Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, November 20, 1897, Page 6

R_e_F e Ner a Ee Ceri HS FAUCS. f a ae CHAPTER li—(Continued.) “They have not had time to say much yet, but they seem very pleased, Judy answered, smilingly; and then. as seemed distraite, she left her and went up to tell John, ii Judy found her brother sitting by the window in his room. He had, ap- parently, been sketching, but now leaned back in his air, deep in thought. ‘There was an unexpressed bond of sympathy between them, just as there v a great likeness, only the natural beauty of the young man's dark face was marred by lines of pain which his black moustache seemed to accentuate, “Judy has come up to tell Punch some news,” he remarked, turning slowy to her with a smile—the nick- names were those he had bestowed years before upon himself and her— *Judy may save her breath. Elsie has bowled Judy out! How did Punch know? Look here!” He handed her a sketch in crayons of a pair of lovers in a garden—very fair portraits of Elsie and Claude. “They forgot I was up here,” he ex- claimed: “so I saw all. They spun it out, rather, didn’t they? Was Judy doing a weep, meanwhile, and has she now come to Punch for sympathy?” “No—she hasn’ retorted Judy, whose feelings were never hurt by his badinage, because she knew that he did not mean to pain her, and attempt- ing no denial of a cause for tears, since she knew how keen was his glance. “She is too sensible, eh? So sensible that she can bear to know her errant knight is not a god to every one? Look here.” He handed ber another sketch that had been lying face downwards upon the table. There were the same fig- ures, only this time E 's face was represented with an expression of inso- lent amusement, as she gazed at her lover, who grovelled at her feet, and whose head John had changed to that of a pig. Underneath was written, “Circe and a Victim.” Judith tore it into, ying, angrily: “How can you turn your talents to so base a use, John?’ the perverted nature of the an- imal, he retorted, coolly, as he snatched the pieces out of her hand and put them together again. “Why shouldn’t I amuse myself? I can’t go and make love to pretty fools, as ‘Townshend can, for the women won't look at me, though, pe bly they would not be squeamish if I had mon- ey. You tore my sketch up, Judy, and I particularly wished to keep it with the intention of showing it to Town- shend when he ull have become so wholesomely disillusioned as to be able to appreciate my _ perspicacity. Be- sides, you did not half examine it— look at yon pitying moon!’—and he pointed laughingly at the background of his torn sketch, udith recognized her own profie, delicately outlined in the crescent moon looking down upon the scene; but Jobn frustrated her intention to destr at by snatching it up, while he turned her for inspec It represented Claude lying dead on a patch of greensward, with a woman of slender build kneel- ing beside him in an attitude of grief; vay was a large snake, which d turned back, looking igly at them, his head being a ature of Elsie. Judith bent to look at it, but sud- denly turned aside and burst into tears. The mischief in her brother's face im- mediately gave place to an expression cf surprise that merged into loving tenderness, rendering the likeness be- tween the two more striking, as he stretched out one of his thin hands and forcibly drew her to his side and kissed her. “You goose!” he said, softly. “If I hhad guessed you would have been hurt, I would not have shown them to you. I have bitterness enough in me to re- sent the injuries of forty people, and it must have some outlet. Do not fear that I shall exhibit those sketches to any one else, though I think it would dp Miss Elsie good to see them. I have seen very little of what was going on, but sufficient to know that she has wil- fully stolen, your lover. I think I should have hated him if he had mar- ried you, and yet I am angry with her for stealing him from you. Judy, you must marry a man who will let me live with you. You will—won’t you?” “Yes—I promise you that,” Judith re- turned, with a catch in her breath. “But, Jack, you won't draw any more horrid pictures, will you?” “Well, if I do, I won't let you see them. You must not crush rising gen- ius, Judy!” “I don’t want to do so; but I wish you would try to turn your talent to some better