The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-02-06
GUILDEROY
X
Author Of "Under Two Flags" Two Lit
tie Wooden Shoes" "ChandOs,"
"Don Gesualdo," Etc.
Now FIRST published. All rights reservei.l
CHAPTER XLyII.

two hours after midnight; her drawing
rooms and ballroom were full; everyone
was amused and amusing; she was going
from one to another with bland smiles
and suitable phrases, her harassed
thoughts all the while with her elder
daughter, who was encouraging the
wrong suitor, and her second son, who
was lying dangerously wounded in
India
In the midst of her occupations and
preoccupations, at the moment when the
c0tllon was at its hight, one of her
servants called her away and presented to
her letter which had been brought by a
messenger from Italy. She recognized
in the superscription the handwriting of
her brothers wife, and on the seal the
coat-of-arms of the NernOns.
'How exactly like her absurd extrava-
Rance" she thought with contempt
How exactly like her to send a servant
all the way by express with a letter, just
as If we were in the days of the Stuarts or
Tudors What does she suppose that the
postal service and electric wires exist for,
1 wonder ?"
Innovations in trifes always annoyed
her more than anything else, and she was
SO extremely irritated at this folly OF her
sister-in-law in sending man-servant to
carry a letter by hand from the continent
to England, that in her annoyance at the
trivial eccentricity she almost forgot her
curiosity and apprehension as to the POssi-
bic contents Of the packet.
- I.
and there, being alone, opened and read
it. The letter was written by Gladys from
Rome, and began without prefix or pre-
liminary.
''Do not blame your brother for any,
thing that you may hear Of him. The
fault is altogether mine. | am not a
woman who could possibly make him
happy as his wife. am cold, hard, and
unforgiving. Ny father even told me so
more than once before he died. There
fore, blame me entirely, and not Lord
GuilderOy. for our ensuing separation.
There need be no publicity or scandal of
any kind. / am sensible Of the many
gifts l have received from him, and |
shall not return them with ingratitude.
But neither will j see hin, nor speak with.
him, nor live under the roof OF any OF his
houses. Except that he cannot marry again
whilst / live, he will be as free as he was
before we unhappily met, that autumn
day upon the moOrs. | hope that YOU
will tell him so from me. / shall take
none OF my jewels, nor shall l touch far
thing OF my income IRON my settlements.
What have inherited from my father is
quite enough to live upon. | have no
children living, so there need be no ques-
ton whatever OF. the interference of law
yers. / shall reside at the cottage at
Christslea, so that you can all judge for
yourselves that my manner of life is
worthy of my fathers memory. But l beg
that you will none of YOU seek for mo-
ment to attempt to change the resolution
which / have taken, for it is
unalterable; and interrogation and
expostulation would be only un-
bearably painful to me. You
will, entreat, lay all blame which may
be incurred, upon me- The world has
always considered me ill-suited to him. 1t
will not be astOnished that union so in
harmonious should be ended by that
want of sympathy and temper which it
has always attributed to me. You have
often reproached me with doing nothing
10 save your brothers honor. 1 now at
least do what / can You repeatedly con-
demned me for poor spirited silence Be
now for acting as you have frequently
more than hinted to me that should do"
The signature was Gladys Vernon.
When Hilda Sunbury had read the let
ter through to the end, her first impulse
was 10 start at once for the south the
next moment she remembered that it was
impossible and would be useless to do so;
she could not leave Ellington for anv
length of time with her house full with
out her absence being known; and what
had been already done in Naples was
hopeless and irrevOcable. After an in
stant's meditation she sent for her eldest
daughter
Il have had news which must take me
10 Balfrons tonight" she said to her
daughter. "You know my uncle is lying
very iii there. ] do not wish anyone TO
know that l am absent l shall return the
day after tomorrow. You can say I am
indisposed from cold and have to keep
my room. Make no fuss. Amuse every
one. Be discreet, and do as you would do
If we're here. | shall be back in thirty
six hours. Say nothing to your father.
IL is not worth while. He would only
ask innumerable questions"
Then with the utmost speed and quiet
ness she left the house, drove seven miles
TO take the morning train to the north,
succeeded in reaching it on the eve of its
departure, and hastened as fast as steam
could bear her across the length of En-
gland to where the mighty keep OF Balfrons
rose above its oak woods and faced the
CheviOts. She knew that Aubrey was
there.
With the open letter in her hand she
passed unannounced into the library,
where he was seated alone. He was at
Balfrons for two days only. His father
was i'll, and was at that age when any
slight illness may easily pass into the last
Ill OF all. No one was staying at the castle
except the Duchess of Longleat and her
two younger children.
He rose in amazement and alarm as his
cousin entered, for it was nearly mid
night.
"Gladysv' he said instinctively, thrown
off his guard.
Lady Sunbury cast down the letter on
the table before him.
She was pale with passion, which she
had nursed in all its heat and strength
during the lonely hours in which she had
sped through the cold, dark winter
country from Buckinghamshire to Ber-
wick.
what did / say?" she cried, her voice
hoarse with fatigue and indignation. ''Did
/ not aivave tell Won that Won rrouId on