe Mullins, at Wild Cats’, as oneof the witnesses to the marriage, though he wasn’t askedto sign the register! How should he, when he couldn’tread? I hope he’ll have time to run out to Wild Cats’to see Joe! Though, come to think of it, I don’t knowas he’ll find anything there but dark shafts and empty157shanties. The leads was running out, and the boys wastalking of leaving when I came away. Ah! I hope hewill find some of the poor, dear boys! I should love tohear from them direct, once more.”

“How far is Wild Cats’ from St. Sebastian, Mrs.Anglesea?” rather anxiously inquired Wynnette.

“Oh, only a step—le’s see, now; ’bout a hundredand seventy-seven miles, I think they said it was.”

“Is there a railroad?”

“A what? A railroad? Oh, Lord! Why, child,when I was out there, which was less than four yearsago, there was not even a turnpike road within a hundredmiles of it. There’s a trail, though!”

“What do you mean by a trail?”

“Well, I mean a mule track.”

“Then I do not think that Le can go there. It mustbe a long and tedious journey, and he will not havetime.”

“Oh, yes he will! And opportunity also. There’llbe mule trains, you know. He can pack on one of them.He can rough it! You bet! He’s every inch a man, isLe Force!”

“He must not risk losing his passage on our steamer,”said Odalite.

“Do not be anxious, my dear; he will not run anyrisks of losing the steamer. I think, also, that he willhave time to do our friend’s commission. There hasbeen a road made over that section since Mrs. Anglesealeft it. And, now I think, we had better go indoors.The night air is too cold to remain out longer.”

They went into the house and soon after retired tobed.

The days that followed Le’s departure were active,cheerful, full of life.

The old friends and neighbors of the Forces receivedthem back into their midst with not only the earnest158love of time-honored friendship, but with the distinctiondue to illustrious visitors.

They called on them promptly.

They got up dinner and tea parties for their entertainment.

They would have nominated Mr. Force as their representativein Congress for the ensuing year, but that hewas going abroad with his family for a year.

The Forces entered heartily into all the schemes ofpleasure and hospitality set on foot in the community.

They accepted all the invitations given to them, andin return they gave dinner and tea parties until theyhad also entertained all their friends and neighbors.

And so the last weeks of April passed and May wason hand.

Letters from Le came by every Californian mail.

He had reached St. Sebastian; he had found the Rev.Father Minitree; he had searched the parish register;found the marriage between Angus Anglesea and AnnMaria Wright duly recorded, signed and witnessed; hehad hunted out the living witnesses, and he had procuredattested copies of the marriage record, furtherindorsed by the written and sworn statements of theofficiating priest and of the surviving witnesses. Andso, with evidence as strong as evidence could be, hewrote that he was ready to come home, only that hewished to oblige Mrs. Anglesea by going out to WildCats’ Gulch to inquire after her boys. The journeythere and back, he thought, might occupy him four days.After that he should start for home, which he hoped toreach about the fifteenth of May.

Letters also came from the Earl of Enderby in answerto Mrs. Force’s missive that had announced the time ofthe family’s sailing for Europe—letters saying that thevery near prospect and the anticipation of seeing hisdear and only sister and her children had made him feel159so much better in spirits that his health had improvedunder it.

Among the most constant visitors at Mondreer wasMr. Sam Grandiere, whose visits could not be mistakenas to their meaning, and whose attentions to Wynnetteon all occasions of their meetings in other companies hadattracted the observation of the whole neighborhood andcaused much talk.

“Mr. Force is such a practical sort of man that solong as he knows young Grandiere comes of a good oldMaryland family, and that his character is beyond reproach,he will not mind his roughness of manner orplainness of speech, or his want of a collegiate education,or refuse him his daughter on that account,” said youngDr. Ingle to his wife one evening when they were talkingover the affair.

“No, perhaps not; but how could our brilliant Wynnetteever fancy such a lout!” exclaimed Natalie, indignantly.

“Oh, indeed, you are too severe on the poor fellow!And you, coming from the North, do not understandour Maryland ways. In your State it is the farmers’boys who are sent to school and college in preferenceto the girls, if any are to go; but in Maryland it isalways the farmers’ girls who are put to boarding schoolin preference to the boys; as in your State you findlearned statesmen, lawyers and clergymen belonging tofamilies of very plainly educated women, so in ourState you will find refined and accomplished women inthe same families with very plain, simply schooled men.It is queer, but it is so. Our Maryland men will makeany sacrifice, even that of their own mental culture, inorder to educate their women, and I think in that theyshow the very spirit of generosity.”

But among all the people who observed and criticizedthe growing intimacy between Wynnette and young160Grandiere, none was more interested than quaint littleRosemary Hedge.

Rosemary was poetic, romantic and sentimental to adegree. She was devoted to Wynnette and Elva Force;and she could not bear the idea of Wynnette “throwingherself away” on such a rustic.

“He is my own dear cousin, Wynnette, and I love himdearly as a cousin; but, indeed, I could not marry him tosave my soul! And though he is a good boy, I do notthink he is a proper match for you,” said Rosemary, onemorning, when she had come to spend the day at Mondreer,and the two girls were tête-à-tête in Wynnette’sroom, where she had taken her visitor to lay off herbonnet.

“Why not?” curtly demanded Wynnette, who did notlike these criticisms upon her lover.

But worse was to come.

“Why not?” echoed Rosemary. “Why, becausedear Sam is so rough and ungainly. He has red hairand a freckled face——”

“So has the Duke of Argyll and all the princelyCampbells!”

“And he has a club nose!”

“So have I. ‘Pot can’t call kettle black.’”

“And such big hands and feet——”

“So much the better for useful work.”

“But, oh! Wynnette, he—he——”

“What now?”

“He has no education to speak of—nothing but a common-schooleducation!”

“Like any number of our great men who have risento high rank, wealth and fame in the army, navy, civilservice, or learned professions.”

“Yes, but he’ll never rise above his station. He hasn’tintellect enough.”

“Neither had any of the grand, brave, simple heroes161and warriors of old whose deeds stir our hearts, evennow.”

“But, Wynnette, Sam Grandiere is nothing like that!He would not even understand you if you were to talkto him as you do to me. His thoughts run all on cropsand cattle and——”

“Whatever is really useful and beneficial to his folks.”

“In meeting their material wants only, Wynnette.But it is vain to argue with you. If you are determinedto throw yourself away on Sam Grandiere——”

“Now, Rosemary, stow that, or the fat will be in thefire!” exclaimed the girl, flushing with a blaze of short-livedanger. “I mean I cannot bear to hear you depreciatethe excellence of Samuel Grandiere. He is honest,true, and tender. He is as brave as a lion, and as magnanimousas a king—ought to be!”

“Yes, I know, but——”

“And where would you find such a lineage in theState as his?” vehemently interrupted Wynnette. “Hispedigree can be traced back, step by step, to the SieurLouis de Grandiere, who came over to England in theyear 1420, in the suit of Katherine of Valois, queen ofHenry the Fifth; though, of course, that tells but little.He was probably a gentleman in waiting, though hemight have been a horse boy!”

“He was a gentleman in waiting on the queen. Hewas a nobleman of Provence,” replied quaint little Rosemary,craning her neck in defense of her ancestor.

“Oh, he was! Well, I always thought so! But thatis more than can be said of Mr. Roland Bayard!” saidWynnette, maliciously.

Rosemary flushed to the edges of her curly black hair.

“I do not know what he has to do with the question,”she murmured.

“Only this, my love: that while we are taking sweetcounsel together, and you are giving me the benefit of162your wisdom in regard to Mr. Samuel Elk Grandiere,I might reciprocate by giving you a friendly warningin respect to Mr. Roland Bayard!”

“Oh, Wynnette!” cried Rosemary, deprecatingly,while the color deepened all over her face and neck.

“Nobody knows who he is! He was washed ashorefrom the wreck of the Carrier Pigeon, the only onesaved. He was adopted by Miss Sibby, good soul, andhe was educated at the expense of Mr. Force, generousman! Why, he was not only homeless, friendless andpenniless, but he was nameless until the name of RolandBayard was given him by Mr. Force and MissSibby, who were his sponsors in baptism!”

“Oh! oh! Wynnette! No one can look at RolandBayard without seeing that he must be of princelylineage! He is very handsome, and graceful and accomplished!He is refined, cultured, intellectual!” pleadedRosemary.

“Don’t see it! He has been through college and hehas plenty of modest assurance, which prevents him frombeing bashful and awkward, as some of his betters are.But all the same, he is nobody’s son!”

“Oh, Wynnette! that is not generous of you! Candear—can Roland help his misfortune? Is he to blamefor being wrecked on our shore in his infancy, and losingeverything, even his name? Oh, Wynnette!” saidRosemary, with tears in her eyes.

“No! I am not generous! I am a little catamount,and worse than that! It is not true, either, what I saidabout him! Roland is a fine fellow. And of course hemust have been somebody’s son! Don’t cry, Rosie. Ididn’t mean it, dear! Only the devil does get in mesometimes!” said the generous girl, stooping and kissingher quaint little friend.

Rosemary smiled through her tears; and then theywent downstairs together.

163And as this was the first, so it was the last time thatthe subject in dispute was mentioned between the twogirls.

CHAPTER XXVII
LUCE’S DISCOVERY

As Wynnette and Rosemary approached the drawingroom they heard a sweet confusion of laughing andtalking within; which was explained as soon as Wynnettehad opened the door.

Le had just arrived, and was in the midst of hisfriends shaking hands, hugging and kissing, asking andanswering questions, all at once.

He rushed to Wynnette and Rosemary “at sight,” andgave them each a hearty, brotherly embrace.

“Yes,” he continued, with something that he had beensaying when the girls came in—“yes, I have brought allthe evidence we can possibly want or use—an overwhelmingmass of evidence as to the marriage of AngusAnglesea and Ann Maria Wright at St. Sebastian, onAugust 1, 18—. That is proved and established beyondall doubt or question.”

“As if anybody ever did doubt it. The Lord knowsif ever I had thought as any of you misdoubted as I wasAnglesea’s lawful wedded wife, I wouldn’t a-stayed inthis house one hour. Not I!” indignantly protested Mrs.Anglesea.

“No one ever did or ever could doubt that fact, mygood lady,” said Mr. Force, soothingly; “but there arecaptious people who will contest things that they cannotdoubt. And it is to meet such as these that we must bearmed with overwhelming evidence.”

Mrs. Anglesea was mollified, and presently inquiredif Le had seen her boys.

164“I did not go to Wild Cats’ Gulch, dear Mrs. Anglesea,”replied Le.

“‘Didn’t go!’ But you wrote as you was a-going!”exclaimed the lady from that section.

“Yes, and so I was. But on the very day when I proposedto start thither, on inquiring the best way to getthere, I was referred to a man who was said to have oncelived at the place. So I went, and found the referee tobe a Mr. Joe Mullins, in the jewelry line of business.”

“Joe Mullins! My Joe! He in St. Sebastian! Dotell me now!” exclaimed Mrs. Anglesea.

“Yes, there he was, healthy, happy and prosperous,keeping a jeweler’s store, and living over it with his wifeand two children!”

“Lord a mercy! Married, too!”

“Yes, and prosperous.”

“Well, well! And the other boys?”

Le looked solemn.

ruefully answered the young man.

“And the camp’s broke up, as I thought it would be.”

“Yes, two years ago.”

“Well, it is some satisfaction to hear about Joe. Andso now I won’t interrupt of you no longer, as I dessayyou have a heap to talk about among your ownselves,”said Mrs. Anglesea, as she left the drawing room.

As soon as she was gone the family fell into moreconfidential conversation.

“We shall sail for England in ten days,” said Mr.Force, “and with this complete evidence of the Californianmarriage in our possession we will, on our arrivalin the old country, seek out authentic evidence of the165exact date of Lady Mary Anglesea’s demise, which Ifully believe to have occurred in the August of someyear previous to that of Col. Anglesea’s marriage withthe Widow Wright. When we shall find such evidence,as I feel sure we shall, then there will be nothing wantingto prove that Ann Maria Anglesea is the lawful wifeof Angus Anglesea, and that Odalite Force is, and hasalways been, free, and there need be nothing to preventyour immediate union, my dear children.”

“May Heaven speed the day!” earnestly aspirated Le.

Much more was said on the subject that need not berepeated here.

Preparations for their voyage had been so long andsystematically in progress that the Forces had perfectleisure in the last week of their stay at home.

The last day was devoted to the friends they wereabout to leave behind.

They started early on the morning of the twenty-thirdof May, and made a round of farewell visits to alltheir old neighbors.

The last call they made was at Forest Rest, to takeleave of Miss Sibby Bayard.

“So you are ralely a-going to cross the high seas? Ihardly believed it on you, Abel Force!” she said, as sheshook hands in turn with Mr. and Mrs. Force, Le andthe three girls, and gave them seats. “I thought as youhad more sense, Abel Force! I did that! Them as hasthe least to do with the sea, sez I, comes the best off,sez I!”

“But, my good lady, necessity has no law, you know.We are obliged to go,” laughed Mr. Force.

“What have you been up and doing of, old Abel, thatyou are obliged to run away from your own native country?Nobody but outlaws, sez I, is obliged to go off tofurrin parts, sez I!”

Mr. Force found nothing to say to this.

Wynnette came to her father’s assistance.

166“We shall visit, among other interesting places, ArundelCastle, the seat of your ancestors for centuries past,Miss Sibby.”

“Hush, honey! You don’t say as you’ll go there?”

“As sure as the Lord permits us, we will, Miss Sibby.”

“And see it?”

“Yes, and see it.”

“With your own eyes?”

“Well, no,” gravely replied Wynnette, “not with ourown eyes, because we might have to stretch them toowide to take in a view of the great stronghold of thegreat ducal house. We propose to hire some stout, able-bodiedeyes for the occasion!”

“And now you are laughing at me, Miss Wynnette!You are always laughing heartiest inside when you’re alooking solemnest outside! But you ralely are gwine tovisit ’Rundel Cassil?”

“Yes. All tourists go there.”

“Well, well, well! Them as lives the longest, sez I,sees the most, sez I. But little did I think as I shouldlive to see any of my neighbors going to visit ’RundelCassil!”

“We will bring you a guidebook with illustrations, descriptiveof the castle, and some relics and curiosities ofthe place. They are to be had, I think.”

“Do, my child! I should prize ’em above everything.And now, Miss Wynnette, you take a ole ’oman’s advice.Them as follows my advice, sez I, never comes to noharm, sez I. Mind that, honey.”

“All right, Miss Sibby; fire away!—I mean proceedwith your good counsel.”

“Well, then, honey, I ain’t been that blind but I couldsee what was a-goin’ on between a certain young gentlemanand a certain young lady.”

Wynnette tacitly pleaded guilty by a deep blush.

“Now, honey, don’t you take it anyways amiss what Iam a-gwine to say. You’re gwine off to furrin parts.167Now, honey, don’t you let any of them there furrincolonels and counts and things fashionate you away fromyou own dear sweetheart. He’s a good, true man, isSam Grandiere, and a ole neighbor’s son. Now you takemy advice and be true to him, as he is sure to be true toyou. Them as breaks faith, sez I, is sure to pay for it,sez I. There, now, I won’t say no more. When you’vesaid all you’ve got to say, sez I, it is time to stop, sez I.”

Mrs. Force now arose to take leave.

All her party kissed Miss Sibby good-by.

The old lady cried a little, and prayed: “God blessthem.”

And so they parted.

Early the next morning the Forces left Mondreer,taking the dog, Joshua, with them.

Wynnette had insisted on his coming.

“I promised him, papa,” she said—“I promised him;and it would be playing it too low to go back on a dumbbrute—oh! I mean, dear papa, that it would seem baseto break faith with a poor, confiding dog.”

So Joshua went.

“Look yere, ole woman,” said the lady from WildCats’, “I’m gwine to take the best of care of your housewhile you’re gone, and I want you to keep an eye on myrascal over yonder, while I keep a sharp lookout for himover here. He can’t be in both places at once; butwherever he is he will be at some deviltry—you may betyour pile on that.”

This was the lady’s last good-by to the departingfamily.

She watched the procession of three carriages thattook them and all their luggage to the railway station,where Rosemary Hedge was to be brought by hermother and aunt to join them.

She watched them cross the lawn, and go out throughthe north gate, and disappear up the wooded road.

168And then she turned into the house to face the howlingLuce.

“What on earth ails the woman?” demanded thehousekeeper.

“Oh! dey’s gone ag’in!—dey’s gone ag’in! An’ distime dey’s gone across de ocean! I shall nebber see ’emag’in!—nebber no mo’!—nebber no mo’!” sobbed Lucy,sitting flat on the hall floor, and rocking her body backand forth.

“Oh, yes you will. Don’t be a fool! Get up and goto work. Work’s the best cure for trouble. Indeed,work’s the best cure for most things—poverty, for instance.”

“It didn’t use to be so! It didn’t use to be so!” saidLuce, continuing to rock herself. “Dey nebber use to go’way from year’s end to year’s end! But now it’s gotto be a habit dey gibs deirselbes—a berry habit dey gibsdeirselbes!”

CHAPTER XXVIII
FORBIDDEN LOVE

The three carriages conveying the large party fromthe old manor house rolled on through the familiarwoods, so often traversed by the young people of thehousehold in going to and fro between Mondreer andGreenbushes.

In the foremost carriage rode Mr. and Mrs. Force,Wynnette and Elva.

In the second, Odalite and Le.

In the third, Dickon and Gipsy, the valet and lady’smaid, in charge of all the lighter luggage.

Joshua, the dog, raced on before in the highest stateof ecstasy, but occasionally raced back again, as if tobe sure that his large family were following him safely169without disappearing in the woods to the right or theleft.

Mr. Force knew perfectly well that that dog wasgoing to give him more trouble and embarrassment onland and sea than all his party twice told; that it wouldbe the unfailing cause of rows and rumpuses, on trainsand boats, and that might end in Joshua being cast off,or lost, or killed.

But what could he do?

Talk of your henpecked husband, indeed! He is nothalf so common, or half so helpless, as your chickpeckedfather.

Wynnette had promised Joshua that he should neverbe left behind again, and she said that it would be baseto deceive and betray a poor dog. Wynnette said thedog must come, and he came.

When they came in sight of Chincapin Creek littleElva put her head out of the window and gazed, andcontinued to gaze, fondly, if silently, on the spot so fullof pleasant, childish memories, until they had crossedthe bridge, and left the place behind. Then, with a little,involuntary sigh, she drew in her head and sat back inher seat.

Wynnette mocked her.

“Why don’t you say, ‘Adieu, blest scenes of my innocentinfancy! Virtue and simplicity,’ and so on andso on!”

“Oh, Wynnette! How can you?” exclaimed Elva,almost in tears.

“I can’t! I never could! It isn’t in my line! Butwhy don’t you?” mocked the girl, raising her black eyebrows.

They reached the station in full time, and had twentyminutes to wait. Mr. Force had engaged a whole compartmentfor his party by telegraph the day before.

In the waiting room they found all the Grandieres,170all the Elks, and little Rosemary Hedge, with her luggage.

There followed an animating scene—a little laughing,more crying and much talking.

Mrs. Hedge implored Mrs. Force to be a mother toher fatherless child, and to bring her back safe and wellat the end of the year.

Mrs. Force promised all that a woman could, underthe circ*mstances.

And Roland Bayard, who sat beside little Rosemaryholding her hand in his, spoke up and said:

“Dear Mrs. Hedge, don’t grieve about the littlemaiden. If, at any time, you should be pining to haveher back, you can let me know and I will just run overand fetch her.”

There was something very comforting in this promise,because Mrs. Hedge knew that Roland Bayard meantwhat he said; and very cheering in the manner in whichhe put it—“Just run over and fetch her!” Why, itsounded like such a mere trifle to cross the ocean, inthese days of steam. But Roland was still talking.

“And, Rosemary, if you get homesick before ourfriends are ready to return, write to me, darling, andI’ll come and fetch you back.”

“Oh, Mr. Bayard! you don’t know how you have consoledme!” said Mrs. Hedge, wiping her eyes.

“I will write to you every week, Roland. And I willkeep a journal for you, and send it in monthly parts, sothat you may seem to be traveling with us! Oh, how Iwish you were!” sighed Rosemary.

“Do you, darling? Well, perhaps you may see mesooner than you expect,” replied Roland, mysteriously.

“Oh! oh! will you be coming over? Does the Kittyever go to England?”

“I don’t know, dear; but if the Kitty don’t, there willbe one or two other little craft crossing—perhaps. Letus live in hope.”

171While Rosemary and Roland chatted together, Mrs.Hedge turned to Mrs. Force, saying:

“Oh, you happy woman! You are going to Europewith all you love at your side—husband, children andnephew! While I stay home, widowed, practicallychildless and alone! Talk of the compensations of life!There is no compensation in mine.”

“‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness!’” murmuredElfrida Force to herself.

“Mother! Mother! I won’t go! I won’t leave you!”cried Rosemary, jumping up and throwing herself intothe widow’s arms.

“Hush, my child, hush! I wish you to go, and youmust do so. It is for your own profit and instruction,”replied Mrs. Hedge.

“Then, my own dear mother, won’t you just thinkthat I have only gone back to school in Washington, andthat I shall be home as usual to spend the Christmasholidays? Mr. Force expects to bring us all home inDecember.”

“Yes, yes, I shall be comforted, child,” replied thewidow, and she held her daughter on her lap, againsther bosom, with Rosemary’s arms clasped around herneck, until they heard the sound of the approachingtrain.

The train never stopped longer than three minutes atthis station.

All arose to bid their last good-bys.

Among the rest, Joshua came out from behind Wynnette’sskirts, and shook himself, and very nearly shookthe building. All alert was he to see that his eccentricfamily did not escape him again.

“Gracious goodness, Mr. Force! Here is that dogfollowed you all the way from Mondreer! What’s to bedone with him? Shall I take him home? Will he followme?” inquired Sam Grandiere, eager to be useful.

“He is to go abroad with us,” groaned the squire, who172was hastily shaking hands right and left with the friendswho had come to see him and his family off.

“But will they allow——”

There was no time to finish his question, for—

“Good-by, Sam,” said Wynnette, holding out herhand. “Remember the advice I gave you about takinga course at Charlotte Hall College.”

“I will, Wynnette, I will!” earnestly answered theyoung fellow, with tears brimming in his honest blueeyes.

“You will write to me as often as you can, and I willanswer every one of your letters. And—listen here,Sam,” she added, in a whisper that the long-legged boyhad to stoop to catch, “I won’t marry a royal duke if Ican resist the temptation! Good-by.”

The whole party hurried out of the building to theplatform, where the train had just stopped, with itspuffing and blowing engine.

Mr. Force showed his tickets, and the party were conductedto their car. In the confusion of a final leave-taking,then and there, between two such large parties,Joshua, who did not at all like the looks of things ingeneral, with the long train of cars, the panting engine,the steam, the smoke, the crowd, the baggage heavers, theexcitement, and the general “hullabuloo,” and whofeared that he might lose sight of his family in thiscrash of worlds, managed to slip into the car, betweenWynnette’s duster and Gipsy’s arms full of shawls, andto ensconce himself under the broad lounge in the compartment.

The last kisses were given, the last “God bless you”spoken, and the travelers were seated in their compartmentnot ten seconds before the train started.

“Now!” exclaimed Wynnette, triumphantly. “Havewe had the least trouble with Joshua?”

“Not yet,” curtly replied her father. “Where is he?”

173“Under the sofa—and Rosemary, Elva and myself,by sitting here, hide him from view.”

“Very well. Keep him quiet, if you can.”

The train was rushing on at express speed, when theconductor came along to collect the tickets. He enteredtheir compartment. Joshua considered his appearancean unwarrantable intrusion, and told him so in a low,thunderous growl.

“What’s that?” suddenly demanded the conductor,looking around.

“Urr-rr-rr-rr,” remarked Joshua.

“It is a valuable dog of ours. I am quite willing topay his fare,” replied Mr. Force, taking out his pocketbook.

“He can’t be allowed in the passenger car, sir,” repliedthe conductor.

“Not in the compartment that we have taken for ourown convenience, and where he cannot possibly annoyanybody else?”

“No, sir; it is against the rules.”

“Oh, Mr. Conductor! please! please! He is such agood dog, and we love him so much! Indeed, he willnot bite when he knows you don’t mean to hurt us!Please, Mr. Conductor, let him stay!” pleaded Elva.

“’Gainst the rules, miss. Very sorry.”

“Papa, tip that fellow with a V, and stop this row!—Imean, papa, pray offer this officer the consideration ofa five-dollar note, and conclude this controversy.”

Of course, it was Wynnette who uttered this insolence.

“Hush, my dear, hush! This is quite inadmissible.The conductor must do his duty.”

“If he gets put off the train I’ll go, too! He’ll neverfind his way home!” said Wynnette.

Elva began to cry.

The conductor was in a hurry.

“If this young gentleman will bring the dog after meto the freight car, the baggage master will take charge of174him for a trifle,” suggested the conductor, who was moremoved to pity by Elva’s tears than to anger by Wynnette’sinsolence.

“Go, Le,” said Mr. Force, opening his pocketbook andtaking from it a note, which he put into the midshipman’shands. “Give this to the man, and tell him if hewill take care of the dog he shall have another at theend of this journey.”

“And introduce Joshua to the baggage master, andtell him what a cultivated and gentlemanly dog he is!And don’t you leave them together until you are surethat they are good friends! Do you hear me, LeonidasForce?”

“All right, Wynnette,” said good-humored Le, takingJoshua by the collar and trying to pull him from underthe sofa.

But the dog declined to leave his retreat. He didnot recognize Mr. Midshipman Force as his master.

“Bother! I shall have to take him myself. You cancome with us if you like, Le; but you needn’t if youdon’t,” said Wynnette. And she whistled for the dog,who immediately came out and put his gray paws uponher lap.

She arose and called him to follow her. Le and theconductor escorted her.

“I know we are going to have no end of trouble withthat dog,” said Mr. Force.

“Oh, I think not, when we learn how to manage. Wemust always give him in charge of the baggage masterat the start,” replied Mrs. Force.

Wynnette and Le were gone nearly an hour. At lastthey returned.

“What kept you so long? Did the dog prove intractable,or the baggage master unaccommodating?” inquiredOdalite of Le.

“Not at all!” exclaimed Wynnette, answering for hercompanion. “That baggage man’s a good sort. He and175Joshua became pals at once. He loves dogs, and dogslove him. As soon as ever I presented Joshua to himhe held out his hand, and said:

“‘Hello, old pard! how are you? Shall we be pals?’or words to that effect. And said Joshua slapped hispaw into the open palm, and—

“‘It’s a whack!’ or barks to the same purpose.”

“But what kept you so long? What were you doingall that time?”

“Talking to the baggage master. I do like to talk toreal men much better than to the curled and scentedla-da-da things we meet in society. His name is Kirby.He came from Lancashire, England, where he has an oldfather living, to whom he sends a part of his wages everymonth. He is forty-five years old, and has been marriedtwenty years, and has eleven children, the oldest eighteenand the youngest one. I told him we were goingto Lancashire, and would take anything he might liketo send to his dad.”

“But, my dear, Lancashire is a large county, and wemay not be anywhere near his native place.”

“We could make a point of going there to oblige sucha man as he is, papa. Think of his bringing up a largefamily and helping his old father, too, on such smallwages as he must get. Oh, he is a downright real man.And, indeed, I have a warm place in my heart for realmen.”

“That is why you like Sa——”

“Shut up, Rosemary!”

And Rosemary obeyed.

The remainder of the journey was made without disturbance.

They reached Washington about 3 P.M., dined andrested for an hour at their favorite hotel, and took theafternoon train to New York, where they arrived verylate at night.

176They had no more trouble with the dog, now that theyknew how to manage.

Mr. Force went down to the steamer to see about thepassage of the animal, and found that there was a placein the steerage of the great ship where the creature couldbe accommodated.

Ah, what a chickpecked father that man was!

“If they had wanted to fetch a favorite cow, I shouldhave been obliged to bring her somehow,” he said tohimself.

On the next morning Mr. Force took his family toCentral Park and to the menagerie.

In the evening he took them to the opera to hear Kellogg.That was their last night in the city.

CHAPTER XXIX
“ONCE MORE UPON THE WATERS”

Saturday, the twenty-eighth of May, was a very fineday. As early as seven in the morning the hacks engagedto take our travelers to the steamer were standingbefore the ladies’ entrance of the Metropolitan Hotel.