account.” He made a grimace as he replied: “T have offered to illustrate the gov- ernor’s books, but he won't stand it. I suppose he fears that in one of my per- verted humors I might make his hero- ine a Medusa and his hero a monster, while endowing the villain with the graces of Adonis and Mars combined. Yurn my talent to account? Impossi- ble, Judy! I am a dreamer, as my father is. There is something in me— I am never more conscious of that than at night when I am wakeful, But if I obeyed my impulse and sprang up to put to paper the fancies that run riot in my brain, the inspiration would have yanished by the time I had light- ed my candle and found my crutches, I am not of the stuff of which martyrs and heroes or successes are made.” He paused, with a sigh; and as Judy caressingly passed her hand over his dark head, she thought that the knowledge that John would have missed her terribly if she had married, should alone engender in her peace and content. Presently she said to him: “Come down to luncheon, John—Mr, ‘Townshend is going to stay.” “No; I won't come down to luneh- eon, Judy. Send me up something, for a eo) | . bring T am not in the humor to meet ‘Town- | shend.” { “But you like him, dear?” | “Yes; liked him better as your pros- pective lover than as Elsie’s fiance, though I don’t want him to have you. | After luncheon you shaal come up and | sit with me, if you will, while the par- | ents prose and the overs spoon.” When Judith had gone, he took up his crutches, and, crossing the room to a desk, put away his sketches, with many others that bore evidences of his freaks of fancy and skill. ogee ag Ome ae gh ee As he had declared, Claude Town- shend had no intention of waiting long | for his bride. He proposed to her on! the 3d of April, and the wedding was fixed for the 30th; so there was a great deal of bustle to get her trosseau ready in time, and, as the chief preparations fell to Judy’s share, she had not much leisure to brood over her disappoint- ment. Elsie was quite willing to assist her in her desultory fashion, but she would dream away two minutes for every thirty seconds spent with her neede, and was always ready to comply with the demands made upon her time by her ardent lover. Judy had to stitch away the harder to make up for that. They had neither mercy nor thought | for her. She had none for herself, and was too proud to let any one guess her feelings. So, with smiling lips, she cut, shaped, stitched and embroidered, to- | tally ignoring the dull pain at her| heart. She was so busy that she had no op- portunity of discussing Elsie’s future with the latter until a day or two be- fore the wedding, when her intention was recalled by something that hap- pened.Elsie had gone out, in good spir- its, in, the morning, to buy some few odds and ends of finery, but on her re- turn she flung her little parcels down before Judy, telling her, so pettishly, to look at the contents, that Judy re- garded her in surprise. “What is the matter, Elsie, dear?’ she asked, gently. “Nothing! Look at that rubbish, Judy!” was the reply. But before Ju- | dith had examined the contents of the | parcels, Elsie, who had been staring out of the window, suddenly said, | with a short laugh: “After all, I must | tell you, Judy—it’s very absurd, but | Claude is jealous of Fred Owen! Isn’t it amusing? Why, I don’t believe 1 ever flirted with him in my life!” “How do you know Claude is jeal- ous?’ inquired Judith, gravely, not} liking the half-pleased, half-scornful | smile on her sister’s face. “Oh, because I have had a lecture! When I came out of the draper'’s*I met Fred, and while we were talking Claude droye up. He just nodded to Mr. Owen, and then asked if he might ive me home. But all the way back preaching at me about the ne- ‘y of snubbing presumptous pup- } pies like Owen, now that I am so near- ly a married woman. Just as if Fred was doing any harm! It is so ridicu- lous of Claude! ” “Not ridiculous, Elsie, for two rea- | sons. Men look at you with rather too | much meaning when they talk to you, | and if Claude is inclined to be jealous, he would naturally object.” “Inclined to be jealous! He is jeal- ous. Mrs. Gardiner told me, long ago, that he is as jealovs as a Turk, and warned me that I was taking a great responsibility upon myself by marry- ing him.” “It is a responsibility.” Elsie’s sweet laugh rang out merri- ly. “And one you would not have cared to undertake—eh, Judy?’ she demand- ed. rather maliciously. ‘I am made of bolder stuff, you sce.” “It is a responsibility,” repeated Ju- dith, unflinchingly. “And if you un- dertake it with the determination to insure your own happiness as well as your husband’s, by never giving him cause for jealousy, everything will go well with you.” “What do you mean?’ Elsie asked, curtly. “IT mean that there was no harm in Claude's telling you in what fashion he wishes you to regard other men, and, knowing his disposition, you ought to make a little sacrifice to pre- | vent his suspicions from being excit- | ed. Remember what he is doing for | you, who have not a penny nor any grand connections.” “Pooh—I have youth and health, and —and many men may envy him!” ex- claimed Elsie, tossing her fair head ; consciously. “Indeed, I dare say if I were to wait I could do better. As it! is, if Captain Herbert only had a larg- er income, I would sooner have him than—” She stopped abruptly, and Judy had | no need to ask the reason, for she, too, had been conscious of the opening | of the door. Claude stood there, and must have heard Elsie’s last words. Judith looked at him apprehensively, | but her fear vanished as she studied | his smiling face, never noticing, in her perturbation, that the smile had not} reached his handsome, somber eyes. “You left this in the dog-cart, Elsie; T did not see it when you got down,” he said, lightly, as he threw a small parcel upon the table. “You need not have troubled to it,’ returned Elsie, curtly. | “Papa is in the garden; you could | have given it to him.” | “You nugrateful little creature’ he retorted. “Is that how she repays people for their services, Judy?” t “Oh, no; it is always a pleasure to do anything for Elsie!” His smile deepened a@& he turned his gaze from the dark face of the elder girl to the fairer face of his fiancee; and Judy knew by the tenderness of his expression how great his love was for her sister, and she prayed earnest- ly that Elsie might prove worthy of and grateful for it. She knew that the girl was guileless and well meaning, spoiled that she dreaded her resist- ance to her husband’s jealously-loving coercion. There was even now a slight air of defiance in the way in which she met her lover's gaze, and more than a tinge of boredom in her tone as she said: e “Hadn't you better go—your horse may run awoy, and Judy and I are busy?” “That last is a sufficient reason, my darling,” he returned, indulgently. “Otherwise there would be no need for-me to go, for Patefson is taking care of Brownie. You look so com- fortable here,” he added, looking round the finery-bestrewn room, “and it is so dull at the Priory.” Elsie smiled into his eyes. He caught her little gloved hands and held them, looking with passionate fondness into Mes lovely blue eyes as she said, naive- y= “Probably in a few weeks you will look back upon the dullness you now complain of, and wish you had neyer ended it by marrying me.” eee you think that is at all proba- “I should not be at all surprised—I quite believe that man is ‘to one thing constant never,” she replied laughing- ly, and, swiftly disengaging her hands from his, ran from the room. With the smile still on his face, he stood thoughtfully at the window for a short time. Rousing himself at length, he turned to Judy, and, look- ing at her slender nimble fingers, he said affectionately, as he laid a hand upon her shoulder, little guessing how his touch thrilled through her— “Judy, you will be glad when I have taken her away, I should think? Do you give yourself no rest?’ “I like to keep on until everthing is finished,’ she answered cheerfully. “I have the bump of energy—if there is such a thing—strongly developed. But shall we see you this evening? We expect Grace and her husband by the seven o’clock train.” “I may look in if you don’t think they will be too tired. Mrs. Fletcher resembles Elsie, she not? It is not a sort of twin like- ness; I hope. I have always had an idea that I should dislike my wife very closely to resemble any other man’s.” “No; they are not so much alike as that. For instance, Grace is taller and rounder, and, while her hair is lighter, her eyes are darker than Elsie’s. disposition and style.” “Ah, does Mrs. Fletcher flirt?” “T don’t think you ought to ask me | that,” replied