Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-05-02


Francis was silent for minute or two,
staring stoically into the fire. "I wish ]
were man," said he.
s.Six years to wait, my boy but / can
trust you when the time comes"
81 hope you can, mother. Eastwood may
go, but honour shall bide, us our motto
says"
There was another long pause. Then
Mrs WynYard--" Hargrovc advised your
father to go. He started al less then an
hours warning. Hargrove went with him.
"And you have been four days quite by
yourself, mammas"
6 1t is not known in the house yet that he
may not return. Nurse guesses, perhaps
but of course -----" She ceased
There is always feeling OF shame, pain,
disgrace, humiliation, in flight Francis
thought for a moment he would have rather
stood the difficulty out. But he did not
comprehend the difficulty. Nor could he
tell by intuition what a tedious Imprisonment
within four walls is. Better any exile than
that.
"And you have not sent word to grand
papa, or Uncle Raymond at Eskford p he
asked.
"No, have done nothing. They cannot
help us-nobody can help us but ourselves.
| have been trying to see how we may do il
best. And think, if You agree with me,
Francis, that the home-farm shall be let at
Lady-day, and the park and gardens, and all
the west-end of the house, as Hargrove pro-
posed year since. There would still be
room enough left for us, and Pennies pony
must be kept
"Then you do not think of our all going
abroad to poor papaf'
" No, nor does he wish it, lie would not
like his boys or girls either to grow up half
vagabond English We shall stay at East
void to the end; but if any accommodation
can be made for his return before, Hargrove
will not neglect it. | must think OF my
children now In the last sentence there
was slight tone of resentment and injury
which Francis did not fail to detect. Mrs.
Wynyard had, in fact, been kept in the darl,
more than was either wi.e or just. She be-
lieved that had she been trusted she mi CHI
have averted some of their calamities, and il
is very possible that she was right.
:" No one can speak i'll Of papa as If oui
mislortunes were his fault, can they ~ asked
her son. She did not Immediately reply
No wrong has been done tell me, nam
map added Francis, more urgently ant
anxiously.
g 1t is hard to know beforehand what th,
world will think, or whom the world will
blame. Men to whom large sums Of none,
are owing will not lie lenent Judges. Har
glove was so sanguine about the yield of tina
new mine in Arkindale, that your father wa
enliIcly guided by him, and went to vast ex
pense. There has been II fortune sunk in ii
and lost for the ore is inferior, and vii
never pay the cos, of working. So Dixon
the foreman, says, yet Harsrove obstinatel,
maintains his first opinion, aud will not hea
of shutting it up. The money borrowed t,
set il going is the present difficulty. The in
terest has not been regularly paid, and the
lender dropt some threat at Norminster mar
kct, which came to Hargrove's cars IL,
drove over on Tuesday afternoon, and Ii,
and your father went 10 Kirkgate Station Il
catch the mail-train for London"
You have a mighty strong faith in Har
grove, mamma" said Francis, with an i'm
pulse ofyouthful distrust.
"No, dear, less than you suppose. die
depend on him; but see now where he ha!
misled your father so often, that, though
hope and trust he is honest, have no reli
ance on his judgment.
"Why did not papa see more to his own
business? He could have understood ii If he
had tried"
81 used to urge il, Francis, but he had no
been brought up to take trouble, and ht
avoided it. That is how it was, and Har-
grove did us he liked. We had large nom.
inal income when we married, and had d
handsome settlement; but my trustees al
lowed the money to be put in the Arkindal6
working when ii looked a hopeful specula
tion, and it is as good as gone with the rest
Oh ! my boy, that must make you share
my anxieties."
Francis put out his hand to his mother
and his eyes filled with tears. "It seems
the saddest for poor papa. Do you know
where he is?'
She shook her head. ''We shall not hear
until Hargrove comes home"
1t was nine o'clock in the Eastwood draw
ing-room, and it was nine o'clock in til,
dreary little cabinet of the hotel at Dieppc
where Mr.. Wynyard and Mr.. IIargrove sa
talking after a meagre dinner. Mr.. Wyn
yard was man who unconsciously owet
much to his surroundings. In the faded ell
egance of his own house he looked the indo
lent, refined, anxious, helpless gentleman
without any of the degradation of the char
acter. He had drifted out of that atmos,
phere of rcpose now; he was in very differ
ent quarters, and he looked different per
son. He felt it, and Hargrove felt it, ant
betrayed it too, by being more at his ease
and less dcierential than was his wont to
ward Wynyard of Eastwood
| 1t showed and il blew over the town in
whirlwind, and every now and then the
gusts came hurting and shirling down III,
narrow street, like legion Of spirits driver
from the sea by tormentors. There was nt
heartiness of warmth in the tiny porcelain
stove, and Mr.. Wynyard sat with plait
about his shoulders, a picture of misery ant
dejection-hs cheeks blue, his nose red, hi
lips pinched and parched His sudden fligl
never contemplated beforehand complete
ly unnerved him. He knew it had opened
a gulf in his life which could never b,
closed.
u would rather have been carried to East
void Church, would rather thousant
times have been carried to Eastwol,
Church., he had reiterated in monotonou
soliloquy every hour since he had crosse,
the Channel. He was harping on the sam
string tonight, and talking of his poor wifi
and children as lost to him, until Hargroye
who had no wife or children, was aweary o
the theme.
rrft. III