Their luggage had been sent aboard ship on the daybefore.

A little after seven the whole party came down andentered the carriages, and were driven off toward thepier where the Persia lay.

They arrived amid the bustle and confusion that alwaysattends the sailing of an ocean steamer—crowdsof carriages and drags of all sorts; crowds of men,women and children of all sorts; crowds of passengersgoing on; crowds of friends seeing them off; here andthere a heartrending parting; a bedlam of sights; ababel of sounds, deafening noises, suffocating scents.

177Such was the scene on the pier and such was the sceneon the deck when Mr. Force had succeeded in navigatinghis party from the first to the last.

“For Heaven’s sake keep close together! Are we allhere?” he anxiously inquired.

“All!” answered a score of voices.

“Where’s that dog?”

“Here, papa. I have him by the collar,” answeredWynnette.

“Keep hold of him, then. And sit down, all of you,and be quiet until this crowd leaves the deck. We cannotattempt to get to our staterooms at present.”

His party complied with this order.

“All ashore!” called out a voice in authority.

The words were magical.

Hurried embraces; laughing good-bys; weeping good-bys;fervent God bless yous; agonized partings; andthen a pressure over the gang plank to the pier.

Five minutes later and the valedictory gun was fired,and the Persia stood out to sea.

“Oh,” said little Elva, as she observed the sad facesof some passengers who were leaning over the sides ofthe ship and waving handkerchiefs to friends on the pier—“oh,I am glad we are all going together and have notleft any one behind to cry after—no, not even our dog.”

A little later on our passengers sought their stateroomsbelow. Dickon—than whom no blacker boy ever wasborn—took the dog to that part of the ship for suchfour-footed passengers made and provided, and thenwent to look up his own berth in the second cabin.

Never was finer weather, a clearer sky, a calmer sea,or a swifter voyage than blessed the Persia, which sailedon that Saturday morning of May 28th.

Only those of the most bilious temperaments sufferedfrom seasickness. None of our party were affected.

All the passengers rejoiced at the prosperity of the178voyage—all except Wynnette, who longed to see a stormat sea.

She was disgusted.

“I had just as lief travel in a canal boat!” shegrowled, when they were about halfway across the Atlantic.

She was bound to be disappointed to the last. Thevoyage was continued in the finest early summer weather,until in the dead of a moonlight night the steamer anchoredin the Cove of Cork.

Early the next morning all the passengers were outon deck to see the beautiful bay with its lovely hillyshores, and its picturesque little port of Queenstown.

The ship remained at anchor only long enough to delivermails and freight, and then she put to sea againand headed for the mouth of the Mersey.

Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary remained on deck allday feasting their eyes on the shores of England, theisles of the channel, and later on the green banks of theMersey with its pretty towns and villages, castles andcottages.

Early in the afternoon the ship reached Liverpool.

When the bustle of the debarkation and the nuisanceof the custom house was over, and Mr. Force was handingthe ladies of his party into a capacious carriage toconvey them to the Adelphi Hotel, he inquired:

“Well, shall we take rooms there for the night, oronly supper, and leave by the evening express for Cumberland?”

“Oh, let us go on, if you please! What time does ourtrain leave?” inquired Mrs. Force.

“Ten-fifty.”

“Then we can reach Nethermost, the nearest stationto Enderby Castle, by morning. If you telegraph toEnderby my brother will send carriages there to meetus.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Force, as he shut the carriage179door and gave the coachman the address to which hewas to drive.

Mr. Force then sent his two servants with the dog andthe lighter luggage in another conveyance after his family,while he and Leonidas Force attended to the duty ofhaving their trunks transferred from the custom houseto the Lime Street Railroad Station.

An hour after this the whole family were gatheredaround the tea table in their private parlor at the Adelphi.The dog, stretched on a Russian rug before thesofa, was making himself at home.

“What do you think of all this, Rosie?” kindly inquiredMr. Force of little Rosemary Hedge.

“I—I—feel as if I were reading it all in a novel byAunt Sukey’s evening fire at Grove Hill,” replied thequaint little creature.

“And you, Elva?”

“Oh, I feel so very much at home, as if I had comeback from somewhere to grandmother’s house. A verystrange, pleasant feeling of old familiarity,” said weirdlittle Elva.

“As for me,” said Wynnette, “I see ghosts!”

“Ghosts!” exclaimed all the company in chorus.

“Yes, ghosts! ‘This isle is full of spirits.’ I seeghosts! All sorts of ghosts! Ghosts of savages in skins!These must be spirits of the ancient Britons! Ghosts ofmen in armor! These must be the medieval knights andmen-at-arms! Ghosts of gentlemen in velvet and satintunic and lace collars and pointed shoes! These mustbe the courtiers of Queen Elizabeth’s time! And nowcome the hideous powdered wigs, broad-bottomed coats,and long silk stockings of——Say, papa! give me someof those strawberries, or I shall see his Satanic majestypresently.”

Mr. Force gravely passed along the cut-glass bowl ofthe luscious fruit.

180Immediately after supper the travelers left the hotelfor the railway station.

There Abel Force engaged a whole compartment forhis family, and took tickets in the second-class carriagefor his two servants.

“And how can I carry a valuable dog?” inquired thesquire of the guard.

“Take him in your own compartment, if you like,sir,” replied that officer, staring a little.

Joshua didn’t wait for permission, but jumped intothe carriage after Wynnette.

The three other ladies followed. Last of all AbelForce and Le entered and took their seats, though thetrain was not yet quite ready to start.

Compartments on English trains differ from those onour own, in being entirely separated by a solid partitionfrom other compartments on the same carriage, and theyare thereby quite private for those who engage a wholeone. This compartment taken by the Forces resembledthe inside of a large coach, having eight cushioned seats,four being in front and four behind.

The train started at ten-fifty, and whirled on throughthe twilight of the summer night, which in Englandnever seems to grow quite dark.

At the first station at which the train stopped, theguard came along and put his head into the window.

“Tickets, please, sir.”

Mr. Force handed over seven tickets for his party.

Guard counted them, and touched his hat.

“Dog ticket, please, sir.”

“What?” demanded the astonished squire.

“Dog ticket, please, sir.”

“Dog ticket? I have none. Didn’t know one wouldbe required. Never heard of such a thing. But I willpay his fare.”

“Couldn’t take it, sir. ’Gainst the rules.”

181“Then what shall I do?” exclaimed the distressedsquire.

“Uncle, I will jump out and buy a dog ticket at thestation here,” said Le; and without waiting a second hesprang from the carriage and vanished into the ticketoffice.

“Look sharp, young gent, or you’ll be left. Trainstarts again in two minutes,” called the guard.

Le did look sharp, and the next minute reappeared,flourishing the prize.

He jumped in, and the train moved on.

Everybody went to sleep except Wynnette, who wentoff into a waking dream, and saw the ghosts of all herancestors, from the Druids down, pass in procession beforeher. A weird, unreal, magical night journey thisseemed to the travelers. The night express stopped atfewer stations than any other train of the twenty-fourhours.

Whenever it did stop, our passengers waked up andlooked out upon the strange and beautiful land—old, butalways new—dotted with its country towns and villages,its castles, farmhouses and cottages, dimly seen in thesoft haze of the summer night, where evening and morningtwilight seemed to meet so that it was never dark.

On the whole, it was a pleasant, charming journey,the last few miles being along the rough and rocky coast.The dawn was reddening in the east, and the northernmorning air felt fresh and invigorating, when the trainstopped at Nethermost, a picturesque little hamlet builtup and down the sides of the cliff wherever there wasroom for a sea-bird’s nest.

“Oh, what a charming place!” exclaimed Rosemary,looking out upon it. The line of railway ran alongunder the cliff, and the little station was built againstthe rocks.

The guard came and opened the door.

182Mr. Force jumped off, and then handed out the ladiesof his party, one by one.

The porters were at the same time throwing off theirluggage.

In another minute the train had moved on, and thetravelers were left standing on the platform, with thesea on the west, the cliffs on the east, and the hamletof Nethermost scattered at random on the sides of thelatter.

“There are the carriages,” said Mr. Force, as he describedthree vehicles grouped together at a short distance.

At the same time a servant in livery approached,touched his hat, and respectfully inquired:

“Party for Enderby Castle, sir?”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Force.

“This way, if you please, sir.”

CHAPTER XXX
ENDERBY CASTLE

There were two spacious open barouches and onelarge wagon.

“My lord ordered me, sir, if the weather should befine, to bring the barouches for the ladies, as they wouldbe so much pleasanter,” the man explained, touching hishat, as he held the door of the first carriage open forMrs. Force.

The travelers were soon seated—Mr. and Mrs. Force,Wynnette and Elva in the first barouche, Le, Odalite andRosemary in the second, and the two servants, with thedog and the luggage, in the wagon.

“Oh, how jolly!” exclaimed Wynnette, looking abouther.

183By this time it was light enough to see their surroundings—thehoary cliffs and the picturesque fishingvillage on their right; the far-spread rocky beach, withthe fishing boats drawn up, on their left; the expanseof ocean beyond, dotted at long distances with sails; andright near them the only street of the hamlet that ranfrom the beach up through a natural cleft in the rocks,and looked something like a rude, broad staircase offlagstones, which were paved on edge to afford a holdto horses’ feet in climbing up the steep ascent.

By this time, too, the denizens of the village wereout before their doors to stare at the unusual sight ofthree carriages and a large party of visitors for EnderbyCastle.

For, of course, as his lordship’s carriages and liveriedservants were there to meet the party of travelers, theymust be visitors to the castle.

The men took off their hats and the women courtesiedas the open carriages passed slowly up the steep streetto the top of the cliff, where it joined the road leadingnorthward along the sea toward Enderby Castle.

Now the travelers in the open carriages had a grandview of land and water.

On the east, moorland rolling into hills in the mid distanceand rising into mountains on the far horizon. Thenewly risen sun shining above them and tinting all theirtops with the soft and varied hues of the opal stone.Here and there at long distances could be seen the ruinedtower of some ancient stronghold, or the roof and chimneysof some old farmstead. Everything looked old orancient on this wild coast of Cumberland.

On the west the ocean rolled out until lost to viewin the mists of the horizon.

Before them northward the road stretched for manya mile.

Far ahead they saw a mighty promontory stretchingout to sea. At its base the waves dashed, leaped, roared,184tumbled like raging wild beasts clawing at the rocks.On the extreme edge of its point arose a mass of graystone buildings scarcely to be distinguished from thefoundation on which they were built.

“How far is it to Enderby Castle?” inquired Mr.Force of the coachman who drove his carriage.

“Ten miles from the station, sir,” replied the man,touching his hat.

“That is the castle,” said Mrs. Force, pointing to thepile of buildings on the edge of the promontory, andhanding the field glass with which she had been takinga view of her birthplace and first home.

“That! It is a fine, commanding situation, but itscarcely looks to be more than five miles from here.”

“It is not, if we could take a bee line over land andsea, but the road has to follow the bend of the estuary,”replied the lady.

All the occupants of both carriages, which had cometo a standstill, were now on their feet gazing at thathoary headland, capped with its ancient stronghold.

The field glass was passed from one to another, whilethe carriages paused long enough for all to take a view.

“So that was the home of my grandparents and ofour forefathers for—how long, dear mamma?” inquiredOdalite.

“Eight centuries, my dear. The round tower that yousee is the oldest part of the edifice, and was built byKedrik of Enderbee in the year 950.”

“Lord, what a fine time the rats, mice, bats, owls,rooks and ghosts must have in it!” remarked Wynnette.

“It is like a picture in a Christmas ghost story,” saidElva.

“It seems like Aunt Sukey was reading it all to meout of a novel by the evening fire at Grove Hill,” musedRosemary.

“Go on,” said Mr. Force.

And the carriages started again.

185The road, still running along the top of the cliff,turned gradually more and more to the left until itscourse verged from the north to the northwest, and thento the west, as it entered upon the long, high point ofland upon which stood the castle. The road now beganto ascend another steep, paved with stones on edge tomake a hold for the horses’ feet in climbing, and atlength entered a sort of alley between huge stone wallsthat rose higher and higher on either side as the roadascended, until it reached a heavy gateway flanked withtowers, between which, and over the gateway, hung thespiked and rusting iron portcullis, looking as if it wereready, at the touch of a spring, to fall and impale anyaudacious intruder who might pass beneath it. But itwas fast rusted into its place, where it had been stationaryfor ages.

“I wonder who was the last warder that raised thisportcullis?” mused Wynnette.

“I cannot tell you, my dear. It has not been movedin the memory of man,” replied Mrs. Force.

“I see ghosts again!” exclaimed Wynnette—“men-at-armson yonder battlements! Knights, squires and pursuivantsin the courtyard here! Oh, what a hauntedhole is this!”

They entered a quadrangular courtyard paved withflagstones, inclosed by stone buildings, and having ateach of the four corners a strong tower.

The front building, through which they had passed bythe ascending road, was the most ancient part of thecastle and faced the sea. But in the rear of that wasthe more recent structure, used as the dwelling of theearl and his household. This modern building alsofaced the sea, on the other side, but it could not be approachedfrom the cliff road except through the front.These buildings were not used at all. They were givenover to the denizens objected to by Wynnette—to rats,mice, bats, owls and rooks, and—perhaps ghosts.

186On either side the buildings were used as quarters forthe servants and offices for the household.

They drove through the courtyard, under an archwayin the wall of the modern building, and out to the frontentrance, facing the open sea.

Many steps led from the pavement up to the massiveoaken doors, flanked by huge pillars of stone, that gaveadmittance to the building.

The coachman left his box, went up these stairs andknocked.

The double doors swung open.

Mr. Force alighted and handed out his wife and twoelder daughters, while Le performed the same servicefor Elva and Rosemary, and the party walked up thestairs to the open door.

A footman in the gray livery of Enderby bowedthem in.

CHAPTER XXXI
MRS. FORCE’S BROTHER

A tall, fair, delicate-looking patrician of about fortyyears of age, clothed in an India silk dressing gown,leaning on the arm of his gray-haired valet, and furthersupporting himself by a gold-headed cane, approachedto welcome them.

“My sister—I am glad to see you, Elfrida,” he said,passing his cane over to his valet and taking the ladyby the hand to give her his brotherly kiss. “Now presentme to your husband and daughters, and to these—youngfriends of yours. I am glad to see them all.Very glad.”

Mrs. Force introduced Mr. Force, Leonidas and thegirls in turn.

187Lord Enderby shook hands with each in succession,and heartily welcomed them all to Enderby.

“You must take your place at the head of my bachelorhousehold, Elfrida. In the meantime, my housekeeper,Mrs. Kelsy here, will show you to your rooms.”

As he spoke, an elderly woman, in her Sunday dressof black silk, with a white net shoulder shawl and awhite net cap, came from the rear of the hall, courtesied,and said:

“My lady, this way, if you please.”

“Breakfast will be served as soon as you are ready forit, Elfrida,” said the host, as, still leaning on the arm ofhis valet and supporting himself by his cane, he turnedand passed through a door on the right, into his ownsanctum.

Widely yawned the foot of the broad staircase, upwhich Mrs. Kelsy led the guests of the house, to a vastupper hall, flanked with oaken doors leading into a suitof apartments on either side.

The housekeeper opened a door on the right, saying:

“Here is a suit of five rooms, my lady, fitted up foryourself and the young ladies. And here, on the oppositeside, is a large room, with dressing room attached,for the young gentlemen—Good Lord!!”

This sudden exclamation from the housekeeper wascalled forth by the unexpected apparition of Gipsy, thenegro maid, than whom no blacker human being eversaw the light. Gipsy was as black as ink, as black asebony. Wynnette declared that charcoal made a light-coloredmark on her. But aside from her complexion,Gipsy was a good-looking girl, with laughing black eyes,and laughing lips that disclosed fine white teeth.

“This is my maid, Zipporah, but we call her Gipsyfor convenience,” said Mrs. Force.

“Oh, my lady! Will it bite? Can’t it talk? Is itvicious?” inquired the Cumberland woman, who hadnever seen and scarcely ever heard of a negro, and had188the vaguest idea of dark-colored savages in distant partsof the world, who were pagans and cannibals.

“She is a very good girl, and can read and write aswell as any of us; and she is, besides, a member of theEpiscopal church at home, which is the same as yourChurch of England here,” Mrs. Force explained.

“Yes, my lady. Certainly, my lady. I beg pardon,my lady, I am sure,” said the housekeeper, in profuseapology; but still she did not seem satisfied, but gaveGipsy a wide berth while she eyed her suspiciously.

Now Gipsy resented this sort of treatment; besides,she was a bit of a wag; so every time her mistress’back was turned she rolled up the whites of her big eyes,curled up her large red lips, and snapped her teeth together,in a way that made Kelsy’s blood run cold.

As soon as it was possible to do so, she made an excuseand left the room.

“Where is Dickon?” inquired Mr. Force.

“He’s round at the kennel with the dog. Joshuawon’t make friends ’long o’ none of the grooms, norlikewise none o’ the doogs, so Dickon have to stay ’longo’ him to keep him quiet,” said Gipsy.

Mr. Force groaned.

“Now everything is going to be laid on that poor dog!Gipsy, I won’t give you my crimson silk dress when Ihave done with it, just for that. Papa, I can help youto dress just as well as Dickon can—and a great dealbetter, too. I can fix your shaving things and hairbrushes, and lay out your clothes myself!” exclaimedWynnette.

“My dear, I think you had better prepare for breakfast,”said her mother.

“Mother, we can’t do much preparing, as our trunkshave not been brought up.”

“Take off your duster, my dear, and wash your faceand hands, and brush your hair,” suggested Mrs. Force.

189“I suppose these two rooms are yours and papa’s, butwhich are ours?”

Mrs. Force walked through the whole suit, and finallyassigned a room next to her own to Wynnette and Odalite,and another to Elva and Rosemary.

What struck all these visitors was the heavy andrather gloomy character of their apartments. ThickBrussels carpets, thick moreen window curtains, andbed curtains of dull colors and dingy appearance, massivebedsteads, bureaus, presses and chairs.

“And they call this the modern part of the castle!Oh, I know I shall see ghosts!” said Wynnette.

When they were all ready, they went downstairs tothe hall, all hung with suits of armor, and decoratedwith arms, shields, spears, banners, battle-axes, and soon, and with stags’ heads and other trophies of the battlefieldand the chase.

Here a footman showed them into the breakfast room,where the earl sat waiting for them. Breakfast wasserved in a very few minutes.

After breakfast the whole party adjourned to thedrawing room, a vast, gloomy apartment with walls linedwith old oil paintings, windows hung with heavy, darkcurtains; floor covered with a thick, dull carpet, andfilled up with massive furniture.

After they had been seated for a while, the earl arose,taking his cane in one hand and the arm of his brother-in-lawwith the other, and said:

“I hope you will amuse yourselves as you please, mydears, and excuse me: I wish to have a talk on familymatters with your parents in the library. If you wouldlike to go over the house, call one of the maids or thehousekeeper to be your guide,” he concluded, as he leftthe room, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Force.

Odalite acted on her uncle’s suggestion, rang the bell,and requested to see the housekeeper.

190Mrs. Kelsy came, and on being requested, expressedher willingness to show the young ladies over the house.

“And to the picture gallery first, if you please,” shesaid, as she led the way across the hall to a long roomon the opposite side.

Here were the family portraits.

“Odalite, here are the originals of all the ghosts I sawwith my eyes shut, on last night’s journey, and of all theghosts I saw here on the battlements and in the courtyard—all,all, all—men-at-arms, squires, knights, lordsand ladies. If they would but talk, what interestingshades they would be!”

“Which, Wynnette? The ghosts or the pictures?”

“Either. Both. This, you say, Mrs. Kelsy, was Elfrida,Lady Enderby, my mother’s mother? Why, Ishould have known it. How much she is like mymother, and like Elva. And this is the second and lastLady Enderby? How lovely, yet how fragile. She wasmamma’s stepmother, and she died young, leaving onedelicate little boy, our uncle, the present earl. Sic transit,and so forth.”

They spent an hour in the picture gallery, and thenthe housekeeper proposed that they go into the library.

“But we cannot go there. Papa, mamma and uncleare shut up there, in close council,” said Odalite.

“Ah! Well, we will go upstairs, if you please, miss,”said Kelsy.

And upstairs they went. And all over the vast buildingthey went, finding only gloomy rooms, each one moredepressing than the others.

“And now show me the room Queen Elizabeth sleptin when on a visit to Baron Ealon, of Enderby,” saidWynnette.

“Queen Elizabeth, miss! I never heard that QueenElizabeth was ever in this part of the country!” thehousekeeper exclaimed.

Wynnette laughed.

191“Oh, well, then,” she said, “show me the room thatAlexander the Great, or Julius Cæsar, or NapoleonBonaparte, or George Washington slept in.”

“I—do not think I ever heard of any of these grandeesstopping at Enderby. But there is a room——”

“Yes, yes!” eagerly exclaimed Wynnette.

“Where the Young Pretender was hidden for daysbefore he escaped to France,” said the housekeeper.

“Oh, show us that room, Mrs. Kelsy,” said a chorusof voices.

The housekeeper took them down a long flight ofstairs and along a dark passage, and up another flight ofstairs, and through a suit of unfurnished apartments, toa large room in the rear of the main building, whoseblack oak floor and whose paneled walls were bare, andwhose windows were curtainless.

In the middle of this room stood a huge bedstead,whose four posts were the dragon supporters of the armsof Enderby and whose canopy was surmounted by anearl’s coronet. The velvet hangings of this bedstead, thebrocade quilt and satin pillow cases had almost gone theway of all perishable things.

“And the Young Pretender occupied this room?” inquiredRosemary, reverently.

“Yes, miss, and it is kept just as he left it, exceptthat the curtains have been taken from the windows,because they had fallen into rags.”

“And he slept in this bed?” said Elva, timidly layingher hand upon the sacred relic.

“Yes, miss, but I wouldn’t touch the quilt, if I wasyou. Bless you, it would go to pieces if you were tohandle it!”

“I would make a bonfire of every unhealthy mess inthis room, if it were mine!” said Wynnette.

The housekeeper looked at her in silent horror.

They lingered some time in “the pretender’s room.”

192As they were leaving it, Wynnette said, at random:

“And now show us the haunted chamber, please.”

The housekeeper stopped short, turned pale andstared at the speaker.

“Who told you anything about the haunted room?”she inquired.

“Nobody did,” replied Wynnette, staring in her turn.

“How, then, did you know anything about it?”

“By inference. Given an old castle, inferred ahaunted room. Come, now, show it to us, dear Mrs.Kelsy.”

“No, you cannot see the haunted chamber, youngmiss. It has not been opened for ten years or more.”

“Come! This is getting to be exciting, and I declareI will see it, if I die for it,” said Wynnette.

“Not through my means, you will not, young lady.But there is the luncheon bell, and we had better godown.”

They returned to the inhabited parts of the house,and were shown by the housekeeper to the morning room,where the luncheon table was spread.

There they found Mr. and Mrs. Force. Their hosthad not yet joined them.

“My dear,” said Mr. Force, in a low voice, addressingOdalite, “we have had a consultation in the library. Itis almost certain that Lady Mary Anglesea died oneyear before the time stated as that of her death. It isbest, however, that we go down to Angleton and searchfor evidence in the church and mausoleum. Therefore,it is decided that Leonidas and myself go to Lancashireto-morrow to investigate the facts, leaving your mother,sisters, and self here. We shall only be absent for afew days.”

“Oh, papa! then you will take poor John Kirby’s letterand parcel to his old father there? You see, theylive only a few miles from Angleton,” said Wynnette.

“Yes, dear, I will take them,” assented the squire.193“And, Odalite, my love,” he added, turning to his eldestdaughter, “if all goes well we shall have a merry marriagehere at Enderby.”

CHAPTER XXXII
AN ANXIOUS SEARCH

Early the next morning Mr. Force, Leonidas andWynnette, who begged to make one of the party, leftEnderby Castle for Lancashire.

The gray-haired coachman drove them in an open carriageto the Nethermost Railway Station.

On this drive they retraced the road on the top of thecliffs which they had traversed on the previous day.

They reached Nethermost just in time to jump onboard the “parliamentary,” a slow train—none but slowtrains ever did stop at this obscure and unfrequentedstation.

Mr. Force secured a first-class compartment for himselfand party, and they were soon comfortably seatedand being whirled onward toward Lancaster.

For some miles the road followed the line of the coastin a southerly direction, and then diverged a little tothe eastward until it reached the ancient and picturesquetown of Lancaster, perched upon its own hill andcrowned with its old castle, which dates back to the timeof John of Gaunt.

Here they left their train, and on consulting the localtime-table in the ticket office found that the next trainon the branch line going to the station nearest Angletondid not start until 3 P.M.

This, as it was now but 11 A.M., gave the partyan opportunity of seeing the town, as well as of gettinga luncheon.

194A chorus of voices offered cabs; but Mr. Force, wavingthem all away, walked up the street of antiquatedhouses and brought his party to the ancient inn of “TheRoyal Oak.”

Here he ordered luncheon, to be ready at two, andthen set out with his young people to walk through thetown.

They climbed the hill and viewed the castle, nowfallen from its ancient glory of a royal fortress—notinto ruin, but into deeper degradation as the county jail.But the donjon keep, King John’s Tower, and John ofGaunt’s Gate remain as of old.

They next visited the old parish church of St. Mary’s,where they saw some wonderful stained glass windows,brass statuary, and oak carvings of a date to which thememory of man reached not back.

They could only gaze upon the outside of the cottonand silk factories and the iron foundries before theclock in the church tower struck two, and they returnedto the hotel for lunch.

At three o’clock they took the train for Angleton.

Their course now lay eastward through many a mileof the manufacturing districts, and then entered a moorland,waste and sparsely inhabited, stretching eastwardto the range of mountains known in local phraseologyas “England’s Backbone.”

It was six o’clock on a warm June afternoon whenthe slow train stopped at a little, lonely station, in themidst of a moor, where there was not another houseanywhere in sight.

Here our travelers left their compartment and cameout upon the platform, carpetbags in hand; and thetrain went on its way.

Our party paused on the platform, looking aboutthem.

On their right hand stood the station, a small, strongbuilding of stone with two rooms and a ticket office.195Behind that the moor stretched out in unbroken solitudeto the horizon.

On their left hand was the track of the railroad, andbeyond that the moor rolling into low hills, toward thedistant range of mountains.

There was not a vehicle of any sort in sight; and therewere but two human beings besides themselves on thespot—one was the ticket agent and the other the railwayporter.

Mr. Force spoke to the latter.

“Where can I get a carriage to take my party on toAngleton?”

The man, a red, shock-haired rustic, stared at thequestioner a minute before answering.

“Noa whurr, maister, leaf it be at t’ Whoit Coo.”

“And where is the White Cow?” inquired the gentleman.

The rustic stretched his arm out and pointed dueeast.

Mr. Force strained his eyes in that direction, but atfirst could see nothing but the moor stretching out inthe distance and rolling into hills as it reached the rangeof mountains.

“Papa,” said Wynnette, who was straining her eyesalso, “I think I see the place. I know I see a curl ofsmoke and the top of a chimney, and the peak of agable-end roof. I think the rise of the ground preventsour seeing more.”

“Oie, oie, yon’s t’ Whoit Coo,” assented the porter.

“How far is it from here?” inquired Mr. Force.

“Taw mulls, maister.”

“Can you go there and bring us a carriage of some sort?I will pay you well for your trouble,” said Mr.Force.

“Naw, maister. Oi’ mawn’t leave t’ stution.”

“Uncle!” exclaimed Le, “I can go and bring you a196carriage in no time. You take Wynnette into the houseand wait for me.”

And without more ado Le ran across the track andstrode off across the moor.

Mr. Force took Wynnette into the waiting room ofthe little wayside station, where they sat down.

There was no carpet on the floor, no paper on thewalls, no shades at the windows, but against the wallswere rows of wooden benches, and on them large postersof railway and steamboat routes, hotels, watering places,and so forth, and one picture of the winner of the lastDerby.

They had scarcely time to get tired of waiting beforeLe came back with the most wretched-looking turnoutthat ever tried to be a useful conveyance.

It was a long cart covered with faded and torn blackleather, and furnished with wooden seats without cushions.Its harness was worn and patched. But therewas one comfort in the whole equipage—the horse wasin very good condition. It was a strong draught horse.

“I shall not have to cry for cruelty to animals, at anyrate,” said Wynnette, as her father helped her up intoa seat.