Judy. “You are quite right; I apologise. Besides, I have heard Elsie say that Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher are very happy.” “That sounds,” remarked Judith, with an involuntary simile, “as if you thought they would not be happy if Grace flirted. I am afraid she does; put there is no harm in it, as Percy knows.” She thought this might be a little lesson to him, but she could not understand his frown. ‘May I remind you that you once admitted to me that a man ought fully to trust the woman he can believe in well enough to love?” “TJ have thought of that speech of yours many times, Judy; but don’t think I do not trust Elsie, for guile- lessness ‘shines in her innocent eyes.” “Always believe that, and happiness will not fail you.” Mrs. Hatfield at that moment en- tered the room, leaning heavily on her erutch-stick, and Claude moved for- ward to help her, so that what he would have said remained unspoken. The old lady shot a. glance at Judy's unconscious face and busy hands and, not having forgiven her for first at- tracting Claude's attention, demanded of her future son-in-law, with a caus- tic smile: “What is Judy preaching? Don’t let her bore you, Claude. Companionship with Mrs. Gardiner is reducing her to the level of a walking tract, I am afraid.” i “Judy is not preaching,” Mr. Town- shend answered, rather brusquely. “We were comparing notes, and I am obliged to her for one or two very sensible remarks. Elsie has run away; I shall not see her again, I suppose, so I will not keep my horse waiting;” and he departed. “You are getting quite a flirt in your old age,” Mrs. Hatfield obseryed, airi- ly, to Judith as the door closed behind him; “but don’t you think, dear, that you ought to try your hand on some one else in preference to your sister’s lover?” Judith forced a laugh, determined to take her mother’s sarcasm in good part. “I am afraid you will have continu- ally to wear your pince-nez, if it ap- peared to you that I was flirting with Claude,” she said; “onr conversation was most prosaic, I assure you.” Mrs. Hatfield said no more; but the subject cropped up again in Mrs. Fletcher’s presence, when they were with Judith in the drawing room, the gentlemen being still in the dining- room and Elsie busy up stairs. Mrs. Fletcher unintentionally started the subject by a remark she made. “Tam awfully glad Elsie is going to make such a good match,” she said, “for I was half-afraid she had fallen in love with Captain Herbert. I am quite sure he was very much smitten, ‘or he turned quite pale when I told him of her engagement; but his peo- ple expect him to marry money, you know. I suppose Elsie has spoken of him to you, Judy?” “Yes, and I feared at first that she had left more than half her heart in London. But I would not tell Elsie he was affected by the news of her en- gagement, if I were you, Gracie.” “Good gracious! Why not, you old- maidish thing?’ queried Gracie, laugh- ing. “Why shouldn’t she know that she has another lover besides her el- derly fiance?” . _ “I don’t think it would be wise,” Judy contented herself with saying. “Perhaps,” interrupted Mrs. Hat- field, “if the captain is not too young, you might introduce him to Judy, and let her try to console him for Elsie’s loss, for she was flirting with Claude this morning. ” “She was? Oh, Judy, I did not think it of you!” Gracie declared, mer- rily. “Isn’t Elsie jealous—are you, Elsie?’ she asked, as that young lady entered the room. “Do you allow Judy to flirt with Claude? Are you not jealous?” Elsie paused: with an expression of surprise on her pretty face. The frank gaze she met when she looked at Ju- Let me see— | does | But they are greatly alike in | of malice; but it was with incisive brevity that she answered: “Jealous of Judy? I have no need to be, for if Claude had wanted her, he could have had her.” And, without a change of tone, she added: “How beautifully you coil your hair, Grace! Is it a trouble to do?’ Judith’s eyes were aching and burn- ing with unshed tears; but she sat on, ; listening dully to the chatter upon fur- niture and dress and honeymoon trips, caring nothing at all for herself, but a great deal for the future happiness of the man who was looked upon by the | family as the least important factor in the forthcoming event. This feeling | was intensified by the fashion in whiche Elsie heard how her former ad- mirer had received the news of her engagement, for she burst into a fit of passionate erying, and it was as much as they could do to calm het. “It is a shame!’ she exclaimed. “Hateful, wretched money! To think that I should be bound to marry one man for the sake of his position when I love another with all my heart!” No one reminded her of the injury she was doing her future husband, or that her fate was of her own choice. * * * * % The church was crowded to see the | belle of Claxton ied to the man she had chosen, who was, in spite of his reserve, already winning his way in fayor by his uniform courteousne: hospitality and generosity. The ver- dict that the blushing bride looked lovely, and the bridegroom exceeding- ly happy and proud, was unanimous. With the exception of Mrs. Gardiner, perhaps none of the guests noticled how pale stately Judith was, or that, | though she had striven so hard to as- ! sume and maintain a semblance of | cheerfulness, her smiles were evident ly forced. John, who had manage to reach the church by himself and sat ; | apart from the rest, noted it, however, | and muttered to himself: “Town-/| shend has made an irretrievable mis- | take t-day, as he will soon realise;” | but only Judy herself knew how glad | she was when all the bustle was at an | | end and the exciting day over. CHAPTER UL | One evening, some two months later, | Judith was at home with one servant, | | the rest of the family being at the sea- | | side. They had gone earlier than usu- | al, because John had not been well, | | and the doctor had ordered a change, which Mrs. Hatfield thought she also | needed. | Judith enjoyed being alone, though | probably the change of air would have done her more good; but that she was to have later, by joining the Fletchers when they went for their summer trip. She was not happy just because she | had more opportunity to be idle; for, | although the family had been away four days, she had plenty to do. The post brought two letters, one from her mother, the oth Grace. She opened her mothe! to find it filled with complaints and r quests. Mrs. Hatfield wanted a parti ular wrap, a certain vinnaigrette, and | some warmer clothing, as the air at} Seaview was keener than she had ex- pected. The old lady was. afraid the | servant they had taken with them | would not be able to stay, for she had, or pretended to have, headache ever since they had been there. Mrs. Hatfield thought that, as Ju- dith had so little to do, she might have the chief rooms thoroughly turned out again, as the spring cleaning had been hurried on account of the wedding; and if she could manage to get the fruit-preserving and pickling done, it would be all the better. Perhaps Ju- dith would be glad to hear that John | seemed to be in his element; that. he sat sketching or scribbling by the sea all day, and sitting by the window watching it half the night. ‘The letter from her sister ran as fol- lows: “My Dear Jdy—As the family are away, and you have so much time on your hands, will you have little Perey and his nurse for a week or so? The boy is not at all well—indeed, he is ‘teething, and the doctor thinks a change would do him good. Being to- tally unable to leave town myself at present, I feel that I ca nsafely trust lim to your care. His nurse under- | stands his treatment, so all you will/ have to do is to see that she feeds, dresses and takes him out, and puts him to bed at the proper hours, and that she does not neglect him during the night. I know you won't mind, for 1 cannot have baby neglected. Please reply per return. I don’t ask you to have Gracie; for she is quite well, but you can have her if you like. Have you heard from Elsie yet? When is she expected in town? No time for more—there is the dinner bell, and Perey has brought three men home with him. “With love—your affectionate sister, .