The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1863-04-02
T'ae Mys,e<y at Fernwood
PART |.

0 -
B'ale Mystery at FernwOod.
art |.
srNo. Isabel, I do not consider that Lady
Adela seconded her sons invitation at all
warmly"
This was the third time within the last hour
that my aunt had made the above remark
We were seated opposite to each other III a
first class carriage of the York express, and
the fiat fields of ripening wheat were hitting
by rs like yellow shadows under the afternoon
sunshine. We were going on a visit to Fern
wood, q country mansion twenty miles from
York. in order that | might become acquaint-
ed with the family of Mr.. Louis Wendale, tc
whose only son Laurence | was engaged to be
married.
laurence Wendale and | had only been ac-
ouainted during the brief May and June OF my
first London season, which THE orphan
heiress of a wealthy Calcutta merchant-had
passed under the roof of my aunt, Mrs. Mad
ison Trevor, the dashing widow Of a Major II
the Life Guards, and the only sister OF my
dead father. Mrs. Trevor had made many
objections to this brief six weeks engagement
between Laurence and me; but the mpetu-
Gus Young Yorkshireman had overuled every
thing. What objection could there be! he
asked. He was to have two thousand a yeal
and Fernwood at his fathers death forty
thousand pounds from a maiden aunt the DAY
he came of age-for he was not yet one-and'
twenty, my impetuous young lover. AS to1
his family, let Mrs. Trevor look into Burke'S
.aCounty Families for the Wendales OF Fern.
wood. His mother was Lady Adela, young
est daughter of Lord Kingwood, Of Castle
Kingwood, county Kildare. What objection
could my aunt have, then His family die
not know me, and might not approve OF the
match. urged my aunt. Laurence laughed
aloud: a long ringing peal Of that merry, mu-
steal laughter | loved so well to hear.
Not approve :" he cried-''not love my
little Bella! That is too good a joke"
On which Immediately followed an invita-.
ton to Fernwood, seconded by a note from La
DIV AdeIa Wendale.
1t was to this very note that my aunt was
never tired of taking objection. 1t was cold
Il was stiff, constrained it had been only
written to please Laurence. How little
thought of the letter. And yet it was thu
first faint and shadowy indication of that ter
rible rock ahead upon which my life was t.
be wrecked the first feeble link in the chan
of the one great mystery i'll which the fate o.
so many was involved.
The letter was cold, certainly. Lady AIDE
Ia started by declaring she should be most hap
nv to see us she was all anxiety to be in
Etroduced to her charming daughter-in-law.--
| And then my Lady ran off to tell us how dull
Fernwood was, and how she feared we SHOULD
regret our long journey into the heart OF York
shire to a lonely country house, where W
should find no one but a captlous invalid,
couple Of nervous women, and a young maj
devoted to farming and tield-sports.
But | was not afraid Of being dull wher
my light hearted Laurence was and over
ruled all my aunt's objections, ordered half
dozen new dresses, and carried Mrs. Madlso
Trevor off to the Great National Station be
fore she had time to demonstrate.
Laurence had gone Oh before to see that al
was prepared for us and had promised t
meet US at York, and drive us over to Fern
wood III his mail phaeton. He was standln;
on the platform as the train entered the sta
ton, with the sunshine gitterlng about IN
chestnut curls, and bis clear blue eyes radiant
with life and happiness.
Laurence Wcndale was very handsome
but perhaps his greatest charm consisted Il
that wonderful vitality, that untIrlng energ,
and indomitable spirit, which made INN $
different from all other young men whom
had met. So great was this vitality, that, b.
some magnetic influence, 1t seemed to com
municate itself to others. | was never tlre'
when Laurence was with me. L could walt
longer with him for my partner ride longe
in the Row with him for my cavalier SIT on
an opera or examine an exhibition OF picture
with less fatigue when he was near. Ills pres
ence pervaded a whole house his joyou
laugh rang through every room. 1t scenes
as if where he was sorrow could not come.
felt this more than ever as we drew near
er Fernwood. The country was bleak AM
bare; wide wastes of moorlandltretched ava
on either side Of the by-road down which W
drove. The afternoon sunshine had faded Oh
leaving a cold grey sky, with low masses 9
Ileaden clouds brooding close over the land
~scape, and shutting in the dim horizon Bu
no influence of scenery or atmosphere could al
feet Laurence Wendale. His spirits were eve
higher than usual this afternoon.
9sThey have fitted up the oak-rooms tC
YOU. ladies'" he said. 'SSuch solemn and state
Nv chambers, with high canopied beds crown
ed with funeral plumes black oak pannelms
portraits of dead-and-gone Wendales; Mi
tress Aurora, with pannier-hoops and a shep
herdess's crook Mistress Lydia, with ringlet
a. la SeUiqne and a pearl necklace; MortlmC
WendaIe. in a Families wig Theodore, wit
Iovelocks. velvet doublet, and Spanlsh-leatf
er boots. Such a collection of them! 70
NAV expect to see them all descend. from the
frames in the witching time Of night to war;
their lev fingers at your s~ea-coal fires. Tol
Iexpected arrival has made quite a ssensatlo
in our dull old abode. My mother has locke
nm from the last new novel she had from MI
die half a dozen times this day, L verify b.
lieve.t to ask if all due preparations were BEN
made: while my dear active, patient, lndefa'
igable sister Lucy has been running about 81
~perintending the arrangements ever Slh(
!, breakfast" -,
"Your sister Lucy" 1 said, catching at n
last words Il shall so love her, Laurence
81 hope you will, darling ne ansWere
almost gravely, 'for she has been the best an
l dearest sister to me. And yet I'm halt afraid
Lucy is ten years older than you-grave, n
served, sometimes almost melancholy but
ever there was a banished angel treadlng tn
l earth in human form, my sister Lucy sure
is that guardian spirit"
is she like you, laurence
Like me? Oh, no, not in the least. Nh
is only my half-sister, you know. She reseIl
: bles her mother, who died young" ,
I We were at the gates Of Fernwood when !
: said this-high wooden gates, with stone Pr
! lars m~oss-grown and dilapidated a tumbl
down looking lodge, kept by a slatternly W
man, whose children were at play in a squa
patch of ground planted with cabbages al
> ~currant bushes, fenced in with rotton palm
: and ambitiousIy called Q garden. from IN
: lodge entrance a long avenue stretched awe
' for about half a mile, at the end OF winch