“How far is it to Angleton?” inquired Mr. Force ofthe driver.

“Sux mulls, surr,” answered the man. “Sux mulls,if yur tek it cross t’ moor, but tun, ’round b’ t’ rood.”

“Is it very rough across the moor?” inquired Mr.Force.

“Muddlin’, maister,” replied the man.

“Go across the moor,” said the gentleman, as hestepped up into the carriage.

Le followed him. The horse started and trudged on,jolting them over the irons on the railway track andstriking into the very worst country road they had everknown.

Yes. It was rough riding across that moor, sitting on197hard benches, in a cart without springs, and drawn by astrong, hard-trotting horse.

Our travelers were jolted until their bones were sorebefore they reached the first stopping place.

This was “‘The White Cow,” an old-fashioned inn, ina dip of the moor, where the ground began to roll inhills and hollows toward the distant mountains.

The house fronted east, and, as it lay basking in thelate afternoon summer sun, was very picturesque. Itssteep, gable roof was of red tiles, with tall, twistedchimneys, and projecting dormer windows; its wallswere of some dark, gray stone, with broad windows anddoors, and a great archway leading into the stable yard.A staff, with a swinging sign, stood before the door.

The declining sun threw the shadow of the house infront of it; and in this shade a pair of country laborerssat on a bench, with a table before them. They weresmoking short pipes and drinking beer, which stood inpewter pots on the board.

This was the only sign of life and business about thestill place.

As the cart drew up Mr. Force got out of it andhelped his daughter to alight.

Le followed them.

“I think we will go in the house and rest a while, andsee if we can get a decent cup of tea, my dear. Wehave had nothing since we left Lancaster, at threeo’clock, and it is now half-past seven. You must beboth tired and hungry,” said the squire, leading her in.

responded Wynnette, misapplying a line from Browning,as she limped along on her father’s arm.

The man who had driven them from the railwaystation, and whom after developments proved to bewaiter, hostler, groom and bootblack rolled into one for198the guests of the White Cow, left his horse and cartstanding and ran before Mr. Force to show the travelersinto the house.

It was needless; but he did it.

They entered a broad hall paved with flagstones.

On the left of this an open door revealed the taproom,half full of rustic workingmen, who were smoking,drinking, laughing and talking, and whose formsloomed indistinctly through the thick smoke, tinted inone corner like a golden mist by the horizontal rays ofthe setting sun that streamed obliquely through the endwindow.

On the right another open door revealed a large low-ceiledparlor, with whitewashed walls and sanded floor,a broad window in front filled with flowering plants inpots, and a broad fireplace at the back filled with evergreenboughs and cut paper flowers. On the walls werecheap colored pictures, purporting to be portraits of thequeen and members of the royal family. Against thewalls were ranged Windsor chairs. On the mantelpiecestood an eight-day clock, flanked by a pair of spermcandles, in brass candlesticks.

In the middle of the floor stood a square table, coveredwith a damask cloth as white as new fallen snow,and so smooth and glossy, with such sharp lines whereit had been folded, that proved it to have been just takenfrom the linen press and spread upon the table.

The house might be old-fashioned and somewhatdilapidated, not to say tumble-down, as to its outwardappearance; but this large, low-ceiled room was clean,neat, fresh and fragrant as it was possible for a roomto be.

“This is pleasant, isn’t it, papa?” said Wynnette, asshe stood by the flowery window, threw off her brownstraw hat, pulled off her gloves, drew off her duster,put them all upon one chair and dropped herself into another.

199“Yes. If the tea proves as good as the room, weshall be content,” replied Mr. Force.

The man-of-all-work, who had slipped out and puton a clean apron, and taken up a clean towel, with magicalexpedition, now reappeared to take orders.

“What would you please to have, sir?”

“Tea for the party, and anything else you have in thehouse that is good to eat with it.”

“Yes, sir.”

And the waiter pulled the white tablecloth this wayand that and smoothed it with the palms of his hands,apparently for no other reason than to prove his zeal,for he did not improve the cloth.

Mr. Force and Le walked out “to look around,” theysaid.

CHAPTER XXXIII
A CLEW

The one maid-of-all-work came in and asked theyoung lady if she would not like to go to a room andwash her face and hands.

Wynnette decidedly would like it, and said so.

The girl was a fresh, wholesome-looking English lass,with rosy cheeks and rippling red hair. She wore adark blue dress of some cheap woolen material, with awhite apron and white collar.

She led the young lady out into the hall again, andup a flight of broad stone steps to an upper hall, andthence into a front bed chamber, immediately over theparlor.

Here again were the whitewashed walls, clean barefloor, the broad, white-shaded window, the open fireplacefilled with evergreens, the polished wooden chairs,ranged along the walls, and all the dainty neatness of200the room below. There were, besides, a white-curtainedbed, with a strip of carpet on each side of it; a white-drapeddressing table with an oval glass, and a white-coveredwashstand, with white china basin and ewer.In a word, it was a pure, fresh, dainty, and fragrantwhite room.

“Oh, what a nice place! Oh, how I should like tostay here to-night, instead of going further!” exclaimedWynnette, appreciatively.

The girl made no reply, but began to lay out towelson the washstand, and to pour water from the ewer intothe basin.

“This is a very lonesome country, though, isn’t it?”inquired Wynnette, who was bound to talk.

“There’s not a many gentry, ma’am. There be millhands and pitmen mostly about here,” said the girl.

“Mill hands and pitmen! I saw no mills nor mines,either, as we drove along.”

“No, ma’am; but they beant far off. The hills dohide them just about here; but you might seen the highchimneys—I mean the tops of ’em and the smoke.”

“Are they pitmen down there in the barroom?”

“In the taproom? Yes, ma’am. Mill hands, andfarm hands, too. They do come in at this hour for theirbeer and ’bacco.”

“Do you have many more customers besides thesem*n?”

“Not ivery day, ma’am; but we hev the farmers ontheir way to Middlemoor market stop here; and—andthe gentry coming and going betwixt the station andFell Hall, or Middlemoor Court, or Anglewood Manor,ma’am.”

“How far is Anglewood Manor from this?”

“About five miles, ma’am.”

“‘Five!’ Why, I thought it wasn’t more than four.The coachman told us it was only six from the stationand we have come two.”

201“That was Anglewood village, I reckon, ma’am. Thatis only four miles from here; but Anglewood Manor isa short mile beyant that.”

“Ah! Who keeps this inn? There is no name onthe sign.”

“No, ma’am. It’s ‘T’ Whoit Coo.’ It allers hev been‘T’ Whoit Coo,’ ma’am.”

“But who keeps it?” persisted inquisitive Wynnette.

“Oo! Me mawther keeps it, iver sin’ feyther deed,ma’am. Mawther tends bar hersen, and Jonah waitsand waters horses, and cleans boots, and does odd jobs,and I be chambermaid.”

“Ah! and who is Jonah?”

“Me brawther.”

“Ah! And so your mother, your brother, and yourselfdo all the work and run the hotel?”

“Yes, ma’am. It would no pay us else,” replied the“Maid of the Inn,” who seemed to be as much inclinedto be communicative as Wynnette was to be inquisitive.

“Oh, well, it is lucky that you are all able to do so.But you have not told me your name yet.”

“Mine be Hetty Kirby, ma’am. Brawther Jonah’sbe Jonah, and mawther’s be the Widow Kirby,” definitelyreplied the girl.

“‘Kirby!’ Oh—why——Tell me, did you have arelation named John Kirby go to America once upon atime?”

“Yes, ma’am, a long time ago, before I can remember,me Oncle John Kirby, me feyther’s yo’ngest brawther,went there and never come back.”

“Oh! And—is your grandfather living?”

The “Maid of the Inn” stared. What was all thisto the young lady? Wynnette interpreted her look andexplained:

“Because, if he is living, I have got a letter and abundle for him from his son in New York.”

“Oh, Law! hev you, though, ma’am? Look at thet,202noo! What wonders in this world. The grandfeytheris living, ma’am, but not in Moorton. He be latelycoom to dwell wi’ ‘is son Job, me Oncle Job, who be sextonat Anglewood church.”

“Sexton at Anglewood church! Is your uncle sextonat Anglewood church? And does your grandfather, oldMr. Kirby, live with him?”

The maid of the inn stared again. Why should thisstrange young lady take so much interest in the Kirbys?

Again Wynnette interpreted her look, and explained:

“Because if your grandfather does live there, it willsave us a journey to Moorton, as we are going to Anglewood,and can give him the letter and parcel withoutturning out of our way,” she said; but she was alsothinking that if this old Kirby, to whom she was bringingletters and presents from his son in America, wasthe father of the sexton at Anglewood church, an inmateof his cottage, and probably assistant in his work, thesecirc*mstances might greatly facilitate their admissioninto vaults and mausoleums which the party had cometo see, but which might otherwise have been closed tothem.

“Oh, ma’am,” said Hetty, “would you mind lettingmawther see the letter and parcel?”

“No, certainly not; but I have no right to let her openeither of them, you know.”

“She shawnt, ma’am; but it wull do the mawthergood to see the outside ’n ’em. And o’ Sunday, whenshe goes to church, she can see the grandfeyther, andget to read t’ letter. And there be t’ bell, ma’am. Andwe mun goo doon to tea.”

Wynnette was ready, and went downstairs, attendedby the girl.

A dainty and delicious repast was spread upon thetable. Tea, whose rich aroma filled the room and provedits excellence, muffins, sally-lunns, biscuits, butteredtoast, rich milk, cream and butter, fried chicken,203poached eggs, sliced tongue and ham, radishes, peppergrass, cheese, marmalade, jelly, pound cake and plumcake.

Wynnette’s eyes danced as she saw the feast.

“It is as good as a St. Mary’s county spread! AndI couldn’t say more for it if I were to talk all day!” sheexclaimed, as she took her place at the head of the tableto pour out the tea.

Mr. Force asked a blessing, just as he would havedone if he had been at home, and then the three hungrytravelers “fell to.”

“Father,” said Wynnette, when she had poured outthe tea, which Hetty began to hand around, “do youknow the Widow Kirby who keeps this hotel——”

“Inn, my dear—inn,” amended the squire. “I am sohappy to find myself in an old-fashioned inn that Iprotest against its being insulted with the name ofhotel.”

“All right, squire,” said Wynnette.

or words to that effect. The landlady of this hostelry—Ishould say tavern—I mean inn—the landlady of thisinn is the Widow Kirby, sister-in-law to the baggagemaster who took care of Joshua, and from whom webrought the letter and parcel, you know. And thisyoung person is his niece, and the man who drove ushere is his nephew. And his brother is sexton at AnglewoodChurch, and his father lives there. Now! Whatdo you think of that?”

“We knew from the baggage master that the Kirbyslived in Lancashire, so we need not be surprised to findthem here.”

“But, papa, Lancashire is a large place.”

“My love, it has been said that the habitable globe is204but a small place, and we are always sure to meet someof the same people everywhere.”

“Now, the widow wants to see the letter and theparcel—the outside of them, I mean.”

“Well, there is no objection,” said the squire. Andhe made a move to reach his valise.

But Le hastily anticipated him and brought it.

The kind-hearted squire unlocked the case, found theletter and the parcel, and gave them into the hands ofthe young waitress.

“Oo! Thanky’, sir. Thanky’, ma’am. Thanky’,” shesaid, and continued to say, bobbing courtesies, and turningover and staring at the letter and the parcel as shetook them out of the room.

“Wynnette, my dear, you find out everything; butyou have missed your vocation. You ought to have beena newspaper correspondent or a detective.”

“I know it, papa. I know it!” exclaimed the girl,with a very demonstrative sigh. “And that’s the complaintwith most of us. We’re nearly all out of place,and therefore in pain, like dislocated limbs. And that’swhat’s the matter with humanity. Almost all its membersare put out of joint.”

The rich glow of the summer sunset was slowly fadingfrom the west.

Lights were brought in by the factotum, Jonah, whoplaced two on the tea table, and then proceeded to lightthe two that stood upon the mantelpiece.

Having done this, the man stood waiting orders.

“Have you put up the carriage?” inquired Mr. Force.

“Naw, maister. The carriage be waiting.”

“Well, then, you may just as well put it up. It isgrowing dark, and I do not feel like crossing the moorat this time of night. We will stay here, if you can letus have bedrooms.”

“Surely, maister, we ha’ rooms enough. I’ll callHetty.”

205The chambermaid was called, and bringing the letterand parcel, still unopened, and her “mawther’s” dutyand thanks to the gentlefolks for letting her see the outsideof them.

Hetty, on being interviewed on the subject of sleepingaccommodations, declared in effect that “The WhiteCow” could provide comfortable quarters for the wholeparty, for if the two gentlemen would share the double-beddedchamber over the taproom, the young lady couldhave the large single-bedded chamber over the parlor.

“That will be perfectly lovely. I did long to sleepin that very room, at least for one night,” said Wynnette,without waiting for any one else to speak.

“All right, then. That will do. We will stay. Eh,Le?” said the squire, turning to his young companion.

“Certainly, uncle. The half of a large bedded chamberis ample space for one used to a hammock,” repliedLe.

So it was settled, and as the travelers were fatigued,they retired early.

CHAPTER XXXIV
ANGLEWOOD MANOR

Early the next morning our three travelers wereastir.

They met in the neat parlor, where the air was deliciouswith the fragrance of fresh white, pink and bluehyacinths that filled the flower pots in the broad window.

They sat around the table, on which was arranged abreakfast that quite equaled in excellence the tea of theevening before.

Jonah waited on the party.

“Is that elegant and commodious equipage whichbrought us here yesterday the best thing in the way of206a carriage that the White Cow can turn out?” inquiredMr. Force, as he sipped his coffee.

“Beg pardon, maister?” said the man, with a puzzledlook.

“Can’t you trot out a better trap than that old hurdleon wheels which jolted us from the railway station yesterday?”demanded Wynnette.

“Beg pardon, ma’am?” said the man, with a bewilderedlook.

“We wish to know if you have not a better carriagethan the one in which we came here,” Le tried to explain.

“Naw, maister, t’ Whoit Coo hev naw much demandfo’ ’m. T’ gentry do most come and go in their own,and send t’ same for or call t’ friends in visiting,” theman replied, in a tone of apology.

“Very well. Have the cart at the door as soon as itcan be brought here, and bring me my bill.”

“Yes, maister.”

They all got up from the table.

“Papa,” said Wynnette, who was too well inclined totake the initiative in most matters, “papa, I think if wecan get our business done at the manor to-day, we hadbetter come back here to take supper and to sleep. Itseems to me that it would be much nicer than to stop atAngleton.”

“Wait until you see Angleton before you decide, mydear. You may find the ‘Anglesea Arms’ as attractiveas this inn,” replied the squire, who was drawing on hisrailway duster—a needless operation, since there wasno more dust on the moor than could have been foundon the sea.

“‘The Anglesea Arms,’ papa? No, thank you. Thename is enough for me. I would rather sit in the oldcart all day and eat bread and cheese, and sleep in thecart all night, gypsy fashion, than take rest or refreshmentat the Anglesea Arms,” exclaimed Wynnette.

207“But, my dear, you are unjust. The inn has nothingto do with the man, beyond the accident of having beenon the land of his ancestors centuries ago, and handeddown the name from generation to generation.”

“Can’t help it, papa! I should feel—disgraced—thereif I were to find myself by any accident under the roofof the—Anglesea Arms.”

“Whe-ew-ew! Poor, old inn,” whistled Mr. Force.

Oh, no doubt he ought to have lectured his wilfullittle daughter; but he did not. He was a child-spoiler,a chickpecked papa.

By this time they were ready to start.

Jonah brought the bill.

Mr. Force paid it, and gave the waiter half a crown.

Wynnette pulled his sleeve and whispered:

“Papa, give me half a sov. to tip the chambermaid.It’s the regular thing, you know. I mean, papa, dear,that it is usual for ladies to offer some such modest recognitionof such young persons’ services.”

“What, my dear, have you no money?” inquired herfather, looking at her in some surprise.

sighed Wynnette, in a very humble air, as she held outher open hand.

The squire poured into her palm some loose silver andone piece of gold—the whole not amounting to so muchas five dollars.

Wynnette thanked him and skipped out of the parlorto find Hetty.

She found her waiting just outside the door. Hettywas a very good girl in her way; but she profited bythe traditions of her class, and generally was to be foundwaiting when ladies were leaving the inn.

Wynnette pressed the half sovereign into the hand of208the girl. Wynnette was a generous and extravagantlittle wretch, without the slightest idea of the value ofmoney, and therefore likely, in some opinions, to cometo poverty.

This half sovereign was about four times as much asthe maid ever got from the richest of the inn’s guests;and she courtesied about four times as often in return.

“Small favors gratefully acknowledged, large ones inproportion,” seemed to be her just and simple rule.

“Come, Wynnette. Come, my dear,” called herfather, who was already in the hall waiting for her.

In another minute the whole party were in the dilapidatedcarryall, and the driver turned the horse’s headeastward into an almost invisible roadway over the moor.

It was a splendid June morning. The sky was of adeep, clear sapphire blue so seldom seen even on thesunniest days in England. The moor took a darkershade of color from the sky, and the heather with whichit was thickly overgrown seemed of a deep, intensegreen. The ground rolled in hills and dales, graduallyrising higher and higher toward the range of mountainson the eastern horizon, where the highest ridges werecapped with soft, snow-white clouds. As the sun rosehigher, these clouds, as well as the mountain sides, becametinted with the most delicate and beautiful hues ofrose, azure, emerald and gold, melting into each otherand forming the loveliest varieties of color, light andshade.

Yet in the vast solitude of the moor no human beingor human dwelling was to be seen.

The first sign of habitation was a thin spire whichseemed to rise in mid distance before them.

“What is that?” inquired Mr. Force of the driver.

“Thet, maister, be the steeple of old AnglewoodChurch.”

“Are we so near the manor, then?”

209“Naw, sir. It be better’n three mulls off yet. Youwould naw see it, only for the air is so clear the day.”

Wynnette craned her neck to look forward. But therewas nothing to be seen but the thin spire, as if drawnwith pen and ink from the dark blue heath to the deepblue sky.

As they went on, the spire became a steeple, and thesteeple a tower, and the tower a church.

As yet nothing but the church—darkly outlinedagainst the background of hills—was visible. Theywere now on the top of one of the rolling hills, and couldsee it clearly.

“Is that church in the village of Angleton or in themanor of Anglewood?” inquired Mr. Force of the driver.

“It be on t’ manor, maister. The village it be nearert’ us, but being in t’ hollow you can’t see it yet.”

“Ah!”

They went down the hill and through the hollow,came up the side of another higher hill, and then lookeddown on the village of Angleton in the vale at its foot.

On the top of the next hill stood the Old Church ofAnglewood in full view.

The driver stopped his horse while they looked at thevillage in the vale and the church on the hill beyond.

“Wull I drive to the Anglesea Arms, maister?” inquiredthe driver, as he set his horse in motion again.

“No,” replied the squire, in deference to Wynnette.He had “won his spurs elsewhere,” no doubt, but thechickpecked papa was a little afraid of his baby. “No;but I want to stop at the village for a few minutes. Isthere a newspaper published at Angleton?”

“Yes, sir. T’ Angleton ’Wertiser it be,” replied theman.

“Very well, then. Drive to the office of that paper.”

“Yes, maister.”

They were now descending a steep road, between lowstone walls, leading down into the main street of the210village and past the one public house, the one generalstore, the doctor’s office and surgery, the lawyer’s office,and finally the printing and publishing office of theAngleton Advertiser.

It was a two-storied stone building, evidently a dwellinghouse as well as a printing office; for there weretwo doors—one apparently a private door, leading intoa narrow hall; the other the public door, broad andrough, and leading into the business rooms. Besides theupper windows were hung with Norfolk lace curtainsand adorned with pots of geraniums, while the lowerwindows were shaded with dust and draped with cobwebs,and sustained above them the broad signboard—AngletonAdvertiser.

When the carriage drew up before this building thethree travelers alighted and went in.

The driver of the vehicle remained in his seat incharge.

The party of three found themselves in a very dingyroom, with a counter on their right hand, at the nearestend of which a man stood writing at a desk. At thefurthest end a boy stood folding and wrapping papers.

“Is this the office of the Angleton Advertiser?” needlesslyinquired Mr. Force of the gentleman behind thedesk.

“It is. What can I have the pleasure of doing foryou, sir?” inquired the latter.

“You are the proprietor?” half asserted, half inquiredthe squire.

“Proprietor, editor, printer and publisher,” answeredthe man, reaching behind him and taking from a shelf acopy of his paper, which he offered to his visitor, saying:“Out to-day, sir; and there’s my name.”

“Ah!” said Mr. Force, spreading the paper beforehim, and looking first at the prospectus for the name ofhis new acquaintance.

211“Can I be of any service to you, sir?” inquired theproprietor.

“Well, Mr. Purdy, I would like to have a few minutestalk with you, if you are not too busy.”

“I am directing papers for the mail, but I am notpressed for time, as the mail does not go until to-night.”

“Thank you,” said the squire, as a mere form, forthere did not appear to be any particular cause for gratitude.And he drew from his breast pocket a certaincopy of the Angleton Advertiser and handed it to theman, saying again: “Thank you, Mr. Purdy. Myname is Force. I only wish to ask you—and I hopewithout offense—what is the meaning of the obituarynotice of a living man that is published in the firstcolumn of this paper?”

Purdy took the paper in a slow and dazed manner, andlooked at the column which Mr. Force pointed out tohim.

And as he looked he stared and stared.

“I—I—don’t understand!” he said at last, lookingfrom the paper up to the face of his strange visitor.

“Neither do I understand, Mr. Purdy; but if we putour heads together perhaps we may be able to do so,”replied Abel Force.

The printer turned the paper over and over, in andout, up and down, and, lastly, back to the front page;and then he stared at the obituary notice of his landlord.

“What do you make of it?” inquired Abel Force.

“I can’t make anything of it. But I think it willmake a lunatic of me! This is certainly my paper! Iknow my paper as well as I know my children. This iscertainly my paper—though it is an old one—and this isthe obituary notice of Col. Anglesea, who was alive andwell at that very time, and is so at this present, as Ithink.”

“How do you account for that?”

“I can’t account for it! If I weren’t a sound man,212and a sober man, and a wide-awake one, I should thinkI was drunk, or dreaming, or deranged. It is quite beyondme, Mr. Force. This is my paper—I see it, andknow it—and this is an obituary notice of a living manthat I never put in there! I see and know that as well!But how to reconcile these two contradictory facts, Idon’t know. How did you come by that paper, if youplease?”

“It was sent to me by mail!”

“Well, well, well!”

“Have you a file of the Angleton Advertiser?”

“Of course I have, sir.”

“Let us look at it, then, and compare this paper withthe paper of that same date on the file.”

“Why, that is a good idea. And I shall only have tolook at the copy of August 20th in last year’s file. I’lldo it at once.”

The editor turned and took down a roller full ofpapers from the two wooden pins on the wall behindhim, and laid it upon the counter and began to turnover the sheets.

“Here it is!” exclaimed Purdy, pulling out a paperand spreading it out on the counter. “August 20th—andappears to be a facsimile of the one you broughthere, sir. Now let us lay them on the board side by sideand compare them.”

He took the file and hung it up again on the wall, tomake room on the counter. Then he spread out the twopapers side by side, with their first pages uppermost.

As he did so the boy who had been folding and wrappingpapers at the other end of the counter left his workand crept toward the two men.

“Oh! see this!” exclaimed the proprietor—“see this!The two papers are facsimile in every letter and line,except in two places! See this! The first column onthe first page of the paper from the file is occupied bythe report of an agricultural fair at Middlemoor, and213the same column in the same edition of the paper, in thecopy you brought, is filled with the obituary of Col.Anglesea! And here! In the list of deaths on anotherpage, the first paragraph in this paper from the file isa notice of the death of the Rev. Mr. Orton, our oldvicar; and in the copy of the same paper that youbrought me the same space is taken up with the noticeof the death of Col. Anglesea. This is a very greatmystery!”

“Perhaps if you could recall all the incidents of theday on which this paper was issued we might come tosome solution of the problem,” suggested Mr. Force.

“I don’t know that I could,” replied Purdy.

“Father,” said the boy—“father, I remember somethingqueer about that very day—I do.”

CHAPTER XXXV
A SECRET WITNESS

“You do? Come here, my son.”

The lad came up to the counter. He was a fine, wholesome-lookingboy of about fifteen years of age, with afresh complexion, blue eyes, and closely cut, light brownhair.

He bowed to the visitors and stood waiting for hisfather’s questions.

“You say you remember something about the twentiethof last August?”

“Why, I ought to, father, because it was somethingthat happened unexpectedly that day that caused me tobe promoted from being a mere ’prentice in the printingroom to being your helper here.”

“Oh! Ah! Let me see! That was—yes—the day Itook you into the office was the day Norton absconded,214for his sudden desertion left me in the lurch. And so,Mr. Force,” said the editor, turning to his visitor, “Itook my lad here, who had been learning to be a printer,on to help me. It was only as a temporary accommodationof myself to circ*mstances that I took him, for Iintended to look up another assistant, but he proved himselfso capable that I have kept him on ever since, andsaved the expense of a journeyman.”

“Ah!” breathed Mr. Force, while Wynnette andLeonidas bent eagerly forward to listen for further developmentsof the mystery.

“Won’t the young lady take a chair?” said Mr.Purdy; for the party had been standing the whole time.

Leonidas drew the only chair in sight from the backof the passage between the counter and the wall, andWynnette bowed, and seated herself.

“Could there have been any connection between theinsertion of that fraudulent notice and the sudden flightof your foreman?” inquired Mr. Force.

“Looks like it,” said the editor, still being muchpuzzled. Then, turning to his son, he inquired:

“Obed, do you think you can throw any light on thismystery? You know what we are talking about, ofcourse. You heard what this gentleman has been tellingme.”

“Yes, father.”

“Well, do you remember anything more about theevents of that day—the last that Norton was here?”

“Yes, father. And the more I think about it now,the better I understand things that I didn’t think muchof at the time.”

“What were these things, Obed?”

“Yes!” involuntarily muttered Mr. Force. “What?”

Wynnette and Leonidas almost held their breath.

Obed told his story:

“You know, father, when the last paper was taken offthe press that twentieth of August, Norton and I didn’t215go to distributing the type, either of us, but both cameinto the front office at your call to help to fold and directthe papers, because the edition was a large one on accountof the agricultural fair. You remember that,father?”

“Yes, now you remind me of it.”

“And when the papers were all dispatched it wasnearly dark, and you went home, leaving Norton andmyself to close up. The type was not distributed, butleft, as it often was, till the next day.”

“Our paper is a weekly, as you, perhaps, know, sir,”interpolated the editor.

Mr. Force bowed.

The boy continued, now addressing the whole party:

“After father went out Norton said to me—and Iremembered how surprised I was at his sudden kindness,though it did not arouse my suspicion of anythingwrong—he said to me:

“‘You needn’t stop to-night, old man. I reckon I canclear up the counter and shut up the office.’

“So I went home to supper, and told father that Nortonhad let me off. You remember that, father?”

“Y-y-yes, now you remind me of it. But I don’tthink I should remember it even now if the event werenot marked by the fact that I never saw Norton fromthat night.”

“After supper,” continued the boy, “I went out towalk. The village street is always very gay on Saturdaynight. All the mill hands have got their week’swages and are abroad, buying for Sunday, and the shopsare gay. I stayed out just to see them until the custombegan to drop off and the shutters to be put up. Andthen I started for home.”

“You needn’t think, sir, by that that my lad is theleast bit wild. Obed is as steady as a lamp-post, butafter being shut up in the office all day he must pull216himself out a little by taking a walk, even though it isnight. I tell him to,” Mr. Purdy explained.

“Quite right,” assented Mr. Force.

Obed continued:

“Now, father, comes the strange part, which I didn’tthink much of at the time, but a great deal of now!”

“Go on, my boy.”

“When I came in sight of our printing office it wasall closed up, the heavy shutters up and the iron barsacross them; but I saw a glimmer of light through thechinks, and my first thought was fire, and I ran aroundto the back and climbed over the wall and looked througha hole that I knew was in the shutter of the back window,and there I saw——”

“Yes! yes!” exclaimed the editor, impatiently, asthe boy had only stopped to clear his throat.

“There I saw Norton as busy setting type as if themaking up of the paper was behindhand and he wasworking against time.”