“—Grace Fletcher.” Mrs. Fletcher's cool demand rather dismayed Judith, who did not at all relish having her peace broken up by a fractious child and his troublesome nurse; but she was so unselfish that she would have said “Yes” on the im- pulse of the moment, and only decided not to accept the responsibility after | thinking the matter over. According- ly, she answered Grace’s letter at once as follows: “My Dear Gracie—Am very sorry to | hear of Little Percy’s illness, but I do not care to undertake the responsibil- ity of him at present, as I do not un- derstand babies, and have more to do than you imagine. Why do you not send him to Gtandma Fletcher's, where there is also pure countr air, and where there are four young aunts and three servants to look after him, while I have only Jane? If this course is not open to you, I suppose I must have the child, in which case you may send him and the nurse without fur- ther notice. We have not heard trom Elsie since mamma wrote on Tues- day. I presume she is still in Paris. The family appear to be comfortably settled at Seaview. = “With love—yours, affectionately, —“Judith.” To Mrs. Hatfield she wrote: “My Dear Mother—Your parcel shall be sent off the first thing in the morn- ing. Will endeavor to do as you wish. Please try not to send the girt back until you are sure Seaview does not agree with her; the change may have temporarily upset her, Glad to hear, indeed, that dear John is so happy. No letter from Elsie yet, and Grace | her, | held out; ; what to say about your coming to the does not appear to have heard, either. but she had been so flattered and | dith should have disarmed her speech | ‘1 enclose a letter jst received from her, but have declined to take baby at preseat. Hope you will derive more benefit from the air at Seaview than you appear to be doing at present. With love to you all, “Your affectionate daughter, “—Judith.” By the ‘time she had finished her let- ters it was half-past nine. Giving no- tice of her intention to Jane, she put on her hat and walked up to the top of the road to post them. Everything was so quiet, and the sweet night air so scent-laden, thot on her return she stayed a little while in the garden, leaning over the gate to muse. What were all the family doing at Seaview now? she wondered. John and her mother would be indoors, of course—they could not bear the night air. Equally of course, the rest would be out of doors—her father, most prob- i ably, pacing the Esplanade, with his | eyes vacantly taking in his surround- ings, while his mind was centered upon his next plot and the creatures of his imagination who would work it out. ! Bertie would be with him, perhaps, | sauntering along silently with his cus- tomary expression of boredom, even | while he made eyes at every pretty | girl he met—she knew the vain boy's | tricks so well. Lucy and Frank ought | to be in bed, but of course they were | not; and she could just imagine how | the young monkeys were enjoying themselves. | Her thoughts, involuntarily, flew to | Elsie and Claude. Where were they? In Paris or London? They had had a very long honeymoon—eight wee | | | and she was glad of it. Having thus decided, she took # last | look up and down the road, with the intention of going indoors. The wide pavement on either srde seemed de- rted, the yellow lamplight flickered faintly in the summer breeze, which | gently rustled through the tall poplars. in the next garden, and there did not} seem to be a soul about. Well, she supposed she ought to go in, and was: just turning from the gate wkhen she- caught sight, of the figure of a man who had turned th ecorner on her side of the road and was leisurely making his way down it. She watched him listlessly, not knowing who he might be; but, as he came on very slowly, | like one in indecision, she recognized | his figure with a start of surprise. It was Claude! hen they are here at the Priory! How strange not to have let us known! But perhaps they wanted to take us | by surprise!” was her first thought, as | she moved to go in, but, afer a mo- | ment’s hesitation, she remained at the ; gate waiting for him. Once Mr. Townshend stopped and turned, as if to retarce his steps, and | three or four minutes elapsed before | he was near enough to hear her soft | greeting: “Claude, from?” “Is that you, Judy? How glad I} sun!” he exelaimed, as he hurried up to the gate, where he stood looking at silently, neither extending his | hand nor offering to take the one she | but, suddenly, as she won- | where have you sprung; dered at his strangeness, he ask “Are you alone? Is Elsie her “Elsie! Why. no, Claude. Did she tell you she was coming here?’ “No,” he answered, slowly; “but I thought she might have come here first. I have made a mistake.” “How is she? When did you come down?” “By the 440. Elsie is very well. But I won't detain you any longer, Judy; I hesitated about coming at all to- night—it is so Iate.” He raised his hat and was moying away when Judith asked: “Will Elsie come to see me in the morning, or shall I run up to the Pri- ory? They are all at Seaview—but of course you have had our letters? “Yes—oh, yes! But I don’t know Priory, or whether Elsie will come down! Suppose we leave it until the morning? Good-night!” he answered, hurriedly, and walked away, leaving Judith looking after his quickly-reced- ing figure in as much bewilderment as if she had just awakened from sleep. Could Claude and Elsie have quar- reled? But surely that could hardly be after two months’ marriage. It might have happened that they had had a little tiff coming down, and that Elsie had driven home, leaving her husband to walk, after refusing to tell him, in that tantalizing little way of hers, whether she intended to go first to the Priory or to her old home. Judith smiled at the notion and went indoors; but Claude's short, unsatis- factory visit had so unsettled her that she hardly knew what to do with her- self. She went ot the window and looked out half a dozen times—why she scarcely knew. With the glorious sunlight that ush- ered in the Sabbath her apprehensions vanished, so that it was with her usual calm that she dressed and set out for: morning serviee. The church lay be- yond the Priory, which was an old tur-- reted stone mansion -but of small di- mensions for its style, enclosed with formidable looking high stone walls.. It was impossible to see anything of. grounds between it and the gate being so thickly set with trees; indeed,. it was a rather eerie place, and had been. occupied for so long that, when first the Claxonites heard that a wealthy bachelor had taken it, they thought he must be quite a misanthrope. As Judy passed, she found that there were no fresh wheel marks be- fore the gateway; but that was no ey- idence that Claude and Elsie had not gone to church, for the sacred edifice was suéh a short distance off that it was hardly worth riding. However,. she found the Priory pew untenanted;. and it remained so all through the sem vice—a faet that did not trouble: Judy. much, for Elsie had never been an en- thusiastie church-goer, and she imag- ined that Claude was not more par- ticular. On eoming out of chureh two or three people spoke to her, but no one mentioned the inmates of, the Priory, and she was glad, later that she had been equally reticent. Even Mrs, Gardiner made no mention of her kinsman, thougla she waylaid Judy to, ask Judy how she was getting on, and whether she did not feel dull alk alone. Judy, laughingly, replied im the neg- ative, declaring that she was very hap- py, and, having told her friend the latest family news, walked home to dinner. Passing the Priory again, she looked, longingly at the gateway, for she sad an intense desire to see Elsie, ht. says had not called during het absence, Judith be¢am to fee! ; anxious: and, after long cogitation, she decided she decfwed that there could be no harm in looking in en ra A way to evening service—they rene . expecting her, thinking her conduc’ strange in keeping away. Ten. inate 12k Judith was pull- ing the bell at the lodge of the Priory: and, after waiting some little time, the gate was opened by the gardener, who had evidently been disturbed in 3 nap. 2 Deg pardon, miss, for keepirg you waiting,” he exclaimed, pulling hin self together and saluting the visitor respectfully; but I was alone, th?mis- sus being up at the house! You heard that the master came down unexpect- ed last night, miss, and. maybe, that he drove away this morning? “No,” replied Judy, keeping her own counsel. “Has Mr .Townshend gone back to London—Jor to Northwold? “Rack to London, miss; he only eame down Iast night for some papers he wanted, and 1 drove him over te Orley Junction at 6 this morning. So that he should catch the first © But won't you please to come insid “No, thank you—I shall be late for church,” Judith replied quietly. “Did | Mr, Townshend leave a message for + he told me mot to speak of his having been down unless some one spoke first to me about ft, because he did not want people to think he ne glected them.” 2 “Thank you. Good morning, Brown: —and Judy went away thoroughly dis- turbed in mind. It was evident that Elsie had mot re- turned to Claxton. What was the mystery’ of Claude’s