The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1892-02-24
A DARK SECRET.
The Story Of a Tragic
Life Drama.
BY e. M. DAVY.
CHAPTER Nv.
~ HUNTING COUNTRY.

manteau and joined Hawks at the break
fast table, he imagining the while that l
merely meant to accompany him to the
station.
On my way up stairs to excuse my de-
parture to George I encountered Mrs.
Armstrong. She appeared on the look
out for me.
.The mistress has getten sick head
ache an does ma wish to be distorted,
she said.
but I'm going from home for three
days, Mrs. Armstrong"
sWeel, sor, an that's ne news. She
telled me so hersen.
Edna had done this-she had made the
way easy to me, God bless her!
Can neither see my wife nor Miss
Lynton, then2"
ma. Ye just Gamma"
The carriage was announced, and We
set off. Hawks, Noticing my bag, asked
an explanation. and told him l intended
going as far as York, adding, vaguely,
that I had heard Of horse for sale there:
] deemed it wisest to make no mention OF
Leicestershire even to Charlie.
On parting company at York his last
words were, I guess you'll not forget
the the h,I tip gave you last night en- old
LAUGHED, said, aAll right, Charlie,
then set about making inquiries as to how
I could best reach Whitmore Park. After
considerable delay obtained the name
of the nearest post town, and for that l
took nv ticket; but found, on my arrival.
there was still branch line to travel be-
fore could get any way near my destlna-
tion.
It was o'clock in the evening, and al
most dark, when, wearied and impatient
with the long, slow journey, I alighted at
q small wavside station. With the e1cep-
tion Of female who got out Of second
or third class carriage, the rest Of the pas
sengers went on.
How far is it to Whitmore Park-Mr.
Hargreayes placer" asked of the ticket
collector before passing through the turn
stile.
.Whitmore Park is about three miles
of; but Mr.. Hargreave's been dead these
two years an more"
"Indeed! Will you inform me who lives
there now?"
Major O'Neil, SIR"
rs he hunting man?"
sHe's q master of hounds, sir"
@Ah, Mr.. Hargreave used to be. Did the
Major keep on the same huntsmen and
whips, Iwonder?" I asked, with studied
Not one on 'em. Major o'Neil brought
his own with him-all Irish" he said,
with some disdain-"even to the stable
boys"
huntsman, or some man who had been
In Mr.. Hsrgreayes stables" I said, mu-
singly.
That's easily done, sir, he replied.
with animation. "There's good inn Q
mile and half down yonder road kept by
Tom Little, the late masters huntsman-
Little Tom he used to be called in the
old Squire's time, an he's best known by
that name yet. Beg pardon, sir, out
you'd be very comfortable there if you
happened to want bed for the night.
He's got good stabling, too"
thanked the man for his information,
and was about to push on in the direction
indicated, when saw him turn to receive
@ ticket from female who. hitherto un-
observed, had probably overheard our
conversation. ] looked at her, and there
was yet sufficient light to see she was
little woman in large cloak and bon
nett. that she wore spectacles, carried
q basket of oranges, and leaned on
stick. Then set of at a swinging pace,
and never slackened it until reached the
inn.
s. At the open door stood a small, wiry
man, with weather. beaten, good-hu-
mored face, who looked as though he
might have been born and bred in stables.
Mine host, asstredly. I ascertained that
could be put up for the night, and he
at once inquired if required stabling.
No; had merely come on voyage of
discovery, adding, as insinuatingly as I
could:
aTo speak perfectly frankly, Little, my
chief OBJECT is to have chat with you.
I want you to tell me something about
has been showing. The fact is, have
some thoughts of bringing my hunters
next season. That, however, will depend
on your report"
The ruse succeeded. was at once in
vited into the best parlor of the inn, and
while some supper was being prepared
for me, the eI-huntsman and sat at op.
posite sides Of the cheerful, blazing fire,
both smoking, and listening, with we'll.
assumed interest, to such information as
8 man anxious to hunt in that country
might be supposed to want.
At last, however, without, I believe,
manifesting any undue eagerness, said:
And now tell me something about the
old days. You'd rather speak of them, I
fancy"
I'm not SO sure I would, sir" he said,
shaking his head, while cloud seemed
to settle on his hitherto cheerful face.
There was that terrible catastrophe, you
see-
And what was that?"
Don't you know? Didn't you hear of
it when it happened? Why, the whole
hunting world was ringing with it."
II was out of the hunting world for a
time; that may account for my ignorance.
I have only taken to it again this season"
I explained hurriedly and somewhat
lamely. Tell mo the story. Do"
He laid his pipe down carefully, and
seemed preparing for long yarn.
She was just the handsomest girl you
r ever saw, was Miss Hargreave. sir, bar
nonel Squire Hargreave had kept
hounds ever since coming to the proper
ty, and his daughter had been used to the
saddle from baby, but, when the young
lady grew up, the master took fancy to
keen her out of the field. Iwont 60 into
particulars of the why and the wherefore
now. I believe he was in the right from
what learnt afterward, but that's neither
here nor there. Anyhow, he got rid Of
her hunters and made her drive out with
her stepmother instead. She had high
spirit, she had. and resented it. 'Tom,'
SAYS she to me one day, the end of De-
cember Of the season rs, 'what'll you bet
I don't get q mount before this years
out?' The masters bad to move, when's
minds made up, said I. / don't mean