The Globe-republican., 1890-08-27
paneled with black oak, was the Christ

| de had been, as l afterward learned,
great traveller in his youth. but some sil
or seven years before this date had mar
ried lady who was half a Spaniard-s
Papist, my father called her. can re
member her well. She was small anC
very pretty, with rounded figure, large
black eyes and glittering teeth. She
spoke English with a curious accent.
suppose that must have been a funny
child to look at, and 1 know that my
hair stood up on my head then as i,
does now, for still have sketch Of my.
self that my mother made of me, in
which this peculiarly isstrongly marked.
| On this occasion of the Christmas tree
remember that Mrs. Carson turned to a
tall, foreign-looking gentleman who
stood beside her, and, tapping him at
! fectionately on the shoulder with her
gold Eyeglasses, said:
''Look, cousin-loOk at that droll lit
tie boy with the big brown eyes; his
hair is like a-what you call him.
| scrubbing bush. Oh, what droll little
boy.''
The tall gentleman pulled at his mus
tache, and, taking Mrs. Carson's hand in
his, began to smooth my hair down with
it till heard her whisper:
'Leave my hand go, cousin. Thomas
is looking like-like the thunder
storm"
Thomas was the name of Mr.. Carson,
her husband.
After that hid myself as we'll as 1
could behind chair, for l was shy, and
watched little Stella Carson, who was
the squire's only child, giving the chill
dren presents off the tree. She was
dressed as Father Christmas, with some
soft white stuff round her lovely little
face, and had large dark eyes, which I
thought more beautiful than any thing
l had ever seen. At last it came my
turn to have present-oddly enough,
considered in the light of future events,
it was large monkey. She reached it
down from one of the lower boughs Of
the tree and handed it to me, saying:
dat is my Christmas present to you,
little Allan Quatermaln.'
AS she did SO her sleeve, which was
covered with cotton wool, spangled over
with something that Shone, touched one
of the tapers-how l do not know-and
caught fire, and the flame ran up her
arm towards her throat. She stood
quite still. l suppose that she was
paralyzed with fear; and the ladies who
were near screamed very loud, but did
nothing. Then some impulse seized
me-perhaps instinct would be a better
word to use, considering my age-I
threw myself upon the child. and, beat
ing at the fire with my hands, mercifully
succeeded in extinguishing it before it
really got hold. My wrists were so badly
burned that they had to be wrapped up
in wool for long time afterwards. but
with the exception of a single burn upon
her throat, little Stella Carson was not
much hurt.
This is all that remember about the
Christmas tree at the Hall. What hap
pened afterwards is lost to me, but to
this day in my sleep l often see little
Stella's sweet face and the start of ter
ror in her dark eyes as the fire ran up
her arm. This. however, is not wonder
full, for had, humanity speaking. saved
the life of her who was destined to be
my wife.
The next event which l can recall
clearly is that my mother and three
brothers all fell i'll of fever. owing, as
afterwards learned, to the poisoning of
our we'll by some evil-minded person,
who threw dead sheep into it.
1t must have been while they were i'll
that Squire Carson came one day to the
vicarage. The weather was still cold.
for there was a fire in the study, and l
sat before the fire writing letters on a
piece of paper with a pencil, while my
father walked up and down the room
talking to himself. Afterwards l knew
that he was praying for the lives of his
wife and children. Presently servant
came to the door and said that some one
wanted to see him.
It's the Squire, sir" said the maid.
''and he says he particularly wishes to
see you
Every WE'LL" answered my father.
YEARLY, and presently Squire Carson
came in. His face was white and bag
gard, and his eyes shone so fiercely that |
/ was afraid of him.
Forgive me for intruding on you at
such a time. Quatermain," he said in |
a hoarse voice, but tomorrow l leave !
this place forever. and wish to speak to |
you before / go-indeed, must speak to |
you"
'.Shall send Allan away?' said my
father, pointing TO me.
NO. let him bide. He will not under
stand" Nor. indeed. did l at the time.
but 1 remembered every word. and in
after years their meaning grew on me.
First tell me-" he went on, how are
they?- and he pointed upwards with his
thumb.
My wife and two of the boys are be- :
yond hope" my father answered. with a
yroan. Il do not know how it will 60
with the third. The Lords will be
ione"'
The Lords will be DONE" the Squire
solemnly. And now, Quater-
main, listen-my wife's gone"
'Gone!" my father answered. "Who
vith?"
with that foreign cousin Of hers. 1t
eems from letter she left that she al