Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1890-01-17

go to him with this tale, said MIR. Henry.
The master grew very white He pointed
at me with his finger. 81 want that man dis
charged" he said
"He shall not be-" said Mr.. Henry
"You shall pay pretty dear for this" says
the master.
81 have paid so dear already for wicked
brother" said Mr. Henry, that am bank
rupt even Of fears. You have no place left
where you can strike me"
81 will show you about that" says the
master, and went softly away
"What will he do next, Mackelarg" cries
Mr.. Henry.
"Let me go away" said I. "My dear pa
tron, let me 80 away; l am but the beginning
of fresh sorrows"
"Would you leave me quite aloneF' said he
We were not long in suspense as to the
natuse of the new assault. Up to that hour
the master had played a very close game with
Mrs Henry; avoiding pointedly to be alone
with her. which / took at the time for an
effect of decency, but now think to be a most
insidious art; meeting her, you may say, at
meal time only; and behaving, when he did
so, like an affectionate brother. Up to that
hour, you may say he had scarce directly in
terfered between Mr.. Henry and his wife;
except in SO far as he had maneuvered the
one quite forth from the good graces of the
other. Now, all that was to be changed; but
whether really in revenge, or because he was
wearying of Durrisdeer and looked about for
some diversion, who but the devil shall decide!
From that hour ut least began the siege of
Mrs Henry; IA thing 50 deftly carried on that
l scarce know if she was aware of it herself,
and that her husband must look on in silence.
The first parallel was opened las was made to
appear by accident The talk FELL as it did
often, on the exiles in France-so it glided to
the matter of their songs.
"There is one, says the master, ''if you are
curious in these matters that has always
seemed to me very moving. The poetry is
harsh; and yet perhaps because Of my situa-
ton, it has always found the way to my
heart. 1t is supposed to be sung, | should
tell you, by an exile's sweetheart; and repre-
sents, perhaps, not 50 much tho truth of what
she is thinking, as the truth of what he hopes
OF her, poor soul! in these far lands" And
here the master sighed. II protest it is a
pathetic sight when a score of rough Irish,
all common sentinels, get to this song and
you may see by their falling tears, how it
strikes home to them. 1t goes thus, father"
says he, very adroitly taking my lord for his
listener, land if | cannot get to the end of it,
you must think it is u common case with us
eXiles." And thereupon no struck up the same
air as | had heard the colonel whistle; but
now to words, rustic indeed, yet most patheti-
cauy setting forth a poor girls aspirations
for an exlled lover: of which one verse indeed
Tor something like it still sticks by me:
80, will dye my petticoat red,
With my dear boy I'll beg my bread,
Though all my friends should wish me dead
For Willie among the PUSHES, or
He sung it well even as n song; but he did
better yet as a performer. | have heard
famous actors, when there was not dry eye
in the Edinburgh theatre; great wonder to
behold; but no more wonderful than how the
master played upon that little ballad and on
those who heard him like an instrument, and
seemed now upon the point of failing, and
now to conquer his distress so that words and
music seemed to pour out of his own heart
and his own past, and to be aimed direct at
Mrs Henry. And his heart went further
yet; for all was so delicatey touched it
seemed impossible to suspect him of the last
design, and so far from making a parade of
emotion, you would have sworn he was
striving to be calm. When it came to an
end, we all sat silent for time: he had
chosen the dusk of the afternoon so that none
could see his neighbors face, but it seemed as
if we held our breathing, only my Old lord
cleared his throat. The first to move was the
singer, who got to his feet suddenly and soft
lv, and went and walked softly to and fro in
tue low end Of the hail. Mr.. Henry's Gus
tomary place. We were to suppose that he
there struggled down the last Of his emotion
for he presently returned and launched into
a disquisition on the nature OF the Irish tai
ways so much miscalled, and whom he de
fended) in his natural voice; so that before
the lights were brought we were in the usual
course of talk But even then, methought
Mrs. Henrys face was a shade pale, and for
another thing she withdrew almost at once
The next sign was a friendship this insid-
ious devil struck up with innocent Miss
Katharine; SO that they were always togeth-
er, hand In hand or she climbing on his
knee, like pair of children. Like all his
diabolical acts, this cut in several ways. 1t
was the last stroke to Mr.. Henry, to see his
own babe debauched against him; it made
him harsh with the poor innocent, which
brought him still peg lower in his wife's
esteem and TO conclude it was a bond of
union between the lady and the master.
Under this influence, their old reserve melted
by daily stages. Presently there came walk.
in the long shrubbery, talks in the Belvidere.
and | know not what tender familiarity.
am sure Mrs, Henry was like many a good
woman; she had whole conscience, but
perhaps by the means of a little winking.
For even to 50 dull an observer as myself, ii
was plain her kindness was of more mov-
ing nature than the sisterly. The tones OF
her voice appeared more numerous; she had
light and softness i'll her eye; she was more
gentle with all Of u.s. even with Mr.. Henry
even with myself; methought she breathed
of some quiet melancholy happiness.
To look on at this, what a torment it was
for Mr.. Henry! And yet it brought our
ultimate deliverance, as / am soon TO tell
CHAPTER X.
MR. HENRY Is MOVED TO TURN ON THE
MASTER