The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1886-04-22
ragged and iriendless, or else the prince

shall bring me back in splendor.
Old Betty left her obediently at the
gates of The Hollies, which were just
upon the outskirts of the village, and
Margery stole up the carriage-sweep.
She avoided the hall-door, and slipped
round to lighted bow-window, which
| opened down upon the terrace.
She peered cautiously in. and saw the
room was empty. She tried the sash,
and it Yielded to her hand
When she stood in the room, the win
dow closed behind her, and she glanced
round her. This was the library, and
no doubt the special room for the young
master of the Hall.
She crossed to the ng-table be-
| side the great armchair on the hearth.
There were magazines and papers lying
! about, and letter addressed to Philip
b. Wodrington, Esq, The Hollles.n
She hesitated an instant half draw
| ing her own letter from its hiding-place.
| Then with hurried No. not yet-not
yet, if everr' turned and lifted the heavy
| p0rtiere and glided out into the hall.
The mask was tied over her face, else,
as she stood upon the hearthrug beside
Philips chair, she might have been
startled by double reflection in the
mirror over the mantlepiece.
There was her own figure, and there
was one of the old Wodrington family
portraits of powdered and brocaded
damsel seated at her harp, whose face
might have been Margery's own for its
strong likeness to her.
But Margery never so much as
glanced at the pictures; she was watch
ing the dancers in the hall. She was
evidently looking for someone she
might recognise.
Shepherdess and cavalier of the old
time were dancing the quadrille togeth-
er; Persian slave and Chinese manda-
rim; flowery Spring and Santa Claus in
all his snowy furs. The latter was max
ing his way up to Margery, as was GER
tainly more appropriate, in pause OF
| the dance, when someone spoke behind
| her.
Surely, as master of The Hollies, l
! may be allowed some claim-at least to
a dance?'
1t was all that Margery could do to
| repress a start. She knew that voice so
well!
She dared not trust her own, as she
turned round and through her mask
saw Philip, unmasked, close to her.
He wore a court dress of the last CEN
tury, but as some two or three of his
guests had, through mistake, arrived
without masks, he had laid aside his
own with a quick sense of relief.
This playing at merrymaklng irked
him, as his grave eyes showed.
A Twelfth Night ball was always ex-
pected at The Hollies, so its new master
gave it, if in secret unwillingly enough.
The evening had gone YEARLY to him
until this little moving holly-bush ar
rived to pique his curiosity.
The ''Dryad of the Holly" people
were soon calling her in the ballroom,
and no one wondered that the master
of The Hollies almost took possession of
her-no one, that is, except the master
himself.
But he was presently asking himself
the meaning Of it all.
81 an not fool to let myself be
haunted so by the thought of Margery,
he was saying to himself. ''Margery,
who refused me quite coolly and easily
last year-Margery, the little maid of
the mill, who can have nothing in COM
mon with this guest of mine And yet
a trick of gesture, a tone of voice, dis
guised as it is, sets me to dreaming of
Margery Margeryn
He murmured the name half-aloud,
finding himself for moment alone in
the library-or thinking he was alone,
for he missed the slight waving of the
curtain over one of the book-lined al
coves.
A moment ago, Margery, standing
Just where he was now, had drawn her
undirected letter from her corsage, had
directed it in a trembling hand to
phillip Brand Wodrington," and had
laid it, sealed as it was, uppermost
among his little pile of letters, and then
hearing some approaching sound, she
had fled away to the nearest pOrtiere,
hoping to escape, only to find herself
curtained into shallow alcove and
Philip entering the room.
For an instant, she could not resist
the temptation to glance through the
gap of the curtain.
Philip was leaning back in his chair,
opening his letters one by one.
He had left Margery's to the last,
probably because the disguised back
mana was unknown 10 MIN.
But he had broken the seal now. A
smothered exclamation broke from him.
Margery could follow him down the
page as well as if she were looking over
his shoulder.
My child" the letter said-'my little
daughter who will never know me-when
you read this you will be eighteen, and you
will have grown up true child of the kind
npDnlP who have nrOmISpG me- tn t1k
of you-a girl who can work, and not fail
or die, as have failed and am dying, when
there is nothing but work left for my help
less unaccustomed hands. Now that you
are ola enough not to be harmed by the
knowledge, you ought to know that, as the
phrase goes, you are well born upon your
mothers side-a Wodrington, the rightful
| heiress of The Hollies. country-Seat close
| to the little village Of near GuilfCrd.
But my father cast me off because l mar
| ried the man | loved, who was not well
born, in the Wodrington fashion, but the
trueSt gentleman and the bravest heart that
| ever woman leaned upon. If Ralph Lane
| had lived, he would have won for himself
| such name that my father must have re-
| pented his harshness. But he is dead, and
| my father in my stead has adopted my cou-
| sin, Gilbert Brand whose son is TO bear the
name of " odringtOn on coming of age"
There were few words more of low
| ing counsel from the dying mother to
the child; but Philip did not stop to
read them. He had laid down the letter
| with that mention of himself. He was
walking up and down the room restless
| ly. Twice or thrice he muttered
broken sentence or two:
AT once-the child must be found!
| Hideous usurpationn
He flung himself into his chair again,
and began writing hastily letter to his
lawyer, telling him of this strange bit
of information of Alice Wodrington's
child. of whom he heard tonight for
the first time, and who must be traced
and given her rights.
1t was but a half page, and he signed
his name to it-''Philip Brand Wod-