The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1889-08-24


| That happened, as the reader is aware, IN
the fair weather. Yes; in the floral sweet
ness of May that missive, all bordered
| with black, found its way to the Hall.
| How we'll they remembered it. Not to
the master exactly had it come, although to
| acauaint him with her second great loss
| had his stricken daughter written. The
5uperscription, however, designated Peggy
/ C!ackson as the recipient of the sad news.
/ And Miriam had said: s'Arthur, my baby
GOV, is sleeping, too, under the dewy violets,
! ana I believe my heart is broken utterly.
| All! why was born for this desolate, love-
less existence? God only can answer
! definitely. l presume mortals would only
| ooiut to the terrible legend of the Perciva!s
and say that, as I am the eldest, and
| laughter, I have no right to question my
| destiny. But such an answer does not sui
! ice the agonized questioning OF my soul to-
/ lay. Indeed, this is more than can bear"
| AT the close Of this sorrowful letter Mlrl-
I'M had written: Give my regards to Sir
Rupert Perciyal together with my best
| wishes for his health and-happiness."
| Peggy Clarkson had wept herself sick
over the contents Of this, the saddest letter
| She had ever received.
s.Only to think,n she sobbed, while the
Town her withered cheek, "only to think
| DIN niver clasp the wee darlint in me arms
agin Bad luck to the loikes ov its old
granfaythur for the dhrivin' ov 'em away"
! The servants desired to break the news to
he master thinking even at the last he
might still repent him Of his decision and
send for Miriam to cheer his few remaining
| laws How to do this was something which
worried them considerably, but the next
| lay after the receipt of the letter bright
thought struck Peggy fertile brain, and
when the butler carried his masters break
last up to him she put the naissive on the
5rencher, not having the heart to deliver it
! herself James was also instructed ''not to
say u wurrud."
! Sir Rupert started and noaned pitifutly
when he saw the letter; another letter IL
ass than u y@ar, with heavy black seal,
coming froln--weil, he knew where,
| He looked up in agonizeo inquiry, but the
! sorrowfui James vouchsafed nothing i'll
answer.
Sir Rupert made no effort to reach the let
| ter on the trencher, seeming as ii expecting
| James to say something, on perhaps offer to
read it. Then, after some minutes, he said,
gently: "You may get me some medicine.
| James, which you will find on the library
desk below"
The butler understood this ruse Of Sir
Rupert to get him away for moment in
order that no mortal eye might behold him
peruse the contents Of the letter, and, know
| ing that for once his absence would be ap-
! preciateil, tarried in the library for a quar-
! ter Of an hour before he came upstairs to an
| nounce that there was TO medicine to be
| found on the library desk. JlInes was not
! afraid of being censured for carelessness i'll
not searching for it, because he knew as
we'll as Sir Rupert that there was none in
the library.
The master Of Heatherleigh and his
thoughtful servant, for once, understood
each other perfectly, and James looked TO-
ward the trencher. Sir Rupert had drank
mis- chocolate, and the mssiye was lying in
adifferent position; that was all
After exchanging chances with James,
his master ordered his breakfast away, and
leaning back YEARLY among the silken
cashions of his deep chair, said huskily: II
am not as well as usual believe, James,
Then he shut mis- eyes, and, folding his
hands across his: breast, sighed deeply.
The butler stood for a moment undecided
rs to whether he ought to leave his master
or ring for Clarkson. He remembered,
wildly, an experience in this same ghastly
| room that kept hun on the alert ever since.
And sir Rupert was beginning to look
white and act strangely, as on that other
! lime when he fancied Miriam had visited
! aim.
But James was relieved when, presently
OWNING his thoughts, Sir Rupert said,
without so much as even opening his eyes {:
II will not need you further now, James
do not need the medicine; will rest and
be better by and by"
| 'sThe masters ever so much worse this
morning, somehow" said the butler in an
andertone to Peggy, who was polishing AL
ancient-looking silver tankard, which had
seen more convjviality i'll its time than
would ever tighten thedays or ring through
The blank evenings again at the Hall. eyes,
ever so much weaker he repeated, putting
| Town the trencher on the sideboard.
"What's that?" she cried, suddenly, look
ing up with an untold dread in Der big blue
eyes. ''An' d. ye say the raster was
wurrl1s?''
"Eyer 50 much,'' James repeated, hand
ing the letter back to the house;:eepe1. 'Sfo,'
YOU see he has eaten nothing OF the nice
breakfast Marcia prepared for him;
But that trying time had gone by and the
master of Heatherleigh had revived
through the succeeding months, only &c
sink again under far heavier blow.
The winter come On, and during its
dreary hours Sir Rupert was obliged tc
keep his apartments the greater portion of
the time, and grew accustomed to depend
ing on the servants entirely. In conse-
quence, they learned to watch over him as
one would over troublesome child, "only
they didn't dare to punish him. as Marcia
remarked somewhat spitefully at the close
of a very trying day. But with the
breath Of spring again his spirits seemed
to revive a little. He walked out occasion
ally, leaning on the arm Of one of the serv'
ants. and breathed the sweet air that
kissed the tender buds and silky Leaflets
| forth.
Sometimes wheeled about the grounds in
his chair, resting here and there in some
favorite spot, intent on watching the birds
in the tufted elms, or gazing wistfully high
up the ivy-wreathed gables. The grand
old Hall never had seemed SO much like 6
magnificent mausoleum, nor the interior
seemed so much like a tomb, as it did this
sunny springtide.
| CHAPTER XVI
In these last days of his unlucky life,
these last weary days, every thing con-
ducive to a lingering remorse had united
| AGAINST the nrOU1 soul OF Sir Rupert, even