The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1886-06-11
SUSPECTED!
The Fate of the Gamekeepcr
JARRETT SYLVESTER
AUTHOR Or
"a FATAL MigTAKR," "FKTTERED YKr FREE, "r3.
TITLES ERROR, !" STRICKEN DUMB" "cIOunS
AND SUNSHINE, ""FALsK rRIDE," Rrc
BARRETT SYLVESTER.
CHAPTER XII-Continued.
OF

III n FIJI al -tOntIHueu.
To-day tie woods are full of sunshine, the
river lies below in golden trance. The
steep descent through the frs is sheeted with
blue-bells. and bright glilnpses of the shining
water appear momentarily between the rough
brown stems.
The little boat is moorcd to the out-stretch-
ing branch of tree which also serves for
landing stage. Hereward steps into her and
takes the SOULS, still like one in q dream.
The river here widens out between its high
banks almost into lake. Above lies the
picturesque old mill, with its many windows
and hign-pitched roof and, beside it, the
long semi-circular cascade with it rainbow
mist, and for background the rising woods
behind.
Hereward pulls down the river n little way,
rather lazily, and then allows the boat to
drift. The current carries him along quite
fast enough now, and he merely directs the
course of the boat now and then by half
stroke of the scull. He does not see the
necessity of hard work-he has had enough
of that all the morning.
Perhaps he thinks this going with the
stream is typical of his own mental state just
now Holding the sculls crossed upon his
knee he stares dreamily back at the receding
woods, and his grave dark face looks as
Lancelots face may have looked when he
came out from that parting with Guinevere.
Hereward is thinking of the day when lie
must leave this dreamland into which he has
wandered-wandered like child lost in
fairyland. He is thinking of that long slow
look he gave into two blue eyes last night,
and he is trying to interpret what he saw in
those eyes. He has dared-this poor sizar,
who may not have q second coat in the world
70 1y,,ifY fofo l
dared to love some beautiful princess but
he has dared more than this. He has dared
to let the princess know that he loves her.
Hereward wonders vaguely whether his
princess does indeed know that he loves her
like his life. He half hopes that she does,
and yet he knows that her bitter scorn is sure
to follow, if it has not preceded the knowl-
edge. And he knows that further stay at
Kingscourt is impu sible now. He has him
self rendered it impossible. But he does not
care for this. 1t must have come sooner or
later. There is a limit to the patience of
even an utterly hopeless lover-and Here
ward is an utterly hopeless lover. Hope
never entered his brain in connection with
this master passion. Some philosophers
maintain that there can be no love without
hope; but in truth the love that is without
hope is the highest love of all.
But while he muses., his boat has drifted
beyond its usual turning point. The wooded
banks have stolen past slowly, like piano.
rama, affording glimpses of open glade and
rock and ferny swell Once one of the red
gables and twisted chimneys of Kingscourt
had appeared among the trees. But these
have all passed into the background, and q
fiat marshy region is reached where water
fowl rise from the reedy islands at the splash
of the oar. If Hereward had looked he
would have seen huge square white house.
stiff, and many-windowed rising to the left
among acres of young plantations, and newly
laid-out gardens, and newly-sodded lawns.
The low grounds must be very marshy, for
many small reedy lakes appear in different
directions, and no trees seem to flourish, but
those of The willow and poplar Species This
is Nettlewood.
Hersward has seen it before, and he does
not want to see it again. The great white
ugly facade has look of its owner he thinks,
with little bitter smile. If he is afraid of
encountering that, his fears are groundless.
Hereward, idly amusing himself this sunny
afternoon, little imagines that Mr.. Cartwright
has gone up to town that very morning on
business strictly connected with himself
Mr.. Cartwright is very stirring man, and
does not let the grass grow under his feet.
He has wormed himself into a great MANY
things, his great ambition just now is to be
High Sheriff of the county-not his greatest
ambition. He has wish nearer to his heart
than even this.
Mr.. Cartwright is a magistrate, and has
busted himself very much in trying to dis
cover the perpetrators of Robert North S
murder He as q Ian led proprietor, takes a
great interest in The suppre sion of poachers.
He has spring-traps and all that kind of
thing laid down all over his estate. But
there is not much game there at present to
tempt the hungriest lad that ever shared a
rabbit or shot n rock. But he likes to talk
pompously of preserves.
Hereward finds the pull against the current
very warm work when he turns to come back.
There is not breath of air ON the river
He takes off his hat and throws it into the
bottom of the boat, but no breeze lifts the
dark hair from his forehead. Nevertheless
he likes the exercise, it gives an outlet to
his bitter feelings, rs it were, and every pow
erful stroke relieves him of some of his pent
up wrath and scorh.
He reaches the shady expanse of water be-
low the fall, and then he lets the little boat
float across to her willow moorlnss AS the
bow touches the branch to which the rope is
fastened, he sees Anne Grace. hathaway
standing on the river path just above.
He has not seen her since the inquest, and
now the change in the girls face horrities
him. She is as pale as death, and there are
dark shadows under her eyes, all her lovely
color is gone But it is the expression of her
face which strikes Hereward. He has heard
it is the general report i'll the village-that
4 - hrao har haort for