Litchfield enquirer., 1880-08-19
IN THE ABBoTs SEAT.


Summer weeks the young A. Il. A. had occu-
pied himself in multiplying sketcLr.s of the
Abbey ruins, until scarcely feature OF their
beautiful decay but was lodged in his portif0-
Ito. The chapel was there, rootiess, window
less, its altar gone grass elasping closely the
few gravestones that remained but rs majes-
tic in its desniation as ever it had looked in
those days of Catholic prosperity when the
Cistercian monks of Furness chanted prayers
for the souls parted from that dust over which
their feet were treading.
Carew lay dreamngly under his favorite
tree, looking down on the gray stiffness of the
Abbey, and trying To give substance to the
shadOwy faDcieS that connected themselves in
lis mind " It'll the caWiug Of tie black choris-
tiers opposite. AT length he started up with
an exclamation.
Il have it have it. Time midRasht; the
moon at its brightest; the ghsst e..,.i King
Harry just stealing into the eAas ~ and a
crowd of rocks pcrched on the SC * S, and
caw ing curses ON the robber wilS le. sa<a CEN
trail niche of the three seats empty Ut an Abbot:
King Harry the Eighth Visiting the Abbey of
Furness.' Ii my right hand Remembers its
cunning, I'll hold my owe in the Academy
next May" ,
A downward scramble among trees, bushes,
and bits of crunlbling masonry, and Carew
crossed the arch into the ruins. A light laugh
struck upon his ear.
He sprang up the wall, and looked toward
the sediIia. Apparently the scene actually re-
vealed was more satisfactory than that for
which the laugh had prepared him, for he at
once leaped down into the chapel and walked
toward the stone steps to his left.
figure in no way ghostly had already risen
from the central niche of the three worn recess
es that still adorn the ruined chapel of
Furntss; and, with great brown eyes bent
shyly on the Intruder, seemed doubtful Wheth-
er To remain or not. This successor to the Alb
bots Of old days wore as unpretendingly taste
full dress as an English girl of eighteen sum-
mers could figure in. and had face of the
order that one hestates whether to call plain
or handsome, and ends by prOnOuncng sig
nally attractive. A Madonna done in marble
might have had those tintless cheeks and that
look of seriousness -'
$50 it was you that laughed, Miss Marga-
ret" said Carew. Its a sin 10 waste such
sweet sounds on the Abbey ghosts. protest
III paint you as Medusa. if you 60 on keep
ing tryst and making merry with the Furness
CHESTS, while everyday mortals like Frank
Carew can't get SO much as a smile from you"
1--WE know Furness, and its ghost, and its
legends, ever since l was old enough to walk
from our cottage to the ruins" said the girl
somewhat coldly. 'Mr. Carew and | have
only been acquaintance for matter of three
weeks past"
1.-The pleasantest weeks in Mr. Carews life
l was thinking to have ended my stay here in
another three weeks or so /; but something the
Abbey spectres whispered to me just before
intruded on you inclines me to make the three
weeks three months. Will you be as hospita.
BILE as your friends the ghosts?''
''HOw hospitable?"
"Will you join with them in inviting me to
remain?"
.''Oh no."
The negative was so disdainful, and the girl
turned away with so abrupt haughtiness that
Sue was at the further end of the chapel before
Carew had sufficiently recovered from his as
| constituent to stir tongue or foot. In the twi-
light glowed for a single instant the appara-
ton of a dark-bue dress, pale cheek, and
certain dark curs falling with graceful de-
corum on the whightest of necks; then sun
light and the shadow in question faded away
together, aud within and without the ruins all
was blank and gray.
Carew walked toward the sedilia, and sat
down where the departed apparition had, ten
minutes earlier, been meditating.
He sat for a few minutes thinking silently,
queer expression of mischief and perplexity
working in eye and lip. That barbed little
arrow of No evidently ranked in his
mind
doesn't care for the society of mortals, |
suppose. The girl has lived with ruins and
| legends till she is a sort of embodied dream
herself. If were Rip Van Wrinkle, or one of
the Seven Sleepers, | might win a gracious
word from her; but being an every day piece
Of humanity her goddess ship scorns me. Such
a No from mouth of eighteen Summers. I'll
paint that face-l'll-'
| Mrs Wolfe" said Carew, to his landlady;
when the pair met next morning in the spa
cious garden attached to the cottage where he
was staying. 81 think your daughter has the
strangest look l ever saw on any girls face.
Where on earth did she pick it up'"
''ln Furness here, Mr.. Carew. The lass has
lived all her life but the first four years in this
very house; and the old ruin is almost all the
playmates she ever had. When Maggie was
scarce high enough to climb into the Abbot's
Seat she would sit by the hour under the stone
dragons in the chapel; and now that she's
three inches taller than her mother she goes
there still. In the daytime, when we're both
busy about the house, she's content with now
and then taking peep at the Abbey from the
window; but her first hour after rising and
another before it's dark she spends at the altar
end of the chapel-dream-drea of the
jewels that are hidden there"
"Oh, it isn't the dead old Abbots she dreams
of then! What may these jewels be, Mrs.
| Wolfe %
"a kings ransom in pearls and rubies, Mr.
Carew. The story my grandmother used to
| tell me forty years ago, and that often told
Maggie when she was bairn just able to un-
destand ME, says that in the Wars of the Roses
an Abbot of Furness had a-but I'll leave the
legend for Maggie to tell. 1t suits her tongue
far better than mine, and she runs through it
much more prettly." |
'Td rather hear it from You," said Mr..
Carew.
And I'd rather my daughter told it. The
child's so jealous already of the time you
spend in the ruins that Pm sure, if she thought
I'd been saying anything to you about the
legend, she'd come to me, crying, Mother,
get a hew lodger. If Mr.. Carew stays with
us, he'll be trying to find the treasure
'These are all the treasures I'm likely to
find in the Abbey" said Carew, opening his
portfolio of sketches. When his companion
had passed a couple of minutes in inspection
and admiration, he added ''Of course, Miss
Wolfe does not put any real faith in this nom
sense about ADbots and rubies.'
sometimes she does-sometimes not I've
known her sit for an hour at time in the Alb
bots Seat there, trying to think where the
casket could be hidden, and then start up with
little laugh at herself and hurry away. It's
thinking of her father and me that makes her
take these wild fancies Mr.. Carew Poor as
You see my husband sso-day. he kept better
stable ten years ago than Kennet does at his
big house on the hill there; and if James
Wolfe is now ruined man, James Wolfe has
himself tothank FORT. Pm free in talkingt to you
Sir, for there's little to hide from you after
that scene the other evening. Oh, but Mag
gie's miserable about her father and me |
think she fears sometimes that he'll bring us
on the parish before he's done; and the
thoughts like a continual burning to her. She
wants to go and help in Miss Postlethwayte's
school at LIMESTONE; and glad Miss Postle-
thwayte would be to have her; for little as
the child was when we took her from board
ing there, she had learned almost all that the
old lady could teach her. But l can't part
z with her-she's the only being on earth that
| can do ANYTHING with NV h,,o,on nd tta ,,rix