Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1889-12-20


Then the colonel turns to Mrs. Henry, bow.
ing with his hat upon his heart and the most
KILN. airs of galantry. There can be no
mistake about so fine figure OF a lady" says
he II address the seductive Miss Ailson OF
whom / have often heardn
Once more husband and wife exchanged
look.
~ am Mrs. Henry Durie," said she; "but
before my marriage my name was Alison
Graeme.n
Then my lord spoke up ~ am an old
man, Col. Burke" said he, land frail one.
1t will be mercy on your part to be expedi-
tous. Do you bring me news off, he hest
tated, and then the words broke from him
with a singular change of voice-"my son"
"My dear lord, will be round with you
like soldier" said the colonel. II do"
Ny lord held out wavering hand; he
seemed to wave a signal, but whether it WINS
to give him time or 10 speak on, was more
thon we could guess. AT length he got out
the one word-"GoodT
"Why, the very best in the creation, cries
the colonel. "For my good friend and ad-
mired comrade is at this hour In the fine city
of Paris, and as like as not, II know any
thing of his habits, he will be drawing In his
chair to piece Of dinner. Bedad, believe
the lady's fainting."
Mrs. Henry wasindeed the color of death,
and dropped against the window frame. But
when Mr. Henry made movement as IL to
run to her, she Strengthened with q sort Of
SILVER II am we'll" she said, with her white
lips.
Mr.. Henry stopped, and his face had
strong twitch of anger. The next moment
he had turned TO the colonel 'You must
not blame YOURSELF says he, ''for this effect
on Mrs. Durie 1t Is only natural; we were
all brought up ike brother and sister"
Mrs Henry looked at her husband with
something like relief or even gratitude, In
my way of thinking, that speech was the
first step he made in her good graces.
"You must try to forgive me, Mrs. Durie,
for indeed and I am just an Irish savage"
said the colonel; land deserve to be shot
for not breaking the matter more artistically
to a lady. But here are the masters own
letters one for each of the three of you;
and to be sure df I know anything of my
! friends pcnius), he will tell his own story
| with a better grace
! He brought the three letters forth ash no
| spoke, arranged them by their superscrip-
! tions. presented the first to my lord who took
| it greedilv. and advanced toward Mrs. Henry
! holding ont the second.
The lady waved it back "To my hus-
! band, says She with a choked voice.
The colonel was a quick man, but at this he
was somewhat nonpused. $40 be sure" says
he. "how very dull of mel To be sure But
he still held the letter.
At last Mr.. Henry reached forth his hand,
and there was nothing to be done but give it
UP. Mr.. Henry took the letters doth hers
and his own and looked upon their outside,
with his brows knit hard as if he were think
Ill, - 1 e..
excellent behavior; but lie was to excel him
self now.
LET me give you a hand to your ROOM"
said he to his wife ''This has come some
thing of the suddenest; and at any rate, you
will wish to read your letter by yourself"
Again she looked upon him with the same
thought of wonder, but he gave her no time,
coming straight to where she stood. ut will
be better SO, believe me, said he, land Col.
Burke is too consderate not to excuse you"
And with that he took her hand by the
fingers and lcd her from the hall.
Mrs. Henry returned no more that night;
and when My. Henry went TO visit her next
morning, as heard long aftcrward, she gave
him the letter again, still unopened.
"Oh, read it and be done!' he had cried
"Spare me that, said she.
And by these two speeches, to my way Of
| thinking, edCn unuld Il great part OIL what
they had previously done well. But the let
ter, sure enough, came into my hands, and
by me was burned, unopened.
To be- very exact as to the adventures Of
the master after Culloden, wrote not long
ago to Col. Burke, now chevalier of the Or
der Of St. Louis, begging him for some notes
in writing, since l could scarce depend upon
my memory at SO great an interval. To con-
fess the truth. have been somewhat en-
barrassed by his response; for he sent me the
complete memoirs Of his life touching only
in places on the master; running to a much
greater length thsn my whole story, and not
everywhere las it seems to me- designed for
editication. He begged in his letter, dated
from Ettenheim, that / would find pub
lsher for the whole, after had made what
use of it | required and | think / shall best
answer my own purpose and fulfill his wishes
Ay printing certain parts OF it in full. In
this way my readers will have detailed and,
L believe, very genuine account Of some es-
sential matters; and, ii any publisher should
take fancy to the chevalier's manner of
narration, he knows where to apply for the
rest, of which there is plenty at his service.
l put in my first extract here, so that it may
stand in the place of what the chevalier told
us over our wine in the hall OF Durrisdeer
but you are to suppose it was not the brutal
fact, but very vanished version that he
offered to my lord.
CHAPTER ".
THE MASTERS wANDERINGs, FROM THE ME-