The Springdale news., 1889-09-27


 I old hall is waiting ct her disposal, as the death of Sir Rupert Perciva. and his writ | ten request leaves her the sole legatee." l | am not allowed to answer the letter; Miri- am will not have it so, and Heatherleigh is | nothing to me. Of course 1 have told her she had better go, but with look of horror 1 in those haunting eyes of hers, she has re- | fused emphatically, as whispering with white lips she tells me that she ''hdtes her ancestral halls" and "that have no idea | what ask of her.n
 Perhaps l don't, and the deep aversion ranking Tn her soul toward her birthplace l comes hissing through the white teeth, and | effeetually slences me in protesting further
 She came to me two years ago, sad and sorrowing, from the newly-made graves of husband and child Remember" she said to me once, "that my husband and son sleep where the shadows of Heatherleigh fall not on them. My poor, brave Arthur could not rest well if they dId, and my little one has | forgotten. on his dreamless pillow, the curse that turned him away from it's male- dictive doors.n
 | have not questioned her, regarding her sorrows and grievances as too sacredly her own for my intrusive inquiries, and she has only revealed that which she chooses to tell. But she is the daughter of my dead friend, and therefore open my arms, and | receive the desolate, heart-broken woman into my home and heart. 1 fiatter myself, 1 too, that her sorrows have been somewhat mitgated through my efforts She is cheerful, even, sometimes as we stroll in the fields or wander off among the ragged ! hills where the wild heatherbel and bar berry grow
 | One time in particular l remember, as I | sit holding the crumpled letter, scene that with her face comes back to me, as 1 beautiful dreams come sometimes across our days of care.
 We had wandered up the hills, and were 1 sitting at the foot of u tree, resting. Our | baskets beside us were filled with the red l fruit of the barberry, and wreathed with 1 ferns and gayly colored leaves In the dis tance shone the blue waters of the bay, and above us beamed the cloudless sky, while the breeze dailied here and there, | hlnting of a sterner season.
 l Miriam leaned her sunny head against the messy trunk, and sat looking far off over the shimmering waters in the quiet dis | tance, and look of almost happiness l came into the perfect face 1 sat watching 1 her, wrapt i'll admiration, and hoping that the dawHlng of brighter hours had come.
 She turned to me with animation, saying: This is pleasant 50 pleasant and peaceful" and l was glad to answer: 'sf es' 1 That was last year, and since then the l fiuetuating tides of peace and disquietude l have run so often into sea of counter cur rents, ebbing and flowing over that first great hope, that 1 am not certain of any | thing permanent.
 1 hesitated great deal before giving her the missiYe, thinking that perhaps it might not be conducive of any good, but after all 1 have done so, and regretted it immediately afterward. fold up the letter now, wish ing something had happened to it be- fore it reached it's destination or that 1 had had discretion enough to have foreseen the consequences, and had committed it to the grate, as l might nave done, seeing 1t was | addressed to he.
 While l ain lndulging thus in self-con- demnation she comes down stairs. calm enough outwardlY, the glossy hair freshly brushed, and l doubt not the tear-stains bathed carefully off the placid face, so as not to grieye me. She comes forward and takes my hands in her two hot ones, looks pleadngly into my face, and makes strange request q request that sends the blood surging back 10 my heart, leaving my checks blanehed 1 am aware, for she pauses, looks troubled and doubtive, and btI.a 1 have promised to grant her desire, al though in ten minutes after she has kissep me thankfully and settled down on the shadow-heeked steps with q great sigh of relief regret having done so.
 She knows it is my intent to visit rela- tive living in the suburbs of Hastings, shortly, and she has asked me while there, take little run over beyond Fairiight, and visit Heatnerleigh.n But that isn't the strange part of her request, though it is all surprising. She looked me calmly m the eyes and asked me to "bring her portrait away from the fated gallery with me" " How on earth am l to accomplish this9
 At first it seems easy enough to me, but on reflection the undertaking grows stu pendous, and borders on the impossible. l sit very stlll, revolving the request in my mind, and every moment its magnitude is intensified But I made no sign, and she sits with elasped hands, gazing out at the water, fully confident that will be able to fulfill my promise, and haven't the courage to undeceive her.
 So we sit out the piece of day talking some but thinking more until the sun goes down behind the hills, and the shadows grow longer and denscr over the earna- tious and roses, and reach out darkly for the gleaming satin of the lilies which they enveiop later.
 Maggie, my little maid of alI work, rings the tea-bcll merrily, then peeps through the blinds to see where We are. Having seen us, her bright eyes disappear, and know she has flown to her kingdom to keep 'the tay proper hot until we put in an appear ance, which we do shortly
 Miram-I always say simply Miriam looks satisfied once more divine the req son; she has settled the letter question positively in the negative, or rather have determined it for her by my rash promise.
 But how am to beard the Douglas i'll his hall' is more than l know, and obtain the elegant portrait of the daughter of the house, because l am not to reveal her where abouts-it is her request.
 Miriam thinks, however, that l am the one all-powerful equation of her life, and sits over there slipping her tea in full con- fidenee, While l choke down my dessert, measure my powers with a broken reed and transform my dgits to ciphers.