Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-09-26

and Pennic were amongst the family groul
present at 1t, and Mrs. Croft remarked there
upon to her sister-in-law at the Grange
Folks must have given up thinking an.
harm of Mr. Tindul, or he'd never be asket
to wedding. God be thanked My dca
little Pennic was wiser than all of us, an
she has her reward
CHAPTER VI
oNCLUsION.
THE summer went on as Rood in placid
sweet monotony. Al Allan Bridge old DIR
Grey died, and at the Grange there was d,
wedding--Mr. and Mrs. Lister having givel
a reluctant consent, at lust, to their sol
Dicks union with pretty Jessie Briggs.
The harvest passed, and the autumn was
on the wane, when one day Mrs. Feather
stone said confidentially to Mrs. Tindal
" You remember that poor woman, Pierce's
daughter, who was taken to Norminstci
asylum few years ago? John had lettel
from the chaplain yesterday, telling him she
was just dead"
p" Dead, poor SOUL A happy release for
her." replied Pennie, looking much interest
ed.
"There was no details-notliing further.
thought you would like to know the little
we had heard
"Yes. Iwonder where Pierce is-whether
he is at Normnster still ?"
John would most likely find out for you
by writing to the chaplain"
Let me speak to Arthur about 1t first. u
So Pcnnc spoke to her husbaed, telling
him that Alice Pierce was dead 1t was a
long time since the subject had been even
alluded to between them. Penne had her
baby in her lap at the time, designedly. Mr..
Tindal did not Immediately reply. He seem
ed to be absorbed in contemplation of his
sons manmuvaes, which were EXTREMITY ac-
tive and springy. Pennic held his coral
above his head, tinkling the silver bells, and
he stretched up his hand, and kicked and
crowed to set hold of it, all body alive and
laughing with the effort. When Mr. Tindal
did speak, however, he showed tina. his
wife's words had not fallen on deaf ears.
''Alicc Pierce is dead, is she Well, PEN
mic, If her death had happened three or four
years ago, it might have spared us some
sorrow. But it can do nothing for us now,
even though her father should confess his
guilty knowledge; for all is done, thanks to
you. We have friends and acquaintance
enough, and to spare"
Don't be ungrateful, Arthcr. People
intend to be kind-look at baby"
Is see him-he bullics you ,lreadfully al
ready. shall have to take him in hand
myself, or you will spoil him."
Indeed, you will not, Arthur. Spoil
him! us if it were possible TO spoil him, the
darling, darling, darling,"-a shower of
kisses, shed all over boby's soft face and neck,
concluded the maternal rapture. "But Ar
thur, what shall you do? Shall you not seek
out Pierce p
"My dear child, should like to leave
well alone. If his conscience move him he
will seek me.
Pennie put her face down over baby again,
and did not soon lift it up. Mr.. Tindal sus-
pccted tears. lie gave her kiss on the crown
of her head, aud left her-he could not bear
tears. Pennic did not exactly know what
ei,c would nave had him do, but she felt dis
appointed She did not, however, mention
the matter again,an it seemed to be forgot
ten, when about week later, Mrs. Croft
said to her daughter: Pennie, your Uncle
Listers been telling me that as he went
through the Abbey plantation last night, he
met Mr.. Tindal's old servant, Pierce, roam
ing about amongst the trees. 1t was late,
and the moon was up: your uncle thought
the poor old fellow seemed us if he were a
bit touched in his wits
Pcnnie communicated this to her husband.
She did not like the idea of Pierce lurking
in the vicinity Of the Abbey, especially if
he betrayed any eccentriciiy of manner.
Mr.. Tindal agreed with her, and told the
gardener to keep Il lookout, and bring him
word If he appeared again. The next morn
ing the gardener reported that somebody
had been in the plantation since the previ-
GUS evening: the paths had been freshly
laid down with gravel, some rain had fallen,
and there were deep foot-tracks in every
direction. Mr.. Tndal babe the men keep
watch the following night, and let him know
what happened. The next report was that
Pierce came when the moon was rising, that
he seemed to have walked n long step, and
to be tired, and from his way of going TO an
fro, and rummaging about amongst the
bushes, he was evidently in search of some
thing. The watches had not ventured near
enough to observe him much, lest he should
frighten him away.
Mr.. Tindal had his private suspicious of
what Pierce sought, but he did not mention
them except to Pennie. He invited her to
ride with him to Kirkgate after breakfast,
and from the telegraph Office there he de-
spatched II message to the head of the police
in London, asking that a detective officer
might be Immediately sent down to the Alb
hey in the guise of n guest. lie arrived be-
fore bedtime-a dark, wet night it was: and
LAW hSAs "PpSuiSt "b uiCuhidst, u
clcan-shaven, burly, silent parsonage, look
ing like lawyer or other professional char
acter well-to-do in the world In the course
of the day he walked all about the Abbey
grounds with Mr.. Tindal, admired the views
and vistas, suggested clcarings here and
planting their, inspected various trees, dis
cussing there age and method of growth,
and let the gardener overlear that he had a
fine place of his own in Surrey, and that he
prided himself much on his eye for land
scape effects.
The moon did no rise until eleven O'Clock
that night. Mr.. and Mrs. Featherstone din
ed at the Abbey, and when they took their
departure,it was just beginning to peep. Mr..
Cole, the stranger guest, on the plea that he
could never sleep unless he took a turn in
the fresh air, and cigar before he went to
bed, walked out with them. He presently
returned through the conservatory, and
when the household, all but the master, had
retired, he passed into the garden again by
the same way, shod now with shoes of sill
ence, and smoking, if any, perfectly scent
less and smokeless cigar. He took walk