The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1884-09-20

to do Mr.. Challacombe justice, was well
stocked but the place itself was like the
city of the dead-so silent, so quiet, so
lonely.
But as the weather improved we got
out most of the day, which rendered us
very independent of the small, low-roofed
rooms Jack and took long walks, and
occasionally we utilized the pony-trap, tax
ing with us our little Rose and her nurse
We began to think soon Of asking some
of our relations to visit us; and the first to
whom [ sent an invitation was an elderly
cousin, who resided in London, and who
was in rather delicate health. [ candidly
explained the out-of-the-way nature of the
place we were in, but descanted upon the
great pleasure it would be to have her and
my entire conviction that the air would do
her an immense amount of good. She
came; and it was very fortunate for me
that she did so, as about three days after a
telegram had reached us requesting my
husband to lose no time in returning to
town, in consequence of one of his partners
being taken ILL., 1t was raining when he
left us, and watched the wretched shan
drydan disappear down the road with feel
ings 1 could scarcely repress-a sense Of
foreboding evil seemed to Oppress me. l
tried in vain to shake it off, but ONLY partly
succeeded in doing so. Cousin Susan en-
deavored to console me by reminding me
constantly that Jack had promised to re-
turn in day or two.
Jack had just been gone one week when
Roses nurse, pleasant girl of about twenty,
came to my room and informed me of the
occurrence | have already alluded to-"A
prisoner had escaped"
Nothing could have frightened me more,
and | was afraid it might alarm cousin
Susan, so | charged Margaret on no ac-
count to let it reach her ears. Very likely
even now the man was captured; it was
rare, indeed, that a convict ever escaped !;
but had heard stories of their eluding
capture, until, driven by sheer starvation,
they often surrendered themselves to any
stray passer-by, to whom the reward might
or might not be of some consequence.
That very morning we had arranged to
drive to rather distant spot to get some
ferns. would fain have deferred the ex-
pedition; but cousin Susan was already pre-
pairing for it, so could only have postpon-
ed it by giving my reasons and the chance
of encountering the convict seemed too
small to risk terrifying her by telling her
of it at ALL
1t was lovely morning when We start
ed, and cousin Susan became quite enthu-
siastic over the "frowning tors and wind
swept moors.
"Don't you admire them, Helen?" she
said.
"They are very grand" admitted,
"Oh, so lovely, so Wild" said Susan.
l was glad she liked them,
| The ferns We're to be found in sort of
ravine, which was reached by narrow
lane; on one side was almost a precipice,
overhanging a streamlet, now nearly dry,
but one which che winter rains soon trans
formed into torrent; on the other side
was wood, composed principally of stun,
ted oak-trees, with hardly any foliage, and
singularly small but all around the trees
was thick sort of underwood.
We had left Tom the stable-boy with
the trap by the roadside, and had pri-
vately resolved not to let my cousin pene.
trate further into the ravine than could
help; but she was so charmed with its
wealth of rare ferns that she skipped from
one point to apotheF with an amount of
dexterity and nimbleness | had never be-
fore given her credit for
II do think we might collect quite a
hamperful, Helenr' she said, kneeling down
as she spoke to dig up root most energet-
ically.
awe had better come an other day,
then," 1 responded. II don't want to be
late of getting back, so, if you don't mind
just taking few specimens, when Jack is
with US we can come again"
''Now Or never~ gaily rejoined my cous
in, little imagining how soon her own
words were to be applicable to ourselves
She pounced joyfully on her ferns and had
collected quite small heap when l suggest
ed that we had better tell Tom to tie the
pony to gate and carry them down 'fol
her.
20 mol" said cousin Susan, II will
carry them myself, Do help me here just
a minute, Helen
By this time we were some distance W
the ravine; the walk was narrow and wind
ing we had gone further than even haG
intended. bent down to give her the
assistance she wanted in raising up some
lovely lichen from the trunk of dead tree
As | did so my eyes wandered some dis
tance from where we were standing to-
wards fallen tree | fancied-perhaps il
was only fancy-I knew L was in very
nervous state, and apt to imagine, but
fancied saw movement just beyond the
tree-it was within twenty PAGES of us
l felt my face grow icy cold my veins
seemed chilling for moment l feared I
was going to faint. Death must be some,
thing like what | felt on that sunny day
in August when stood in the Devonshire
ravine with my unconscious cousin.
looked again. There it was more distinct
ly visible than ever-a line of drab-colored
clothing, and presently side-view of the
most villainous looking countenance it was
ever my fortune to behold. If l could
without alarming her, get my cousin to re-
trace her steps about ten yards, we should
have turned corner, and then could tell hel
enough to hurry her onwards. l knew
she was nervous so, perhaps, than
myself; but l knew we were in imminent
peril while in such close proximity to this
desperate and, from his very escape, doubly
desperate man.
"Susan," 1 said-my voice seemed so
hard and dry and strange-'you have
passed all the best ferns here"
30 no, I haven't" said Susan, joyously
approaching two steps nearer the orouching
convict.
"Am l to throw these away ?" l con-
tinued holding out one of her best speci-
mems, and, as carelessly and indifferently
as could moving one, two, three steps
nearer the corner.
"No, of course moi" she exclaimed,
| I,,,rrx;oc, toxvordo mo now 9Whv Halan