The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1873-03-16
JENIFER'S PRAYER.
(Continued.)
PART III.

Lady Greystock drove on briskly. They
were ont of tho shadow of the trees and again
on the broad, white, cleaning, gravelled road
that led to tho west lodge, aud the turnpike
road to Blagden. Not word was spoken. On
went the ponies, who knew the dark shadows
of the el ms that stood ut intervals, in groups,
two or three together, by the side of the road
and threw their giant outlines across it, max
ing the moonlight seem brighter and brighter
as 1t silvered the surface OF the broad carriage
drive, and made tho crushed granite sparkle
on wont 1.-THE ponies, shakingJth heir heads with
mettlesome Impotence when the pulling of the
reins offended them, not heightened at the
whirling of the great droning night insects,
which flew ont from the oak-trees on the left,
nor shying away from the shadowB-en they
went through the sweet, still, soft, scented
night air. aud the broad, peaceful light of the
silent moon-on they went! Not one word
mingled with the sound of their ringing boots
not u breath was heard to answer to the
sighing of tho leaves; the good night"
that had been spoken between the stranger
and themselves seemed to 1.-Two in the hearing
of those to whom he had spoken, and to keep
them in meditative and painful silence.
At last the lodge was reached. The servant
opened the gates; the carriage was driven
through; the high road was gained, and all
romantic mystery was over; the dream that
had held those silent ones was gone; and like
ono suddenly awoke, Lady Greystock said:
Eleanor! how wonderful; YOU knew that
you; had been seeking you: Why was he there
in tho Beremouth woods - appearing at
this hour, among the ferns and grass. liks
wild creature risen from its lairi Eleanor
why don't you speak to met Why, when he
spoke of you by your name, did you not answer
for yourself7 Why did you send him to Jen-
iferi Oh! Eleanor; feel there is something
terrible and strange in all this. cannot keep
it to myself. must tell my father. 1t can't
be right 1t cannot be for any good that We
net "a man lurking about, and not owned by
you, though he is here to find you. Speak,
Eleanor! Now that am in the great high
road feel as i'll had gone through terror,
or escaped some strange danger, or met mys-
terry face to face"
and Eleanor, bending alittle toward her, heard
You hare. met mystery face to face" she
eisu.iS did know sHst m Mns s And
am not denying that he sought me, and that
he had o right TO seek me. But many things
have changed since those old days. when, if
had obeyed him, should have done better
than did. l know what he wants; aud Jeni-
fer can give it to him. Here we are at Blag-
don think no more of it, Lady Greystock."
they met Or. Blagden on the steps at the door.
'You are later than usual-all rght2" GAIL
quito right" said Eleanor, "The beauty of
the night tempted us to como home through
Beremonth,' said Lady Greystock. How
lovely il would look on such O sweet, peaceful
night" said Mrs Blagdeu, who now joined
them; and then Eleanor took the carriage
wraps in her arms up stairs, and Lady Grey
stock went into the drn wing room, and soon
after the whole household-all but Eleanor
were in bed.
Not Eleanor. She opened o box where she
kept her letters, and many small objects of
value to her, aud carefully shutting out the
moonlight, and trimming her lamp into bril-
liancy, she took out letter after letter from
Henry Evelyn calling her his beloved one and
his wife; then the letter from Corny Nugeut,
saying that Henry Evelyn and Horace Erskine
were one; and the one thing that Corny NJ
gent had sent to her rs evidcnce--it seemed to
sufficient. " N nf f.tk
from Horace to his uncle, Mr.. Erskine, which
had been flung into a waste paper basket, and
which, having the writer's signature, Corny
had kept and sent 10 Eleanor. Not, as he said,
that he knew tho mans hand ritin0, but that
she did and that, therefore, to her it would
have value as proving or disproving his own
convictions.
Eleanor had never brought this evidence to
PtOof. She had laid by Corny's letter, and the
Enclosure. She had put it all aside with the
weight of dread on her mind, and mot vet,
not yet" was all she said as che locked away
both the assertion and the proof.
But her husband was at Beremouth now.
Yes; aud on what errandf She knew that
too.
Mrs. Brewer had called that morning to see
Lady Greystnck. Mrs. Brewer b. d come herself
to tell Claudia that Mary would arrive, aud
that Horace would bring her. She would not
trust any one but herself to give that Intorma-
ton. She never let go the idea of Horace hav-
ing behaved IN some wrong way to Claudia.
She knew CiaudiaS disposition, her bravery
her determination; aul her guc>scS were very
near the truth. Mother Mary had tin>p va
manly instincts which jump AZ conclusions:
aad the truths guessed at through the feelings