Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-05-31

tainly come. And sometimes she would
weep, on returning home without having
seen him. At other times she would sill
for hours at window at the back of 1.-THE
Cottage" watching the path by which he
should arrive All this the old woman re-
lated little reticently and hesitatingly
but what she meant was clear. Plainly,
some time or another my great Will.
lam had fallen in love with Miss Gwynne,
and his regard had been, at least in de-
gree, returned. MOI having seen the
young lady for three or four months he
had paid her this visit at Northbrook on
his way home from Oxford at Easter in
1914; and after that visit, whatever my
uncle's feelings may have been, Miss
Gwynne's sentiment was that she would
very much like him to come to see her
again. And SO, the wish fathering the
thought, she believed that he would come.
But to resume the old crone's story. The
days and the months passed, and my great
uncle came not Meantime, at North
brook, lived Mr.. Morgan Morgan, a
rival, apparently, of my uncle's, who, at
any rate, was always on the spot. And
then ii seems, in the course of time, Jessie
Gwynne grew tired of waiting for my
uncle who never came back. Anyhow,
Morgan Morgan's suit, ever warmly
| pressed, began to obtain hearing, and at
last one day Ann learned from her young
mistress that she had promised Mr.. Nor
gan that she would marry him. Miss
Gwynne's parents, however, would not
hear Of the match, and the young lady
was forbidden to meet her lover. But
one morning, when Ann went to awaken
her, Miss Gwynne was nowhere to be
found, and on the next day came letter
announcing that she and Morgan Morgan
were married.
The young people went to London to
live, and for year or two all went we'll
too well. Mr.. Morgan made money, and
the old people at "The Cottage" forgave
their daughter, and she had grand house,
and there were balls and dinners and par
ties and gayeties every day Then troubles
| begaR-the troubles the old folks had al
ways foretold. Mr.. Morgan was in debt.
Mr.. Morgan gambled Mr.. Morgan took
to hard drinking. Mr. Morgan grew tired
| of his young wife; neglected her; was I'M
kind to her; wronged her; beat her
cruelty. Then followed some episode over
which veil was thrown; the truth about it
was never known; but Mr.. Morgan wrote
to the old people at "The Cottage" to in
form them that his wife had left his house.
| After that followed two terrible months
a blank. Mr.. Morgan was in prison, and
Mrs. Morgan was-only the Lord knew
where. Her parents sought for her far
and near, but all in vain.
But at last, one evening, after "The Cot
tage" had been locked up for the night
and every one in it had gone to bed, as
Ann was doing off to sleep, she heard
some one tapping, tapping against the
shutter of the kitchen window, lust be-
meath her room. AT first she was fright
ened, but after while she struck light,
and went down stairs, and softly opened
the front door and called.
| Outside was Mrs. Morgan.
"No, no, Ann; let me in the back way.
| am not fit to enter my fathers house by
the front door," she insisted.
So Ann let her in by the kitchen door,
as she wished. She had nothing on her
head, and was looking miserably i'll.
Il have come home to die, Ann" she
said, choking over the words. 81 have
come home to die"
She would not have Ann arouse either
her father or father. But she said she
would sit by the kitchen fire, the embers
of which still glowed in the CRATE. 1t
was as much as she could do to walk the
length of the little room. When she
reached. the fireside she staggered TO a
chair, and sank into it, and seemed to Ann
to have sort of fit.
Then, recovering herself a little, she
said, "Only just in time, Ann. Only just
in time"
Ann stood looking at her, bewildered,
not knowing what to do.
But Mrs. Morgan spoke again:
'Has father grieved much, Ann? Tell
him-you must tell him-that-that II
She gave sort of groan, and fell off the
chair on the floor, and lay quite still.
She was dead.
"They buried her in the churchyard,"
continued the old crone, "but the parson
would not let them put up any stone, be-
cause of what the doctor said. Though
what that was i never heard But it broke
the old peoples hearts"
| All my uncle said was, my God My
| Godw
| He shook hands with the old woman,
and gave her sovereign, and told her
that he would not forget her, and took
her address.
During the rest of that day and the
whole of the morrow my uncle was
taciturn. On the third day he said to me,
"Bob, we will drive over to Nortkbrook.
1t is not far"
was disposed to dissuade him, for l
could not see that the expedition would
do him any good. But he had set his
heart upon it. So the next morning we
went.
During the whole of our drive nv uncle
spoke only once, and then rather to him
sell than to me. "To Northbrook once
more, after all, and, as Jessy said, unex-
pectedlyr' After we had driven some
eight miles we turned into country lane
As we approached the brow of hill my
uncle said: "Tell the driver to stop. We
will walk the rest of the way The car
riage can join us at the church"
We alighted and proceeded on foot. A
slight ascent soon brought us to the crown
of the hill. Ny uncle stopped, and resting
both his hands on his stick planted before
him, seemed to reflect upon his reminis
cences of the view. Before us, on the
slope of the hill, lay little country town
Toward one end of it stood 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 to the church.
| My uncle took my arm again, and we
went on. When we reached the path
across the fields he said 1--WE 90 thi:
way"
You were familiar with this part of the
country once, uncle ?' l asked.
"No, | never came here but once, Bob
Only once-seyenty years ago !"
Soon he stopped me again.