“Ah!” breathed Abel Force.

“The gas jet was burning right in front of him, shiningon his face and on his work so I could see himquite plainly. I thought maybe he had some job to do,and so it was all right; but just then a man came out ofthe shadows of the room somewhere and leaned overhim.”

“Who was it? Col. Anglesea?” hastily demandedAbel Force.

Obed stared, and then replied, somewhat indignantly:

“Col. Anglesea? Not likely, sir.”

“What sort of a man was it?” inquired Mr. Purdy,by way of diversion from the Anglesea question.

“He was a gentleman, I should think, though,” saidthe boy, apologetically. “He was a rather short, stoutman with a red face and light hair. I saw that much,for when he went up to Norton the gas jet shone on himalso, and I could see him plainly. He spoke with Norton217for a few minutes, and then went back somewhereinto the darkness. I thought maybe it was some onewho wanted some little job of labels printed and Nortonwas doing it for him. So I came away and went home.”

“Was that all?”

“Not quite. When we went to the office on Mondaywe found it closed, though it was Norton’s place to haveopened it an hour before. Father and I opened it, andI went to the press to begin to distribute the type, andfound——”

The boy stopped to clear his throat again.

“Yes, yes, what did you find, my lad?”

“Why, that the first two columns of the first pagewere distributed.”

“Oh!”

“I wasn’t surprised at that a bit, and I never thoughtanything else about it but that he—Norton—had alreadybegun to distribute the type, and had got that farand stopped. The rest of the type looked just as it hadbeen set. Father and I distributed the rest.”

“See how it is now, so far as the act goes; but I cansee no motive for it,” said the editor.

“I do not know much about printing,” remarked AbelForce; “but was it not likely that on the Saturday night,when you and your son had gone home, leaving the pressand the type just as the last copy of the paper had beentaken from it, was it not possible that this man Nortonmay have distributed the type that had been set up forthe report of the agricultural fair which had been struckoff, and then set up this fraudulent obituary notice andsubstituted it for the distributed matter, and then struckoff a few more copies of the paper?”

“Yes, sir; and that is just what has been done. Butthe motive, the motive, that’s what puzzles me,” exclaimedthe editor.

“The motive was to spread a false report of Col. Anglesea’s218death in America, where he had incurred somepersonal liabilities,” replied Mr. Force.

John Purdy stared.

“In America—Col. Anglesea—liabilities? I thinkyou must be mistaken, sir.”

“Perhaps.” Mr. Force did not wish to get into adiscussion; he wished to get information. “Have youany idea who the man could have been who was in yourprinting office on that night?” he inquired.

“Not the least in the world, sir, except that it was notCol. Anglesea. You take my word of honor for that.”Mr. Force bowed. He thought the boy’s descriptionof the man who was in the office with the printer thatnight tallied perfectly with the personal appearance ofAnglesea as he had known him, but he did not say so;he shunned disputes, so as to get facts.

“Where was Col. Anglesea at this time?” he inquired.

“Col. the Hon. Angus Anglesea, of AnglewoodManor, was at his home. He was soon after appointeddeputy lieutenant of the county,” replied Purdy, withsome vicarious dignity.

“Where is he now?”

“Abroad—traveling for his health, I think.”

“And—this man Norton, who must have set up thefraudulent obituary, where is he?”

“Nobody knows. He never returned to the office. Inever saw him, or heard of him again. His was one ofthe cases of ‘Mysterious Disappearance,’ and as such itwas noticed in all the local papers. All had differenttheories. The Middlemoor Messenger thought that hehad been made away with by pitmen. The wretched pitmenget blamed for all the undiscovered crime in thecounty. They live mostly in darkness, and so peopleseem to believe that they ‘love darkness rather than lightbecause their deeds are evil.’ But this is not so.”

“And no clew was ever discovered to the fate of Norton?”

219“None, sir. You see he was a single man, withoutany near relations, and so the affair was soon forgotten.”

“Well,” said Abel Force, straightening himself up,“I thank you for the information you have given me,and the opportunity you have afforded us of comparingthe fraudulent paper with that of the same date on yourfile. This is your mailing day, and I must not detainyou.”

“Come in at any time, sir; we shall be glad to seeyou. Making any stay in this place, sir?”

“Thank you. No, only over the Sabbath. Good-day.”

“Good-day, sir.”

“Le,” said Mr. Force, as they re-entered the carriage,“we are on the track of the fraud, but need not pursueit in the direction of that man and boy. Now we willsee what the tombstones have to tell us.”

“Where to now, maister?” inquired the driver, fromhis seat.

“To Anglewood Church, Anglewood Manor,” saidMr. Force.

CHAPTER XXXVI
ANGLEWOOD OLD CHURCH

Leaving the office of the Angleton Advertiser,and turning up the village street, they repassed theblacksmith’s, the general dealer’s, the doctor’s surgery,the lawyer’s office, the post office, the news agency, andfinally the Angleton Arms—an ancient hostelry, built ofstone, with strong walls, peaked roof, high chimney andlow, broad, latticed windows—which stood as on guardat the entrance of the hamlet.

Leaving the place at this point, they entered the roadleading to Anglewood Manor.

220No pleasant, shady, grass-bordered country road wasthis, with vistas of woods and waters, fields and farms.It was a white and arid highway, running between graystone walls, whose dread monotony was varied only bythe occasional branch of a tree over their tops, or of aniron gate, or oaken door, in the sides.

“Whose property is this on the right and left of us?”inquired Mr. Force of the driver.

“Thet on t’ roight, maister, be Middlemoor, t’ seat o’t’ Arl o’ Middlemoor. Thet on t’ left be Fell Hall, t’seat o’ Squoire Ogden,” replied the man.

“What hateful roads!” exclaimed Wynnette. “I feelexactly as if we were driving on between a madhouseand a jail!”

They were slowly going uphill now, and presentlycame to a lane on the left, into which the carriageturned. Still on the left of the new way was the lowstone wall, but behind and above it was a green hedgeof Osage orange bushes, while opposite, on the right, wasa lovely green hedge of all the variety of bushes andbrambles that grow outdoors in that part of England.

“This is better,” said Wynnette, as they drove slowlyon between the green hedges.

“We be noo at back o’ Fell Hall. And yon’s t’ steepleo’ t’ church,” the coachman volunteered to explain, ashe pointed to the spire which rose above a clump of treeson their left.

They soon reached the entrance of the churchyardand passed in.

The church stood on an eminence, which they hadbeen gradually climbing all the way from Angleton.

It was a very picturesque building of ancient Englishtype—moss-grown and ivy-covered from base to pinnacle,until not a bit of its walls or roof could be seen.Many ancient gravestones, gray with age, sunk in longgrass and covered with moss, clustered around it.

“Is the church open to visitors?” inquired Mr. Force221of the driver, as they drew up to the closed and formidable-looking,iron-bound oaken doors.

“Oy, maister! It be t’ show o’ t’ place, be AnglewoodOld Church.”

They all alighted from the rough carriage and stoodon the flagstones of the church porch, and looked aroundthem. The sun was in the west now, and shining on thegrass-grown yard and the moss-covered gravestones.

“Are any of the Anglesea family buried out here?”inquired Mr. Force.

“Oot here? Laird, no, maister! They be all in t’vault. And none ha’ been put into t’ groond here, evenof t’ common folk, in my toime! They be took to t’simitry.”

“To the cemetery?”

“Oy, maister, on t’ hill, over by yonder.”

“Ah! well! how are we to get into this building?”

“I’ll rin and get the key fra’ m’ oncle, Silas Kirby, t’sexton.”

“And don’t you know, papa, we have got that letterand parcel from John Kirby to his father?” said Wynnette.

“Yes, yes, my dear, I know.”

“Well, then, may we not go to the sexton ourselves?”

“I will see. How far is your uncle’s home fromhere?” inquired Mr. Force of the driver.

“Whoy, joost by t’other gate o’ the churchyard,” repliedthe man.

“Then we will leave the carriage here and go across tohis house, to take something we have brought for yourgrandfather,” said Mr. Force.

“Oy, oy! t’ letter Oi heerd t’ mawther talk aboot.Coom along wi’ Oi, maister. This be the way.”

Leaving the old carriage standing before the churchdoor, the driver led the way through the long grass, andin and out among the tombstones, taking care not to stepupon the graves, and so reached another gate opening222upon a sequestered lane and flanked by two buildings,one of which was the sexton’s cottage, built of stone, witha steep roof, tall chimneys and latticed windows, and,like the church, so moss-grown and ivy-covered that onlyits doors and windows escaped the veil.

A tall, venerable, white-haired man, with a long whitebeard, sat in the door, smoking, and apparently meditating.

“Grandfeyther,” said Jonah Kirby, addressing thispatriarch, “here be a gentleman from foreign pairts abringing of a letter and news from Uncle John.”

“Eh! eh! then, what be ye talking aboot, lad?” inquiredthe old man, rising with difficulty, balancing himself,and bowing to the strangers.

Jonah Kirby repeated his introduction.

“Eh! My service to you, gentlefolks. A letter fra m’lad in ’Merica! Eh! Laird bless us!—a letter fra m’lad, quotha?”

“Yes, Mr. Kirby, my little girl here has brought youa letter from your son, John Kirby, who is a baggagemaster on a prosperous railroad in the United States.She made his acquaintance on the train. Here, Wynnette,my dear, give the old man his letter and parcel.”

The young girl handed both.

“Thanky, me leddy! Thanky koindly!” said thepatriarch, sinking back in his armchair; for betweenage, weakness and emotion he was no longer able tostand.

“And ’ee saw me lad? And ’ee brought me this letterfra him? God bless ’ee, me leddy! God bless ’ee!”said the old man, in an earnest voice which trembledwith agitation, as he took the girl’s hand, made as if hewould have kissed it, but pressed it to his forehead andto his wet eyes instead—“God bless ’ee, me leddy!”

“It was all through the dog,” said Wynnette. “Hetook care of my dear dog for me, and fed him on the223journey, and kept him from jumping off the train andout of all danger.”

“Oy! oy! John was ever good to animals, and varryfond of dogs, was John. And t’ lad’s doing well, ye say,me leddy?”

“Oh, yes. Read his letter,” said Wynnette.

“Oy, oy, to be sure. Here, Silas—Silas, lad—herebe a letter fra furrin pairts, fra your brawther John.Come hither, Silas—and bring chairs for t’ gentlefolks.Ah! bad manners of me to be sitting while t’ gentlefolksstand!” said the patriarch, striving to get upon his feet,but failing, and sinking back.

“Pray do not disturb yourself,” said Mr. Force. “Wedo not wish to sit down. We would like to see the insideof the old church, if your son, the sexton, can showit to us.”

“Of coorse he can, and thet just noo. Silas, Silas,where be ye, and t’ gentlefolks waiting on ye?”

A tall, robust, tawny-headed and bearded man cameout.

“Here’s a letter fra your brawther as t’ gentlefolks ha’brought fra furrin pairts. But ’ee can read it when ’eecoom back. Gae, noo, and show t’ gentlefolks to OldChurch. Coom here, Katie, me lass, and read this letterto thy auld grandad.”

This last speech was addressed to a fair-haired girl ofabout sixteen, who appeared at the door and courtesiedto the strangers.

Silas Kirby, the sexton, bowed to the visitors, and ina few muffled words intimated his readiness to obligethem, and walked on before, swinging a large key inhis hand.

When he reached the church door he put the key inthe ponderous lock, turned it with a great twist, andunlocked it with a loud noise.

The travelers entered an obscurity of rich light andshade from stained glass windows, half-hidden in ivy,224and glowing down upon dark oaken pews and tessellatedfloor.

When their eyes became accustomed to the semidarkness,the travelers went up toward the chancel, and sawthe recumbent effigy of the founder of the family ofAnglesea, and memorial tablets of many of their descendants.

Some little time was spent in reading the inscriptionsupon these monuments, and examining the paintings onthe walls between the windows; and then Mr. Force inquired:

“Is the monument of the late Lady Mary Anglesea inthis church?”

“Noa, maister; not in the church.”

“Are her remains in the vault?”

“Loikely they be, maister. I ha’ not had occasion togo into t’ vault since I coom to t’ parish.”

“Then you were no here when Lady Mary Angleseadied, then?”

“Noa, maister, I were not. That were in GoodmanProut’s time. But her leddyship will be loikely i’ t’vault.”

Saying this, the sexton took a key from his pocketand unlocked a door on the right-hand side of the chancel,revealing a narrow flight of stone steps leading intothe crypt below.

All the party approached the opening.

“Wynnette, my dear, you had better not venture down.The air must be very bad,” said Mr. Force.

“Nay, maister, none so bad as you think. There bemany a gentleman’s cellar far worse. There be windys—openwindys—wi’ airn bars on each side of the wall,and on each end of the wall even wi’ the ground, andthough they be some of ’em well choked up, yet for allthat there be enough o’ them open to keep the air freshi’ the vault. There be na fear, maister,” said the sexton.

Mr. Force, standing at the head of the steps leading225down into the vault, felt for himself that there was nofear of foul air; the atmosphere was as fresh, though alittle damper, than that of the church above.

The sexton unhooked a lantern that hung on a nailwithin the door, took a match from his pocket, lightedthe little lamp and walked before the visitors down thesteps.

The vault occupied all the space under the church,and it was provided with stone tables ranged around thefour walls.

The place was dimly visible by the daylight whichstruggled through the ivy that half choked up the barredwindows. This was strongest from the west, from whichthe declining sun shot rays of golden light through barsand ivy leaves, whose shadows flickered dimly on thestone tables and on the leaden caskets they supported.

But it needed the additional light of the lantern bywhich to read the inscription on the latter.

Mr. Force began at the casket nearest the foot of thestairs and read the name—Alexander d’Anglesay, 1250;Malcolm d’Anglesay, A. D.—the rest worn out; DameMargery d’An—the rest illegible—see, 1090—the restgone.

“On this side must be the oldest caskets; let us try theother,” said Mr. Force, crossing over to the opposite row,followed by the sexton carrying the lantern, and beginningto read the inscriptions:

“Ah! Richard Anglesea, born July 1, 1801, diedJanuary 31, 1850; aged 49 years. Ah! that was thefather of an unworthy son! Fell gallantly at the headof his regiment in the battle of——What is that yousay, Le?” Mr. Force broke off from his remarks to attendto the words of his young companion.

“I have looked at every casket, uncle! That of LadyMary Anglesea is not in the vault,” said the young man,with a sigh of disappointment.

“Not, Le! Are you sure?”

226“Quite sure, uncle.”

“It is not here, papa! I have looked at every onewith Le, and it is not among them,” added Wynnette.

Yet Mr. Force would not be satisfied, but went roundto every casket, attended by the sexton carrying the lantern,by the light of which they read every inscription,or what was left of the inscription; but found no traceof Lady Mary Anglesea.

“We had as well give up the search here,” said Mr.Force.

“And where else should we look?” inquired Le, witha face of despair.

“The only other possible place will be the churchyard.”

“Oh, her leddyship will not be there, maister! Nabodyhas been interred there this many a year. T’ parishofficers will na’ allow it! They all go to t’ simitry ont’ hill. Let alone one o’ t’ great family as never wasburied in t’ open churchyard! Oh! But noo I moindme, maister!” exclaimed the man, with a sudden lighteningof his face.

“What?” demanded Abel Force.

“And what a gey coote I was to forget it!”

“What?” again inquired Mr. Force.

“But it was all along of my thinking as you wantedto see t’ auld church, and not the leddy’s munniment,as put me off the track,” continued the man.

Mr. Force said no more, but waited for the sexton toexplain himself in his own way.

“Her leddyship’s body must be in t’ grand new musselmanas the squire had built to her memory. Eh,maister, I were not i’ the parish when t’ bootiful leddydeed; but the folk do say he took on a soight! Shet himselfup in t’ hoose after t’ funeral and wouldn’t see asoul! Had the foine musselman built in the park andher laid in it! And then he betook hisself tofurrin pairts and never come home for years! Bother227my wooden head for not telling you first off; but you see,maister, I thought it was t’ auld church you wanted andnot the leddy’s munnimint.”

“Where is”—Abel Force could scarcely bring himselfto utter the detested name—“where is Col. Angleseanow?”

“Traveling, maister, in furrin lands. He coom homeaboot a year ago, and he was ’pointed leevetinint o’ t’county. But he couldn’t abide the manor since herleddyship deed, and so he resigned and went awayagain. Eh, but he loved the ground she walked on, andcouldn’t abear it after she deed.”

Mr. Force, Wynnette and Leonidas listened to thiswith surprise and incredulity. This was, indeed, a newview of Angus Anglesea’s character.

“Can the mausoleum in the park be seen?” inquiredAbel Force.

“Varry loikely, maister. T’ whole place can be seen,for t’ matter of that. T’ squoire let open t’ whole manor,hall and a’, to a’ that loike to look at it. A free-hairtedand free-handed gentleman be our squoire.”

Here was another revelation.

“Will you be our guide to the new mausoleum?” inquiredAbel Force.

“Ay, maister. I’ll walk over and speak to the keeper,Proby, and meet you at t’ musselman. Jonah will driveyou over, maister. He knows t’ way as well as I domyself.”

CHAPTER XXXVII
THE TOMB’S EVIDENCE

They crossed the churchyard again and entered thecarriage. Jonah mounted the box.

“Noo drive the gentlefolks to t’ east o’ t’ park, and228roond by the musselman. I’ll cut across through t’brush and speak to t’ keeper, and meet you there. Itwill be all roight, maister.”

With this the sexton struck off through the bushesthat stood between the church and the manor house.

The old carriage left the churchyard by the way ithad come and entered once more upon the lane, and turningeastward, drove on between green hedges for abouta quarter of a mile, when it reached a massive gate ofoak and iron, guarded by a porter’s lodge of stone in thesame strong style of building as the sexton’s cottage atthe churchyard wall.

A tidy woman come out of the lodge, and seeing theold carriage, with Jonah on the box, she smiled andnodded, and at once opened wide the gates.

“Any one at the manor house, Mistress Dillon?” inquiredJonah.

“Noa, lad; none but t’ housekeeper and t’ servants,”replied the woman, courtesying to “the gentlefolks” asthe old carriage passed through the gate and entered thelong avenue leading through the park to the house.

This avenue was shaded by rows of gigantic old oaktrees on each side, whose branches met and intermingledoverhead, so arching the way with a thick roof of foliage.

“Oh, what a beautiful—what a majestic vista!” exclaimedWynnette, with more enthusiasm than sheusually bestowed upon any object.

“It is very fine,” said her father. “There is nothingfiner in their way than these old English parks.”

Presently the carriage turned with the avenue in acurve, and suddenly drew up before the manor house,which until that moment had been concealed by thelofty trees around it.

Anglesea Manor was a huge oblong building of somegray stone, supported at its corners by four square towers,each further strengthened by four turrets, all ofwhich added to the architectural beauty of the edifice.229There were three rows of lofty windows in the front.The lowest row was divided in the middle by massiveoaken doors, opening upon a stone platform reached byseven stone steps.

“Oh-h-h!” breathed Wynnette, as she gazed on the fineold house. “To think that such a palace as this shouldbe the inheritance of such a villain as he!”

The driver turned and looked at her with astonishmentand some indignation. Then checking himself, hesaid, in perfect simplicity:

“Oo! you don’t know, young leddy, I reckon—thisplace belongs to our landlord, Col. Angus Anglesea.”

Then drawing up his horse, he inquired:

“Will you get out and go through the house, sir?”

“For Heaven’s sake, uncle, no—not yet. Let us godirectly to the mausoleum, and see the date that is onthe tomb, and solve this doubt that is intolerable,”pleaded Le.

“Very well, my dear boy; very well. Kirby, drive atonce to the mausoleum. We will see the house later,”said Mr. Force.

The man touched his hat and started his horse.

They turned into a grass-grown road winding in andout among magnificent oaks that seemed the growth ofmany centuries, and that were probably once parts ofthe primeval forest of Britain.

Presently they came upon the mausoleum. It stoodbetween two fine oak trees, and in front of a third, whichformed its background. It was built in the form of aGrecian temple and surrounded by a silver-plated ironrailing.

The carriage stopped and our tourists got out.

Le pushed on impetuously, opened the little gate, andstepped up to read the inscription on the marble. Heread it attentively, stopped, gazed at it, read it again,and then turned away in silence.

“What is it, Le?” anxiously inquired Abel Force.

230“It is—read it, uncle,” replied the young man, breakingdown and turning away.

Mr. Force entered the inclosure and read the inscriptionon the mausoleum:

Mr. Force turned away without a word.

Wynnette entered the inclosure, read the inscriptionand came out in perfect silence.

The driver of the old carriage and the sexton of thechurch, who had only just now kept his promise andcome up to join the party, stood a little apart, not understandingthe emotion of the strangers, attributed it allto sympathy with the bereaved husband.

“Oo, ay, maister, it was a sorrowful day when herleddyship departed this loife,” said Jonah Kirby, shakinghis head—“a sorrowful day! I was at t’ funeral, asin duty bound. T’ squoire were first mourner, and hedto be present, though he were far from fit to stand.Laird Middlemoor, his feyther-in-law, hed to hold himup. I never saw t’ squoire from the day of t’ funeral untilthe day he took t’ train for Lunnun, when he weregoing abroad to furrin pairts. And then he had goneaway to nothing but skin and bone! He came backabout a year ago; but he couldn’t abear the place, andwent away again. Ah, poor gentleman!”

Le and his uncle looked at each other in wonder. Wasthis Angus Anglesea of whom the man was speaking?who had reared this monument to the memory of his“beloved wife”? Was this Angus Anglesea, whomevery one praised? And yet, who had gone abroad anddeceived, betrayed, and robbed and deserted the poorCalifornian widow? And how, indeed, could he have231married the Californian woman in St. Sebastian, on thefirst of August, as Le had unquestionable evidence thathe had done, and be present at the death of his wife inthe English manor house on the twenty-fifth of the samemonth, as these people declared that he had been; and,again, meet the Force family at Niagara early in thefollowing September? It might have been just possibleby almost incredibly rapid transits.

“Had Col. Anglesea been abroad just before his wife’sdeath?” inquired Abel Force of the driver, who knewmore about the affairs of Anglewood than the sexton,because the former had always lived at Angleton, andthe latter had only lately come to the parish.

“Oo, ay, maister, thet was the pity o’ ’t. The squoirehed been away a month or more. He coom home only aweek before her leddyship deed. And he went awayagain after t’ funeral. He coom back again a year ago,but he couldn’t abear to stay. So he put up t’ musselmanto her memory and went his way again. Ah, poorgentleman! He were a good gentleman, and a wise anda brave one!”

“I cannot make it out,” murmured Abel Force.

“The man is drawing a long bow, papa! that’s allthere is in it—I mean he is telling romances in praiseof his landlord. There cannot be a word of truth inwhat he says,” said Wynnette.

Le said nothing. He seemed utterly crushed by theblow that had fallen on him.

The carriage driver seemed not to hear or understandthe murmured talk between the father and daughter,but when it ceased he touched his hat and asked:

“Wull I drive you to t’ manor house, noo, maister?”

“Yes, if you please,” returned Mr. Force, as he helpedWynnette to climb up into the dilapidated “trap.”

“And what do your honor think o’ t’ musselman,maister?” inquired the sexton, coming up and taking offhis cap.

232“It is a very fine specimen of both architecture andsculpture,” replied Mr. Force.

The sexton smiled satisfaction, bowed and withdrew.

“I am puzzled, Le, and I think by going through themanor house I may come to understand things better,”whispered Mr. Force to his young companion.

But Le was too much depressed to answer, or to takeany further interest in the events of the day.

They turned and drove back through the beautifulpark to the front of the manor house, where the carriagedrew up.

CHAPTER XXXVIII
TALE TOLD BY THE PORTRAITS

“If you will give me leave, maister, I’ll go roond andspeak to Mistress Bolton, t’ hoosekeeper, and get her tocoom and open t’ great door,” said Jonah Kirby, as hegot down from his seat and struck into a flagged walkthat led to the rear of the house.

“Le! Le! don’t look so down-hearted, dear boy! Remember,come what may, my daughter shall never bethe wife of Angus Anglesea! Come, come, cheer up,lad!” said Abel Force, clapping his young companion onthe back.

But Le’s only answer was a profound sigh.

“I think the best and shortest way out of our difficultywill be to go back to America, have that man prosecutedfor bigamy and robbery, and sent to the State prison,and then have him divorced, if, indeed, he has any claimwhatever on Odalite. And I don’t see why you don’ttake that way,” said Wynnette.

“Because, my dearest dear,” answered her father, “toprosecute the man would be to bring our darling Odalite’sname into too much publicity. And, as for233divorce, the very word is an offense to right-minded people.”

“It is better than——”

But whatever Wynnette was about to say was cutshort by the loud, harsh turning of a key, and the noisyopening of the great door of Anglewood Manor House.

Jonah Kirby appeared, accompanied by altogetherthe very largest woman our travelers had ever seen intheir lives, even at a traveling circus.

She appeared to be about forty years old, and wasdressed in a very full, light blue calico skirt, and loosebasque of the same, that made her look even larger thanshe was. She wore a high-crowned, book-muslin cap,with a broad, blue ribbon around it. She carried in herhand a formidable bunch of keys.

“She’s ‘fearfully and wonderfully’ huge, papa. Andshe will expect a crown, and, maybe, half a guinea, forshowing the house,” said Wynnette, in a low tone.

By this time Jonah Kirby had come down the stepsand up to the side of the carriage.

“Mrs. Bolton, maister, and she’ll show t’ hoose withpleasure. She always loikes to oblige t’ gentlefolks, shebed me say.”

“Papa, it must be half a guinea, and don’t you forget!”whispered Wynnette, as she gave her hand toKirby and allowed him to help her out of the carriage.

Mr. Force and Le followed, and they all walked upthe steps, to be met by the enormous woman in blue,with many courtesies.

She led them at once into a vast stone hall, whosewalls were hung with ancient armor, battle-axes, crossbows,lances and other insignia of war; and with horns,bugles, antlers, weapons and trophies of the chase, andwhose tessellated floor was covered with the skins ofwild animals. From the center of this hall a magnificentflight of stairs ascended, in large, spiral circles,to the stained glass skylight in the roof.

234There were handsome doors of solid oak on eitherside.

Mrs. Bolton paused in the middle of the hall and said:

“The doors on the right lead into the justice room,and the long dining room; those on the left into the ballroom,which is the largest room, three times told, in thehouse. There is nothing on this floor very interestingexcept the antique furniture and the curiously carvedwoodwork of the chimney pieces and doors.”

She spoke like a guide book, but presently added:

“Some gentlefolks, if they have a heap of time, liketo look through them, but many prefer the picture galleryand the library, and the drawing rooms, which areall on the floor above and all very handsome.”

“We will go upstairs first, if you please; later, if wehave time, we will see the rooms down here,” said AbelForce.

The housekeeper led the way upstairs to the next landing,where they came out upon the hall, whose walls werehung with antique tapestry, and whose oaken floor wascovered here and there with Persian rugs.

On every side handsome mahogany double doors ledinto apartments. Before every door lay a rich Persianrug.

Mrs. Bolton opened a door on the left.

“The picture gallery, ladies and gentlemen,” she said,using her formula, though there was but one lady present.

They entered a long, lofty room lighted from the roof.The walls were hung with many pictures, so dark anddim with age that even the good light failed to maketheir meanings intelligible to the spectators. Yet thesewere considered the most valuable in the whole collection,and the housekeeper, with great pride, gave thehistory of each, in something like this style:

“Martyrdom of St. Stephen, ladies and gentlemen—paintedby Leonardo da Vinci, in the year of our Lord2351480, purchased at Milan in 1700 for five thousandguineas, by Ralph d’Anglesea of Anglewood. A veryrare picture, no copy of it being in existence.”

Our party looked up and saw in a heavy, gildedframe, about five feet square, a very dark, murky canvas,with a small smirch in the middle—nothing more.

This was only a sample of a score of other pricelesspaintings, invisible as to forms and unintelligible as tomeanings, which the housekeeper introduced to the visitorswith much pride in the showing.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to the familyportraits,” said Mrs. Bolton, passing under a lofty archwayadorned by the Anglesea arms, and leading thevisitors into another compartment of the same gallery.

“Here, ladies and gentlemen, is a portrait of Kennethd’Anglesea, year 800; very old.”

Our party looked at it and thought it was “very old”—along brown smudge crowned with an oval yellowsmudge, all in a very dark ground, and supposed torepresent a human form—no more.

