Cheyenne transporter. [volume] (Darlington, Indian Terr.) 1879-1886, 1880-10-09

her tongue far better than mine. and
she runs through it much more pretti.
ly.'
I'D rather hear it from you" said
Mr.. Carew.
And I'd rather my daughter told il.
Ihe clild's SO jealous already of the
time you spend in the ruins that I'm
sure. if she thought I'd been saving
anything to you about the legend. she'd
come to me, crying, Mother get new
lodger. If Mr.. Carew stays with us.
he'll be trying to find the treasure"
These are all the treasures I'm like
ly to find in the Abbey" said Carew.
opening his portfolio of sketches. When
MS companion had passed couple of
minutes i'll inspection and admiration.
he added: "Of course, Miss Wolfe does
not put any real faith i'm this nonsense
about abbOts and rubies."
sometimes she does-sometimes not
I've known her to sit for an hour at a
time i'll the abbot's seat there trying
TO think where the casket could be hid
den, and then start up with a little laugh
at herself and hurry away. It's thinking
or her father and me that makes her
take these wild fancies, Mr.. Carew.
Poor as you see my husband to-day, he
Kept better stable ten years ago than
kellnett does at his big house on the
NIL there; and if James Wolfe is now
ruined man, James Wolfe has him
self to thank for it. I'm free i'm talk
ing to you, sir, for there's little to hide
from you after that scene the other
evening. Oh, but Maggie'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 i'm Miss
Postlethwayte's school at Ulverstone: ::
and glad Miss Postlethwayte would be
to have her; for little as the child was
when we took her from boarding there.
she has learned almost all that the old
lady could teach her. But l can't part
with her-she's the only being on earth
that can do anything with my husband
the only thing left me to are for or
that cares for me. And now, Mr.. Ca
rev, l must run in-there's eight
O'Clock striking, and Maggie will be
wondering why l don't come to help
her in getting breakfast ready"
81 wonder what the girl thinks of
me- was Carew's self-reproachful eiac-
ulatiOn, uttered within hearing of no
creature but the rocks, as, after break
fast, the speaker walked down toward
the Abbey. what should a girl like
this Margaret Wolfe, dividing her
strange life between dreams of the
past and the miseries of the present.
know OF the meaningless talk men in
dlllge in toward girls whose society
they find pleasant for the hour. but
don't care to retain for life? I'll talk
no more nonsense to this Diana of
eighteen. After ALL" Carew halted. and
looked back through the trees at the
cottage he had left. "No, not Wife"
the painter muttered, walking on again.
Il don't care to take wife away with
me from Fumess. A pictures all |
want"
Enter the chapel when he might, Ca
rev failed to find its shadowy desola-
ton frightened by the presence of Mar
garet Wolfe; and he had received from
London the canvas and other materials
that he wrote for, and had spent day
or two in meditation over his projected
picture before he again saw her i'm the
Abbey ruins.
One afternoon, toward the end of
June, Carew had walked across the
fields to the ancient town of Dalton.
King Henry VIII, was by this time
hopelessly banished from the painters
thoughts; it was the fair form of Mar
garet that he contemplated placing in