Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-08-15


"Our order is not from any Mr.. Har-
grove, sir. The name is Debenhan, iron
founder, Norminister. Three hundred and
twenty-four pounds odd. If you can settle
it, sir, so much the pleasantcr for all par
ties"
Francis, my boy, go on before, and tell
your mother | am taken"
Francis, however, did not stir to leave
him. "They see us from the drawing-room
window, sir" said he.
They did see them-all the children
wondering what the parley ment; and Lois,
alarmed she knew not why, sprang away to
seek mamma. Mrs. Wynward hurried to
the front door, and opened it just as her hus-
band was being halfled, half carried, up the
steps by Francis and one of the sheriffs off,
cersr
"The game is up at last, Mary" said he,
feebly; and as soon as they got him into the
library he tainted.
Then came on the scene Jenny, and clear
ed the frightened children out of the room,
and told the two men, who looked compass
sionate, yet suspicious of trick, that they
might take themselves off so quick as they
pleased "for," whispered she, " there's
another writ out agen the master bigger nor
yours, an the bailiff that serves it is DEATH"
Her mistress overheard her, and said,
Yes, it was in his face" She could not
weep or make her moan yet; she was stun
ned by the suddenness and magnitude of her
calamity.
A doctor was sent for, as Jenny observed,
"just for the name of the thing" and Mr..
Buckhurst came but what more could he
tell them than they knew already? 1t was
the breakdown of life, long undermined
beneath the shock of disaster too heavy to
be borne. A few days, and the inevitable
end must come. a.
That night the wind changed into the
north again, and clouds of snow blew down
upon the dale. Christmas-eve arrived, and
found the world white. The children were
told afternoon how papa was fast hast
ening away and before they went to bed,
they were all taken into his room to kiss
him good-by; for MIR. Buckhurst had said
it would be q miracle if he saw the morning.
In the still hours came the carol-singers up
on the terrace below the windows, where
lights were burning; and through the hush
of the death chamber sounded solemn
hymn
Soon after the carol ceased, the dying
Squire opened his eyes, and, looking at his
wife, "You will do better without me than
with me, Mary"
Imagine this sentence thrilling through
the silent room, haunted by who shall say
what late regrets, vain compunctions, sac
forebodings, when the wan lips of fathel
dying could murmur farwell to the wife o
his youth, and the mother Of his children
in last words like those 3" will d.
better without me than with me, Mary"
But did she think so? Oh, surely not Ii
that supreme hour vanished vexed thoughts
of over-anxious days and wakeful nights, o
impending trial, poverty, and shame. Deatl
was triumphant then-Death, the all-heale
of differences.
sob, my love, my love, depart in peace
Leave us to the care of Him who is the Faith
er of the fatherless. and the Friend of th
widow" And with the sob of forgiveness
the lamp of his life waned out.
CHAPTER VII.
EASTWOOD HOUSE IN RUIN.
WHEN Robert Wynyard died he did nc
leave his wife and children shilling the
could call their own. There was the hous
at Eastwood mortgagcd up to the chimney
pots, and the Chase-as the property wa
called-mortgaged to the last stone an
weed upon it. There were the mines
Colsterdale and Arkindale working to o
, much loss as profit There were the ol
, sticks of furniture, not worth carrying away
t the grimy old portraits on the stairs til
. rusty old armor IN the hall the queer ol
l cabinets and old china ware in the drawing
$ room; the old court cupboard and higl
: backed chairs in the dining-room; the mu
4 ty books in the library, and the old, o.
n guns, and whips. and rods, and foils in Il
: masters study; all the old remnants and O
y relics of a good old family, which had BET
It declining and declining, and wearing he
= lower and more hollow for three gener
d tions, until when Robert Wynyard was la
e with his fathers, in front Of the altar in Eas
void church, men said openly that it was
" up with the old race at last, and they wou
y have to go.
}. He was buried on New Years Eve, in Il
}, afternoon, without any Of the .customa
= pomp and circumstance of Squire's fur
le raj. 1t was sleety, bitter weather, and ft
persons came except those who were bidde
The widow and children, John Hutton, a
the dead mans two half-brothers walked
ter the coffin through the snow, and \
Hargrove followed with three or four s.
- wants and hangers son of the broken hou
i, hold. That was all the show-not enou
= to draw even the cottage BARNS quarter
a mile from the iireside in the bleak Janut
= twilight. The air of desertion and Ion,
., ness in the church was complete. I
Is friendly rector was laid up with gout, an
m stranger from distance read the burial S
lie vice, through his nose and in u haste, q
with now and then sidelong glance to
,;s ards the porch, across which drifted brt
da white flakes, that thiekened and thicker
~ as they fell, boding him perilous ride
os, the dark over the hills when he had done
Ike 'It seemed as if nobody cared, whisr
mt ed Lois to Godfrey, as they struggled he
Or. against the storm.
sNobndy does care except ourselv,
nv was the lads response; and the two C
,c,- drcn felt sadder than ever without know
nv why.
I'VE In the windy tops of the elms the ro
,et- were cawing dirge. Lois would stol
lily listen. "They are sorry; they know,
lille said. GeoiTrey urged her to come on-l
'es- should the rocks know anything? The
ON terers had to run to reach the house q
before it closed ON the others; when
,cis gained it they were out of breath, and ain
rds laughing at the tumble Geoffrcy had,
alf- sit is over, said Mrs. Wynyard wit
rnrs ,,raot c;th nc she re- entered the glO