Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1885-03-11

Z
Good morning."
Good morning. she answered. as
she would have returned the salutation
of stranger.
Her husband left the room, and
Margaret took up the morning paper,
turning by the force of habit to the
army news. But the interest it had
had for her was gone John Morrison
was in England; his spurs had been
| bravely won in India.
The next day was wet and stormy.
Margaret sat at the piano, playing a
melody that sounded like an accompan-
| iment to the subbing of the wind
through the rain. Her husband stood
ar the window, looking dismally out
upon the lawn, where sodden leaves
were driven to and fro and the great
trees wailing above their dead children.
''Margaret!''
"Wen, Robert." The music died
| away in long mournful chord.
How horribly lonely it Isl We must
ill the Court with company this autumn.
A few of these days spent indoors
would drive me mad
why don't you go outg You can
take the close Carriage, you know" she
answered satirically.
BETTER do that than listen TO the
ghostly tunes you get out of the piano
they make my flesh creep. For mercy's
safe don't play any morei / say we
II ist ill the house with company"
''As you please" his wife returned,
closing the piano and taking up book.
Her calm face irritated him.
81 do please, then. One might as
well have a statue in the house as you.
Margaret. Can't you have pity or a
fellow. and talk little?"
She laid aside her book.
what do you wish me 20 say?"
He paced the room before he spoke
again.
II should like the Dean and Clare
and Jack Morrison TO spend q week or
two here. Is there any one you would
like to invite besides2'
"No-but, Robert, don't invite Cap
tain Morrison
"Why? | wish MIN 10 come
II don't wish hIm 10 do SOL would
much rather he did not indeed"
"Just because like him, because his
company would cheer me up a little
know you too well. Mrs. Armail,"
Margaret was deaihly white - her
voice trembled as she spoke.
Robert, beg of you not to ask him
here
II tell you 1 shall Ii Is utter non
sense. I shall ask bin tomorrow.
Have you the same Objec' ON to your
cousin and uncle. prayr"
''lf | am 70 receive all the visitors
you choose 10 name, it is useless asking
my opinion" she answered, taking up
her book again and leaving the room.
won't you come, Clare2 Robert
wishes it verT much-and 1 need not
say how glad ! shall be TO have you with
me-"
So spoke Mrs. Armain. She was
standing by the fire IN the Dcanery
drawing-room, her stately figure, in its
sweeping silken robes, forming strong
contrast to the Deans daughter. Clare
was leaning back In her easy-chair,
weary with the joy of coming home
again. She was changed greatly changed.
All tie ire of love and hope had left her
face. A sorrow- stricken woman she
looked, save when She smiled the same
sweet smile of Old. That was unchanged.
Sin alone can take away the beauty of
smile.
"You won't come then, dear?"
mo, Maggie. Don't ask 10 to leave
my d ear old home again. l feel better
here-and-and-l'm not strong, Mag
gie.''
Mrs. Armain did not answer. Her
delicate hands were twisting nervously
in each other, and her dark eyes had a
troubled look in them.
Don't be vexed, dear" Glare went
ON. "You know papa could not leave
mis- work. know he would not"
"Why Lot say at once that you do
not care to Gomez" said Mrs. Armain
bitterly. ''You are quite right. The
Court is only great state-house, not a
hOme-not home, Clare. Stay In your
own warm nest, birdie. Goodbye"
Don't leave me. Maggie, so ooldly.
| would CONT If l could. Don't be
angrv."
"Angry with you, my innocent, pure
minded darling! If I had not married
for money, you would come perhaps;
but curse is resting on me. Who
shall tell where 1t will end?" And,
without waiting for an answer to her
wild words, she kissed her cousin and
left the room.
1t was more than three weeks later
before Clare heard anything of the do
ings at the Court. One morning Robert
Armain called. He was going to Lon
don by the noon express TO stay day
or two on business.
"l am obliged TO leave Margaret to
entertain the visitors alone. Iwish you
could have come, Clare"
Have you much company at the
CourtY"
"a couple Of my old aunts, distant
cousin and his family, and Captain Nor
rison l thought the Court was dull
before, but it's worse than ever now.
Every one makes it the aim Of his or
her life to thwart or annoy everybody
else. You ca3 imagine the result"
Clare laughed, and the Dean re-
marked
Your duties as host must be no sim
ecure. Bob"
"By Jove, mol It's the hardest work
have ever done. Captain Morrison Is
as bad as any of them. never saw a
man 50 changed in my life. But must
be off When are your loses coming
back, Clare? Goodbye" He shook
hands with them both and FASTENED
away.
Clare had been ordered to take riding
exercise. Her father had bought her a
beautiful pony, and that afternoon
Glaze donned her riding habit and can
tered away through Dodington into the
quiet lanes. Everything was very still
and silent under the autumn sunshine,
and Clare rode on with loosened bride,
thinking, not Of the past, but Of the
future the mysterious future that
might so soon lead her into the spirit
land. For Glare knew that the danger
the doctors feared was not over. Any
sudden excitement. chill, keen sor-
row, might break the silver cord aud,
like her mother, cut her of in the flower
of her youth.
A sharp turn In the road roused her.
It curved along low park paling to
Join the high road. She fastened her
horse to the terrace pillar and ran up
the steps into the hall. The peace of
the autumn afternoon had fallen upon
the house. Nothing was stlIring. Clare