The Penn's Grove record., 1885-07-04

''His wife2 | did not know he was
married."
''Oh. yes" returned my mother COM
poSedly, there is a Mrs. Fairholme,
know.
/ saw Oracle change color; and in a
minute she went out ofthe room.
| was tramping home to Neither Hall
thinking Of Grace's pale face, and was
waking in a narrow lane, followed by
all the dogs, when | caught sight OF a
girlish figure standing OF the top OF
the steep bank, busy struggling with a
spray o. cleaning crimson bryony ber-
ries which she was trying to wrest from
the hedge. AT sound of our approach
ing steps-mine and the dogs'-she
turned her head. / knew her OF course
at once-the short golden hair under a
broad brimmed hat, the white dress,
the tan-leather wrinklY gloves up above
the elbow-above all, the deep shadowy
eyes and absolutely irresistible mouth
it was Mrs. Fairholme. In an instant
she had seen me, and spraug down the
bank into the road. | think she was
going To ask me to tear away the bryony
spray for her; she stood with her right
band extended, the whole power of her
brilliant eJes turned on me. And II
What did | do2 felt that my own
safety lay IN flight. | raised my hat,
bowed stifly, ignoring the outstretched
hand, and walked on, leaving her stan
ding pauslng, half bewildered for tue
instant, and / stalked on, never once
looking back, and arrived at home Sd
abominably cross that my mother was
quite astonished, because, though | Ger
talnly have a good many faults, am
not usually a bad tempered fellow.
"Ial, said my mother, "If / were
you, | would run up to London for a
week to the Vargraves'."
The Vargraves' were my cousins.
There was a whole houseful OF them
jolly girls enough. They lived in one
of the Bayswater squares and we're al
ways having dances and dinner-parties,
what should | go there for?" de-
manded | irritably.
why, your Aunt Vargrave has writ
ten eve 50 many times to say that they
have seen nothing of you-and | think
you want a change; you've been fret,
ting yourself i'll about Gerard Castle.
maine
Pm not ill.,"
"Well. out of spirits. A week at the
Vargraves' would set you up. You
are so moped without Gerard, and Pm
sure he would gladly spare you.
Think" added my mother archly, ''that
your cousins are beginning to grow
jealous of Grace"
"Poohl They needn't"
"Are you sure, Hal2n
'Quite sure. l say, mother, l DOM
want to go to London"
But all the time 1t was borne in upOI
me that it would be better for me tC
go away for a little time. So at last
settled down to leave home.
1t was a very stormy day when | star
ted for town. 1t is about a five hours
run from us to London, and | set out
by a train leaving at four, which wa:
due at the terminus about nine. The
station-master who had reserved me {
first-class smoking compartment, re
marked to me as he locked me in
"It's gong TO be a regular October
gale, Mr.. Shirley, sir"
''All right, Dobson," | answered; 81
don't expect the train will be blown of
the metals"
mo, sir. How's Mr.. Castlemaine
slr?n
''Oh, coming on inelyi We shall
have him on horseback by the first meei
of the Neither Hall hounds"
"That's we'll, sir" and touching hi:
hat, Dobson went off.
Suddenly my attention was attrac,
ted to a gentleman standing by a car
rage window and talking to a lady in
side. They were about six compart'
ments beyond me; and | saw at once
that they were MI. and Mrs. Falrholme
So they we're going on the same trail
with mel Just then the station-bel
sounded, aud the train began TO nov
Doctor Fairholme stood back waving
his hand and smiling. He had eviden.
tly been seeing his wife off-and | was
ia the same train with the woman
| was going to London to escaped Al
the first big station where we stopped
| could not resist the temptation OF
getting out and walking up and down
with my cigar, sending side. chances at
the window where she sat,
On again-past hedges and fields,
meadows and orchards-regular En-
glish midland scenery. Another stop
There was an awful crash, and | was
violently hurled across the carriage anG
back again on to the floor. | felt q
zEfarfpn hltnHinr nnot Af oI.nfu pair
ON my face and heard a fearful grind
ing crashing sound mingled with
screams, shouts, and groans. My com
partment seemed pretty well wrecked.
1t was jammed into no particular shape
and the rain was entering through the
shattered window. Through this hole
| managed to wriggle, and came out on
such a scene of horror as | pray | may
never see again. l sent up a silent
thanksgiving for my own safety, and
then | thought of Mrs. Fairholme.
Frantically / rushed to her carriage,
1t was e~mpty-they had lifted out the
passengers. l ran along the bank,
needless of rain and wind, my one idea
being to find her. Presently | saw q
small dark figure of a woman, hatless
and d~ishevelled, seated alone on a pile
of planks. Her handkerchief was held
to one side of her face-she was motion
less. | rushed towards her, and SHE
half turned AS l bent over her.
''Oh," she said f~alteringly, lifting q
sheet white face to mine, "Mr. Shirley
Thank heaveDI"
you are hurt?" l asked, trying Il
control my voice to speak quietly,
She bowed her head IN answer. She
could not speak; her lips were blue ant
quivering with pain.
Your headl" l said as | substituted
my handkerchief for her own which
was soaked with blood.
"No that is nothing. My-oh, my
sidel"-with a gasp aud sob of agony,
an take you to the station" said
rising hastily.
"Oh, don't go away, Mr., Shirley, fol
| Heavens sakel'
SPIN only going to get something tC
protect you from this fearful rain;
shall not be gone one minute. Wal
for meln
| darted back to the wreck of my
carriage, and succeeded in dragging
out my thick gray rug. l returned u