Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1869-02-26


HIs it as bad as that?" she asked, with a
trembling voice and a scared face. But
do not cry, my darling. You are good,
brave girl. Thank you for telling me.
Yet do not call that sick man 'horrid,' it is
not true; and cannot cease to care for
him. But, perhaps. I ought to take him
away, if people say such things"
She looked at my mother like one in
dream.
"Give it all up, Lady Margaret: Send
the man to some consumptive hospital
Give him what you please,-but not your
good name. You can hardly exaggerate
what people say"
She made no answer to this speech OF
my mothers, only going out of the house
quietly. But the next evening as ! was
walking past the Deer Pool, turned home
quickly, for there, in the shade, sat Lady
Margaret, with that mans hand in hers,
his head on her shoulder, and every now
and then she kissed his broad, white fore
head till he looked up at her with a face
80 bright with thankful love, that | fled
away, and got back to my mothers arms,
and told her all I had SEEN.
"We will go away fora time," she said.
Try not to think of it, Mary"
But my idol was broken; and the bur
den of unbelief nearly broke my heart.
Things grew so bad, that even good old
simple minded Mrs Bond spoke to her at
last, and said that it was unseemly for one
in her station to nurse q sick man OF whom
she knew nothing, and whose name even
was unknown. But Lady Margaret only
replied that she should never desert the
sick lodger, and that she would never let
any one take her place by his bedside,
either by day or night.
But Immediately after Mrs. Bonds ex-
postulation new thing happened. The
Kempton carriage, which was hired for all
occasions by. everybody, arrived at the
+" Grown and Salmon" and took the sick
lodger to the railway station. There was
Lady Margaret /; she took their places, and,
unattended, they went away together.
Martin, her maid, had gone to London on
previous train.
A solemn sort of mourning fell on all
hearts now. We felt shamed in her shame.
But we loved her still.
Lady Margaret never wrote to any one,
but Martin corresponded with the house
keeper. Mrs Bent used to bring us these
letters to read.
"It is all just as it used to be-" she
wrote "She nurses him like any hired
woman and he evidently loves her
fondly."
Martin spoke of the sick man as Mr..
Lisle.
Then she wrote again, 81 am coming
home. Lady Margaret sends me back.
My lady has scarcely left Mr.. Lisle's room
day or night for week. He is better
now, and they are going to the sea. ex-
pect her attendance ON him must have ex-
cited some surprise, though people speak
of them as being related, and | favor the
idea. But, quite unexpectedly, Capt.
Granby-who is the heir has arrived.
Lady Margaret seems to be on good terms
with him, though some high words know
they have had. He says he will take part
of the nursing of Mr.. Lisle."
So Martin came back, and IN fort
nights time Lady Margaret wrote to Mrs.
Bent that her sick friend was dead, She
inclosed note to Mr.. Browning, the
clergyman, saying she would have the
funeral at Kempton, and that the body
was to be placed in the Caryll vault.
Nothing could exceed the anger of all
Kempton at this news of the funeral that
was to be- The vault was opened with
angry words the once s"perfect lady ="
suffered from names too vile for repetition.
The coffin of good Sir Geofrey was to en-
dure defilement from the neighborhood
of one for whom his widow had given her
less pages of the chronicles of their house.
But no one could interfere; and the day
and the funeral cana. :.
The Kempton world kept aloof; but,
nevertheless, on the lookout. .a
The funeral e0rtege came slowly up the
road that flanked the park, to the village
church. In the mourning coaches were
Capt. CRANKY, and following him, Lady
Margaret. Some people only saw her black
veil, but others said that she was weeping
in the old quiet way, as she would have
wept before the fevered life of the last
three months had come to her.
Then came the procession up to the open
grave, and the people who were gathered
round heard the burial words, and, at one
word started--one word but little ex-
pected. The coffin with the black in
scription on the glittering silver plate,
showed with most conspicuous clearness
this announcement .
g Olivia, wife of Charles Caryu CRANKY,
died Oct. 7, aged %" ~
The news spread The good old cler-
gyInan was appealed to- He could only
show note from Lady Margaret, telling
him that the sick person, once at Mrs
Bonds, and now dead, whom he was to
bury, was not a man, but woman; that
she had confided her secret to her, and
that she had been taken away to die as a
woman should. pf}~ atE
FaShe was the wife of Sir Geoffrey's
HEIR" wrote Lady Margaret. "She had
left him on the morning of their marriage,
| having received, on her return from
church, letter from a. lover whom she
had believed to be dead Her friends had
over-persuaded her, knowing to how
large property Capt. CRANKY would sue
ceed. 4. She had wandered about for above
a year in mans disguise, and then she
formed the project of getting to Kempton
and casting herself on my protection. ]
had the happiness of getting her to see
her husband before she died" 2
20 No particulars were ever given; no
further explanation was ever made.
When Capt. Cranky spoke Of Lady
Margaret he said she was an angel.
When l went again to Kempton Court,
and into the accustomed room, called by
| the dearly ysloved voice, welcomed by the
| naueh-prizad embrace, wept tears Of joy,
knowing what they were saying in the
village, and gechoing the words in my
heart" Such q perfect lady" One day
Capt. CRANKY brought bright young
wife to the Court; but who the first poor
bride was we never knew. But every
twentieth of June, though there are no
more. ..fate days at Kenpton, Mrs. Bond
has her own special rejoicing There
comes tn her repularlV q twenty pound