“And here, ladies and gentlemen, is Ethus d’Anglesea,year 950—also old.”

Again the visitors agreed with the housekeeper. Thefigure was old and almost invisible.

And so she went through a dozen or more of theseearlier family portraits, and came down at last to laterperiods, to crusaders in the reign of Richard the Lion-hearted,by gradations down to courtiers in the reign ofElizabeth, to cavaliers in the reigns of the unfortunateStuarts, to gallants in the reigns of the Georges, andfinally down to the ladies and gentlemen of the reign ofQueen Victoria.

“Here, sir, is an excellent portrait of our present master,Col. Angus Anglesea, and of his late lamented lady,”said the housekeeper, pausing before two full length portraitsthat hung side by side, like companion pictures,at the end of the gallery.

236Our travelers paused before the pictures and gazedat them in silence for some moments.

The portrait of Col. Anglesea was a very strikinglikeness. All our party recognized it at once as such.

But how was this? Here was the form, face and complexion,perfect to a curve of figure, perfect to a shadeof color; yet the expression was different. For whereasthe expression of Anglesea’s face, as our friends hadknown it, was either joyous, morose, or defiant, thecharacter of this face was grave, thoughtful and benevolent.Yet it was certainly the portrait of Angus Anglesea.

Wynnette perceived the perplexity on the brows of hercompanions and whispered:

“A two-faced, double-dealing as well as double-dyed,villain, papa! A sanctimonious hypocrite at home anda brawling ruffian abroad!”

“I should scarcely take this to be the face of a hypocrite,my dear, or of any other than of a good, wise andbrave man; yet—yet it is all very strange.”

Then they looked at the portrait of Lady Mary Anglesea,at which they had only glanced before.

It was the counterfeit presentment of a lady whosebeauty, or rather the special character of whose beauty,at once riveted attention.

It was that of a tall, well-formed though rather delicatewoman, with sweet, pale, oval face, tender, seriousbrown eyes, and soft, rippling brown hair that strayedin little, careless ringlets about her forehead and temples,adding to the exquisite sweetness and pathos of thewhole presence.

“What a beautiful, beautiful creature! What lovely,lovely eyes!” breathed Wynnette, gazing at the picture.

“Yes, young lady,” said the housekeeper, “and as goodand wise as she was beautiful. And when the lovelyeyes closed on this world, be sure they opened in heaven.And when the beautiful form was laid in the tomb all237the light seemed to have gone out of this world for us!It nearly killed the master. And no wonder—no wonder!”said Mrs. Bolton, drawing a large pocket handkerchief,that would have answered for a small tablecloth,from her pocket and wiping her eyes.

Again Abel Force and Leonidas looked at each other.

“Ah, yes! They were a handsome pair!” said thehousekeeper, with a sigh that raised her mighty bosomas the wind raises the ocean—“a very handsome pair,and the parting of ’em has been nigh the death of thecolonel,” she added, as she replaced her handkerchiefin her pocket.

“And yet I have heard that he married again whilehe was abroad,” Mr. Force could not refrain from saying.

“He!” exclaimed Mrs. Bolton, in a tone of indignantastonishment.

“Yes; there is no law against a widower marrying, isthere?” replied Abel Force, quietly.

“He! he marry again! Oh, sir, you are mistaken!He was more likely to die than to marry! Whoever toldyou so, sir—begging your pardon—told a most hayniousfalsehood!”

“I really hope he never did marry again.”

“He never did, sir, and he never will. He is true toher memory, and he lives only for their son, who is atEton. Now, sir, shall I show you the library and thedrawing rooms?”

Mr. Force bowed, and with his party followed thehousekeeper from the picture gallery to the hall andthrough that to the drawing rooms, into which they onlylooked, for the apartment was fitted up in modern styleand all the furniture shrouded in brown holland.

The library was more interesting, and containedmany rare black-letter tomes, into which Abel Forcewould have liked to look, had time allowed.

238The sun was setting and it was growing dusk in thisgrand and gloomy mansion.

“We must go now, I think, my dear,” said Mr. Force,in a low voice, to his daughter.

Wynnette drew him quite away from the group intothe light of the great oriel window of the library andwhispered:

“Not a crown, nor a half sov., but a guinea, papa!a whole guinea for all those thundering bouncers—Imean those romances she has told us about the jolly oldsmoke-dried window shades and fire screens hung up inframes for pictures of the ancestors, and called Kennethsand Ethuses and things! Why, papa, thosecouldn’t have been portraits! There were no paintersin Britain at the time those are said to have lived. Andthen about the Leonardo da Vinci picture! If he everpainted that it would be in one of the great art galleriesof the world! Not in a private collection! Give her aguinea, papa! She can’t afford to lie so much for less!”

“My dear, the woman only repeats what she hasheard,” said Mr. Force.

They rejoined Le and the housekeeper.

Mr. Force thanked the good woman for her attentionand left a generous remuneration in her hand.

She courtesied and then saw them downstairs.

In the hall below she pointed out the full suits ofarmor worn by this or that knight in such or such a battle;and the antlers of the stag killed by this or thathuntsman, in such or such a chase.

“Would your honor now like to look into the ballroom,or the long dining room, or justice room?”

“No, thank you; it is getting late. We have to returnto Angleton,” replied Mr. Force.

And then each of the party, in turn, again thankedthe housekeeper for the pleasure she had given them andtook leave of her.

“Papa, dear,” said Wynnette as she re-entered the dilapidatedcarriage, “we must go to the sexton’s cottageto bid good-by to the old man.”

“Yes, my dear. Kirby, go back to your father’s cottagebefore we turn into the highroad,” said Mr. Force.

The carriage rattled on, and in a short time drew upbefore the sexton’s lodge at the great gate of the churchyard.

The old man still sat before the door; but he wassmoking, and his bald head and long white beard wereenveloped in smoke.

He took the pipe from his mouth the instant he heardthe sound of wheels and he held out his hand to welcomeWynnette as she ran up to him.

“Ah, my little leddy; I ha’ read the lad’s letter! Ah!I do get a letter by mail fra’ ’m coome the first week onevery month! But a letter brought by a leddy’s handand she ha’ seen him face to face mayhap within amonth! Ah! but that’s better!”

“I have seen your son and shaken hands with him,and talked to him for hours, within twenty-three days,”said Wynnette, after making a rapid calculation.

“Eh, now! is thet possible?”

“I rode on his train all day on the twenty-sixth ofMay, two days before we sailed for England. And this,you know, is the eighteenth of June.”

“Eh, then! look at thet, noo! Only in twenty-threedays! He’s not thet far away, after all, is he, meleddy?”

“Oh, no. Why, it’s nothing! Only across ‘the bigherring pond,’ you know.”

The old man stared helplessly.

240“That is what they call it for fun, because it is sucha little matter to go across it. Why, people say to eachother when they meet on the deck of a steamer: ‘Goingacross?’ And another will say: ‘Not to-day.’ So yousee what a trifle it is.”

“So it must be, indeed, me little leddy. And yourwords ha’ comforted me more than the counsels of hisreverence. Such a little thing! ‘Go across?’ ‘Not to-day.’Yes, that is a comfort. And the good ’bacco isanother comfort. The ’bacco was in the parcel youbrought me, me leddy; and you couldn’t get such ’baccoas this—no, not for love, nor yet for money—not if youwas a dying for ’t! Why, the Yarl o’ Middlemoorwould be proud to smoke sich ’bacco—I know he would!It must ha’ cost a power o’ money! I reckon my lad begetting rich over yonder, to send his feyther sich ’baccoas this. And the duty on’t must a been staggeringloike!”

Here Wynnette started. She had not seen any dutypaid on that tobacco; nor, indeed, had the custom houseofficers at Liverpool seen the tobacco; but she had noteven thought of this before.

“And yet I ha’ a greater comfort even than this ’baccoas is fit for the Turkey of All Constantinople to smoke.My lad writes as he is coming over with his missus tosee me next autumn. Thet’s the crooning comfort, meleddy—thet’s the crooning comfort!”

Wynnete now took leave of the old man, and returnedto her seat in the carriage.

He arose with difficulty and stood up, bowing to theparty, while Mr. Force and Le raised their hats as thecarriage drove off.

They returned upon their way, repassed the front ofthe old manor house, now again closed up and gloomy,turned into the oak avenue, and in a few minutes cameto the great gate, which was opened by Mrs. Dillon, thekeeper of the lodge.

241She smiled and courtesied as the old carriage passed.

Le, who was nearest to her, reached out his hand anddropped a piece of silver in her palm.

She courtesied again. The carriage turned into thehighroad and began the journey back to Angleton.

The sun had set, and even the afterglow had fadedfrom the western horizon; yet still the long twilight ofsummer nights in these latitudes prevailed, and thegreater stars shone out one by one as they rattled on,uphill and downhill, over the rolling moor, until at lastthey came in view of the lights in the quiet village.

In ten minutes they entered the street, and passedunder the archway of the Anglesea Arms, the hungriestand weariest set of travelers who had ever entered thatancient hostelry.

Jonah jumped from his seat and secured his horse.

Mr. Force alighted and handed out Wynnette. Lefollowed them. He had scarcely spoken a word sinceleaving the mausoleum.

The landlady came out to meet them, in her Sundaygown of black silk, and a new cap.

“I hope as you’ve hed a pleasant day, sir,” she said toMr. Force, who was the first to meet her.

“Thank you, madam. We have had a very hungryday, at any rate; and, if you please, we would like justsuch a spread as you gave us last evening,” replied AbelForce.

“You shall have it, sir. It will be on the table intwenty minutes.”

By this time they had reached the parlor and Mr.Force was pulling off his gloves, when Wynnette said:

“Papa, I shall run up to my room and take off mythings, and wash my face, but I will be back in a littlewhile.”

“Very well, my dear.”

Wynnette vanished.

Mr. Force sat down in the large armchair.

242Le stood at the window and stared out at nothingwhatever.

Jonah, in a clean white apron, and the official towelthrown over his arm, came in, offered Mr. Force theAngleton Advertiser, and then began to pull and stretchthe perfectly smooth tablecloth this way and that to showhis zeal.

Presently he went out, and Wynnette returned to theroom.

She glanced around, and, seeing no one present buther two companions, drew a chair to her father’s side,threw herself into it and exclaimed:

“Oh, papa! I have been aching and burning andthrobbing to tell you something, but could not get achance, because that man was always present, and I wasafraid he might inform on us and get us arrested, and Ididn’t know what the penalty might be—imprisonmentand penal servitude, perhaps. But, for all that, I amdelighted—perfectly beside myself with delight!”

“What are you talking of, Wynnette, my dear?”

“Here comes that man again. We must be cautious,though I could dance in triumph,” said Wynnette.

At this moment Jonah re-entered the parlor with anample waiter, on which were piled the china, glass andcutlery, with which he hastened to set the table.

When he had left the room again Wynnette continuedin a mysterious whisper:

“Papa, I have committed smugglery.”

“‘Smugglery,’ my dear. There’s no such word.”

“Well, then, there ought to be, and henceforth thereis. I was born to enrich the language, and—to commitsmugglery. And I am proud and delighted! But Ishould have been ever so much prouder and no end tobe delighted if I had intended to commit. But, ah me!It was an accident. ‘Some are born great; some achievegreatness; and some have greatness thrust upon them,’and others become great by accident. Such is my case.”

243“You rattle-trap, what are you talking about?”

“Smuggling, papa! That parcel I brought to old Mr.Kirby contained a tin box of choice tobacco, and theduty is higher, and the excise law stringent, and we neverpaid a cent!”

Mr. Force looked aghast, and then burst into a laugh.

“How did it happen, Wynnette?” he inquired, whenhe had done laughing. “I did not know the thing wastobacco.”

“No more did I! I wish I had! But I didn’t. Andthe officer searched all our trunks, and all our bags, andI carried that parcel in my hand, and he never evenlooked at it! Oh! I am so proud of having smuggledthat tobacco! I wish I had intended it! But, henceforth,I do intend it! I mean to smuggle every time Ican get a chance—not for any profit to myself, but forthe principle of the thing! The Lord never made theexcise laws and so my conscience is not bound by them.And I never helped to make them, and so my honor isnot bound by them. But you, papa, must keep them,because you have been a lawmaker.”

Wynnette’s discourse was cut short by the entrance ofthe waiter with the supper, which he proceeded to arrangeon the table.

“All ready, maister,” he said, with a flourish.

Wynnette took her seat at the head of the table topour out the tea.

Mr. Force and Le sat down at opposite sides.

Jonah stayed until Mr. Force told him he need notwait. Then he went out, and was met at the door byhis sister Hester, who inquired:

“Wot was in t’ parcels t’ leddy carried to grandfeyther?”

“’Bacco, sent by Uncle John.”

“Oh! nawthing but ’bacco!” said the girl, in a toneof disappointment.

244“There ain’t nothing better in this world nor ’bacco,”replied the boy, as their voices passed out of hearing.

The travelers finished their supper and soon afterretired for the night.

CHAPTER XL
LE’S DESPAIR

It was a bright June morning when our small partyof travelers, having breakfasted well at the AngleseaArms, and settled with the landlady, once more enteredthe dilapidated one-horse carriage, to be driven to therailway station.

As the front of the carriage was open, and every wordspoken by the travelers could be heard by the driver,there was but little conversation indulged in except whatrelated to the weather or the scenery.

The drive over the moors, although, in the springlessvehicle on the rough up-and-down hill, it shook the passengersseverely, was, in other respects, very pleasant.

They reached the little way station in good time, andhad only a few moments to wait before the train cameup.

Mr. Force was fortunate in securing a compartmentfor himself and his companions; and it was not untilthey were all three seated within it and the train wasin motion again that any opportunity for private conversationwas given.

“Well, we have spent three days—I had nearly saidwe have lost three days on our quest—and what have wegained?” gloomily inquired Mr. Force. “Nothing apparentlybut the knowledge that the deepest-dyed villainin the whole world enjoys in his own neighborhood thereputation of a saint, a sage, a hero and a philanthropistrolled into one! It is very curious that a man may besuch an accomplished hypocrite all his life as to deceive245all his neighbors, and then to go off into a foreign countryand give reins to his evil nature and reveal himselfas a pure devil! Clearly he must have been in Californiawhen his wife was taken ill. Clearly he marriedthe Widow Wright during his wife’s lifetime, robbedthe dupe and fled back to England in time to play thehypocrite at Lady Mary’s deathbed, and act chiefmourner at her funeral; then, under pretense that hecould not bear the house where he missed her everyhour, hastened back to America, but, giving his dupe awide berth, went to the North instead of the South, andhonored with his presence Niagara Falls, where we——”

“‘Foregathered wi’ the de’il,’” put in Wynnette.

“True, my dear! We did! And we all suffered inconsequence.” Then turning to the young midshipman,who sat buried in his bitter thoughts, he said: “Le, mydear boy, do not be so utterly cast down. There mustbe some way out of this trouble, and we will try to findit. Let us do our best and trust in Providence.”

The young man shrugged his shoulders impatiently atthis well-meant piece of commonplace philosophy, as hereplied:

“Yes, uncle, there is a way out of it, if you wouldonly take it.”

“What way, Le?”

“The divorce court.”

“Le! The very word, divorce, is an offense to decentears.”

“Uncle! the most straitlaced of all the Christiansects permit divorce under certain circ*mstances. TheWestminster Catechism, that strictest of all moral andreligious codes, provides for it.”

“If all the world’s church and state were to meet inconvention and provide for it I would have none of it—except—except—asthe very last resort; and then, Le,I should feel it as the very greatest humiliation of mylife.”

246“Oh, uncle!”

“Listen, Le: Now that we know that Anglesea’s wifewas living at the time of his marriage with the WidowWright, we also know that marriage was unlawful; andnow that we furthermore know that his wife was deadat the time of his marriage with Odalite Force we alsoknow that this last marriage was lawful.”

“Uncle! uncle! I cannot bear——”

“One moment, Le. Do not be so impetuous. I saidlawful—however wicked and immoral. And because itwas lawful, Le, my dear daughter is bound by it, to acertain extent, and cannot form any matrimonial engagementwhile this bond exists.”

“But, good Heaven, sir——”

“Patience, Le. Hear me out. But, because that marriagewas wicked and immoral, it shall never go a stepfurther—it shall never be completed. That villain shallnever see or speak to my daughter again. I swear itbefore high heaven! I shall keep Odalite at home undermy own immediate protection. If the scoundrel is nothanged or sent to the devil in some other way beforemany years, I suppose I shall be compelled to advise mydaughter to seek relief from the law. She could get itwithout the slightest difficulty.”

“But why not now?” pleaded the young man.

“Because of the humiliation. It will seem a less matteryears hence.”

“And in the meantime,” said Le, bitterly, “I am tocherish murder in my heart day and night by wishingthat man dead!”

“Hush, Le, hush! Such thought is sin and leads tocrime.”

Le said no more, but fell into a gloomy silence thatlasted until the train ran into Lancaster station.

They went to dine at the Royal Oak, and from thatpoint Mr. Force telegraphed to Enderby Castle for acarriage to meet the party in the evening at Nethermost.

247Then they took the afternoon train and started ontheir homeward journey.

The sun was setting when they ran into the little waysidestation.

A handsome open carriage, driven by the earl’s oldcoachman, awaited them.

They entered it at once, and the coachman turned thehorses’ heads and began to ascend the graded and windingroad that led up to the top of the cliff, and thendrove all along the edge of the precipice in the directionof the castle.

It was a magnificent prospect, with the moors rollingoff in hill and vale, but always rising toward the rangeof mountains on the east; and the ocean rolling awaytoward the western horizon, where the sky was stillaflame with the afterglow of the sunset; while straightbefore them, though many miles distant up the coast,stretched out into the sea the mighty promontory ofEnderby Cliff, with the ruined border castle standing onits crest, and the ocean beating at its base, while a fewyards nearer inland stood the latter building, whichwas the dwelling of the earl and his household.

Wynnette had never been accused of artistic, poeticor romantic tendencies, yet, gazing on that scene, shefell into thought, thence into dream, finally into vision;and she saw passing before her, in a long procession, talland brawny, yellow-haired savages, clad in the skins ofwild beasts, and armed with heavy clubs, which theycarried over their shoulders; then barbarians in leathernjerkins, armed with bows and arrows; rude soldierswith battle-axes and shields of tough hide; then a splendidprocession of mounted knights in helmets, shiningarmor and gorgeous accouterments; ladies in long gownsof richest stuffs and high headgear, that looked like longveils hoisted above the head on a clothes prop; thentrains of courtiers in plumed hats, full ruffs, richdoublets and trunk hose; and ladies in close velvet caps248and cupid’s bow borders, large ruffs, long waists andenormous fardingales; next a train of cavaliers, withflapping bonnets, flowing locks, velvet coats and—

“Wynnette!”

It was the voice of her father that broke the spell anddispersed the visionary train.

“Are you asleep, my dear?”

“N-n-no, papa; only dreaming dreams and seeingvisions,” replied the girl, rousing herself.

“Well, my dear, we are entering the castle courtyard.”

Wynnette looked out and saw that they were crossingthe drawbridge that had been down for centuries over amoat that had been dry for nearly as long a period, andwhich was now thickly grown up in brushwood, andwere entering under the arch of the great portcullis,which had been up for as many years as the drawbridgehad been down and the moat had been dry.

They were in the middle of the hollow square thatformed the courtyard of the castle. They had enteredon the north side. On the same side were the stables,the kennels and the quarters for the outdoor servants.Opposite to them, on the south side, were the conservatoriesand forcing beds, protected by high walls. On theeast side was the modern Enderby Castle, where the earland his household lived in modest comfort. But on thewest side, overhanging the terrible cliff, was the ancientCastle of Enderby, not quite a ruin, but deserted anddesolate, abandoned to wind and wave, given over tobats and owls. At the foot of the awful rock the thunderof the sea was heard day and night. Those wholived habitually at the castle grew accustomed to it, butto temporary sojourners at Enderby there was somethingweird and terrible in the unceasing thunder of thesea against the rock. There was said to be a whirlpoolthrough an enormous cavern at the foot of the cliff, havingmany inlets and outlets, and that the sea was drawnin and thrown out as by the sunken head of a many-mouthed249monster. However that might be, it is certainthat even in the finest weather, when the sea was calmeverywhere else, the tempest raged against EnderbyCliff.

“The very, very first thing that I do to-morrow shallbe to explore that old castle from top to bottom,” saidWynnette to herself, as the turning of the carriage hidit from her view.

CHAPTER XLI
THE EARL’S PERPLEXITY

A footman was lighting the lamps in the hall whenthe party entered.

“Are all well in the house, Prout?” inquired Mr.Force.

“All well, sir. My lord is taking his afternoon nap.The ladies are not down yet. The first dinner bell hasjust rung,” replied the man.

“Mamma and the girls are dressing for dinner, papa.I will just run up and see,” said Wynnette, flying upthe stairs.

“Then we had better go to our rooms at once, Le, andget some of the dust of travel off us before we go todinner,” said Mr. Force, as he followed Wynnette upstairs,though in a more leisurely fashion. Perhaps hewas willing to put off, even for a few minutes, the painfultask of communicating his discouraging news toOdalite.

When Mr. Force reached his apartment he foundWynnette standing in the middle of the room, underthe hands of her mother’s ebony maid, Gipsy, who washelping her off with her duster.

“Where is your mother, my dear?” he inquired.

“Oh, they are all gone down to the drawing room.250Prout was mistaken in thinking that they were notthere. But, papa, I am not sorry! Bad news will keep;because being already spoiled, it cannot spoil any more.And now we must hurry and dress, or the porridge willbe cold—I mean dinner will be kept waiting,” and sayingthis, Wynnette caught up her hat and duster, and,followed by Gipsy, passed into her own room, which sheoccupied jointly with Odalite.

Mr. Force used such dispatch in dressing that he wasthe first one of the three returning travelers who enteredthe drawing room.

He found no one present but Mrs. Force, Odalite,Elva and Rosemary.

Mrs. Force hurried to meet him, while Odalite stoodpale and waiting, and the two younger girls lookedeagerly expectant.

“What news? What news?” anxiously inquired thelady. “Prout has just told us of your return! Whatnews? Oh, why don’t you answer, Abel?”

“My dear, because I have no good news to tell you,”he gravely replied.

Mrs. Force let go the hand she had seized and sankdown upon the nearest sofa.

Odalite turned away and bowed her head upon herhands.

Rosemary and Elva were both too much awed by thegrief of their elders even to come forward and greet thereturned father and friend.

Nor did Mr. Force even observe the omission. Hismind was absorbed by thoughts of his daughter’s distress.

Mrs. Force was the first one to break the painfulsilence.

“Then it was all true as to the date of Anglesea’s firstwife’s death?” she inquired, in a faint voice.

“The date on Lady Mary’s tombstone is August 25,18—,” gloomily replied Mr. Force.

251“Then the man’s marriage with Mrs. Wright on thefirst of the same August is invalid?”

“As a matter of course.”

“And the ceremony begun, but not completed, withour daughter in the following December gives Angleseaa shadow of a claim on Odalite?”

“A shadow of a claim only; yet a sufficiently dark andheavy and oppressive shadow. And now, dear Elfrida,let us talk of something else,” said Mr. Force, gravely.

“First, tell me about that fraudulent obituary noticein the Angleton Advertiser. Did you find out how itwas effected?” inquired the lady.

“Yes. On the evening of the twentieth of August,after the last copy of the paper had been printed, andthe whole edition sent off to its various subscribers, theeditor and proprietor, one Purdy, went home, leavingthe type undistributed on the press, and his pressman,one Norton, in charge of the office. There was, besides,the editor’s young son, whom Norton sent away. Laterin the evening this Norton distributed the type on thefirst two columns of the first page, and then was joinedby Angus Anglesea, who had furnished the manuscriptfor the false obituary notice, and had bribed the printerto set it up and print it off. So then several copies ofthe paper were thrown off, in all respects like unto theregular edition of the day, with the exception of thefirst two columns, in which the false obituary notice andmemoir were substituted for the report of an agriculturalfair, or something of the sort. And these lastfraudulent copies were mailed at different times to me.You see the motive! It was to entrap and humiliateus. The same night, or the next morning, Norton abscondedwith the bribe he had taken from Anglesea.”

“You know this to be true?”

“As well as I can know anything that I have not beenan eye and ear witness to. I will tell you how I unraveled252the mystery when we have more time. I wish tospeak to Odalite now, my dear,” said Abel Force.

And he crossed to where his daughter stood, put hisarm around her waist, drew her to his heart, and said:

“Cheer up, my darling girl. You shall be as safefrom all future persecution by that scoundrel as if hewere in the convict settlement of Norfolk Island—wherehe ought to be. Try to forget all about him, mydear, and remember only how much we all love you, andhow much we are anxious to do for your happiness.”

Odalite put her arms around her father’s neck, andkissed him in silence, and smiled through her tears.

Rosemary and Elva now came up, and put out theirhands to welcome the travelers home.

Le came in, and almost in silence shook hands withhis aunt and the two younger girls, and then took thehand of Odalite, pressed it, dropped it, and turned awayto conceal his emotion.

Lastly entered the earl, leaning on the arm of hissecretary.

He smilingly greeted the returning travelers, andhoped that they had had a pleasant journey.

Fortunately the announcement of dinner preventedthe necessity of a reply. The earl gave his arm to hissister, smiling warmly, as he said:

“But it is you who must support me, my dear.”

And they led the way to the dining room.

Almost immediately after dinner, when the party returnedto the drawing room, Lord Enderby excused himself,and retired to his own apartments, attended by hissecretary and his valet.

Mr. and Mrs. Force, and the young people, remainedin the drawing room, where Mr. Force gave a moredetailed account of his journey into Lancashire, his researchesat Anglewood, and all the circ*mstances thatled to the detection of the perpetrators of the obituaryfraud.

253“That is the way—or, rather, one way—in whichfalse evidence can be manufactured,” he said, in conclusion.

It was late before the excited family party retired torest.

It was not until after breakfast the next morning,when the young people had gone to take a walk on theedge of the cliff, and the three elders were seated togetherin the library of the castle, that Mr. Force toldLord Enderby the story of his journey into Lancashire,and its results.

The poor earl looked the image of distress and perplexity;his face, that was always pale, grew paler; hisframe, that was always infirm, grew shaky; and his voice,always weak, became tremulous, as he said:

“I am amazed beyond all measure. I am grieved tothe very soul. And—I am all but incredulous. AngusAnglesea, my comrade in India! My ‘brother-in-arms,’as I used fondly to call him. Angus Anglesea, the verysoul of truth and honor. Not overwise or prudent, butbrave and good to his heart’s core. I have not seen himfor years, it is true; but I had lost no faith in or affectionfor him. Circ*mstances have separated us; butneither coldness nor distrust had estranged us. Andnow you tell me, Force, that this man has radically,fundamentally changed his very nature—his very self—thatthe man of pure truth, honor and heroism hasturned into an utter villain—a thief, a forger, a bigamist,an unequaled scoundrel!”

The earl paused and groaned as in pain.

“I am sorry to grieve you, my lord, but I havebrought unquestionable proofs of the charges that I havemade,” said Mr. Force.

“I admit the proofs; but, great heavens, that a mancould so change in so few years! My comrade in India!My friend, whom I loved as a brother! Who could254have thought it of him? Elfrida, you knew him in youryouth. Could you have believed this of him?”

“Not when I first met him in your company, mybrother; but then I was a very young girl, scarcely fifteenyears of age, and the judgment of such a girl onthe merits of a young man, especially when he is a youngofficer in a brilliant uniform, and with a more brilliantmilitary record, is not infallible, you know,” repliedMrs. Force, evasively.

“Yet you could not have believed this infamy of him.”

“No, certainly not,” replied the lady, more to soothethe nervous invalid than to express her own convictions.

“Believe me, I am deeply grieved to have been the instrumentof giving you so much pain. I would nothave told you had I not deemed it my duty to do so;nor even under that impression had I supposed it wouldhave distressed you so much.”

“My dear Force, you were right to tell me, thoughthe hearing gives me sorrow—sorrow and perplexity, forI cannot reconcile the story you have told and provedwith all my previous knowledge of Anglesea. I wonder,has he become insane? I did hear that he had beenterribly affected by the death of his wife, whom headored. I was in Switzerland at the time, and when Ireturned to England, in the autumn, I heard that hehad gone abroad. I think, perhaps, he may have becomeinsane.”

