The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1880-09-23


However, time slipped away, and the twenty !
first birthday came and then, by my advice |
Hugh appeared at MOrbeck Hall, to greet his
cousin and make formal offer of his hand and
heart, and need not tell you that she took him
then and there.
You should have seen Aunt POstlethwaytes face!
/ thought she going to have fit, but she
thought better of it, and after torrent of abuse
directed at Hugh some flowers OF speech specially
devoted to me, and general peroratiOn relating
to ingratitude, conspiracy and the like she an
nOunced her intention of washing her hands of
the whole affair and going back to London soon
as her boxes were packed-and precious glad we
all were, can tell you, when they were brought
down into the great hall ready corded! fancy
she managed to feather her nest pretty well dur
ing those two years
So, madam having taken herself OF in dudgeon,
there nothing left to hinder, and arrange
ments for the wedding were set on foot at once.
1t was to be a very quiet affair at my own little
church at Gilthwaite and of course | was to
marry them So ii too far for Lucy to
drive in the morning and, besides that, she could
not well be married from her own great lonely
house, we settled that should fetch her over on
the previous evening to sleep at the rectory, and
that the wedding should take place from thence.
And now comes the sad and strange part of the
story.
1t was early i'm Februarv-iust a week after Can
dlemas, as / remember only too well-when ar
rived, late in the gray afternoon, at MOrbeck,
where / was to dine with my ward before we
started for Gilthwaite rectory. The Winter had
been an unusually severe one, even for these parts;
but in the last days Of January the frost had
broken up, and il seemed as if our old nOrthcoun-
try saying as to a wet Candlemas TO be liter
ally carried out; for since the second, when il
had been one constant downpOur, there had been
a succession of mild, muggy days, with an over
cast sky and an incessant driZZle As the carriage
that had been sent 10 fetch me drove up the ave-
nue. in the failing light of the afternoon, there
something in the air that seemed to weigh ones
heart down; cold, dank smell rose up from the
soaked earth where last years leaves lay rotting
under the bare branches that dripped slowly as the
thick mist chung and crept round them But the
feeling of depression passed away drew up
at the open hall door, from which the ruddy glow
of a great fire streamed out into the dim air, and
Lucy, looking lOvelier than ever, with "A plaid
thrown over her golden hair, came running down
the steps TO open the carriage door herself and
she flung her arms around my neck, her kiss
seemed to charm away all fear
80 we went in together, and before long were
sitting opposite each other at as good dinner as
man need wish TO see. How bright and CHEEKY
she was, my poor dear lassie how happy in the
| thought of the morrow Her spirits were almost
wild at times. Did you ever hear of what our
Scots neghbOrs call being fey ?-that sudden flow
/ of spirits, from no particular cause which they
hold TO be presage Of mishap to the person in
whom it is seen? / think Lucy Gedge was fey
that evening.
The dinner came to an end at last and il began
to be time to think of moving; we had some way
to go, and the road was none of the best after the
weather we had been having. Lucy arose TO pre-
pare for the journey, leaving To finish my glass
of port by the fire, when, she reached the door
of the room, she turned and said:
] n. /
weather and the roads are so bad, that am going
to have the carriage brought round 10 the garden
door that opens off the Broad Terrace. II will save
us half mle.n
Then she went to put on her hat and cloak; it
was nothing TO me which door went from, and
in fact felt rather glad at the prospect OF shorten
ing our journey even by half mile so i'm due
time Lucy came back and we started out for the
carriage
I must tell you that in order to get out by way
of the Broad Terrace, we had to traverse a little
q LII
through long passage by a small posten door,
with flight Of several steps outside The unused
rooms and the passage smelt damp and fusty, and
/ was glad 10 feel even the clinging outside air
when the little door cTeaked open at last to let
Us out.
AS ! went down the steps, they We're so slippery
with the wet mist that it was all ! could do to
keep on my legs, but Lucy tripped down after me
like nymph and we reached the carriage safely.
We had not gone far before she stretched out her
hand caressingly to me and said:
"Uncle John, are you sure you are wrapped up
warmly enough? Your hand felt so cold just now
I as you helped me down the steps"
81 help you, my dearn said i. 81 never helped
you; had quite enough ado to keep my own legsn
"Oh, yes, uncle, don't you remember? As /
came through the pOstern, you stretched out your
hand and led me down the steps and il made me
shiver all thrOugh-yOur hand was like Ice Are
you quite sure you are wrapped up enough |'
would have taken my oath in any court of law
that had nothing to do with the girls safe exit,
and she would have sworn on the other side; so /
/ held my tongue, and allowed her fancy. You
know what Sir Samuel Tuke says
/ II she Will, she Will. you mag depend ONT:
Ana II she won't she won't, and there's end ont -
! 80, we rolled on, chatting Of this and on that,
until we reached what was the only serious obsta-
| Gle to our drive.
! There is dip i'm the road at the bottom of
| which runs a brook with broad, level meadows on
the other sid. I'm Summer time or even i'm ordi-
nary weather. IT is just bit of a beck that a child
might jump over; but when the floods are out it
Will be roaring torrent i'm half an hours time
Win the moss-water coming down from the moOrs
! felt just little uneasy about H. but nothing to
speak OF. We had to cross by "A wooden bridge
that had done duty fora good many years i'm storm
ana sunshine, only it did come into my head what
bother it would be if the bridge sbonId have
been carried away, and we should have to 90 back
TO Morbeck after ALL Just as we came to the beck
the horses shied and stopped, in spite of all the
coachman could do to sOothe or urge them So at