Devils Lake inter-ocean. (Devils Lake, Ramsey Co., Dakota [N.D.]) 1884-1905, 1886-09-04
CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVI.
CUTHRERT.
4,ronzed by the sun and thin in the face.
But emaciation waS the only change in
him.
And it was a change to mar nothing of his
beauty, which, because of the ingrained ex-
preston Of pensive thought, such as a man
might wear in whose heart sorrow languishes
but will not die, was of q nobler and truer
type than what it had been in the lighter
months before.
When a man lives a bitter lifetime in a
short while his face will be a mirror to re-
fleet the violent compression of experience.
By the earnest, plaintive gaze of the eye,
by the habitual flxity OF the mouth, by the
unsevere resolution of feature, Cuthbert ex-
planned to the shallowest sight tho harshness
of his ordeal, though its nature remained his
secret.
But to this distinctive expression which
his face had taken-stamped there by lonely
contemplation, by unutterable longings, by
helpless chatting, by many fits of mental
agony, by hope fallen sick and spiritless, by
such things which do really and truly of this
life make IL hell without participation of
conscience, as there are sufferers to swear
was superadded, ut this time, as he walked
through busy thoroughfares, Il painful anx-
iety SO acute as to fix upon his heart the
shadow of physical torment.
With quick steps he pressed forward
glancing on his passage at every clock, until
he had crossed Blackfriars bridge, and
arrived aG the famous hostelry which, in
those days, was the starting point for the
coaches to that part OF the coast where
Greystone lay. 20,
Here waa the coach drawn up, and pas.
sengers clambering to their places, and All
turned hero a night
There was room and to spare, happily; but
no time for the hot drink which the rest
Of the travellers had slowed under their
small clothes.
Vapor was still in the sky to darken it and
a leaden dullness OF the massive city, but
when the horses heads were down and the
wheels spinning the sky grew light and fold
after fold of fog peeled off until the blue
heaven foated clear, and then the tune of the
wind grew merry.
This coach was the "Rattler," and famous
for good runs At every stage did it ha 1t
as punctually Us trains at stations do now,
and for a careless heart the passage was a
glorious journey to make. November's yell
low light upon the land, upon the hilltops a
full toned coloring that kept distant the blue
Of the sky, between the ridges masses of
shadow, the brown Of loan and the dwelling
of sunshine on green.
At eight of the evening tho coach swung
through the streets of a halfway city of the
| road, where some %relinauished the roof for
an inn fire md a bed. But Cuthbert kept
his place, so that faithfully at the hour Of
twelve, by the deep voiced city clock. the
coach arrived at that ancient place whence
diverged the road to Greys:one, and here
Cuthbert quilted the vehicle.
The suggestion of a bed seemed like a land
lords hooking of a restless spirit, yet to a
bed in tho Old Bell inn lie betook himself,
laying urgent commands upon the host that
a ~postchaise should be ready for him by six.
Even an hours sleep could do him no injury,
and this he got, which relieved the veins of
his head from the fullness of the blood
poured into them by intense mental anxiety,
and toned the heart into a softer beating,
so that when he was aroused he was better
prepared for the end of his journey.
The distance to Greystone was twcnty-one
miles, and this the post horses could run,
with one halt for a bait. At nine o'clock
the chaise wheels tool the stones Of the
High street.
In Greystone at last! And as in the High
street he stood, the smooth sea stretching its
gray luster to the sky from under the 'front.'
ing houses, and the keen wind whitening the
roadways-unnoticed, for the cold, by the
few persons abroad, who hurried past, hug
ging themselves in folds of frieze-a passion
ate fear came upon him and held him to the
pavement.
For right in his sight, looking now through
bare tendrils of creepers, "a the ship
wright's wooden house; and that it might
be a desolate place for the want of his wife,
and a tomb for the echoes of memory only to
sound in, was a dread of the awful kind that
repels the heart with horror from the de.
termination Of it.
He took courage presently and went for
ward slowly, with his eyes fixed upon the
house, until he was at the gate of it, and
then he walked quietly to the door. He
knocked and fell back a pace, that every
window might be visible to him; and while
he stood, looking first here and then there.
the door was opened, and q respectfully
dressed woman stood forth.
He could barely speak for the construction
in his throat, and in a quite faint voice
asked if Mrs. Strangfield was within.
"Oh, dear no, sir. Mrs. Strangfield has
been gone these three months" answered tbs
woman, looking at him with surprise.
"Wherep
"Why, to a house in Winston. Do mo-
you know her husband be dead, and the
business sold to Mr.. McAndrewf"
"sThey were friends of mine, and l am JUS
returned from a long journey" And in {
wild. quick way, like a cry overlapping de
cision, he said: Sand what of her daughterE
Mrs. Shawl She lives along wi hel
mother. Her husband be dead too, y
know.n
aSho lives with her mother. ani Is we'll,
HOPPER he said, the flush brought to his fac
by the violence his question did him yielding
to q deadly white
"Quite well, ! believe, sir. She's aiyer |