The Irish standard., 1889-08-31

single regret, and he would go to the bad |
On! is-suspense-but the room
went around him with, dizzy velocity and
he knew no more.
He was too weak to calmly count up the
odds against him in this first deep, true love
of his life, and had tainted dead away in
consequence.
/ CHAPTER xix.
We left the inmates of Heatherleigh Hall
terrified over the PROSTATE form Of the mas
ter. But he was not dead, as Peggy sup
posed; only dazed and stunned. After re-
| lighting the tapers they carried Sir Rupert
to his apartments, where he revived pres
emily, Marcia declaring in an aside to the
coachman that che had the lives of cat or
he would have been dead and buried long
ago, as became him."
They stayed with him until the thunder
storm had spent it's fury and swayed away
in the distance with low, sullen roar. BY
that time Sir Rupert had gained his usual
quiet demeanor and was sinking into sluu-
Der.
It was now nearly morning, and the warn
ing of chanticleer notified them Of daybreak.
And, as Peggy said, ''she niver was KNOWN
ov the tonne whin the masther didn't kape
awake an tearin' around like possessed
until there was no tonne left afor any one ov
them to schlape 'ceptin' himself"
But there shortly came a time when the
master did not even 'stear round" In the
Silly sweet weather another step toward the
long, long home was indicated. In those
days Sir Rupert did nothing but lie on the
couch and stare aimlessly at the frescoed
ceiling.
These days were days of comparative
peace at the Hall and the servants were
left to their own sweet will pretty much.
Sometimes the clergyman of Fairhght
Church, an old friend of the masters, came
in by request and read to him for hours;
sometimes the servants kept Sir Rupert
company, and whiled away the hours in his
rooms to please his childish fancies.
| One afternoon after the rector had taken
his departure, an unusual silence pervaded
the Hail. as if the house hung waverjng in
the balance of some terrible destiny.
Sir Rupert broke the gloomy spell by
sending summons for Ancil Clar]xson,
who was busy in the garden And when
! that broad-shouldered SON of Erin made his
appearance, hat in hand, he was electrified
by seeing his master walking about his
apartments. ''See!' said he, II am much
better this afternoon, Ancil, therefore
must go downstairs, and I want you to as
sist me in descending.'
So the willing servant, ready to crafty.
| his masters strange wish, almost carried
him down the long flights Of stairs ard
through the central hall until the front en-
trance was reached.
| The wish to be downstairs was not 80
! strange to Ancil as for the idea to get into
Sir Rupert's head that he was able to en-
aure it. !
Nevertheless, he was down at last, and
placing him in his long-unused rolling chair,
which had kept lonely vigil behind the door
for months, Ancil wheeled him out on the,
steps, and, reclining peacefully, Sir Rupert;
Watched with a half-smile the waning
light of another summers day.
The lovely English creepers nodded In:
The bright, soft air of midsummer, and!
dropped in sweet profusion from the wealth.
er-stained colonnade; and the birds twit-
sered sleepy songs in the shadowy fastness.;
80 Of the hoary elms, but Sir Rupert seemed
aot to see. Heheeded nothing of the pe:oe-
tul present, nor even noticed the patient
Ancil, who, leaning against column,
watched his masters countenance and
waited further orders.
No; Sir Rupert saw none Of these; he
Vas looking beyond, to thn open space,
where Miriam stood once with outstretchadi
| arms; toward this spot he only cared to
gaze And he had said ''go;" had forbade
| her coming across the threshold; the
threshold now so desolatel
Some way the golden shafts of Pickering
sunlight falling slanting through the dark
crowns of the elms seemed to him to-day
like golden baby curls, and the dark, hover
| ing shadows nearer still put him so much
in mind Of Miriam's dress. The somber
Grape fell down into folds like that when
she babe him "good-bye." That last, last
| goodbye.
He clutched the arms of his chair in a be-
wildered way, and murmured, family: cit
has been so long, so very long since she
has been here; don't you know it has,
| Amelia"
Upon being answered in the affirmative,
he paused a moment and then said: II do
not understand it at all; will she not come
soon now, Ancil?" but the servant did not
answer. The cruel words Of his master on
that memorable day flashed through his
retentive memory, and he held his peace.
Atthis Sir Rupert grew nervous and dis
appointed. Signifying his desire to go in,
Ancil wheeled him back into the hall.
"Might go into the gallery to see Mir.
iam!" asked the master, as Ancil pre-
pared to assist him upstairs. The question
came in a faltering tone, as if coupled with
the fear OF being denied, and Ancll carried
his master thither without word. Steady
ing his trembling limbs on the threshold, Sir
Rupert managed to walk, unassisted, across
the room Long and sadly he fingered be-
fore the portrait Of his daughter without .
word. Then he was ready to go upstairs
again
Ancil was thinking, all the way up the
long fight Of steps, if he dared speak to his
master concerning Miriam. What would
the penalty be should he mention her in
the connection he desired?
"Masthur,'' said he, as he arranged the
pillows comfortably on the couch and as
sisted Sir Rupert to lie down; "Masthur,
wud Their be ony harrum; an moight we
not sind for the young n1isthress? An she
wud COON to yez, Ohm quite shure"
All exhausted and white, Sir Rupert
shrank down among the pillows, and
answered only by an impatient gesture.
Then he turned YEARLY over to the wall
and fell to weeping convulsively.
4 Ancil, frightened beyond expression at
what he had done, turned away quietly,
and with stealthy step slipped out of the