The Hancock Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Ohio) 1857-1870, 1869-03-12

ON him like servant.
How things grew worse until the
assumed unpleasant dimensions,
need not say. But Lady Margaret
perfection first grew dim, and the
Wlthered away. At last my mothe
cautioned me that it was matter O.
which | had better not speak an,
then l wept bitter tears.
| Down, down. down, in popula
opinion, went Lady Margaret. Th,
whole country heard, talked, wonder
ed and for the most part, condemned
Al last my mother spoke to her.
% yes she said, standing up il
our morning room. Il know peopl,
dislike my having taken to sick
nursing And she laughed hare
laugh, such as we had never hearC
from her before. Then she stopped
suddenly and wiped her eyes, which
were full of tears. Il cannot help il,
she said. q mHst go there. Icannol
keep away. 1t would kill the poor
creature if / did
Indeed, indeed, you ought plead
ed my mother.
Il can't she repeated, almost an
grily; 'will you believe me If say
| tOonf.' Then she walked out of the
room. But In another moment she
came back again. She kissed INV
mother, looking with sad, entreating
eyes INTO her face. You will always
stand by me- she said. The Royds
have always been faithful to the
Court. You will always make Mary
think well of me? p Then she broke
out in great excitement-'But,i In the
name of Heaven, what have i done 2
Are We never to visit the sick, or
comfort the afflicted p NY mother
did not speak. But /, in an excess
OF girlish excitement, cried out, 30,
Lady Margaret, that is not the aues-
ton. Ii is so dreadful, because peo
pie say YOU are in love with that
horrid man ; and then Il fit OF crying
overcame Inc, and | dropped upon
my face on the sofa cushion, sobbing
violently.
is it as bad as that p she asked.
with trembling voice and scared
face. But do not cry. my darling.
You are a good, brave girl. Thank
J on Tor telling me. Yet do not call
that sick man 'horrid,' it is not true
and ! cannot cease to care for him.
But, perhaps, / ought to take him
away, if people say such things
She looked at my mother like one
in a dream.
Give it all up, Lady Margaret
Send the man to some consamptive
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,
L turned home quickly, for there, in
the shade, sat Lady Margaret, with
that man 5 hand in hers, his head on
her shoulder, and every now and
then she kissed his broad, white fore
lead, till be looked up at her with
-iIsst L II-vr S1uSJ5 1FTSF 3 ---y I
mother 5 arms, and told her all had
seen.
we will go away for time she |
said. Try not to think OF it, Mary
But my idol was broken ; and the |
burden of unbelief nearly broke my
heart.
Things grew so bad, that even good
Did simple-minded Mrs. Bond spoke ]
20 her at last, and said that it was
lnseemly for one in her station to |
nurse a sick man of whom she knew
nothing, and whose name even was
unknown. But Lady Margaret only |
replied that she should never desert
he sick lodger, and that she would
never let any one take her place by |
ais bedside, either by day or night.
But Immediately after Mrs. Bonds
;xpostLla,ion new thing happened
Fhe kempton carriage, which was
Iired for all occasions by everybody, |
arrived at the Grown and Salmon
and took the sick lOdger to the rail
way station. There was Lady Mar
5aret; she took their places, and
they went away together.
Martin, her maid, had gone to Lon
Ion on previous train.
A solemn sort OF mourning fell on |
all hearts now. We ielt shamed in
ler shame. But we loved her still.
Lady Margaret never wrote to any
,ne, but Martin cOrresponded with |
he housekeeper. Mrs. Bent used to
bring us these letters to read.
1T is all just as it used to be- she
wrote. She nurses him like any
hired woman and he evidently loves
ler fondiy.'
Martin spoke of the sick man as
Mr.. Lisle.
Then she wrote again, am com
ng home. Lady Margaret sends me
back. My lady has scarcely left MIR.
LIsle's room day or night for a week.
He is better now, and they are going
70 the sea. / expect her attendance
On him must have excited some sur
prise, though people speak OF them
rs being related, and / favor the
IDEA. But, quite unexpectedly,
Capt. Granhy-who is the heir--has
arrived. Lady Margaret seems to be
ON good terms with him, though sOnae
high words 1 know they have had
He says he will take part of the
nursing of Mr.. Lisle.'
So Martin came back, and in a
fortnight's time Lady Margaret
wrote to Mrs. Bent that her sick
friend was dead. She inclosed a
note to MIR. Browning, the clergyman,
saying she would have the funeral at
Kempton, aud that the body was to
be placed in the Caryll vault.
Nothing could exceed the anger OF
all Kempton at this news of the fu
neral that was TO be. The vault was
opened with angry words the once
perfect lady suffered from names
loo vile for repetition. The coffin of
good Sir GeOff'ry was to endure de
Iilement from the neighborhOod of
one for whom his widow had given
her fair name, and stained the hith
erto spotless pages of the chrOniclers
Of their house. But no one could
interfere and the day and the funer-
al came
The Kempton world kept aloof
but, nevertheless, on the lookout.
The funeral e0rtegs came slowly up
the road that hsnked the park, to the
church. In the mourning