strange behavior and his not knowing his wife’s where- abouts? Had they really quarreled, and, if so,. what about? Pondering this’ matter as: sie walked along, Judith became so upset regret that the lappiness of the newly-married couple should lave known a temporary check in so short a time; that she felt it an utter immpos- sibility to go to church and listep 2alinly to the service: The troubled state of her mind was added to by the unpleasantness of het position, for Judith wthe danger of interfering in the matter; and yet, she could scarcely reconcile hers maintaining an impassive attitude. It might bethat Claude had been unwar- rantably jealous and Elsi resentful, that she had gone off in a little temper, which would be: appeased’ by a gentle remonstrance from some one who un- derstood her: On ttie otter hand, the interference-of an outsider might wid- en instead of closing the Breach be~ twee nthem. In the circumstances she felt that, though she would douttiess te blamed for it later by tlie family, it would be wiser for her to maintain an absolute silence. No one knew that she had seen Claude, no one knew, taherefore, that she knew liow matters stood; so she would try to possess her soul in patience until Monday. when she would hope to hear from Elsie. Ne doubt they were together again by this time, Elsie having returned to the ho- tel before he had reached Claxton, after having tried to:scare him by run- ning to Grace fora few hours, though such a step would have been very in- judicious. But then, Elsie never paused to consider the consequences et any step she chose to ke; she al- ways acted on the impulse of the mo- ment. But however much she might try to reassure’ herself; Judith mind’ was- not anything like at rest, and she spent another bad night, feeling so de- pressed in the morning that she al- most fainted wlien she saw the: tele- graph boy making for the house. She tore the orange envelope open, but the contents were a few cutting words from Grace in reply to her letter: “Should not dream of sending baby now. Only too sorry to have made aw unfortunate suggestion.—€ “Gracie is annoyed,” Judy thought; “put 1 cannot help it. Oh, how mis- erable Ii am!"—and,. unable: to control herself any longer, she: burst inte tears. Presently, lewever, she: attempted to buoy herself up with the notiom that no news is good news, and! tliat probably Claude and Elsie were so happy in their reconciliation that he had forgotten how he might have: ex- cited Judy's: fears.. But, aften spend+ ing the: whola:day i nrestles anxiety,. she could bear-the suspense no longer, and at about six o'clock went out to send a. telegram to Claude-at Charing: Cross Hotel. “Are- you and Elsie still iny London? Shall we-see you here? Anxious:—Ja dith.” “If tte: gentleman is inj. miss. you ought to. get a reply in about half an hour,’ the clerk informed her, im an- swer to her: ingniry;. but ati ten that night. she had received no reply. “Perhaps they lave: gone to Norti- wold,” she thought;: “I ought t» hawe telegraphed. there;, too. However, E may have a:letter,in: the: morning.” She-did; but it: was.one- off Mans. Hiat- field’s. characteristic effusions, which, however, had no, power to ruftle ber daughter’s already tried! spinih. (Qo. Be: Continned.). Whisky Experts in Ankansas Courts, Rather a, novel, proceeding. came up before ’Squire- Hastings’ cout ome day last week.. A. wit ofireplevim hadi been breught to recover a horse that had been traded while the: plaintiff was un- der: the: influence of liquor. The de- fendant was his own lawyer. He put in a plea that a person was mever so drunk but what he knew what he was doing;. ang called: in, Jo&m Baker as a whisky expert, te prove that fact, but it is said that the expert got tangled, up somewhat’ and failed te convin the: court that the position taken the. defendant was correct. From thi on, We presume, whisky experts i Decome popular, as we could mention several that are im training—Boone Banner. 4 Not Portable Enough. |_ “I have been thinking—” os Thus mused Gen. Weyler, and no one seemed well enough acquainted with him to dispute his assertion. “That if I had that overtand through Alaska down here in ‘Cuba 2 lle See v ‘anders could trademark on the handle.” bulb “I'd make a great’old trocha out of but felt shy about intruding after: it.’—truth. sh 1a little ip 4 -—-- »~ i b 4