Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1889-06-29


NNM cused me of culp.
N~ able weakness,
~ and even Of con-
niving at crime;
but then they do not know all the facts
OF the case.
] am colonial merchant, by name
Gerald Quinton, and at the time am
going to speak Of was 90 years Of age.
My father had been dead about fifteen
months, and was still living with my
mother and my one unmarried sister in
the pleasant old gray stone house at
Clayhill. which I had looked upon as my
home all my life long. was my
mothers only son among five daughters;
and, II l was not rs conceited speci.
men of humanity as one could meet in
days march, the fact was duo to my
fathers wise foresight in sending me
here, there, and everywhere for q year
or two's residence ut one or another of
his distant branch houses, instead OF
keeping me at home to be spoilt by the
women.
Now, however, had promised my
mother not to roam again unless under
the pressure of actual necessity, and had
taken my place as the resident head of
the house of Quinton, Hill, Craxhammer
d Co., Of Billiter street, f. c., Montreal,
Port Elizabeth, Melbourne, Bombay, etc.
This matter of self introduction over,
como to a more difficult part of my
story-the introduction Of my heroine.
She was the only daughter Of the lead
ing Clayhill doctor, and her name was
Cynthia Dcbenham. She had one brother,
two years younger than herself. Cynthia
was 23 and Horace 81 when my story be-
gins with the death Of their father, DR.,
Debenham
had gone down by my usual train,
the 4:25 from Liverpool street, and was
surprised. on leaving the carriage at
Clayhill, to see my sister Jemima wait
ing by the door of the station with a
worried, anxious look on her face, which
was most unusual.
"Hallo, Jem," / exclaimed-she was
named Jemima after her godmother, q
rich maiden aunt; and her only consola-
ton under the aflliction was that the OBJ
noxious name was capable of this manly
contraction-"what are you doing down
here at this time? Isn't this tho hour
usually devoted to tea and scandal,
served up hoty'
She did not answer me; and, looking
at her more closely, I made the astound.
ing discovery that she had been crying.
hurried her into the dog cart without
another word, and waited before asking
my next question until we were clear of
the struggling stream Of passengers.
"What is IL, old ladyp Don't break
down out here if you can possibly avoid
it. What has happenedr'
"Dr. DebeDham is dead"
"Dead3 Good heavens, how shocking!
Why, he went up with me this morning,
Jem, and seemed i'm splendid spirits!
Was it an ACCIDENT"
"No; he came down by the 1880, took
fly, and went straight home. Cynthia
was surprised TO see him back so SION,
and wanted to get him some luncheon;
but he said he didn't want to bo both
cred, and almost shut tho study door i'm
her face. She said she thought there
was something rather queer in his man
ner, and felt anxious, thinking the sun
had been too much for him, or some
thing Of the kind So, instead of going
away, she sat down in the hall to be
near him. She was tired, having been
in the garden all the morning, and, sit.
ting there in the silent hall, was almost
asleep, when she was reused by the
sound Of something heavy falling inside
her fathers study. Without stopping a
moment TO think, she rushed in and
found him lying face downwards upon
the floor. They did everything they
could, but Mr.. Jennings declares he was
dead when he FELL"
"And what do they say it is?"
Heart disease; but there is to be an
inquest"
"Poor Cynthia!''
''She is wonderfully calm" said Jem,
with the tears running down her good
natured brown face. 'If she had cried
and made ever so little fuss, should not
have been go upset; but her patient,
mournful white face is moro than can
stand. She Grieves terribly about Hor.
ace. He and his father parted in anger
the last time they met, and she thinks
the memory of their quarrel will DO 90
terrible for the poor boy now."
"A good for nothing young scape-
graceG muttered, with a complete abb
sence of sympathy. "She need not wor-
ry herself on that score, Jem; Horace
won't grieve much, unless his own inter-
ests are touched very nearly. Who is
with Cynthia now?"
'The mother. We want her to come
home with us tonight"
''She'l not do that, I'm certain, Jem;
she won't leave the house until after the
funeral. Cynthia is not the girl to spare
herself when there are duties to perform,
and she will think it her duty to stay at
the house in Park street until every.
thing is over. Then there's Horace,
too to look after. Can he get here to-
night"
''EIe can get up to town from Oxford;
but I'm afraid he'll miss the last train
down. Here's Park street. Will you
come and see Cynthias"
shrank instinctively from this sug-
gestion. ] loved Cynthia very dearly;
and believed she loved me-in fact, she
had almost admitted that her duty to her
father and brother was the only obstacle
when had asked her-six months be-
fore-to be my wife. Anything could
do for her good, would; yet the thought
OF going to Dr. Defendants house Just
now was repugnant TO me.
'I'll come If / can be of any use,"
said, feeling some self contempt at my
own weakness; "but I don't suppose she
will sec me, Jem."
"Perhaps not; but it will look kind;
and, even if you don't see her, you may
be of use."
So-we get-aown, left the cart at the
top Of the street, and went in at the