“Perhaps so,” said Mr. Force, but he mentally added:“As much insane as, and no more, than every criminalis insane—morally insane, but not, therefore, irresponsible.”

“Force,” said the earl, “whatever may have been thecause of Anglesea’s fall, your daughter Odalite mustbe released from her bonds.”

While their elders consulted together in the librarythe four young girls, Odalite, Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary,accompanied by Le and escorted by Joshua,walked across the courtyard, and entered the old castleto explore its interior.

Le had in his hands a little guidebook to the castleand town of Enderby, to which he referred from time totime.

Climbing over piles of rubbish, of fallen stones, coveredwith moss and lichen, and half buried in rankgrowth of thistles and briers, they entered an archeddoorway, and found themselves upon the stone floor ofthe great feudal castle hall, which had once re-echoedto the orgies of the feudal baron and his rude retainersafter a hunt, a foray, or a battle, but now silent andabandoned to the birds of night and prey.

At one end of this hall was a great chimney—a chimneyso vast that within its walls, from foundation stoneto roof, a modern New York apartment house of sevenfloors might have been built, with full suits of familyrooms on every floor.

“And this is only the hall fireplace,” said Le. “Thekitchen fireplace is immediately below this, and stillbroader and deeper than this, but we cannot get to itbecause it is buried in fallen stones and mortar. Atleast, I mean, all entrance to that part of the castle is.”

They now noticed that the cavity of the deep chimneyplace was furnished on each side with stone benches,built in with the masonry.

“Here,” said Le, “the wandering minstrel or the holypilgrim, of the olden time found warm seats in winterto thaw out their frozen limbs.”

256Next they noticed that the hearth of the fireplace,raised about a foot above the level of the floor, extendedabout a quarter of the length of the hall itself.

“This,” said Le, “must be the dais for the upper portionof the table, at which sat my lord baron, his family,his knights, and his guests, while on each side of thelower part sat the retainers. But say! Here is a trapdoor.Immediately under here must have stood my lordbaron’s chair. Let us look at that.”

Le referred to the guidebook, and read:

“‘Immediately before the hall fireplace and on theelevated dais is a trapdoor connected with a walled-inshaft, descending through the castle kitchen under thehall, and into the ‘Dungeon of the Dark Death,’ underthe foundations of the castle. In the rude days of thefeudal system prisoners taken in war, or criminals convictedof high crime, were let down through that trapdoorinto the Dungeon of the Dark Death, and neverheard of more. And the lord of the castle held highfestival above while his crushed victims perished below.’”

“Ur-r-r-r-r-r-r!” cried Wynnette, with a shudder.“That accounts for my murderous instincts against Angleseaand other culprits. I inherit it through mymother—from all these vindictive old vampires.”

“Oh, Le! let us go away. I don’t like it. I don’tlike it!” pleaded little Elva.

“No more do I,” said Rosemary.

“Stay,” said Le. “Here is something more about theplace.” And he read:

“‘This trapdoor has not been opened for more thanfifty years. Tradition says that early in the last centurya groom in the service of the lords of Enderbysecretly married my lady’s maid, and as secretly murdered257her and threw her body, together with that of herinfant, down the shaft, for which crimes he was tried,condemned, and executed, and afterward hung in chainsoutside the wall of Carlisle Castle. The trapdoor wasordered to be riveted down by the then ruling Lord ofEnderby, and has never since been raised.’”

“Ur-r-r-r-r-r-r!” again muttered Wynnette. “That’sworse than the other.”

“Let us go away. Oh, I want to go away!” wailedElva, trembling.

“Oh, please, please come away, Le,” pleaded Rosemary.

“Now just wait one moment, dears. You will notmind looking out of these windows, loopholes, or whateverthey are, that open through the twelve-foot thicknessof the outer wall. Great pyramids of Egypt, whatmighty builders were these men of old!” exclaimedWynnette, walking off toward the east side of the hall,where there were a row of windows six feet high andfour feet wide on the inner side, but diminishing intomere slits on the outer side.

“Here the baron’s retainers could safely draw theirbows and speed their arrows through these loopholes atthe besiegers without,” said Wynnette, curiously examiningthe embrasures. “But, ah me, in times ofpeace what a dark hall for the dame and her maidens.”

“Well, let us go on now,” said Le. “There is nomeans of entering the lower portions of the buildingfrom the outside, but I suppose there must be from theinside.”

So they left the hall by the side door and entered acorridor of solid masonry, so dark that Le had to takea match and a coil of taper from his pocket and strikea light.

This led them at last into a large circular room, withlofty but narrow windows, through which the morning258sun streamed, leaving oblong patches of sunshine on thestone floor. A door on the side of the room, betweentwo of the windows, had fallen from its strong hinges,and the opening was dark.

Le approached it, and discovered the top of a narrowflight of stairs built in the thickness of the wall.

Le referred to his guidebook, and read:

“‘Strong chamber in the round tower west of thegreat hall, ancient guardroom for men-at-arms. A secretstaircase in the wall whose door was in former timesconcealed by the leathern hangings of the room, leadsdown to the torture chamber below.’

“Who will go down with me?” inquired Le.

“I will,” promptly answered Wynnette.

“And I,” added Odalite.

Elva and Rosemary would have shrunk from the adventure,but partly driven by the fear of being left alone,and partly drawn by curiosity, they consented to descendinto the depths.

Le preceded the party with his lighted taper, and theyfollowed him down the steep and narrow stairs, andfound themselves last in a dark, circular room, withstrong, iron-bound doors around its walls. Some ofthese had fallen from their hinges, showing openingsinto still darker recesses.

Le, with his taper, crept along the wall exploringthese, and found them to be dark cells, scarcely withspace enough to hold a well-grown human being. Manyof them had rusting staples in the walls, with fragmentsof broken iron chains attached.

Even the young midshipman shuddered and refrainedfrom calling the attention of his companions to thehorror.

But he made more discoveries than these. Gropingabout the gloomy place with his wax taper, he came upon259various rusted and broken instruments of torture, thethumbscrew, the iron boot, the rack, all of which herecognized from the descriptions he had read of thesearticles elsewhere; and there were other instrumentsthat he had read of, yet knew at sight to be of the samesort; so that at last, when he came upon the grim headsman’sblock, it was with a feeling of relief.

“What are those things, Le?” inquired Odalite, followinghim.

“Oh, rubbish, dear. Be careful where you step, youmight fall over them,” he replied. “And I think wehad better leave this place and go to the upper air now,”he added, groping along the walls to find the door atthe foot of the stairs down which they had come.

He found the place, but found also something thathad escaped his notice. It was a niche in the wall besidethe door. The niche was about six feet high andtwo feet broad; the opening was rough and ragged atthe sides, and there was a pile of rubbish at the foot,which on examination proved to be fallen stones andmortar.

Le trimmed his taper until it gave a brighter light,and then referred to his guidebook and unadvisedlyread aloud from it:

“‘In the Torture Chamber. Cunigunda. At the footof the stairs leading down to this dreadful theater ofmediæval punishment stands, in the right side of thewall, a curious niche, high and narrow, which was oncethe living grave of a lovely woman. About fifty yearsago the closing front wall of this sepulcher fell and revealeda secret of centuries. A tradition of the castletells of the sudden disappearance of the Lady Cunigundaof Enderby, the eldest daughter of the baron andthe most beautiful woman of her time, for whose handprinces and nobles had sued in vain, because her affectionshad become fixed on a yeoman of my lord’s guard.260In the spring of her youth and beauty she was mysteriouslylost to the world. Her fate would never havebeen discovered had not the closing wall of the niche atthe foot of the stairs in the torture chamber fallen anddisclosed the upright skeleton and the stone tablet, uponwhich was cut, in old English letters, the following inscription:

The poor bones, after six centuries, were coffined andconsigned, with Christian rites, to the family vault atEnderby Church.’”

“I say, Le, what a perfectly devilish lot those oldnobles were! I proud of my ancestry! I would muchrather know myself to be descended in a direct line fromDarwin’s monkeys,” said Wynnette.

“But, my dear, these men lived in a rude and barbarousage. Their descendants in every generation havebecome more civilized and enlightened, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. And I like the monkeys a greatdeal better as forefathers!”

“Shall we try to find our way to the ‘Dungeon of theDark Death’? You know, it is under the kitchen whichis under the great hall. But stop a minute,” said Le:and he referred again to the guidebook, and then added:“No, we cannot go there. There is no reaching it. Theonly entrance into that deep perdition is by the trapdoor,on my lord baron’s dais, and down the hollow,brick-walled shaft that runs through the middle of thekitchen into the abyss below.”

261“I am glad of it. Let us go to the upper light. Lookat Elva!” said Odalite, in an anxious tone.

Le turned the light of the taper on the little girl,and saw her leaning, pale and faint and dumb, on thebosom of her sister.

“My poor, little frightened dove. Why, Elva, darling,what is the matter?” tenderly inquired the midshipman.

The kind sympathy broke down the last remnant ofthe child’s self-possession, and she broke into a gush ofsobs and tears.

Le handed his taper to Wynnette and took Elva up inhis arms, laid her head over his shoulder, and carriedher upstairs, followed by Odalite, Wynnette and Rosemary.

In the sun and air Elva recovered herself, and thelittle party left the ruins to return to the new castle.

“I wonder my Uncle Enderby does not have thatdreadful old thing pulled down,” piped Elva, in a pleadingtone.

“Pulled down!” exclaimed Wynnette. “Why, thatancient castle is the pride of his life. The modern oneis nothing to be compared with it in value. The oldestpart of the ruin is said to be eight hundred years old,while the modern castle is only a poor hundred and fifty.Why, he would just as soon destroy his own pedigreeand have it wiped out of the royal and noble stud-book—Imean, omitted from ‘Burke’s Peerage’—as pulldown that ancient fortress. Why, child, you do notdream of its value. You have not seen a quarter partof its historical attractions. If you hadn’t flunked—Imean fainted, you poor, little soul—we should have goneup the broad staircase leading from the hall to the stateroomsabove—many of them in good preservation—andseen the chamber where King Edward the First andQueen Eleanor slept, when resting on their journey toScotland. Also the other chamber where William Wallace262was confined under a strong guard when he wasbrought a prisoner to England. Well, I don’t believea word of it myself. I suppose all these old battle-axheroes that ever crossed the border are reported to haveslept in every border castle, from Solway Firth to theNorth Sea. Still, the old ruin is very interesting indeed.And if the makers of the guidebooks like to tell thesestories, why, I like to look at the historical rooms.”

Wynnette’s last words brought them to the new castle,which they entered just in time for luncheon, in themorning room.

CHAPTER XLIII
WYNNETTE’S STRANGE ADVENTURE

What ailed Wynnette?

That evening, while the family were all assembled inthe drawing room after dinner, she stole away and wentto find the housekeeper.

The old woman was in her own sitting room, joiningthe servants’ hall.

Mrs. Kelsy welcomed the little lady, who had alreadybecome a great favorite with her.

“I hope I don’t disturb you,” said Wynnette, deprecatingly.

“Dearie me, no, miss,” replied the housekeeper, risingand placing a chair for her young visitor.

Wynnette thanked her and sat down.

“You have been over the old castle, I hear, Miss Wynnette,”said the old woman.

“Yes, and I came here to get you to tell me all youknow of that ancient ruin. You have been housekeeperhere for a long time, and you must know lots about it.”

“Yes, my dear young lady, I have been here, girl andwoman, for fifty years. My mother was housekeeper263here before me. I was still-room-maid under until shedied about twenty years ago, and I got her place, throughthe kindness of the earl.”

“That must have been very agreeable to you, as youwere so used to the house.”

“It was, my dear young lady, it was.”

“And you must know lots of stories about the oldcastle.”

The housekeeper suddenly became silent and grave.

“And your mother must have known lots more thanyou did and told them to you.”

The housekeeper looked solemn and reticent.

“Didn’t she, now? You might as well tell me. I amthe niece of the earl, and my mother is his heiress-presumptive.”

“Yes. I know that, young lady,” said Mrs. Kelsy,speaking at last.

“Well, then, you needn’t make a mystery of the matterto one of the family, you know.”

“What is it that you wish to hear, Miss Wynnette?”

“Oh, any story of the old ruin, so that it is a reallymarrow-freezing, blood-curdling, hair-raising story.”

“There is the guide to Enderby Castle, Miss Wynnette.”

“Oh, I know; but that contains only outlines—outlinestraced in blood and fire, to be sure, but still onlyoutlines. I want a story with more body in it. Come,now, that story of the Lady Cunigunda of Enderby, whowas the greatest beauty of her time, for whom kings andprinces were vainly breaking their hearts, and who wasimmured alive for marrying a handsome soldier. Come,tell me all about her. That’s a darling.”

“My dear Miss Wynnette, I know no more about herthan you do. Not a bit more than what is printed inthe guide. No, nor yet did my old mother, rest hersoul.”

“But, now, tell the truth. Does not the ghost of Lady264Cunigunda haunt the Round Tower in which she wasimmured?”

“Not as ever I heard of, my dear. Not as ever Iheard of.”

“But, Mrs. Kelsy,” said Wynnette, solemnly, “Ithought the old castle was a venerable, historical building.”

“So it is, my dear. So it is. Nobody can gainsaythat.”

“But, Mrs. Kelsy, no castle, however ancient, andhowever full of legends of kings and princes and heroesand saints, can be even respectable, much less venerable,unless it has its ghost.”

“Enderby Old Castle has its ghost, Miss Wynnette,”retorted the old housekeeper, drawing herself up withdignity.

“Ah, I thought so! I knew so. Tell me about it,Mrs. Kelsy!” eagerly exclaimed Wynnette.

“My dear, I cannot, especially to-night—especiallyto-night.”

“Why not to-night?”

“Because, my dear, this very night of the twentiethof June is the anniversary of the murder of that pooryoung woman and her baby, when her spirit always revisitsthe scene of her murder,” said the old woman,solemnly.

“Do you mean—are you talking of the lady’s maidwho was murdered by the coachman, and whose bodywas thrown down the shaft in the castle hall?” gravelyinquired Wynnette.

“Hush, my dear. Hush! Don’t talk of it, or youmay draw that perturbed spirit even here.”

“You know all about that tragedy, then?” persistedWynnette.

“My mother did, and told me. And people enoughhave seen the ghost in the castle hall on this anniversary.”

265“Have you ever seen it?”

“Hush! Yes, once; and I never want to see it again.So that’s the last word I will speak about it to-night.Some other time I’ll tell you all, but not now. Notwhile her troubled spirit is abroad. Hush! What wasthat?”

“Nothing but a sough of the wind.”

“Oh, I thought it was the sob of a woman. I thoughtit was her sob. Oh, my dear, for the Lord’s sake, dropthe subject,” pleaded the old woman.

“I will drop it this instant if you will promise to tellme all you know some day soon,” whispered Wynnette.

“Yes, yes, I promise. Let a Sunday and a churchservice come between this night and the story, and Iwill tell you on Monday,” said the housekeeper, whomWynnette’s persistence had brought to a state of greatnervous excitement.

The young girl then arose and bade the old womangood-night, and returned to the drawing room, whereshe found all the family circle about to separate andretire.

Wynnette went to the room which she shared withher eldest sister.

Odalite got ready and went to bed.

“Have you done with the light?” inquired Wynnette.

“Yes. Why?” inquired the elder sister.

“Because I want to turn it down low.”

“But are you not coming to bed?”

“Not yet. I wish to open the shutters and look outat the old castle by moonlight. I will draw the curtainsat the foot of your bed, so that the beams may not keepyou awake.”

“Oh, the moonlight would never disturb my slumbers,Wynnette,” said Odalite.

Nevertheless, the younger girl went and drew thewhite dimity curtains across the foot of the bed, whichwas facing the west window. Then Wynnette turned266down the light to a mere glow-worm size, and opened thefolding shutters of the window and sat down to lookout at the prospect.

The moon was in its third quarter, had passed themeridian, and was now halfway down the western hemisphere,and hung over the sea, above the ruined castle onthe cliff, illumining the scene with a weird light.

Wynnette looked down on the great square inclosureof the courtyard, shut in by strong walls of mightybuildings on all four sides, the walls of the ancient ruinbeing on the western side, directly opposite her window.The courtyard was as secure and as clean as the carefullykept interior of a barracks. And it was so quietat this hour that the sound of the sea, beating against therocks at the base of the old ruin, was heard as deafeningthunder.

But Wynnette’s eyes were fixed on that row of ancientwindows in the ruined hall and looked like mere slits inthe wall.

And now happened to the girl a very marvelous event.As she gazed on these narrow openings they becameillumined from within by a strange light.

It was not from the moon, for the moon was far above,and would have to be an hour lower to shed that light.Besides, it was a dark, red light, like nothing on thisearth.

Wynnette gazed and wondered—wondered and gazed.It was a steady light; it never wavered or flickered,never brightened or faded.

Wynnette gazed and wondered—wondered and gazed,until, drawn by an irresistible fascination, she aroseslowly and turned from the window, went past her sister’sbed, stooped over, saw that Odalite was fast asleep,and then she softly opened the chamber door, passedout and closed it behind her.

In the upper hall lights were always left burninglow through the night.

267By these Wynnette found her way down the grandstaircase to the armorial hall below.

Here, also, lights were burning low.

By these she found her way to the great west doorin front, took down the bars, unhooked the chain, drewback the bolts, and turned the heavy key in the hugelock—all so noiselessly as to make her wonder, until sheremembered how well-oiled every lock, key, bolt andhinge was, to save the nerves of the invalid earl.

She drew open the heavy doors and went out intothe night.

The courtyard was bathed in moonlight, except wherethe old ruin some yards in front cast its black shadow,for the moon was now behind it.

Everything was as still as death except the sea thatthundered at the foot of the cliff.

Wynnette felt no fear of material dangers. She knewthat she was as safe from harm as though she were in afortress.

She went straight across the courtyard, drawingnearer and nearer to the haunted castle; and as she approachedit she gazed more intently at those luridlylighted loopholes. And then, oh strange! the lightsseemed not to come from torch or candle, but fromspectral eyes glaring forth into the night, and drawingher on with an irresistible power. Wynnette could notturn and fly; she was under a mighty spell, she mustmove on—on—on—until she reached the pile of fallenstones around the castle walls; and over these, climbingwith difficulty and danger, still moving on and on, untilshe reached the portals.

The great iron-bound oaken doors seemed now to beclosed and secured from within against intrusion, yet shewas still drawn on so powerfully that she pushed withall her strength against those mighty doors, but with aslittle effect as if she had tried to move a mountain.When—

268Suddenly the door opened, a cold hand seized herwrist, drew her in, and the door closed.

CHAPTER XLIV
AT MIDNIGHT IN THE HAUNTED CASTLE

Wynnette’s blood curdled. She would have criedout, but her organs of speech seemed paralyzed. Shewould have struggled to free herself, but the icy handclosed on her wrist like a fetter, and drew her on. Shecould only pray mutely and hard.

She could see nothing before her, not even the fingersof frost that closed around her wrist, and drew her onand on through the black darkness.

Again she tried to cry out, but the sound of her voicedied in her throat. Again she tried to struggle, but thecold hand drew her on and on with irresistible power.

Where was it taking her? Perhaps to the terribletrap opening into the shaft leading down to the dreadDungeon of the Dark Death, under the foundations ofthe castle.

Oh, if she could only cry out. Oh, if she could onlytear herself away from her horrible invisible captor.Oh, if she could but see where she was. But her voice269seemed palsied and her limbs paralyzed, while she wasdrawn on and on through deepest darkness by an icy,invisible, irresistible hand. On and on, now to the right,now to the left, now up a few rugged steps, and nowdown and down into deeper depths of darkness, if thatwere possible.

Once more Wynnette tried to cry out, but failed;tried to escape, but failed; strained her eyes to see, butfailed utterly in all attempts.

“It is a dream! It is a nightmare! Oh, if I couldonly scream so they would hear me and come to me.Oh, father! Oh, mother! Oh, Lord, have mercy onme!” her spirit cried, in her agony of terror, but noword came from her frozen lips.

Down—down—down—into profounder abysms ofblackness.

Where were they going? Under the foundations ofthe castle? Under the bed of the sea? To the verycenter of the earth? Would they never stop descending?

“Oh, what a fool I was to come here at midnight.Shall I ever get out of this alive? Oh, no—never. Oh,what a horrible fate. Will they ever find me or mybody? Oh, no—never. How could they? Oh, my dearmother! Oh, my dear father! What ever will youthink has become of me—your wilful Wynnette? Mywhole arm is freezing from the clasp of that icy handaround my wrist. What is it going to do with me? Butit is only a dream. I know it is only a dream. A cruel,deadly nightmare. Oh, if I could only scream. If Icould only struggle and wake up. But I shall die inmy sleep here, and they will find me dead in the morning.Oh, Lord, forgive my sins and save my soul.What was that?”

Suddenly the silence of that utter darkness wasbroken by a sound that became a noise, a roar, a deafeningthunder, and Wynnette, in the anguish of her utter270terror and helplessness, heard and knew the thunder ofthe sea against the rocks. But the air was growing close,fetid, sulphurous, suffocating.

“It is no nightmare. I hear the sea. It is breakingin mighty waves over my head. Ah, my limbs are numb—mybreath is gone—my brain is going. Oh, if I couldonly cry out once. Mother! Mother!”

Then the darkness and the coldness as of death closedin, wrapped around, and settled down upon her withthe weight of the grave.

And for the time being Wynnette was dead andburied to all life, sense and consciousness.

When Wynnette breathed again and opened her eyesshe could not at once recover her consciousness. Theshock and strain upon her nervous system had been toosevere and protracted. She heard and saw as one halfasleep. She heard the awful reverberations of the thunderof the sea. She saw around her blackness of darkness,relieved just in one spot, a few yards distant fromwhere she lay, by a small fire on the ground, that smolderedin the foul air, and cast a lurid light but a fewfeet around, and fell upon the face and form of acrouching figure squatted near it.

It was a Rembrandt picture.

Wynnette watched it in weak, dull, stupid despair.Whether it was man, woman, or even human being, sheneither knew, nor cared, nor questioned. Nor could anyone else, even in the full possession of their senses, have,at sight, classified the strange figure squatted by the lowfire in the subterranean abyss.

Wynnette was too stunned, dazed and weakened evento fear it.

And yet it was a dread, a frightful, a terrible form,tall and gaunt as could be well known, even in thatcrouching attitude, by the length of legs and arms. Itsskin was like wrinkled parchment, and clung close to itsbones. Its face and features were strong and bony and271sharp. The eagle nose and the pointed chin nearly metover the sunken mouth. Burning black eyes flashed andflamed under beetling brows. White hair, parted overthe top of the head, rolled in silver waves down overshoulders and back. It wore but one garment, a darkred gown, with sleeves that only reached to the elbow,and a skirt that only reached to the knees. It wassquatting, as we said before. Its knees were drawn up;its long, gaunt, dark arms were around them, and thegreat claw-like fingers were clasped upon them. Thehead was bent, but the blazing eyes were fixed in a burninggaze upon the face of the recumbent girl.

As memory slowly awoke in the mind of the stupefiedgirl, she began to recall some of the phases of her night’sadventure. When had it happened? How long ago?An hour ago? A day? A year? A century? Howlong? And where was she now? She dimly rememberedwhen she died, and how she died—how the faintnessof death crept upon her; how her breath went andthen her sense, and then—nothingness.

But how long was that ago?

She could not think.

Where was she now?

She could not say.

Only one thing was certain. She had died, and shehad come to a bad place for her sins. She was indarkness. She was in—that awful pit of utter despairwhose name she could not bear to breathe to her ownspirit.

And that thing by the smoldering fire was her demonjailer!

Thus much was certainly true, she thought. Andyet so dull and stupid was she still that she did not carevery much where she was, or even wonder at her owninsensibility.

At last, seeing that the creature by the fire still glared272at her, she tried to speak, and at length muttered thequestion:

“Who are you?”

“Nobody,” was the slow, soft answer, in a tonestrangely sad and sweet to come from such dried andwithered lips.

“Are you—alive?” breathed Wynnette, in fearsometones.

“Alive? Nay, babe, nor are you,” replied the sameslow, sweet voice.

“I thought so; that is, I knew I was dead. But Ithought maybe you and—and—and—the other dev—Imean the other—I mean I thought the natives of thisplace might be alive,” faltered Wynnette.

“Nay, child, I am dead as well as thou. We are bothdead. But I have been dead longer than thou! Ay, ay,many years than thou, I reckon; for thou cannot be olderthan sixteen or seventeen, and I be ninety-seven. Ay,ay, I ha’ been dead a long time.”

The voice that spoke those words was as tender andplaintive as the notes of an Eolian harp.

“Are—we—are—we—in h—I mean, are we in thewoeful place?”

“Yes, babe, we are in the woeful place. You and Iand many, many, many millions, and millions and millionsof others are dead and buried, and in the woefulplace.”

“I feel as if I were alive, though. No, not quite; butalmost alive,” said Wynnette, first pinching her ownarm and then setting her teeth in it, and biting so hardthat she only escaped breaking the skin.

“That’s a delusion, my baby. You are not alive,neither am I. But—they are alive!” she cried, liftingand waving her arm.

“They? Who?” demanded Wynnette.

“They—the victims of hate, power, cruelty and despotism,whose ruined earthly tabernacles lie all around273us. All around us, like the broken shells upon the seashore.They are alive! They are the martyrs of loveand truth; the martyrs of faith and freedom, of humanity.They are alive, baby. They stand among that‘great multitude, which no man could number, of allnations and peoples and kindreds and tongues—beforethe throne—clothed with white robes and palms in theirhands.’ Ay, ay! They are alive! But you and I—weare dead.”

“I—I think I understand,” said Wynnette, who wasbeginning to regain her mental faculties and to recognizein her surroundings some subterranean cave of the cliff,or crypt of the castle, and in her companion some harmlesslunatic. “We are in a sense dead and buried, andin a woeful state; but where, in all this woeful state, arewe now sitting?”

“Don’t ye ken, bairnie, we are in the place the tyrantscalled the Dungeon of the Dark Death? And the heapsof gray and white lime that ye see here—or ye mightsee, gin it were light enough—be the moldering bones oftheir victims. And the latest victim of all was my lass!my lass! But death could not hold her, nor darkness,nor coldness. She came to life and ascended.She is a fair angel now—one of the fairest of angels.But though she is alive and we are dead, she has notforgotten us; but she comes on this day every year andvisits our graves. I always see her when she comes. Ican see her through all the clods of the grave that lie soheavy on my heart. Mayhap you may see her, too, baby;but I don’t know, I don’t know,” murmured the plaintivevoice, as the old creature slowly shook her head.

“Does she—does she come here?” breathed Wynnette,in an awe-struck tone.

“Ay, she does; and every time she comes she showsme how her body was murdered, and how herself cameout of it alive. Look! look!” The woman suddenlystarted up, crossed to the side of the girl, and clasped274her hand and held it fast, saying again: “Look! Listen!”and she pointed up to the upper end of the cavern.

Now by what psychological law this weird old creatureimpressed her own visions on the imagination ofthe girl, let the occult scientists explain. I cannot pretendto do so.

But as Wynnette looked and listened, there came awhir-r-r-r through the air, and a thud-d-d upon the distantground, and the form of a young woman and achild lay there.

Wynnette tried to shriek, but her voice died in herthroat.

“You see her?” murmured the old woman.

Wynnette tried to speak, but failed.

“Watch!” said the crone.

Wynnette watched, breathlessly, her senses reeling.The shape presently began to change as clouds change,from form to form, and presently to arise like a pillarof mist, and take the form of a woman, young, fair,angelic, with an infant pressed to her bosom, and withheavenward gaze, slowly ascending in a path of light,which faded as she disappeared.

“There, she has gone! and we will go,” said the crone,as she tightened her grasp on the girl’s hand and drewher away.

No longer terrified, but awed, confused, bewildered,Wynnette allowed herself to be passively drawn away,and they began to toil up from the depths. Wynnettethought of Dante’s return from the Inferno, when he“saw the stars again.”

At length, more dead than alive, she began to realize,that though they were still in darkness, they were creepingover level ground or a stone floor. They were stealingalong a dark and narrow passage, as she thought;for once when she stretched out her hand at arm’s lengthshe felt the damp stone wall.

Presently, far off ahead of them, she saw the faint275glimmer of a red light. As they drew nearer to this,she saw that it came through the chinks of an ill-fittingdoor.

