Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1886-07-01
CHAPTER III.
cUTHBERT's SECRET.

l Utter silence falls never on bows school
Not even on the dormitories, wherein the
\ snoring of dull stomachs and mutterings OF
! young slumber, and the restless sprawling OF
limbs that makes the bedsteads creak and the
bed clothes slide, are sounds audible through.
! out the night.
But there should be peace at prayer time
| That hour is arrived, and now we certainly
find a tolerable stiffness ON the benches, young
knees and fitful tendency toward laughter
h notwithstanding
/ The resident ushers at the corner of each
form, their fingers to their eyes, stand erect.
\ Cuthbert kneels near his father "A breeze
4 from the sea keeps the chestnut leaves at the
windows shivering and through the twink.
\ ling of them the faint gold-shine in the west
4 comes and goes, with the large stars in the
nearer sky and the growing whiteness o;
\ moonlight ON the fields
| Then to bed decorously, as becomes the re-
/ cipients of the benediction
| As the boys file out through one door, Cuth,
bert walks out behind his father through an.
l other door.
/ Though watched on the whole by his father
more closely than he merited seeing that he
had long ago abandoned petticoats, Cuthbert
enjoyed every evening AN hour and half OF
| liberty, what time the doctor, having dis
missed his scholars to bed, withdrew to his
4 study TO relax his mind in all WAYS that
pleased him after the tension of the day
his little spell of evening holiday was
come, and as the tails of his fathers coat
tiuttered through the study door, Cuthbert
swung down his hat and left the house
In the young moonlight, and the glimmer-
| ing memories of crimson over the dark line of
4 the cliff, the ocean breeze, snatching lard
1 fragrance from the Nesting crops, was sweet
as honey.
Down the broad white road Cuthbert went
H swiftly, pausing once to pull watch from
his fob
| The road led straight TO the town.
Coming presently to the brow of the west
ern slope, the town lay in a fog of moonlight
| at his feet, the lamps threading it in veins of
lire sparks, and the sea Dreaming a wash of
white foam ON the semicircIe of beach.
And SO forward and downward, his shadow
growing smaller in his wake, and the dusky
crops on either hand ripping their ears on a
level with his shoulders, until row of noble
wayside elms bury him i'll their heavy gloom.
Here he halts
1t Is weak-hearted love that is not pune
tual in its promises; and what should excuse
delay, when the lover waits and the summer
moon shines out her sweet invitation, and the
soft wind sets the trees bending stately heads
TO behold the coming of the tardy once
Bst lo figure steals around the bend of
the road from behind the plumage of the
fields, and in a moment lips are meeting.
The embrace is warm one wanting in
coyness, and the richer in tenderness for the
want.
Something to stiffen Dr. Shaws frill into
ND 70 rob ha - Ill
flavor in his nose.
at is barely the quarter" the girl said in a
low voice. and she casped her hands upon
his arm and strained her eyes at his face.
1--WE are both before our time"
"Both impatient, Jenny"
GAY; but / will take most credit, for the
way is all up hill for me, dear"
"How long can you give me, pretty?"
"Not above five minutes"
"Indeed; then those minutes shall be long
| ones"
mot above five minutes I say, Cuthbert:
and | feel the pity of it this lovely night,
when the moon is so pretty, that | shall
cry to go to bed"
He kissed her hand
"Mother thinks l am gone to see Kate Oil
yer, she went on $50 must not stay, for
fear she SHOULD ask father to fetch me- There
are troops Of fishermen in the market place,
| and the streets are full of people, and mother
does not like me to walk alone"
would she think you safe with your hus-
bands"
"Ah, would not she! If father had her
| heart"
Put away your hat that you may lay
your soft hair ON my shoulder Here is a dry
cushion of grass with streak of moonlight
fr,,.,, IA.
tience while talk to you. Mother will not
be wondering yet"
SO they seated themselves on the verdure,
where the moonlight fell in lance of trem-
ulous silver, and she, dutifully removing her
hat, bent her cheek to his shoulder.
Thus they sat, with no other sound to dis
| turb them than the moaning of the sea and
the rustling of the leaves over their heads.
In the moonlight a lovely woman's face
takes sad and moving beauty
Not sweeter face ever smiled in the love
of mans eyes than Jenny's, though married
by the moonlight as mirror for the emo
| tions, which, in the glory of the day, gave it
color and archness, and hundred turns of
grace.
MY little wife" said he in his gentle voice,
81 have been closely pressed to-day by my
father. put him on a scent tnat puzzled
him; and really he went down to it greedily,
for his anxiety to find out the meaning OF
what he chooses to call my altered behavior
is perfectly wonderful I hinted-merely
hinted--that the news of our sea fights, and
our battles ashore, had set my heart beating
for higher feast than examining boys with
learning. Well, it was time he noticed some
change in me-"
Jenny counted with her fingers upon his
u. 4
the while.
"He said to me- Cuthbert went on, " Il
date the alteration in you from the day of
your return from London He draws near,
you see, dear. He is dreadfuIly close at my
heels. Still his notion is odd seeing that
| have not moped since as | moped before
went that trip"
"How like our adventures at home are2
Only to-day mother came up to me and took
my ear in her hand, and said, Jenny, Jenny,
will squeeze hard if thou art not honest.
l hear you signing in your sleep just like my
old schoolmate Sally Mattocks did when the
silly wench brought trouble upon herself by
listening to n gypsy woman's lies Father
watches you closely, and | know him very
well as man who never troubles himself to
stare, unless there be something to see What
| is it, sillyn Ipulled my ear away and made
it burn to run from her, and / laughed that
she might think her talk nonsense But oh.
my dear, l could not help crying just two or
three tears. | do not fear mother-indeed,
she would be very proud of my own, and
| love him for his own sweet sake and make
| him her boast, as / know she would for
| often father tells her that she has made her
! god-mothers sad fibbers, though what he
means by that you shall tell me, as have not
one little bit of thy cleverness in my head,
sweet--but fathers eyes when he is angry
make me SILVER. What bold things a girl
will do for love. And yet it does not make
| her brave
| She put her hand over her eyes and peeped
at him through her fingers; not for the CO.
quetry of il, but that she might not lose sight
/ of him for moment
/ "Jenny, | will tell you what it is-there is
no help for it but honesty. And that we need
not be afraid of y
| "Oh, no, indeed The Lord forbid. We
are both truly honest, thank God"
II will begin with your father, Jenny.
| That is my resolve and ones own wishes are
the easiest way, love- Tomorrow evening
will see Mr.. Strangfield and tell him we are
married"
| Tomorrow EVENING"
/ 1t was long way off for their next meet
| ing. but pery close for bitter business
at is not too soonl' he said, soothingly
aNo If Is not foo soon she answered with