Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1892-08-27

eager ems i nad never seen euuailed.
Had fate and fortune depended ON each
move, 1t could not have been made more cir
cumspectly; my pieces were taken with
chucldes Of enjoyment, and he would cry
"Checkf' In an accent of real triumph.
/ cannot say he played the game as If he
forgot 1t was simply a anne He played as
II all else were Indifferent and this the
great game Of life. As we played the second
match, / noticed he invested the pieces with
distinct personalities, and seemed even 10
cherish personal spite against some which
he would sacrifice to blind me and forward
his designs.
/ had learned from my brother, and had
had games now and again with old friends
/ and with Lady Fenwick; but | was not
equal to the task Of meeting an antagonist
such as Mr. Gascoigne. The earnestness
with which he devoted himself to the gama,
the vind!ctive eagerness with which he
waged the imaginary warfare, half startled
Inc; and yet | won, simply because he chose
10 throw away a knight rather than with 1t
mate my king.
THAT will do for tonight" he said then.
"You have beaten me, Miss Thone; but [
will do better next time. You'll be a good
player with plenty0f practice. Good night"
GOOD night, sir" / answered. what
time shall | begin my duties Tomorrow
Lunch at one. Till then do what you
please. Tell the housekeeper Of anything
tnat yon want, and, II you don't get il, let
me know. don't suppose you will see my
nieces until after lunch. DO you Know your
way about the house yet? II not, ring the
bell; IL you do, ring II for n.y. man"
A maid-servant appeared with the man, a
trim ~pleasant-faced girl with the snowiest
of mob-caps and muslin aprons.
IF you please, Miss Annis desired me to
ask you, miss, II there Is anything / can do
for YOU" she said, as, with a little brass lamp
In her hand, she led me round the gallery
and down the corridor to my room. II have
a cup of chocolate ready for you, and was
to sleep In your dressing-room, IL you had
no objection"
, My last thoughts that night were kind
ones Of Annis Farquhar; but all through my
dreams was haunted by knights and castles,
kings and queens thwartlng and pursuing
me, byceaseless efforts 10 solve impossible
problems and TO place my piecesin attitudes
OF defence, which Immediately proved TO be
moves into the hands Of my adversary.
Never could Mr.. Gascoigne himself have
been more harassed and distressed in mind
by cries Of Check and ~"CheckInate p
than / was that night. And, strangely
enough, it was not the master of st. Gabriel's
Grange, my actual antagonist and my en-
plOyer, who was my adversary; but the
laugh, a thousand times more knocking, and
the s%cornful eyes, a thousand times %fiercer,
OF Lady Martin Pomeroy followed me about
and rejoiced over my helpless struggles.
The next morning my memories OF the
evening seemed strangely unreal, and, but
for finding myself in the old-fashioned room,
with its deep-sunk windows and antique
furniture, l might have thought it ali a
dream mingled with the b~cwiidering faIcies
which had crossed my brain.
Lucy again proifered her services, and l
was better able to speak to her than on the
previous night. She had a round, honest
English face and a pleasant obiiging man
ner, and, like most servants, was not indis-
posed to talk.
Are you the maid to all the young ladies%'
/ asked, a. she plIited up my hair with
dexterous fingers.
mo, miss-only TO Miss Hilda and Miss
Annis. How thick your hair is, to be sure,
miss! used to be maid to them all before
Miss G%wendoline married; but she has one
of her own, a French person, now"
From Lucy's accent it was clear that the
French person found no favor in her sight.
you have been in the family a long time
then?'
-Four years, mis-. It's only two years
since Miss GwendOline married, and / had
been with them two then"
Aud you don't find the Grange dull?'
Ave been here only a year. The Misses
Farquhar lived in London-perhaps you
didn't know that, miss-till just before Lord
Martin went away. But, II | leave, it won't
be because Of the dullness."
Are you going to leayeT'
sometimes | think | must, miss. for I
can't stand that Frenchwoman: but they
don't want me TO go, and 1 say. so long as
she don't interfere with me, III stop. But
interference from her 1 won't put up with.
I've no wish TO leave Miss Annis."
II should think she is a kind mistress" I
said: ''and both she and Miss Farquhar do
justice to your pains"
You mean In looks, miss? You'll have
your hair plain coiled, l suppose? But 1
don't consider they are either OF them near
so handsome as Miss Gwendoline-Lady
Martin Pomeroy. She was the beauty OF
all London three years ago, Miss Thorne,
and an artist-Mr. Dashwood-painted her
picture, and told me once, when | was TAX
ing him q message about the doing of Il to
the painting-room, that she was the hand
soonest young lady he'd ever p~ainted-and
he had done a lot Of them, you know. He
admired her so, we thought he would have
married her; but she was too good to marry
a plain Mr. There-it's done now, miss.
Here's the glass"
/ had breakfast alone In the little sitting
room near my bedroom; and, after break
fast, | sat there alone until Mrs. Creams
asked me If l should like to see the rest of
the house.
miss Annis," she said, told me to show
It you"
Gladly / laid down my book and followed
her, and saw the house that then seemed,
and evermore .yas TO be 10 me, the most
beautiful In England.
have seen many q grander one, larger,
more costly and splendid. / have admired
the aesthetic homes Of artists and the stately
mansions OF dukes, the historic halls of
| England's heroes, the residences Of men Of
J genius ana power. 4 revere them, delight
In them, do homage to them; but there Is to
me only one home that is perfection in the
wide world. Ever since / saw IL first, ST.
Gabriel's Grange has been that perfection
III my eyes.
i cannot tell its beauty on paper. How
can / describe the grand old hall, with the
armor and proud banners and spreading
antlers on the walls, the long twilight cor
3 ridors lit by mullioned windows Of stained
/ glass, through which the sunshine glanced
and dyed with crimson and purple stains
the polished oak, and glorifed the gold and
azure of the Gascoigne arms, repeated now
and again Ia the centres of the big case
ments-the noble rooms, with their dark
woodwork and dadoes and polished floors,
rejecting tho spindie-legs of the old-fash-
toned caryed-back chairs and Queen Anne
= tables, their rich deeirhued hangings and
furniture? The deep windows In the bays
yielded views OF park and lake, and in one
room soft-cushioned seats lined the bays,
! where one might sit with a book liz perfect
peace and look through the diamond panes
at the bare dark trees and the pale blue
winter sky.
At the back part OF the house were the
library and brcakfa room and the kitch-
ems, and in the right wing the stately din
ing-room. with beautiful carved oak chimney
pieces and paintings OF G~ascoignes of long
AGO.
1t was all exquisite, until we turned 10 the