The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-03-27 00:00:00

[ALL RIGHTS REfERVEDJ
THE HEIRESS

ATIIERSTONE GRANGE.

BY TUB AUTHOR OF
4‘ Allan Thornton," "Effie Baird," "Almost a
Criminal," " Leonora's Legacs," 4v.

And Leonard acquiesced, feeling that the manager
was right, and he wished Mr. Whiffin good night and
went to bed. Half the rest of the night he lay awake,
scheming how he should catch another glimpse of
Beryl Joyce, and then he fell into a troubled sleep,
from which he was awakened by the rumble of wheels
under the window.

Looking out he saw the cart containing the scenes
and properties of the company, moving slowly down
the little street.

"The ladies went by an early train,' the landlord
said when he made his appearance with hot water;
"but Mr. Whiffin would like to speak to you, sr."
"It was only to repay your kind loan, sir," the
manager said. "Other things put it out of my head
last night. The house more than paid us, thanks to
you and your friend."
"I wish you would keep it, Mr. Whiffin, if you
don't feel offended at my offering it. I saw enough
last night to let me see that it will be useful to you,
and I assure you we are amply repaid. Put up your
purse, I beg, and let me do you this trifling service."
Mr. Whiffin put up his purse and buttoned his
pocket with an air of great relief, thanked his bene-
factor and departed.
"That's over," said Bruce Carnaby when he was
gone; "and pardon me, Leonard, if I say well over.
You were going out of your depth, old fellow.'
"I was going mad, I think," was the answer.
"Don't talk about it, Bruce, for heaven's sake! and
let us get out of this confounded place as soon as we
can."
"To follow her ?"

" Don't chaff. I'm bewitched, I think. I should
like to follow her to the uttermost parts of the earth.
She is my fate."

"Fiddlesticks !"
Our lives will be linked with each other, I feel
they will. Whatever of good or ill the world holds
for me, Beryl Joyce will be mixed up with it. You
will live to see it, my boy."
"I am afraid I shall live to see you in a lunatic
asylum, if you go on like this. The air of this place
is favourable to insanity, I can see. Come down to
the mill, and see if business will knock the cobwebs
out of your head."
' The mill was visited, and the business duly attended
to, but nothing drove the image of Beryl Joyce out of
Leonard Atherstone's mind. Her name was mentioned
no more, but Bruce Carnaby found his friend rather
preoccupied and silent during the journey north-
ward.
"Flora Bickerstaff will be the best cure," he argued,
as they drew near A mbleside. But he reckoned with-
out his host. Not even the presence of that loving
young lady, now the beauty of Sir James Bickerstaff's
place, nor the warm welcome awaiting him, could
efface She memory of the shabby company and the
queer performance whiJh introduced him to Beryl
Joyce.
Flora was the least bit piqued; she had been rather
flattered by his preference, and was constantly in-
structed by her parents that he was a good match;
but she had been to London since she had seen him,
and found out that there were men in the world who
could say soft nothings to her as well as he could. She
was beginning to learn the value of her own beauty,
and to estimate the power of her charms, and the pique
was only slight.
She was a good-humoured, out-spoken girl, and had
plenty of sense and penetration. With a woman's
quickness she divined the cause of Leonard's abstrac-
tion, and surprised him one day by going straight to
the peint. .

They were strolling through the grounds, a I:ttle in
advance of two or three more couples, who were
loitering about. The house was full of company; Sir
James was very hospitable—never so happy as when
his friends were about him.

"Is the lady anyone I know, Mr. Atherstone ?" Flora
asked., suddenly looking archly into Leonard's pre-
occupied face.
"The lady ?"
" 7he lady."
"What lady.?" . .

"The one who is filling your heart, to the exclusion
of all earthly things; the one who has drawn lines on
your forehead, and made you forget me ;" and the
merry girl drew herself up, and tried to look indig-
nant.

I never could forget Miss Biekerstaff," he began;
"Oh, yes, you could," she replied. "Don't call me,
Miss Biekerstaff, and don't tell fibs. When I spoke to
you, you had forgotten my existence as completely as
though I were a thousand miles away. You are ja
love, sir, and it's not with me."
She looked in his face, and read the answer there.:
"I was sure of it." she said with a sigh of relief;
"and, oh, I'm so glad."
Glad
" Yes."

"Glad ?"

" Why ?"
"Because you know what our two fathers wish for
us. Oh, you think me bold, I daresay ; but now I'm
not afraid of your proposing to me. I can talk to
you. I've been in terrible fuar that you'd ask me to
marry you."
" Take care I don't ns it is."

"Ah, but you won't; there's another woman's
image enshrined in that heart of yours and I am safe.
I want you to be my big brother, Len, but I don't
want to marry you."
"You love someone else, Flora ?" _

,
"I'm afraid I do—just a little bit. Never mind
who, but tell me what I want to know. Is the lady
whom you love anyone I know ?"
"No."

"Ah,- then there is one. You will let me know, Mr.
Len. Is she nice? Is sIP very faahionable 1' Will she
eclipse me? Because if she does, I shan't like her.
Why, wliat's the matter, Len? Is anything wrong ?"
She looked at his working face in dismay, fearing
she had touched upon some tender topic.
"I don't know," he said. "Don't talk of it, Flora.
You have guessed the truth. Ido love, but my love
is like a glimpse of the evil eye. Every thought of the
girl I love—and I love her as though there were. a
spell upon me —brings me pain. I am a foci, an idiot,
but love is idiotcy. :Ind it has me in its grip now."