The morning call., 1890-05-13

|
| morning we went
During the whole OF our drive my uncle spoke
only once. and then rather 10 himself than TO me.
| ITO NorhbroOk once more, after ALL and, as
| Jessie said, Unexpectedly !" After we had
| driven some eight miles we turned INTO a cOun-
try lane AS we approached the brow of hill
nv uncle said: "Ten the diver to stop. We
| viii walk the rest Of the way. The carriage can
| join US at the church"
| We alighted and proceeded on foot. A slight
ascent soon brought US 10 the crown OF the hill.
| My uncle stopped, and resting both his hands
| on his stick planted before him, seemed TO re-
feet on his "reminiscences OF the view. Before
US. on the slope OF the hill, lay little country
| town. Toward one end OF 1t lay a fine old
| church, with low square tower rising among
| some trees, Near the church we could see few
houses of modern date. Less than hundred
yards from us a path across the fields seemed to
lead from The lane 10 the church.
My uncle TOOK my all again, ana we went on
When we reached The path across tie helds he
said: " We go this way"
- You were familiar with this part OF the coun-
try once. unce?" / asked.
& No; i never came here bur once, Bob. Only
once-seveniy years ago."
Soon he stopped me again.
Wait" he said. Here you can Just see
little wicket, ana then The path turns under the
trees"
That was so. l suppose the old gentleman
stood at This spot quite hye minutes linen we
again went on this time as far as The wicket
There We made a similar hat. My uncle laid his
hand on tile little wooden gate.
- This cannot be the same gale ne SAID, mus
M InSlYa An' no. the bars used to be the other
a Three score years and ten," Bob" he said,
as We resumed our walk. I" was then a younger
| man than you are now. II any one had told me
that morning that should come this way but
once more, and that not until after seventy years
| had PASSED awayl Ii was morning just such as
| this. The young leaves were on the trees, aud
the rocks cawinE in the tall elms as you can hear
them now; How well remember it! Ii seems
| but yesterday"
Presently lie stoned once more. We were
| approaching lie backs of some modern houses.
| Saying nothing my uncle surveyed the place
| where they stood, leconsructing IN his MUD.
imagined, lie vanished cottage. Then We again
| went on.
Alter we reached the road II was but short
distance 10 The church. l had written 10 Ann,
| and she met us at the lych-eae.
| Ann, want you 10 show ME where they buried
| her," said my uncle.
The old woman led US across the churchyard.
| As We followed her tottrrng Steps ! could not
| help thinking OF the Ann my uncle had been
| describing to me lie previous evening, bright,
| saucy-eyed serving girl.
| 80 lis mound next against butiress," said
/ the old erone as we Iicked our way amidst the
graves along the wall OF The ehuch - The thiId
| buItTess from The end. The old gentleman used
TO come and lean his arm against the buttress
| and cry"
We we're close to the third butress. My uncle
! took on his haI aud the spring breeze played IN
| his few thin white hairs.
Only against the third buttress there was no
mound, but big altar-t0nlb in good Tepalr, with
| The dates 1883, 1893, 1901, 1903, freshly re-
| painted.
| trembling slightly. His eyes were fixed upon the
OLD woman WHO was looking puzzled.
I've come TO poor Miss Jessy's grave so
| Often" size said, mednatively. mo; this one"-
sue pointed 10 tie altartOmb-"was always here.
| 1t Is The one next to his"
She led us on 10 the next buitress. There was
| little chaniry door near It.
| NO" she said again; sit was not here by the
door. 1t must have he II the other way; the
| haps twas the fourth"
''How long is 1T since you came TO Mrs.
Morgan's graye?" asked my uncle. He had put
on his hat.
Tie old dame shook her head
81 used TO come very Often SIR at first" she
| answered slowly. But the last tme-well, sir,
| Ills many years ago. Bui,' she resumed, more
quickly, I'm sure ha'n't forgotten. II IFS not
by the fourth butress. 1t must be by the fifth,
| for Pm near certain 'twasu't the second twas
"she has forgotten, Bob" said my uncle gently
| "Let US CO."
SO We returned to the carriage.
| Taking last look at The gray old church my
uncle sighed, Poor Jessy!" and then We drove
In my letters home said nothing about our
visit TO Northbrook. l had no Instructions 10
that effect from my uncle, but could divine the
| old eentleman's wishes.