When they reached the door the crone opened it, andWynnette recognized, with feelings of relief, the greathall of the castle, and knew that they were above ground.

A fire of fa*ggots burned on the flagstones, and burnedmore clearly in the freer air than had that smoldering,smoking heap of rubbish in the subterranean dungeonbelow.

The beldame drew the girl toward the fire, wherethere lay near by a pile of rushes.

“Sit ye down here, lass, and rest,” she said, as she herselfdropped in a heap upon the rushes.

“I—I want to go home,” whimpered Wynnette, in thetone of a frightened child.

“Nay, bairn, thou wants to hear the story of my lass,and none but I can tell it. Not yon woman up in thenew castle, for she but repeats the lies she has been told,and she believes. None but I can tell the true story.Sit ye down, bairn, and hear.”

“But—it is so late—so late—I ought to go home,”said Wynnette, divided between curiosity and uneasiness.

“It is not late. It is not yet one hour past midnight;and thou art a brave bairn, and there be none to harmthee. Besides, I must tell thee the true story.”

Wynnette drew some of the rushes into a heap, andsat down upon them.

CHAPTER XLV
TOLD IN THE OLD HALL

“It was fifty years ago, my bairnie—fifty years ago.Earl Hardston ruled at Enderby. Distant cousin he276was to yon present Earl Francis——What was that?Eh! nothing but the flap of the owl’s wing as it passed.

“Earl Hardston ruled at Enderby. A handsome devilhe were. Tall, broad-shouldered, straight-backed,strong-limbed. His hair was black and glossy as theraven’s wing; his eyes were black and fiery as the hawk’s,and sometimes soft as the dove’s. Ah, a taking rascal hewere.

“His lady mother and his lady sisters lived at thecastle, and were to live there until my lord should marry,when they would all go to Kedge Hall, the dower-houseof the Widows of Enderby. Kedge Hall was no to becompared to Enderby Castle, and so my lady and herdaughters were no minded that my lord should take awife.

“Ah, but they were wicked!

“Handsome jades they were, every one. Black-a-vized,like me lord, but not one of them to hold a candle to mylass, though she were the hen-wife’s child, and herfeyther the undergardener.

“Oh, but she were the beauty of the world!

“I ha’e seen the Venus in the castle gallery, but itwas no to be compared to my lass’ form. And her featureswere small and fine and clean-cut, and her skinwas like the wild rose leaf. Her eyes were blue asviolets, and her hair was yellow and soft and silky as thefringe of the young maize corn.

“Oh, but she was the beauty of the world!

“Everybody was in love with her. Every servant inthe castle, from the old bachelor-butler down to the boyin buttons, which they called the page, was half mad forthe love of my lass. Every laborer in the grounds, fromthe widowed gamekeeper down to the youngest stableboy,was half dying for the love of my lass.

“No, bairnie, she did not scorn any of them—not thelowliest. She had a smile and a gentle glance, and akind word for every one—even for the freckle-faced277and red-haired young groom, who always had a cold inhis head and a swelled nose, and used to follow her aboutlike a dog, until he lost his place for neglecting his business.She was kind and good to all.

“Oh, but she was the angel of the world, was mylassie. She were sweet and tender to every one, but shewould ha’e none o’ them i’ the way o’ marriage. Thatwere too much to ask, she thought.

“So time went on, till my lass was twenty years old,and she had never lo’ed a man. And my lord werethirty, and he had never married a wife.

“Ane autumn my lord had a company of friends stayingat the castle—gentlemen friends, the lot of them.Sorrow a lady was ever asked to the castle barring itwas some old lady without daughters, or nieces, or anywomen at all. It was not my lady countess who wouldthrow temptation to matrimony in the way of her son,the earl.

“Oh, but she was the devil of the world. You shallhear, my bairn. You shall hear. Among the companyat the castle was ane painter lad, which even the kingmade much of—so ’twas said—so fine was his paintings.

“My lady countess had noticed my lass, my Phebe.Ane day she sent a lackey down to my cottage, withorders for me to bring my girl up to the castle. So Iobeyed my lady.

“We were showed to a room full of pictures, andimages, and rubbish, which I soon found out was thepainter lad’s workshop. My lady was there, sitting inthe only easy-chair. And the painter lad was there,standing before a queer prop, with a picture on it.

“As soon as the lackey said, ‘The young woman, mylady,’ and shut the door, the countess looked at us withoutspeaking, and then turned to the painter, and said,‘Here is your model, Mr. Fordyce,’ as if my Phebe hadbeen nothing but a bundle of lumber.

“The painter lad was an ugly little mug as ever was278seen, but a great painter he were, and a civil man. Helooked at my Phebe, and I could see the surprise anddelight in his ill-favored little face, and he bowed toher, and handed both of us to seats. My lady frowned,and he blushed, and said something very softly, which Ithought was asking pardon for his civility to us.

“Aweel, bairnie, that were the beginning o’ the end.Fra that day my lass went up to the castle every day, inobedience to my lady’s orders. I do not know, I cannottell when it was, or how it was, that my lord first beganto be present at the ‘sittings,’ as they called them.Maybe he heard the painter lad praising the beauty ofmy lass, for, bairnie, though she was born and broughtup on his land, he had never seen her, for he nevershowed his face down in such low places as his laborers’huts. So, maybe, he heard the painter lad praising herbeauty, and for curiosity went in to take a look at her.

“But sometimes I think my lady countess planned itall—to amuse my lord, and keep him at home. Whatdid she care for a peasant girl’s heart, or her soul, orher good name, either, if she could amuse my lord andkeep him from going off and getting married, and bringinga wife home to send her and her lady daughter toKedge Hall?

“Oh, but she was the devil of the world!

“Ah me! ah me! ah me! I did not know what wasgoing on. You see, I didn’t go with my lass to thecastle after that first time. My lady’s maid, an aulwife, always came and fetched her. No, I did not knowwhat was going on. And why should I tell you of wickednessthat is not for you to hear?

“No, no, I will pack the whole peck into a pint cup,and make an end of it.

“Oh, such an old tale. Oh, such a common tale. Itis heard in every hamlet, on every hillside. Oh, but itcomes home to one when it’s one’s ain child. Ah me!ah me!

279“Late in the autumn the pictures were finished andthe sittings were over, and the painter lad went his wayback to London. And my lass stayed hame with meand only went out sometimes in the gloaming. I neverthought ill. I used to go to look after the poultryyard by the castle stables every day, and sometimes, withthe gathering and sorting of eggs, and other matters, Iwould be kept at work all day long.

“One day I got on wi’ my work so weel that I cam’hame airlier than common. And there, i’ the hut, wasmy lord, wi’ Phebe on his knee and his arm around herwaist. Before I could weel tak’ in the whole, my lordhad risen, and, with a ‘Good-e’en, dame,’ he passed me,and went out. And I sat down on the floor and coveredmy head wi’ my apun. I could speak no word ofblame to my lass; my heart, it was broken.

“Presently she came to me and put her sweet armsaround my neck, and said to me, in her ain sweet voice,‘Minnie, minnie, I canna see you grieve and not tell youthe truth, though I must break my word to do it. Minnie,yon great earl is my husband and your son, and Ilove him as I love my life!

“Bairnie, ye may think I were surprised at what Iheard, but, indeed, I were not. I were very pleased, andthat’s the truth, but not surprised. I thought my lassthe beauty of the whole world. And the angel of thewhole world, and our folk-lore were full of tales of hownoble lords, and even royal princes, did love and marrypeasant girls for their beauty and for their goodness.And who so beautiful and who so good as my ain lass?

“No. I was not surprised, but I was proud andpleased. I only asked her the how and the when, andthe where, and when she had told me I believed in her,as I had a right to believe in her, but I also believed inhim, as I had no right to believe in any man.

“And then she begged me to keep the secret, because280she had broken her promise to keep it from everybody,and had told me, from love of me.

“I swore that I would keep her secret, and I kissedher, and petted her, and loved her. And she said, ‘NowI am completely happy, dear minnie, as I never waswhen I kept a secret from mine ain minnie.’ Ah me! ahme! But, there. She is still happy. I only am miserable.She is alive! I only am dead! But some time orother I shall come to life and be happy with her. Wherewas I, bairnie? What was I telling you last?”

“Of your dear daughter’s secret marriage with theearl, and of your promise to keep the secret,” saidWynnette.

“Ay, ay! And we were happy that night. Phebeand I. And I hugged her to my heart as we slept together,and I called her ‘My little countess! My littlecountess!’ Ah, I was drunk with pride and vanity. Notfor myself, but for my beauty and angel of the world. Icould not sleep for thinking of her and of her grandeur.Only I did think that mayhap if the king had chancedto come by our way and see her the king himself mightha’ married her and made her a queen. And I did notcare for the earl so much but that I was sorry it was notthe king who had seen her.

“Next morning Phebe went back to her spinning andI went to the henhouse. I quieted down and began togo over the tales in our folk-lore—and I thought, withuneasiness, how King Cœphutas, who married the beggargirl, and the other king that married the nut-brownmaid, and all other kings and princes and nobles whohad married good and beautiful peasant maids, hadwedded them in open day before all the world, with agreat flourish of trumpets and blowing of horns, andflaunting of flags, in honor of the wedding, and all theneighboring kings, and princes, and lords, and noblesinvited to the feast. And here was this earl, who wasneither king nor prince and nobody but an earl had281married the beauty and the angel of the world, in thedark behind the door, as it were, and keeping his marriagea secret as if he was ashamed of it. I wonderedwhat he meant. I thought if it had been the king whohad married my lass he would not have done so.

“When I came hame that night I asked my girl howit was. And she told me it was from fear of his mother,who had set her heart on his marrying the daughter ofa duke. The daughter of a duke, indeed. What wasthe daughter of a duke compared to the beauty and theangel of the whole world, as kings and princes wouldha’ fought for, if they had only seen her? But it wasall a lie, for my lady countess, she had set her heart onhis never marrying anybody so long as she should live.

“I thought the earl was unworthy to be comparedwith the kings and princes of our folk-lore. And Ifeared my lass had thrown herself away on an ungratefulearl—a mere common earl—when she might havemarried a king or an emperor if she had only waiteduntil one passed by and saw her.

“But it was done, and he was her husband, so I wouldnot say anything to set her against him.”

CHAPTER XLVI
A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM

“Ah, well, as the days and the weeks passed I gotmortal tired of waiting for him to own my girl his wife,and take her to the great house with blowing of trumpets,and waving of banners, and flaunting of flags, andprancing of steeds, like I had heard of. What was theuse of my girl being the wife of a great lord, if she hadto wear a linsey gown, and sit in the hut and spin allday long while I was away to the henhouse? Why,none at all.

282“Oh, bairn, it is such a help to my poor heart tellingyou all this. And you believe me, don’t you?”

“I believe every word you say—tell me more,” earnestlyreplied Wynnette.

“At long last my lady countess and her young ladydaughters went up to London town. And now I thought,while they are gone, my lord will take his wife hame tothe great house; but he didn’t, bairn; he didn’t. Oh, hedidn’t. He was abroad somewhere, to France, maybe,or to Paris, or some other furrin country thereaway.And my lass gave herself up to weeping, and nevershowed herself abroad, but stayed in the hut. One dayI laid a baby boy in her arms and told her to be comforted,for that her son was the little Lord Glennon andthe heir to the Earldom of Enderby.

“And then I had to tell my neighbors the secret, for Icould not bear they should think ill o’ my ain lass. Butnane o’ them would believe me. Not one. They laughedme to scorn—me and my lass. It is an old tale—oh,such an old tale, such a common old tale! Only itcomes hame when it’s one’s ain bairn.

“One day my lord came hame and heard the report,and a fine passion he was in with my lass and me. Hedenied her and her child. He pretended it was Andy,the stableboy, she had married. And he scorned her,and threatened to turn us both out of the hut if we everso much as named his name again.

“Oh, but he was the devil of the whole world!

“After that, in many long nights that my lass andI lay awake, we talked, and I got to know why the greatearl had married my beauty and angel of the wholeworld. First he tried to win her love without her hand;but my girl was good and firm; and then he grew so madfor her love that he took her before a priest and marriedher.

“One day we did hear that the earl was to wed theduke’s daughter, and all the cottagers said I was a mad283crone to think my lord had stooped to my lass. Ah, mylass! She was fading away before my very eyes. Butnot fast enough for my lord.

“One day there was a fair at Enderby Town, and allthe laborers on the estate and all the servants at thecastle had a holiday to go to the fair. All went but meand my lass. We ne’er left hame in those days. Wecould no bear that any should look on us and scorn us.

“So that day I left my lass spinning at the hut door,and the baby was sleeping in the basket by her side, andI went to my duty in the hen-houses. I had the oldnests to clean out and fresh straw to put in them. Igot done about twelve of the clock and come hame.

“But my girl was not in the house, nor the babe. Ihad no misgiving. I went in and waited for her. Butshe came no more. She never came again. When itgrew dark I began to be so uneasy that I went out tolook for her, but could no find her. There was no oneas I could ask; all the world was gone to the fair, andnane would be hame till late, maybe not till morning.

“Well, bairn, when I had walked till my limbs wereready to sink under me I went hame and laid down, justas I was, on the outside of my bed. I was not asleep.Nay, bairnie, I was not asleep. I did no dream whatfollowed. I saw it. My eyes were shut and all theworld was still; for it was long after midnight, and evendrawing near the morning; but still it was pitch-dark,when—no, I wasn’t asleep, and I didn’t dream it—whenI felt a light through my shut eyelids. I opened themand saw the room was full of light that did not comefrom sun, or moon, or star, or candle, or lamp, or fire,but from a bright form that stood in the midst of theplace and beckoned me to come to it.

“In an awe that was not a fright, I got up and went toit and said ‘Phebe!’ for I knew it was my lass that stoodthere, with her child in her arms, and clothed, not inthe white raiment of the blest, but in what I thought284was lovelier, a clear, soft, rosy gown that fell from hershoulders down to her feet. She had no crown on herhead, but her silky, yellow hair streamed down aroundher form like sunbeams. I knew she was a spirit.

“‘Phebe!’ I said again—‘Phebe!’ She did not speak,but holding her child on her right arm, she raised herleft hand and beckoned me, and pointed to the door, andwent out. I followed her. She led me by ways I hadnever gone before, but have gone every year since thatnight. The same way I took you to-night, my bairn.The secret passage to the deep caverns under the foundationsof the castle, the only way to them except throughthe trapdoor and shaft that runs two hundred feetdown in a straight line—a way that is now known tonone but me. Even you could no find it again. She ledme through the secret passage and down the many, manysteps cut in the solid rock, down, down, down, her lightmaking the steep path light before me until we reachedthe Dungeon of the Dark Death—and even that shelighted up.

“She led me to a spot where her dead body lay onthe ground, just under the bottom of the shaft, thatreached only to the ceiling or roof above. Her body laywith the body of her babe, just as if they both haddropped down there and fallen asleep. I knew theywere dead. I knew every bone in both was broken,though that did not appear on the outside. It wasunder where they struck the ground that the horror ofdeath was. I knew also, as if I had seen it all, how shehad died—how she had been entrapped to her suddendeath—how she had not even suffered. There had beena swift fall, a shock, nothing, and then a wonderful comingto life in a new form.

“I tell you, lass, it was no dream, no dream! but areal seeing. And it was wonderful to stand there bythe two crushed, dead bodies and see the two livingsouls. I thought of the chrysalis and the butterfly, the285worm and the moth, the eggshell and the bird, as I stoodthere between life and death, and seeing both.

“And without any speech at all, my lass made meknow how she had been betrayed to death—how, everyone being gone off the place, and she alone in her hut,my lord had come to her and pretended to make it allup with her, and had asked her to walk with him in thehall of the old castle. And she had gone. And theywalked up and down, up and down, until suddenly, whenshe was passing with her babe over the trapdoor theyhad passed so many times, he suddenly stepped back,the door fell in, and she shot down, struck the groundtwo hundred feet below, and knew no more until shewoke up in her new form—not dead, but living, nevermore to die.

“Presently she beckoned to me again, and walkingbefore me, a form of rosy light, led me back again bythe way we had come, up, up, up, to the upper air again.Nor did she leave me until we were back in the hut.She waved her arm and signed for me to lie down onthe bed; and I minded her and did what she said. Thenshe stood by my bed waving her hand to and fro, to andfro, until I went to sleep. And I slept so deep and solong that it was broad daylight, with the sun shining inat the bare window, when I waked.

“No, it was no dream, bairn. Soon as I waked Iminded all that had passed in the night, and I knowedit was no dream.

“I went no more out that day. At noon my lord cameto the hut, the first time he had come for many a day.And he asked me, in a careless way:

“‘Where is that wench of yours, goody?’ And Ilooked him straight in the face, and answered him:

“‘Her body and her babe’s lie crushed to death on thestone floor of the deep dungeon where you cast her down;but she and her child—they are in Paradise.’

286“He turned white as a sheet and he reeled in his saddle;but he quickly put on a bold face and said:

“‘You are a mad old beast, and before twenty-fourhours are over your head you shall be committed to theCounty Lunatic Asylum.’

“And with that he struck spurs into his horse anddashed wildly away.

“Not too often, lass, does punishment follow fast oncrime, but it did in this case. He dashed wildly off ina state of mind, I reckon, that made him unable to guidehis young horse as he ought.

“Half an hour later he was carried hame to the castleon a shutter. The horse had thrown him and brokenhis neck.

“The title and estates, they went to a distant cousin,great-grandfather of the present Earl Francis. EarlGodfrey was good to me—he and his children and hischildren’s children have been good to me—always goodto me, although they call me mad.

“When my girl was missed and the trapdoor wasfound open, they had it that she had trodden on it andit had gin way under her weight, and her death was aaccident and nobody to blame. They wouldn’t listen tome—no one word. They said I was a poor, harmlesscreetur, crazed by the loss of my lass. They got a windlassand great chains and ropes, and then let down menand they took up my birds’ broken shells and gave themChristian burial.

“Everybody was kind to me, only they wouldn’t believeme. They said I was mad. They would have it asit was the poor stableboy as wronged my girl. And nowI hear, after more than fifty years, some un have madeanother story and got it into a book, how the stableboykilled my girl and threw her body down the shaft,and was hanged for it at Carlisle. All lies, bairn! Alllies! My story is the only true one.”

“I believe you,” said Wynnette.

“The sky is red in the east. Go now, my bairn.Thou art a good child, and brave to dare the ghosts ofthe old hall and to hear the tale of an old crone. Andit is true, bairn; it is true. Do not you give faith toany who tell you it is not and tell you I am mad.”

“I will not. I will believe only you. But before Igo tell me—can I do anything for you?”

“Nay, bairn. Nothing, bless ’ee.”

“Where do you live?”

“In the old hut—the hut outside the south wall, opento the lane.”

“I can find it. May I come to see you there?”

“Ay, ay, bairn. Bless ’ee for the kind thought. Comewhen thou like, but dinna bring ony other with ’ee. Naother might hear me sa kind and mind me sa well asye do.”

“Do you—are you—have you—will you——”

Wynnette hesitated and blushed.

“Speak out, bairn. Dinna be feared. Speak out.”

“Then—will you have—a good breakfast ready foryou when you go home?” hesitatingly inquired practicalWynnette.

“I shall have all I want, bairnie. Earl Francis hasprovided for me. Go your ways to the house now,bairnie. Your friends will be speiring after ye.”

Wynnette took the shriveled hand of the creature andpressed it kindly before she left the old castle hall.

The early June morning was breaking brightly andbeautifully over land and sea as Wynnette went downthe half-ruined steps that led from the castle hall to thecourtyard below.

She climbed over the piles of rubbish, and at length288found herself on the flagged walk that led up to the westentrance of the new castle.

Not a soul was yet astir. It could not have been morethan half-past four o’clock, and the servants of the castlewere not accustomed to rise before six.

She went up the broad stone stairs and opened thedoor, which she found, as she had left it at midnight,unfastened.

She passed in silently, quietly replaced all the fastenings,and ascended noiselessly to her room. Her sisterwas still sleeping soundly. She felt no disposition tosleep. She resumed her seat at the west window, andlooked out upon the morning view, as she had looked onthe night scene, trying to understand the adventure shehad passed through.

Was the old crone who had talked with her reallymad? Had her only child been ruined and murderedby the wicked earl? Had she, Wynnette, really witnessedthat wonderful vision in the dungeon under thecastle, or had she been so psychologized by the crone asto have been the subject of an optical illusion?

She could not tell! She could make nothing of hernight’s experience. While she was musing over it allher thoughts grew confused, her vision obscured, andperhaps she fell asleep; for she was presently roused asfrom profound unconsciousness by the voice of Odalitecalling out to her:

“Wynnette! Wynnette! Child! you have never sleptat that open window all night? How imprudent!”

The girl roused herself and tried to recall her faculties.

“I believe I did fall asleep, Odalite,” she replied; butshe shuddered as she remembered her night’s adventure.

“And you are shivering now. And you are pale andheavy-eyed. Oh, my dear, what an indiscreet thing todo—to sleep with your head on the sill of an open window!You have caught cold.”

289“Ah! if you only knew what I have caught,” thoughtWynnette; but she answered:

“Oh, no, I have not, Odalite. I am going to take abath now and dress for breakfast. I am all right. Howcould I take cold on such a lovely night in June?”

“But you must not repeat this,” said Odalite.

“I don’t mean to!” significantly replied Wynnette.

An hour later they met the family at breakfast.

Wynnette was so unusually grave and silent that atlength her uncle noticed her manner and inquired:

“What is the matter with our Little Pickle this morning?”

“She sat in the chair at the open window all night,and fell asleep there. That is the matter,” replied Odalitefor her sister.

“Ah! ah! that will never do! We must put a stop tothat sort of practice!” replied the earl.

And then Mr. and Mrs. Force both fell upon theirdaughter with rebuke and admonition, but were soothedand mollified when Wynnette assured them not only thatshe had taken no harm on this occasion, but that shenever meant to repeat the last night’s performance againso long as she should live.

When breakfast was over the family party adjournedto a pleasant morning room looking out upon the sea,and occupied themselves with opening and reading theirletters, which had come in by the morning’s mail.

Mr. Force had letters from his farm manager andfrom his attorney, giving satisfactory accounts of affairsat Mondreer.

Leonidas had equally good news from Beeves concerninghis little estate of Greenbushes.

Mrs. Force received a short note, ill-spelled and worsewritten, from her housekeeper, but it gave good accountof domestic affairs.

Rosemary Hedge had a joint letter from her mother290and aunt, saying that they were both in good health,and giving their child plenty of good counsel.

Wynnette received an old-fashioned letter from youngGrandiere, which she laughed over and refused to showto any one.

In the midst of this occupation they were interruptedby the opening of the door, and the entrance of a footman,who touched his forehead with a grave air andstood in silence.

“What is it?” inquired the earl.

“If you please, my lord, it is Old Silly,” solemnlyreplied the man.

“Old Zillah?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What of her?”

“If you please, my lord, she is dead.”

“Dead!”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Old Zillah! Why—when did she die?”

“If you please, my lord, we don’t know. Kato, theunder scullery maid, who carried her some breakfastthis morning, found her dead on her bed.”

“It was to have been expected. She was nearly a centuryold. It is well!”

CHAPTER XLVIII
OLD ZILLAH

“She has come to life,” said Wynnette, quoting thewords of the departed woman.

All looked at the girl in some surprise. With all heroddities, Wynnette was not used to make such speechesas that. And now, for the first time, they noticed thatWynnette’s face was very pale, with dark circles underher eyes.

291“What is the matter with you, my dear?” inquiredher mother.

“Nothing at all, mamma,” answered the girl.

“She sat by the open window late last night and fellasleep there, and slept until I woke her up this morning.That was quite enough to make her ill,” Odalite explained.

“Nay, my dear; in such fine June weather as thepresent, and in such pure air as ours, it would hardlyhave hurt her had she slept outdoors,” said the earl.“But what do you mean, my dear, by saying that ourpoor Old Zillah ‘has come to life’?” he inquired, as heturned to the girl.

“Nothing heterodox, uncle. Nothing but what wehear from our pulpits on every Easter Sunday morning,”she replied.

“Oh!” he exclaimed.

“Only in this case the truth seems to be very marked.A woman nearly a hundred years old must have beennearly dead for many years and now has certainly cometo life.”

“Ah!”

“Nothing new, uncle, please. I never said anythingnew in my life.”

“Then you put old truths in a very new way.”

“Eternal truth, uncle, eternal truth; plain to gentleand simple, to young and old; plain as the sunshine toall who can see; hidden only from them who are blind,or who choose to keep their eyes shut.”

“Hum! Truth that neither the aged, the invalid northe bereaved can afford to disregard, at least. Andnow, my dear, I must leave you, to inquire into thecause of Old Zillah’s sudden death. Will you comewith me, gentlemen?”

Mr. Force and Leonidas arose to attend him.

Le gave the invalid the support of his strong youngarm.

292And so the three men passed out of the room.

“Mamma, did you know anything about this wonderfulold woman?” inquired Wynnette.

“Very little, my dear. Only the years of my earliestchildhood were passed here. Old Zillah was an objectof terror to me. Partly, perhaps, because she wore aman’s coat over her skirt, and a man’s hat on her head,and partly because she had the reputation of being awise woman or a witch. She never came to the castle,and I never saw her except by chance, when I went withmy nursery governess to walk or ride. She never camenear me or spoke to me. I think I should have goneinto fits if she had.”

“How old were you then, mamma?” she inquired.

“I do not know when I first began to hear of Old Zillah,or when I first saw her. She was the shadow andthe terror of my dawn of life. I was but four years oldwhen I lost my mother, and then my father left thisplace, taking me with him; and he went to his estate inIreland—Weirdwaste, on the west coast.”

“‘Weirdwaste!’ What a name! Did you live longat Weirdwaste, mamma, dear?”

“Yes, many years alone there with my governess. Myfather was traveling on the continent.”

“What sort of a place was it, mamma?” inquiredWynnette. And Rosemary and Elva drew their chairsnearer to the sofa on which their mother sat to hearher answer.

“It was an old manor house on the inland end of along, flat, dreary point of land stretching into the AtlanticOcean. At high tide the entire cape, to withina few rods of the manor wall, was covered by the sea,and day and night the swash of the sea was heard.”

“How lonely you must have been, mamma, with noone but your governess and the servants,” said Elva.“But perhaps you had neighbors,” she added.

“No; no neighbors at all. There was no one within293miles of us but the poorest Irish peasants, who weretenants of my father. The estate was vast in extent ofterritory, but poor in soil. The land steward lived inthe manor house, to take care of it and of me. Theykept two old servants—a man and a woman—an oldhorse, and older jaunting car. That is how I lived atWeirdwaste.”

“Oh! what a lonely life! How long did you livethere, mamma?”

“Until I was nearly fifteen years of age, when myhealth failed, and the surgeon from the nearest townwas called to see me, and thought my case so serious thathe wrote to my father, who was in Paris. My fatherthen came to see me, took me and my governess toBrighton, and established us in elegant lodgings on theKing’s Road.”

“That must have been a most delightful change. Howlong did you stay in Brighton, mamma? And wheredid you go next? Not back to Weirdwaste, I hope,”said Wynnette.

“No, not back to Weirdwaste. I have never seen thedreary place since I left it,” replied the lady, in a lowvoice, but with paling cheeks and troubled brow.

“Mamma, love,” said Odalite, rising, “will you comewith me into the library now and help me to translatethe passage in Camoëns we were talking about yesterday?”

“Yes, dear,” replied the lady, rising to follow her eldestdaughter.

“Well, I’m blest if that isn’t playing it rather too lowdown on a fellow, Odalite—I mean it is very inconsideratein you to carry off mamma just as she is tellingabout the days of her youth, for the very first time, too!Bah! bother! what a nuisance!”

But Mrs. Force and her eldest daughter had passedout of the room.

The death of Old Zillah caused quite a commotion in294the castle and its neighborhood. Notwithstanding herage, or, perhaps, because of her great age, her deathcame as a surprise, not to say as a shock, to the community.She had lived so long that it almost seemedas if she must always continue to live.

“Why, it’s like as if the old tower of the ruined castleitself had fallen!” said one to another.

People came from far and near to see the remains ofthe centenarian, and to get her real age, and hear somefacts of her life. And all the cruel old legends wereraked up again, until the whole air of the place was fullof fetor, fire and brimstone. The people reveled in themoral malaria.

The mortal body of the oldest retainer of the Houseof Enderby at length found a peaceful resting place inEnderby churchyard.

