The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1881-02-11

I SHOULD % called on 10 prOOuco IL 80
soon. Why, it is not fortnight ago
since he gave it to me, poor old fellow!"
and, as the excitement of the explana-
ton he has given subsidies, his blue eyes
moisten. His quiet little wife rises, and
putting her arms round his neck, kisses
and pats his cheek with sweet and ten
der, if silent, consolation.
Soon he is talking volubly again, dis
cussing family affairs, and laying plans
for the future.
"This puts US beyond the reach of
sixPenny anxieties," he says, "but l
shall not give up my pen. I could not
bear to live an idle life, and, what's
more, I shall not give up my expedition
tomorrow. I must have look at that
queer place before I leave these parts.
If we start for town the first thing the
day after tomorrow, it will be quite
soon enough, and we can get to Exeter
in time to catch the night mail the same
evening. You will not mind travelling
by night, Sophy, 1 am sure, since it will
| give me tomorrow out on this wild and
strangely fascinating moorland."
Tomorrow came, and Ronald Morris
started on the expedition he had in his
mind. His little wife, not from lack of
interest in his purpose or his doings, but
from q characteristic inexactitude as to
details, failed already to understand
(even if she ever asked the question: the
precise spot he was bound for.
So Ronald started, and, as he strolled
away up and on to the bleak and soil
tary moor, she stood for a moment or
two at the gate on the road, off which
he turned, watching him. In a little
while he looked back, held up his stick
as a salute, and she in reply waved her
little hand after her easy, gentle fashion.
Thrice this action was repeated on both
sides; then she saw his figure small and
clear against the sky line on the steep
hill ridge, and then he disappeared
disappeared from her eyes forever
Lost on the moor! The days and
weeks of helpless, desperate, and, at
last, hopeless search by the whole coun-
try-side which followed threw no light
upon the mystery. Lost on the moor!
That was the verdict-that was all that
could be said, and it was no uncommon
phrase in that wild and treacherous re-
gion. Scores of men had so vanished
and been never heard of since. Natives
even, accustomed to the dangers of bog,
crag, and fell, of overwhelming, blind
ing mist, of overtaking nightfalI, of the
sudden, deep, obscuring snow, and of
the lost track; natives alive to all these
perils have been lost on the moor, nor
any trace even found. What wonder
then that a Londoner entirely unused to
and unknowing of the treachery lurking
in such wild should now and again
share the same fate? The thing, indeed,
was too common to create much more
than the nine days. establishment. And,
since no clew could be obtained as to the
direction the unfortunate man had taken,
the searching parties that volunteered
soon lost heart; their explorings were
too vague at best TO give them encour-
agement; and, finally, the kindly i'm
pulse which stirred the seekers died out,
and the affair was given up as hopeless.
1855.
Sophy Morris, still young and pretty,
and as placid as ever, bears traces new
ertheless of her life sorrow, as how
should it be otherwise? The marvel is
that she survived the blow. In all prob
ability she would have sunk under it but
that the flood of newborn wifely love,
which in its outpouring had seemed to
carry the very essence of her soul be-
fore it, had found its channel changed,
although not checked. As a mother,
the devotion bestowed upon the stalwart
lad of nine now standing at her side gave
almost vent and verge enough for the
deep love that was in her. In young
Ronald she seemed to see, perhaps, con-
centrated, a double claim upon her af-
lection: first for the father, whom he
so much resembled, and then for his
own sweet sake.
Thus time and circumstance lent
their healing influence to her great
heart-wound, and though the cicatrix
was wildly evident at times, the heal
ing had been healthy, and with the
birth of her boy had come about, as the
surgeons say, at the first intention.
But for this there was enough outside
her loss, and consequent upon it, to
crush all hope and joy from her future.
Widowed as she had been, she had
been obliged to return to her parents
roof, and found, as the eldest of large
family, that the poor pittance of the
merchants clerk, her father, made
home far from bed of roses. For, be
it remembered, that with the husband
had disappeared the provision for the
widow which the uncle's will had in
sured. Carried in Ronald's pocket as
the document had been, no claim upon
the old mans estate could be estab-
lished; and the money, round f1O, 900
in consols, had passed to the next of
kin, a younger brother, John, very
different man. This John Morris
refused to acknowledge any intentions
that his elder brother might have had.
He knew of none of them, he said, and
he stood upon his rights. Would he do
nothing for the nephew's widow and
her child? Well, why should he? He
knew little or nothing about this nephew
Ronald. What had he meant by mar
rying penniless girl solely upon the
strength of vamped-up promises made
or not made, John Morris said, by
ssthat old fool, my bachelor-brother
Matthew" The mere copy of the will
produced by the lawyer might, or
might not, be genuine; at any rate,
John Morris declared it was q worthless