However. as 1 had anticipated. his visit TO
| NorthbrooK did him 10 good. He became rest
less and before the end of the next week we re.
turned home. His arrival there entirely Yyis55srt
him. After dinner ne expressed >s""iish TO be
Al Lali-pasI- eleven having neither seen nor
ne2nf ANYTHING OF him, we became anxious and
= vent TO seek bim
We found him In the chair In which we had left
him, apparently unable 10 rise. He was pale
and very agitated and gave US TO understand
that something had happened which he was un-
able to explain. But he annoyed al cur hav-
Ing come. We were naturally alarmed and per-
suaded him to spend The next day in bed and TO
see the doctor. What had happened we were
never able TO understand, but 1t was some time
before The old gentenlan left his room. When
he was a little better his old friend the Dowager
Countess Of sent him invitation TO
spend fortnight with her iii Warwicks hire.
Tie prospect OF the visit cheered him WONDER
fully. Tie invitation was accepted and lie and
"a week later, went down 10 the old Count
We must have been In WarwIckshre about ten
days when II happened that one afternoon our
conversation fell upon the subject of recent
murder In a certain noble French family. All
our iitte party were that afternoon assembled
Oh the terrace, sitting under tile shade of tile
trees, whose foliage spread above US dark against
the deep blue sky; for IL was now high summer.
Many things were said about tile murder. and
some one remarked how dreadful IL was that 1t
should be possible for man al the end OF n long
innocent and honorable lie 10 commit so great a
crime.
The old Countess shrugged her shoulders.
| "a great crime at tie end OF an Innocent and
| honorable life ~ she remarked ncredulOusly.
"You young people believe in it? l dare say
you do. Tie world grows ignorant apace since
you have all gone crazy about education. And
you young folks know nothing about great
crimes. A mans great crime Is committed be-
! fore lie is one and twenty"
| some OF us protested.
" Flddle-de-dee." retorted the Countess
|
notice, boy" this giving me lap with her fan
az that your uncle says nolhing?"
" Because" answered my uncle slowly, 81
| agree with you, Countess. A mans great crime
is committed before lie is Que and twenty"
And how the old noblewomau looked at him
and nodded 10 herself Half an hour later. she
and happening TO be left alone together, she
asked me:
Bobby, did you ever hear of one Jessy
answered little retlcently that had heard
something about her.
that seemed 10 look me through aud through.
believe" l explained, That my great
and mat il came to nothing. That was slln
"Yes-lhat was ALL" remarked the Countess in
an odd lone. Bobby" she added, you a
baby. You all babies now, think. Did
| You ever read, Ii ny gueTe dhomme asseZ
liable pour cOnnaitre tout lie NAL gun falr?
dare say not. II is in a book you young people
don't Iead."
I'LL
| When went upstairs that evening with nv
| uncle TO his room lie sat down, as he generally
did, TO talk little before asking me to wind up
| his watch and 10 assist him to undress.
"a wonderful woman Lady X, Bob!" he be.
| gan. "There are no women like that now. A
wonderful woman! DID you this afternoon re-
mark that observation OF hers about great
| crimes, BobT'
81 did" replied; ''but cannot say that 1 un-
profound, Bob, profoundi" said the old man.
"Nine crimes out OF ten, nephew, spring from
mems ignorances; and how great are Young peo-
pies lgnorancesi That Is what young people
never know, and there's the rub Bob That Is
what leads Them into tieir great crimes-wrongs
against fathers and mothers those who love
item, aud those whom they love best. You are
hve-and-twenty, Bob. Your great crime has been
committed OF you Will never be guilty of one.
Take an old mans advice: look we'll around YOU
and ind out II yon have been guilty; aud II you
have, redress IL while you can-while you can -
he repeated more slowly, "before II Is TOO late"
Was there something, wondered, on the old
mans conscience? Had hrard al Northbrook
only part OF the history OF Jessy Gwynne? l
| MIR
gentleman referred to the very subject which
was occupying my thoughts.
"YOu Iemember our visit to NOrthbrook, Bob Pr
he said. "My cIime'-lie spoke soemniy-'my
crime was my conduct toward Miss Gwynne. Ii
was nothing-n0tlIng such as a man would re-
proach II imself with. much less anything such as
the wOIlu esteems wrong. But, in my ignorance, in
the Ignorance OF my youth l did q thing that
had consequences so awful. AND never knew