No peeress of the realm ever had a larger funeral thanthis pauper, at least so far as the number of followerswent.

It was not until night on the day after the funeralthat Wynnette slipped away from the family circle andwent to the housekeeper’s room to hear the promisedstory.

“I will hear both sides,” she said to herself, “thoughI do believe Old Zillah’s version to be the true one.”

She found the good woman seated at a small worktableand engaged in knitting.

“Well, Mrs. Kelsy, how are you to-night?” inquiredWynnette, as she took the offered seat beside the dame.

“Thanky’, miss, I’m none the better for the worrimentof this week,” replied the housekeeper.

“You mean the funeral?”

“The whole on’t, miss! The greatest crowd as everwas every day this week, not even honoring the Sabbathitself, but coming more on that day than any other!And the talk, and the gossip, and the raking up of oldscandals, until I was soul sick of it all. And all because295a wise woman, over a hundred years old, was found deadin her bed. Warraloo! How else and where else shouldshe ha’ been found dead, I’d like to know!”

“But you have had a night and day of rest, and Ihope you feel recovered.”

“Rest, is it, miss? Recovered, is it? Not very muchof either! It is dead beat I am!”

“I am sorry to hear that. I was hoping that youwould feel well to-night and be inclined to tell me thestory of the pretty maiden you promised.”

“Oh, ay, well, there is not so much to tell. And nowthe old creature as hung on so long is gone, I don’t mindtelling it so much. The girl’s soul may have rest nowthat her mither doesn’t harry it up.”

“Yes, I hope it will,” said Wynnette, in a conciliatingtone. “You will tell me the story now?”

“Yes! and whatever other story you may hear aboutit will be false, for I know that you will hear otherstories, if you haven’t heard ’em already. There’splenty of ’em going around, I tell you, and no two alike.But only I have the truth, for I have it straight frommy mother, who had it from her’n! So it must be true!And no other story could be!”

“But I suppose if Old Zillah were alive she also couldgive the real facts,” ventured Wynnette.

“She? Least of all in this world could she tell it!For not only did she fail to tell the truth, but she tolda many mad fancies; for she was about as mad as aMarch hare! Saw visions and talked with departedspirits, prophesied future events, and all that, she did!Yes, miss. She has been that a way ever since I knowedher, and as I have heard tell, was that a way ever sinceshe lost her daughter.”

“Tell me about her daughter.”

“I’m a-gwine to. Well, you see, it seems the feytherhad been undergardener, and he died, and then thewidow was given the use of a little hut in the outside of296the old castle wall, on the lane. And there she livedand brought up her only child, Phebe. They were bothemployed in the poultry yard.

“Phebe grew up beautiful as an angel—so beautifulthat everybody who happened to meet her stopped tolook at her—so beautiful, that her beauty turned herown head, as well as her mother’s. While she was yeta child all the gentry that met her gave her half crowns,and even half guineas, for the love of her fair face. Atleast so ’twas said, and so ’twas handed down. Andpeople used to make such foolish speeches about her asthat she was lovely enough to turn the head of a king.

“These speeches did turn her mother’s head, and herown as well. All the young men were in love with her,but she scorned them all for a poor little imp of a stableboy,an orphan as had been her playmate all her life.”

“I did hear that it was for the sake of the young earlshe flouted the others,” said Wynnette.

“Oh, yes, I dare say—that was one of the stories thatwent round! That was false. The young earl did comedown to celebrate his coming of age, and his mother andsisters came with him, and made up their minds to staywith him, which they might do until he should marry,in which case they would have to go to Kedge Hall, anold manor house on the moors. So my lady seemed tothink the longer she could keep my lord, her son, fromgetting a wife, the better it would be for her and hergirls.

“Among the men staying at the castle was an artist.He was to paint a picture of St. Cecelia for the countess,but he wanted a model. One day my lady, out driving,happened to see Phebe, and had her up to the castle tosit to the artist. And then the mischief began. My lordfell in love with her. Fairly went out of his senses forlove of this beautiful creature, who didn’t even knowhow to read.

“And my lady encouraged the folly and wickedness.297Eh, my dear, gentlefolks were not particular in thosedays. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘was a beauty right on his ownland, the child of his tenant, one of his own born slaves,bound to do his will, who might amuse his fancy andkeep him from marriage for many a year.’ She neverfeared such a thing as my lord marrying the girl. Suchfolly was not to be thought, and never was thought ofby either of them.”

“But,” said Wynnette, “I heard that the earl hadmarried her.”

“Stuff and nonsense! He never dreamed of such athing! He was the proudest man alive! And he wasengaged to a duke’s daughter! But the crazy old motherand the silly young girl fancied that he even might dothat for love of Phebe’s fair face. So the poor stableboywas thrown over, and the young earl was received.The boy got madly jealous, and so—months after,when the hapless girl was found dead at the bottom ofthe shaft in the old castle—the stableboy was arrestedon suspicion of the murder.”

“I know,” said Wynnette, “and the guide to EnderbyCastle says that he was tried and convicted and hangedat Carlisle. But I have heard that contradicted.”

“Yes, it is contradicted. I do not know the truth.It has been so long ago that no living person can rememberit, now that Old Zillah is gone.”

“She could,” said Wynnette.

“Oh, yes! she could! But she got facts and fanciesso mixed up in her poor old brain that no one woulddream of trusting to her stories. If you could ever havehad the chance to see her, miss, you would have seenhow very mad she was.”

Wynnette did not think it necessary to explain thatshe had seen Old Zillah and heard her story.

To no one could the girl breathe one word of her terriblenight in the old castle. Sometimes she was halfinclined to believe that she had really fallen asleep on298the window sill and dreamed it all—from the momentof horror and amazement when the spectral eyes lightedup the loopholes of the old wall, to the moment whenshe was awakened by the voice of her sister.

Wynnette was more bewildered than she liked to ownherself to be—bewildered as to the dream, or the realityof her terrible night! Bewildered as to the relativetruth or falsehood of the two conflicting stories she hadheard of the beautiful peasant girl’s fate.

“What is dream and what is reality? What is factand what is fable?” she asked herself continually.

CHAPTER XLIX
BROTHER AND SISTER

Meanwhile there was another member of the familycircle fully as much perplexed as was Wynnette, thoughupon another subject.

The Earl of Enderby could not reconcile all hisknowledge—his lifelong knowledge of Angus Anglesea,his schoolmate at Harrow; his classmate at Oxford, hisbrother-in-arms in India, the brave, tender, faithfulfriend and comrade of many years and many lands—withthis thief, forger, bigamist, described under hisname by Elfrida Force and all her family.

“Elf,” he said to her one day, as the two sat tête-à-têtein the library—all the other members of the familycircle having gone out for a stroll on the top of thecliffs—“Elf, my dear, I have had some trials in mytime—not the least among them, my inherited malady,dooming me to an early death and barring me frommarriage——”

“Oh, Francis, don’t say that! Medical science hasreached such perfection, you may be restored to health;299and you are yet not middle-aged—you may marry andbe happy,” said the lady, almost in tears.

“No, Elf! No, dear! It is impossible! But it isnot of my infirmities I wish to speak now. I wouldrather never mention them—much rather forget them,if that were possible! I only meant to say that of allthe trials I have ever suffered, that of hearing suchnews of Anglesea as you have told me is the most painful!I cannot forget it! I think of it constantly, byday and by night.”

“I am very sorry that we had to tell you, Francis.”

“Elf! You knew Anglesea in those early days whenwe both came down to spend our holidays at Brightonwith you.”

“Yes; I remember.”

“You knew him then. Could you have believed suchvillainies of him?”

“No, not then.”

“Nor could I then, nor can I now. I wish the manwere in England. I would go to him and make thesecharges face to face, and put him on his defense. I shallnever rest until I put him on his defense.”

“Do you not believe what we have told you and provedto you—that this man is a thief, a forger and a bigamist,even on his own showing?”

“I believe that you believe it, my dear. And I believeas much of it as I can believe in the absence of the accused.And when a man is accused of crime he shouldbe present and be put upon his defense. I wish to chargeAnglesea to his face with these felonies and to hear whathe has to say.”

Elfrida Force looked so coldly on her brother in answerto these words that he hastened to say:

“See here, my dear. Consider how I loved andtrusted that man from my youth up. He was older thanmyself. He was my mentor, my guide, philosopher and300friend. I could no more have doubted his honor than Icould have doubted yours.”

The lady winced.

“Think of it, my dear. Do you wonder that I amsorely perplexed at what I hear of him? Or that I wishto hear what he has to say for himself? Suppose anyone—Anglesea, for instance, before I had heard a wordagainst him, when I loved and trusted him most—hadcome to me and said: ‘Your sister, whom you love andhonor so much, has forfeited both love and honor——’Elfrida! Heavens! What is the matter?” suddenly exclaimedthe earl, as the lady sank back pallid and faintingin her chair.

“It is——Go on,” said the sister, recovering herselfwith an effort. “Nothing is the matter. You were sayingthat if Anglesea had come to you with slanders ofyour sister——What would you have done?”

“I should have knocked him down and kicked him out,first of all, as a preliminary to challenging him. Besure I should not have believed his story told behindyour back. And I am certain you would not wish me tobe less just to Anglesea than to you.”

“Very well. I do not believe he will ever dare to showhis face in England again; but if he should, and youshould meet him, make the charge that we have madeand see how he will meet it. Of course he will deny alland accuse his accusers of conspiracy.”

“It is all very painful and very perplexing, but do notthink otherwise than that I will stand by you and yours,Elfrida, under all circ*mstances.”

“I am quite sure that you will, dear Francis,” repliedthe lady; and their talk drifted to other topics.

“I shall miss you very much, sister, when you goabroad,” he said at length.

“But I shall not go, Francis. I shall remain withyou. I have been over the continent so often that I donot care to see it again,” replied the lady.

301“What do you say, Elfrida? You will not go on thistour with your husband and children? You will stayhere with your invalid brother? That is good news tome, but what will your husband say to such a plan?”

“Of course I had a talk with Mr. Force before makingup my mind. We talked it over last night. Hethinks just as I do—that it is best for me to stay withyou.”

“He is very kind; very, very kind. But you will bothgive up much for the sake of a poor, sick man.”

“No, indeed. I really do not care for the continentaltour, I have made it so often.”

“But there are so many changes since you made itlast.”

“Yes, there is gas instead of lamplight in all thecities; railway trains instead of diligences on all thehighways; and sons on the thrones of their fathers. Iam content to know of these things. I do not care tosee them.”

“But Mr. Force? He will miss you.”

“Dear brother, our honeymoon was passed twenty-twoyears ago. Young love has matured to old love, orrather to love that never can know age nor absence. Itis not necessary that we should always be looking intoeach other’s eyes to make sure that we are happy in ourunion.”

“Yet I dare say you never tried it. I dare swear youwere never apart from each other for twenty-four hoursin your married life.”

“No; we never were.”

“That is why you talk so glibly of a separation formonths. You had better not try it, Elfrida. You hadbetter go with your husband and party, or make themstay here with you.”

“Not so, Francis. I will not leave you, now that Ihave come to you after so many years of separation.And, on the other hand, I will not keep the other members302of our family party from their travel. It is necessarythat young people should have the advantage ofthis continental tour, and it is desirable that they shouldhave the protection of their father, as well as of theircousin. So I must stay here, and they must go. If Mr.Force or myself should grow lonesome during the seasonof separation he can come here to me. Neither Abelnor myself should feel the slightest hesitation in leavingour young girls in the care of their cousin, Leonidas.”

“My dear, you have some strange, new, and, I suppose,American ideas of the liberty allowable to youngpeople.”

“To our own young people, who certainly may betrusted with liberty,” replied Elfrida Force, with asmile.

“Well, of course—of course. I am human and selfishenough to be very glad that you are to stay with me insteadof going with your party.”

The brother and sister then talked of some details relatingto the intended tour, until the tête-à-tête wasbroken into by the return of the walking party.

It was the first of July that the tourists, consisting ofAbel, Leonidas, Odalite, Wynnette and Elva Force andRosemary Hedge, set out from Enderby to London, enroute for Dover and Paris.

They were to have a three months’ travel over the continent,and were to return on the first of October, unlessthey should receive advices from the earl to meet himand his sister at Baden-Baden, where he often went inthe autumn for the benefit of his health.

And with this understanding, and with the promiseof an incessant fire of letters from both sides, the friendsparted.

Leonidas, it should have been explained, on accountof his six years active service at sea—serving doubleturns, as he put it—had got a six months furlough, beginningfrom the first of May. He would, therefore,303not be due at the navy department to report for ordersuntil the first of November.

When the large party had left the castle, life at Enderbysettled down to the calmest, not to say the dullest,routine.

Elfrida Force spent her time in waiting on her invalidbrother, reading the old black-letter tomes in the library,and in writing letters to her absent family and readingtheir letters to herself. Sometimes she walked or rodeabroad, but always in company with her brother.

Sometimes the Vicar of Enderby came and dined withthem, and played a game of chess in the evening withthe earl. Two or three times a week the village doctorlooked in to see his chronic patient, and once, on his advice,a telegram to London brought down a titled courtphysician to see the invalid.

Beyond these no company came to Enderby, and novisits were made by the earl or his sister.

The castle was too remote and too difficult of approachfor mere visits of ceremony; and the sick earl was toomuch of a recluse to encourage or enjoy the visits of hisneighbors. So the lives of the brother and sister, in theabsence of their relatives, passed in almost monasticseclusion.

And so July, August and half of September passed.

It was on the sixteenth of the last-mentioned monththat the village practitioner, after a long visit and talkwith his patient, sent a telegram to the London physician,who came to Enderby by the night’s express.

The result of the consultation by the sofa of the invalidpatient was this—that the earl must depart forBaden-Baden as soon as possible.

Preparations were immediately made for departure.

Among other precautions, Elfrida Force did not forgetWynnette’s dear dog. She made a visit to the kennels,where Joshua had found friends among his canineas well as his human companions, and there she spoke304with the grooms and gave them some money in advanceand promised them more on her return if she should findJoshua well and hearty.

“I think if anything were to happen to the dog mydaughter Wynnette would almost break her heart,” shesaid.

“Bless ’ee, my lady, nothing shall happen the brutebut good treatment. He’s a dog as any one might growfond on; and as for we, why, we fairly dotes on him,my lady. And so do him on we. Look, my lady! Hi!Joshway!”

The dog came bounding from some distant spot andjumped upon the groom with every demonstration of joyuntil he saw his mistress, when the old love and loyaltyimmediately asserted itself, and he sprang from thegroom to the lady.

Elfrida Force caressed him to his heart’s content, andthen to divert his attention she emptied a small basket ofcold meat that she had brought for the purpose, andwhile he was busy with a well-covered beef bone shepatted his head and slipped away.

On the morning of the same day the earl sent off atelegram to Mr. Force, at the Hotel d’Angleterre, St.Petersburg, merely saying: “We leave to-morrow forBaden-Baden. Write to us at the Hotel d’Amerique.”

Late in the evening he received the following answer:

“We shall join you at the Hotel d’Amerique.”

The earl handed the telegram to his sister, saying:

“I told you the bridegroom would be impatient. Thebridal honeymoon was sweet, no doubt. But what wasthat to be compared to the honeymoon of the silver wedding,eh, Elf?”

She was about to retort by asking him what he couldknow about it; but remembering in time the pathos ofher brother’s life, and not quite knowing what else tosay, she remarked that the twenty-fifth anniversary of305her wedding was yet three years off. And then shekissed her brother and bade him good-night.

Fraught with destiny, the Civil War brought greatchanges and brought with misery final happiness to theForces, as will be related in the third and final volumeof this series, under the title of “When Shadows Die.”This is published in uniform style and price with thisvolume.

A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the fieldof historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacythat excel in thrilling and absorbing interest.

A COLONIAL FREE-LANCE. A story of American Colonial Times. ByChauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. WatsonDavis. Price, $1.00.

A book that appeals to Americans as a vivid picture of Revolutionaryscenes. The story is a strong one, a thrilling one. It causes the trueAmerican to flush with excitement, to devour chapter after chapter, untilthe eyes smart, and it fairly smokes with patriotism. The love story is asingularly charming idyl.

THE TOWER OF LONDON. A Historical Romance of the Times of LadyJane Grey and Mary Tudor. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. withfour illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.

This romance of the “Tower of London” depicts the Tower as palace,prison and fortress, with many historical associations. The era is themiddle of the sixteenth century.

The story is divided into two parts, one dealing with Lady Jane Grey,and the other with Mary Tudor as Queen, introducing other notable charactersof the era. Throughout the story holds the interest of the readerin the midst of intrigue and conspiracy, extending considerably over ahalf a century.

IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING. A Romance of the American Revolution.By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. WatsonDavis. Price, $1.00.

Mr. Hotchkiss has etched in burning words a story of Yankee bravery,and true love that thrills from beginning to end, with the spirit of theRevolution. The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking apart in the exciting scenes described. His whole story is so absorbingthat you will sit up far into the night to finish it. As a love romanceit is charming.

GARTHOWEN. A story of a Welsh Homestead. By Allen Raine. Cloth,12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

“This is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare beforeus, very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some strong points ofWelsh character—the pride, the hasty temper, the quick dying out of wrath....We call this a well-written story, interesting alike through itsromance and its glimpses into another life than ours. A delightful andclever picture of Welsh village life. The result is excellent.”—Detroit FreePress.

MIFANWY. The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allan Raine. Cloth,12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

“This is a love story, simple, tender and pretty as one would care toread. The action throughout is brisk and pleasing; the characters, it is apparentat once, are as true to life as though the author had known themall personally. Simple in all its situations, the story is worked up in thattouching and quaint strain which never grows wearisome, no matter howoften the lights and shadows of love are introduced. It rings true, anddoes not tax the imagination.”—Boston Herald.

DARNLEY. A Romance of the times of Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey.By G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davies.Price, $1.00.

In point of publication, “Darnley” is that work by Mr. James whichfollows “Richelieu,” and, if rumor can be credited, it was owing to the adviceand insistence of our own Washington Irving that we are indebtedprimarily for the story, the young author questioning whether he couldproperly paint the difference in the characters of the two great cardinals.And it is not surprising that James should have hesitated; he had beeneminently successful in giving to the world the portrait of Richelieu as aman, and by attempting a similar task with Wolsey as the theme, wasmuch like tempting fortune. Irving insisted that “Darnley” came naturallyin sequence, and this opinion being supported by Sir Walter Scott,the author set about the work.

As a historical romance “Darnley” is a book that can be taken uppleasurably again and again, for there is about it that subtle charm whichthose who are strangers to the works of G. P. R. James have claimed wasonly to be imparted by Dumas.

If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial attention,the account of the meeting of the kings on the historic “field of the cloth ofgold” would entitle the story to the most favorable consideration of everyreader.

There is really but little pure romance in this story, for the author hastaken care to imagine love passages only between those whom history hascredited with having entertained the tender passion one for another, andhe succeeds in making such lovers as all the world must love.

CAPTAIN BRAND, OF THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE. By Lieut.Henry A. Wise, U.S.N. (Harry Gringo). Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrationsby J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

The re-publication of this story will please those lovers of sea yarnswho delight in so much of the salty flavor of the ocean as can come throughthe medium of a printed page, for never has a story of the sea and those“who go down in ships” been written by one more familiar with the scenesdepicted.

The one book of this gifted author which is best remembered, and whichwill be read with pleasure for many years to come, is “Captain Brand,”who, as the author states on his title page, was a “pirate of eminence inthe West Indies.” As a sea story pure and simple, “Captain Brand” hasnever been excelled, and as a story of piratical life, told without the usualembellishments of blood and thunder, it has no equal.

NICK OF THE WOODS. A story of the Early Settlers of Kentucky. ByRobert Montgomery Bird. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. WatsonDavis. Price, $1.00.

This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier life inKentucky was originally published in the year 1837. The novel, long out ofprint, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for its realistic presentation ofIndian and frontier life in the early days of settlement in the South, narratedin the tale with all the art of a practiced writer. A very charminglove romance runs through the story. This new and tasteful edition of“Nick of the Woods” will be certain to make many new admirers forthis enchanting story from Dr. Bird’s clever and versatile pen.

GUY FAWKES. A Romance of the Gunpowder Treason. By Wm. HarrisonAinsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank.Price, $1.00.

The “Gunpowder Plot” was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament,the King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England,was weak-minded and extravagant. He hit upon the efficient scheme ofextorting money from the people by imposing taxes on the Catholics. Intheir natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits concludedto overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were arrested,and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other prisoners withroyal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the entire romance.

THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER. A Romance of the Early Settlers in theOhio Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. WatsonDavis. Price, $1.00.

A book rather out of the ordinary is this “Spirit of the Border.” Themain thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian missionariesin the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given details of thefrontier life of those hardy pioneers who broke the wilderness for the plantingof this great nation. Chief among these, as a matter of course, isLewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and at the same time the mostadmirable of all the brave men who spent their lives battling with thesavage foe, that others might dwell in comparative security.

Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian “Villageof Peace” are given at some length, and with minute description. Theefforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have beenbefore, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders of theseveral Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be of interest tothe student.

By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivid word-picturesof the thrilling adventures, and the intense paintings of the beautiesof nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests.

It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one can by it,perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly bravedevery privation and danger that the westward progress of the star of empiremight be the more certain and rapid. A love story, simple and tender,runs through the book.

RICHELIEU. A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G.P.R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, “Richelieu,” and wasrecognized at once as one of the masters of the craft.

In this book he laid the story during those later days of the great cardinal’slife, when his power was beginning to wane, but while it wasyet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanic outbursts whichoverwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmost wave of prosperity.One of the most striking portions of the story is that of Cinq Mar’s conspiracy;the method of conducting criminal cases, and the political trickeryresorted to by royal favorites; affording a better insight into the statecraftof that day than can be had even by an exhaustive study of history.It is a powerful romance of love and diplomacy, and in point of thrillingand absorbing interest has never been excelled.

ROB OF THE BOWL. A Story of the Early Days ofMaryland. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. Four pageillustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

This story is an authentic exposition of the manners and customs duringLord Baltimore’s rule. The greater portion of the action takes placein St. Mary’s—the original capital of the State.

The quaint character of Rob, the loss of whose legs was supplied by awooden bowl strapped to his thighs, his misfortunes and mother wit, faroutshine those fair to look upon. Pirates and smugglers did Rob consortwith for gain, and it was to him that Blanche Werden owed her life andher happiness, as the author has told us in such an enchanting manner.

As a series of pictures of early colonial life in Maryland, “Rob of theBowl” has no equal. The story is full of splendid action, with a charminglove story, and a plot that never loosens the grip of its interest to its lastpage.

TICONDEROGA. A Story of Early Frontier Life in theMohawk Valley. By G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. Fourpage illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

The setting of the story is decidedly more picturesque than any everevolved by Cooper. The story is located on the frontier of New YorkState. The principal characters in the story include an English gentleman,his beautiful daughter, Lord Howe, and certain Indian sachems belongingto the Five Nations, and the story ends with the Battle of Ticonderoga.

The character of Captain Brooks, who voluntarily decides to sacrificehis own life in order to save the son of the Englishman, is not among theleast of the attractions of this story, which holds the attention of the readereven to the last page.

Interwoven with the plot is the Indian “blood” law, which demands alife for a life, whether it be that of the murderer or one of his race. Amore charming story of mingled love and adventure has never been writtenthan “Ticonderoga.”

MARY DERWENT. A tale of the Wyoming Valley in1778. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. Cloth, 12mo. Four illustrationsby J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

The scene of this fascinating story of early frontier life is laid in theValley of Wyoming. Aside from Mary Derwent, who is of course theheroine, the story deals with Queen Esther’s son, Giengwatah, the Butlersof notorious memory, and the adventures of the Colonists with the Indians.

Though much is made of the Massacre of Wyoming, a great portionof the tale describes the love making between Mary Derwent’s sister, WalterButler, and one of the defenders of Forty Fort.

This historical novel stands out bright and pleasing, because of themystery and notoriety of several of the actors, the tender love scenes,descriptions of the different localities, and the struggles of the settlers.It holds the attention of the reader even to the last page.

WINDSOR CASTLE. A Historical Romance of the Reign of Henry VIII.,Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth,12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.

“Windsor Castle” is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and AnneBoleyn. “Bluff King Hal,” although a well-loved monarch, was none toogood a one in many ways. Of all his selfishness and unwarrantable acts,none was more discreditable than his divorce from Catharine, and his marriageto the beautiful Anne Boleyn. The King’s love was as brief as itwas vehement. Jane Seymour, waiting maid on the Queen, attracted him,and Anne Boleyn was forced to the block to make room for her successor.This romance is one of extreme interest to all readers.

HORSESHOE ROBINSON. A tale of the Tory Ascendency in South Carolinain 1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J.Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

Among the old favorites in the field of what is known as historical fiction,there are none which appeal to a larger number of Americans thanHorseshoe Robinson, and this because it is the only story which depictswith fidelity to the facts the heroic efforts of the colonists in South Carolinato defend their homes against the brutal oppression of the Britishunder such leaders as Cornwallis and Tarleton.

The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the threadof the tale, and then impressed with the wealth of detail concerning thosetimes. The picture of the manifold sufferings of the people, is never overdrawn,but painted faithfully and honestly by one who spared neithertime nor labor in his efforts to present in this charming love story all thatprice in blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as their share in thewinning of the republic.

Take it all in all, “Horseshoe Robinson” is a work which should befound on every book-shelf, not only because it is a most entertainingstory, but because of the wealth of valuable information concerning thecolonists which it contains. That it has been brought out once more, wellillustrated, is something which will give pleasure to thousands who havelong desired an opportunity to read the story again, and to the many whohave tried vainly in these latter days to procure a copy that they mightread it for the first time.

THE PEARL OF ORR’S ISLAND. A story of the Coast of Maine. ByHarriet Beecher Stowe. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00.

Written prior to 1862, the “Pearl of Orr’s Island” is ever new; a bookfilled with delicate fancies, such as seemingly array themselves anew eachtime one reads them. One sees the “sea like an unbroken mirror allaround the pine-girt, lonely shores of Orr’s Island,” and straightwaycomes “the heavy, hollow moan of the surf on the beach, like the wildangry howl of some savage animal.”

Who can read of the beginning of that sweet life, named Mara, whichcame into this world under the very shadow of the Death angel’s wings,without having an intense desire to know how the premature bud blossomed?Again and again one lingers over the descriptions of the characterof that baby boy Moses, who came through the tempest, amid theangry billows, pillowed on his dead mother’s breast.

There is no more faithful portrayal of New England life than thatwhich Mrs. Stowe gives in “The Pearl of Orr’s Island.”

THE LAST TRAIL. A story of early days in the OhioValley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustrationsby J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

“The Last Trail” is a story of the border. The scene is laid at FortHenry, where Col. Ebenezer Zane with his family have built up a villagedespite the attacks of savages and renegades. The Colonel’s brother andWetzel, known as Deathwind by the Indians, are the bordermen who devotetheir lives to the welfare of the white people. A splendid love story runsthrough the book.

That Helen Sheppard, the heroine, should fall in love with such abrave, skilful scout as Jonathan Zane seems only reasonable after his yearsof association and defense of the people of the settlement from savages andrenegades.

If one has a liking for stories of the trail, where the white man matchesbrains against savage cunning, for tales of ambush and constant striving forthe mastery, “The Last Trail” will be greatly to his liking.

THE KNIGHTS OF THE HORSESHOE. A traditionarytale of the co*cked Hat Gentry in the Old Dominion. ByDr. Wm. A. Caruthers. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustrationsby J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.

Many will hail with delight the re-publication of this rare and justlyfamous story of early American colonial life and old-time Virginianhospitality.

Much that is charmingly interesting will be found in this tale that sofaithfully depicts early American colonial life, and also here is found allthe details of the founding of the Tramontane Order, around which hasever been such a delicious flavor of romance.

Early customs, much love making, plantation life, politics, intrigues, andfinally that wonderful march across the mountains which resulted in thediscovery and conquest of the fair Valley of Virginia. A rare book filledwith a delicious flavor of romance.

BY BERWEN BANKS. A Romance of Welsh Life. ByAllen Raine. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustrations by J.Watson Davis. Price $1.00.

It is a tender and beautiful romance of the idyllic. A charming pictureof life in a Welsh seaside village. It is something of a prose-poem, true,tender and graceful.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt ofprice by the publishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58Duane St., New York.