Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1889-10-10

LEANING on THE TRusTY ARM or JOHN.
ter's face as she called to him across the
portals of the home he had denied her in
that last goodbye; perhaps the beautiful
features of the little son, framed in by its
long golden ringlets, and a pair of baby
| arms outstretched toward his unrelenting
heart, had u part in the softening process
of Sir Rupert's speech and manner. And
perhaps il was on this sorrowful and af-
fectionate picture that he dwelt in these
| dumb, lonely days. All coniectured, but
none knew.
Once, after having been driven to Fair
light church, he wanted to be taken to Oak
Lawn.
| 1t was in the autumn time, and the day
was cold for the season, and dreary enough
to have remained indoors, especially for
one so frail and woe-begone. But he wanted
to go, desired to see 'once more" he said,
the beautiful grounds of Oak Lawn, where
reposed the dust of Lady Perciyal.
And patient John hsi driven slowly,
silently through the bleak lanes and across
where the heather-b bells glowed like fame
on the browning void until the airy, breezy
Chace came to view, which lay between
| them ana the chapel at Oak Lawn.
The clouds sailed high ard white with the
deep blue riffs shining through them in
long calm belts, sweetly cleaning, as II
Heaven smiled complacently down in I'M
changing love, in spite of all the tumult-
| Gus sorrows of earth.
The brown and russell leaves whirled
hither, thither, and whirled on before in
little edaies of death, and Sir Rupert sighed
deeply and repeated to himself in a half
audible voice: 1--WE all do fade as a leaf-as
leaf"
what is it, masterln asked John, think
| ing that for once in these lonely outings
Sir Rupert had deigned to speak and that
he had been addressed So leaning over
the seat he repeated eagerly: "What is it,
| mastera"
ave all do fade as leaf, John, and are
forgotten, forgotten" repeated Sir Rupert
cnce more, and sighed again.
| The gates of Oak Lawn swung open TO
admit them, while the solemn-looking sex
ton stood respectfully by divining the rea-
| son of this visit. He had admitted Miriam
! Percival Fairfax some months ago, and
| well, he remembered it; also that there
| was a message here awaiting the master of
Heatherleigh.
Leaning on the arm of the trusty John he
made his way with uncertain faltering
| step to the family tomb, which seemed &c
say: ''Sir Rupert, they are nearly all here
nearly all here" as he stopped, weary and
faint, al its portals. Poor old mani Het
up the spirit echo and murmured: "Yes,
nearly all here; all excepting Miriam and
those other Inflated ones and-and me.'
The wind swept up from the sea, signing
and whispering in the dark yews of the
sealed volumes of trouble. pain and tears
| laid away to molder In their dank shadows,
breaking into reqniems for the silent sleep.
ers when gIssty bl auches of the ra1denins
oaks were reached. Up through the GEN.
| trail passagcway Of the grounds bordored
on either hand with aged, weeping elms
the restless winds seemed to catch the
| peaceful inspiration of rest and lost them
selves in melodious chants for the dead.
| Sir Rupert drew his surcoat closely about
his frail. shivering form, and heard with
| sinking heart the dirges for the dead echo
! ing down the grand old aisles of the Gene
| terry as when he heard them chanted over
Lady Perciyal's bier ON that awful day; the
day when the light and sunshine went out
| forever for Heatherleigh, eclipsed by the
shadow of the tomb.
Then he grew vlsibly agitated, and put
| ting out his hand clutched the outer iron
door to steady himself and gain sufficient
composure and caimness of manner, if not
of mind, to deceive his attendants as to the
nature of his weakness.
AS he did so piece of paper dropped
| from its hiding place in the interstices of
the complicated fastening and fiuttered to
| his feet.
John picked it up at his masters bidding
| and gave it into the trembling. outstretched
! palm.