The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 28, 1900, Page 6

THE SUNDAY CALL I eaid, as we stood chatting on __the hearthrug. _‘‘What s he suffering from?” “It hardly does for dical man to himself puz- Vi the reply, ar as the lences of e are con- rned there are ab- solutely none. That he not in a nor- state of health cannot be denied, or NIWILL YOU GIYE ME THE, RIGHT To PROTECT YOU? € NSCOURT, EDGAR PICKERING (Avthor oF A Stout Encuisn Bowmax §c TROTIS Ster By with e dusk \ and lous feature I tween the bes ce migh small me books, a such as is used The table was e bedstead; that ponderous canopy from the distance, atticed window. m was e dusk red in the v plez rese ant fel- at to and as the semi-dark- opened at th i a woman came to- lighted lamp, the her face—a face had ever seen ) her, which for a m less. When I did her clumsy e there, and at this alf-forgotten merri- her eyes. Then their e returned, the look as 1imal, and she cast a think of others now,” of 1ife is nearl I would wish to leave th uable than when I o came enough for talking N & 1 answered, “twenty led n ok head, face of the girl dertone that 1 whose tear-dimmed a eyes were to haunt e here to-night” he said. me for many a long £han’t be able to come down- day I think I was wait- to her e only three of you, ve & word with you ave. me to stay, and al- reluctant to 0 80, not e prepared for dining, I finally consent. As Wwe were speeking opened end a man whom I had een came into the room, is my nephew, Mr. Charles Fep- said Bir John, introducing the new- er. *'And this is my new steward, Mr nere'll be & good many things 1ad of your help in, Charles, and T'm Jaid by you must take my 10 Téply to my ex- planation, and with a scarcely percelved inclination " of her wa Fenton favor- broad I re We were t the same age, look hat re- a comparison uncle and nephew, n English ge: supercilious fellow tivel tor I marke e of voice , and a feel- that his symptoms are disquieting, but at present T am not prepared to ascribe his complaint to a definite cause. Did you notice that bottle by his bedside? I nodded my head. “It contains a sleeping _draught,” he continued, irritably. ‘Sir John has con- tracted the pernicious habit of using them nightly, and, contrary to my advice, per- sists in taking them. Up to recently he had them prepared by a chemist in the m, but I have persuaded him to use of my prescription h is as harm- as water. With the result that you find his health improving,” I “On_the contrary “I find his health clining. In a word S to be ac 2 “Possibl eficial,” T sugges “That has been my advice, and If he replied the doctor. owly and steadily de- r John's {1l ot were not the most obstinate man in the world he would have gone”; and then, as though the subject were one he did not 1, inclined to continue, Dr. Paton changed the conversation. He told me that Mr. Fenton would in- herit Sir John’s estate, and that a mar- riage had been arranged between the young man and a Miss Margaret Alns- worth, ‘“whom you will probably meet later on. She is in the unpleasant posi- tion of & ‘poor relation,’ and has Leen liv- ing at Ravenscourt sinee the death of her father some years ago,” he added. “I think we have met already,” I an- “It must have been Miss Ains- worth whom I saw in the corridor as I left Sir John’s room just now. I hope her marriage will be a happy one.” “I doubt whether there is any love in the engagement,” replied the doctor dryly. {These marriages of convenience rarely have that ingredient in their composition. Mr. Charles Fenton is certainly not the man I should like to have for a son-in- law. The engagement is another of Sir John’s whims, and nothing would alter his determination.” “Miss Alnsworth gave me the impres- sion of being unhappy,” I continued. ‘““Can you wonder?” replied the doctor, “‘when her future husband treats her bad- 1y already?”’ Our conversation was interrupted at this moment by the entrance of Mr. Fenton, and we sat down to dinner. During the over me as he quitted understanding of the ned at Ravenscourt It escribe rather minu r John lay. The wal and at the end great carved bedstead had passed me, going Into Sir John's room. It was with an unusual gense of loneliness that I made my way downstalrs, finding Dr. Paton alone In the dining-room. “I am sorry to find 8ir John an invalid.” head she meal I was fgnored by the young man, and all my attempts to join in the con- rersation were met in the cold, insolent fashion, which I had before mm;trked‘. and which increased my first dislike of him to positive abhorrence. nd that is the future husband of Miss nsworth,” I muttered between my teeth I walked home deserve a better fa was a image W e S0 swee me; and wh tage one unexpectedly, T impulse caused me to arrest her footsteps. “Yes, I have heard of you, Mr. Spencer, from my she said. hope you will like Ra 1 spite of its being AD 83120 IT AT THE BONY WRIST AND HELD 1T FIRMLY «-oe- “I am content to put up with all that, now,” I answered. Then with that strange glance over her shoulder, she hurried away, leaving a blank in my life which only she could fill It is not my course of love-makin which I learned fron cause of her unhay loved her in b doubt, but the e cene in S, T t Fenton h fashion I did not nent between her- self and Sir John ir had been forced upon her. I heard also that his jealousy was So great that she was virtually a risoner at Ravenscourt, and that since ir John's illness his nephew's tyranny had passed all bearing. “Every action of mine is watched,” she told me. “I am reviled and insulted con- stantly‘and 1 am helpless to prevent It.” “Will you give me the right to protect ou?’ I'asked earnestly. "To save you rom this fellow.” The look that answered me made me the happiest man in the three kingdoms at that moment. The next I was con- fronting Mr. Charles Fenton, who had burst through the hedge beside which Margaret and I were standing, his face livid_ with rage. 1 need not repeat all the vile abuse with which he assailed me. His words were not for a woman's ears, least of all for Margaret's, and at a sign from me she waiked quickly away. Then. before I could be aware of the fellow’s Intent, he had ralsed his heavy stick and felled me to the ground. When I had recovered my dazed senses I was alone. Two events followed In quick succession during the next two days. One was that Margaret left Ravenscourt, unseen by me. and the other was my receiving a n of dismissal. Sir John gave me this verbally d it was easy to see that paine to do so. He had no com- plaint against my management, but it would be better if i the decision wit right,” I said, “that you 3 rmed that Miss Ainsworth ed to be my wife, that our s mutual. aware that Miss Alnsworth is ngaged to my nephew?”’ he an- save her from ven, I shall \'s power,” W haughtily 1 have ever K t ng my lline wa thanis. ™} have every confidence in m nephew’s honor. Miss Alr ment wit It would be madness for rth to break off her engaj & _penniless t heart, and t ting on y 1 had said a I considered neces- sary and so tongue after this. 1 had busine 1 was st him about for doing that at and observing that our interview distressed him, and that his weak- ness was more marked than formerly, I quitted the room. Our conversation had been on the whole a friendly one, and & John had made it clear to me that he re gretted the circumstances which would end our connection. He held my hand for a moment, promising to help me in the future for my father's sake. Dr. Paton was in the hall I descend- ed to it, and he took me aside, speaking in a serious undertone. “My patient has developed symptoms that have made me anxious,” he said. “T cannot explain in what way now, but I should be glad if you would remain with him—in his room—until he is asleep to- night. Make an excuse for doing so.” “I would do that willingly weres it not for the chance of meeting Mr. Fenton,” I answered. "I have an account to settie with that gentleman which must be pald elsewhere.” “Fenton has gone up to London to- day,” was the reply, and hearing this I but in no gave my consent at once. Business was my excuse for prolonging my second visit to Sir John. He had re- tired to bed early, saying that he was tired, and I sat beside him until his at- tention flagged and his eyelids closed in sleep. He had forgotten his sleeping draught, I neticed, and lay slum g quietly. Moving softly from the bedside to the fireplace, I seated myself, my face being in the direction of the bed and dim shadowy recess that was between the sleeper and wall. There was an eerie fascination in the grim features of the painted woman, something ghastly in the pallid eagerness with which she glared at me from out the moldering frame and sitting there in the dead silence the night, my thoughts were busy with the memories of the past few days. So still was it that when a sound came, the sound that a rat gnawing at the oak floorboards might have made, I started and half rose from my chair. The sound had come from the direction of the cor- ner, and glancing toward it, the ainister ——————————————— e ——————————— lessly backward to the tine of black by 3 ad seised it at the bony \is bed, asking me the question in a rapid volce I pointed with the helpless disengaged hand to “Do ir John 8 1 ring, Sir cently 'Good heavens, is the meaning of this awful myst T think I can tell,” I replied I release my hold?" and then his glance fell on the two bottles “Yes. he muttered faintly. <1 bes ot you not to leave me this night, Mr. Spen- cer” and I gave The next day I tents of which tallied In Dr. Paton’s harmless sleeping draught, an eminent analyst, and in ceived his report. oned, the drug em be murderer bein, that would have surely. At glr John's request I showed him the report, and a mourn sigh escaped h but no word of anger or r Fenton disappeared im my promise. it the bottle, the con- Appearance with to woul. of the sub t nature one its work slowly but and his secret ever divulged 4 made a careful ex ation of the house, discovering a passage leading to the bed- room, the existence of which even Sir John Thynne I ot known, He m to Mar, tion to 1 conmtinued little credit ling know how doctor's due. a tree are so alike be uproo: o ferground hemselves the the exposed roots become veritabla in branches, .