Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-10-31

1
Even so, though on q much humber
scale. we describe Hopes cottage and
garden, merely because it was for mo-
ment or two the scene OF remarkable
| nciden5 never yet presented IN history
| OF fiction.
| This cottage, then, was in reality
some. hing between villa and a cottage;
| It TesemEIed a villa in this. that the
rooms were lofty, and the windows
were ca oments, glazed with plate glass
and very large. Walter Clifford had
| built it for a curate, who proved q bird
of passage, and the said Walter had
| horror Of low rooms. for he said. Il al
| ways feel as if the ceiling was going to
| fatten me to the floor" Owing to this
| the bedroom windows, which looked
westward on the garden, were a great
| height from the ground, ana the build
| ing haC Gothic character.
| Still there was much to Justify the
| term cottage. The door, which looked
southwark on the road, was at the side
of the building, and opened, not into
hall, but into the one large sitting-rO0m,
which was thirty feet long and twenty
| FIVE feet broad. and instead of plaster
ceiling there were massive joists. which
Hope had gilded and painted till they
were sight to behold. Another cottage
feature; the walls were literally clothed
with Verdure and color; in front. huge
creeping geraniumS. Jasmine, and Viz
ginia creepers hide the brick-Work; and
the western walls, to use the words of
greater painter than ourselves, were
''Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine,
With sweet musk-rOses, and with eglantne."
In the next place, the building stood
in genuine cottage garden. 1t was
olOco fo tho Tho c0utha,.r1 hound
ray was plain oak paling, made of up
| right pieces which Hope had vanished
so that the color was now fine amber;
| the rest of the boundary was a quickest
hedge, in the western division of which
stood an enormous oak-tree, hollow at
the back. And the garden was fair with
humble fioWerS-pinkS, SWeet-WilliamS,
crimson naSturtiumS, double daisies,
lilies, and tulips: but floWer-beds shared
| the garden with friendly cabbageS, pO-
tatOeS, onions, carrots, and asparagus.
To this humble but pleasant abode
Hope conducted his daughter, and in
| sisted upon her lying down on the sofa
in the Sitting-rOOm. Then he ordered
the woman who kept the house for him
to prepare the spare bedroom, which
looked into the garden, and to cut some
of the sWeet-smelling flowers. He him
| self had much to say to his daughter,
and, above all, to demand her eXplana-
ton of the awkward circumstances that
had been just revealed. But she had
received a great shock, and, like most
manly men, he had great considera-
ton for the weakness of women, and
his paternal heart said, "Let her have
an hour or two of absolute repOSe be-
fore [ subject her to any trial what
ever" So he opened the window to
give her air, enjOining her most strictly
not to move, and even to go to sleep if
she could; and then he put on his shoot
ing coat, with large inside pockets, to
go and buy her little wine-a thing he
never touched himSelf-and what other
humble delicacies the village afforded.
He walked briS6ly away from his door
without the least idea that all his move
ments were watched from hiding
place upon his own premises, no other
than the great oak-tree, hollow and
open at the back, in which Leonard
MOncktOn had bored two peep-holes,
and was now enScOnced there watching
him.
Hope had not gone many yards from
his own door when he was confronted
by one of those ruffians who, by their
way of putting it, are the eternal butt
of Ubiquitous people and Ubiquitous
things, namely, honest men, curse them!
and the law, confound it! This was no
other than that Ben Burnley, who, be-
ing miner, had stuck halfway be-
tween DeYOnShire and Durham. and
had been some months in Bartley's
mine. He opened on Hope in a loud
voice, and dialect which we despair of
conveying with absolute accuracy.
"Mr. Hope, sir, they won't let me go
down t mine"
"NO; you're discharged"
who by?"
"By me-"
"What fOr?"
For smoking in the mine, in spite of
three warnings"
"Me smoking in t. mine Who telt
you yOn lie?"
you were seen to pick the lock of
your Dayy-lamp, and that put the mine
in danger. Then you were seen to light
your pipe at the bare light, and that put
it in worse peril"
"Tlst's a lie. What maks yer be-
lieve my skins n0Wt to me? It's all
one as it is to them liars that would rob
me of my bread out of clean Spite"
Its the truth, and proved by four
honest witnesses. There are hundred
and fifty men and twenty ponies in that
mine, and their lives must not be sacri-
feed by one tWO-legged brute thatWOn't
hear reason. You are discharged and
paid; so be good enough to quit the
premises and find work elsewhere; and
Lord help your employer, whoever he
isl"
Hope would waste no more time over
this fellow. He turned his back, and
went off briSzly on his more important
errand.
Burnley shook his fist at him. and dis
charged a vo3ley of horrible curses after
him. Whilst he was thus raging after
the man that had done his duty he heard
a satirical chuckle. He turned his head,
| and, behold! there was the sneering face
of his fellow jail-bird Monckt0n. Burn
ley started.
Eyes, mate" said Monckton, at is
me. And what sort of a pal are Won,
that couldn't send me a word to Port
land that you had dropped on to this
rascal Hope? You knew | was after
him. You might have saved me the
trouble, you selfish brute"
Burnley submitted at once to the as
tendency of Monckton; he hung his
head, and muttered L am no schOlard
| to write to folk"
"You grudged joey to bloke to
write for you. Now suppose you eX-
pect me to be good pal to you again,
all the same?"
"Why not?" said Burnley. "He is
poison to you as well as to me. He gave
you twelve years penal; you told me so
/ at Portland; let's be revenged on him.
| What else do you think am here
| for, you fool? Butempty revenge, that's
/ child's play The question is, can you
| do what you are tOld?"
"Ay. if I see a chance of revenge.
Why, l always did what you told me-"