Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1892-11-12
CHAPTER XXIII.

Like the pageant Of a dream this act in my
life passed away. and | thought its drama
ended. Only ten months before | had first
seen the moonlight Oh ST. Gabriers Grange.
! had in that short time owned and resigned
an estat. | had won and lost a good mans
love, and my heart was nigh to breaking.
Bat for that sore and wounded heart, 1t
might have seemed, az, In my quiet little
home In C.Oisterham, the memories OF the
past year came back 10 me that had lived
a brief pass onate existence in some other
sphere, and hal now to take up the threads
OF ordinary life.
There had peen many mistakes: l had
quarrelled with my lover; / could not take
what was not justly mine. To explain fur
ther was impossible without duplicating
G%wendoline, and that | would not do. Ny
father let 4 sigh escape as he thought of the
wealth | might have had, but he said little;
he knew | had no right to it, and he would
have given up double the fortune for rights
sake. He was too kind to c~ToSS-eXamlne
closely: there was a puzzled expression In
the thoughtful eyes that rested on my face,
but he only said
you did well, my child. You could not
use q penny OF Mr.. GaScoigne's money!
Ms mother and sisters thought more of
Gilbert, and grieyed more that | was parted
from one | loved and who had loved me
than for the Grange. l think my mother
hoped the misunderstanding wouldbe swept
away one day; but she did not know how il
came about. For me, | could see no hope.
no possible dawn.
/ Twas very sad, and for a while | sank in
e.. N LII .AI rf.4t.al rt,tn \ .bpurht k,aatlI
endure al my life after. i grew i'll at last,
and the doctor said | should have what doe
tors regard as the Tanacea for SO many
vague diseascs-change OF air.
So | made an effort TO arouse myself, and
saw Low selfish and miserable was the life
/ was leading.
1T will be much better for me TO be al
work." / said.
II Wish | understood il ALL" my mother
responded. II think YOU might tell every
thing frankly to us, dear. We might think
Of some way in which Your trouble could bt
cleared up"
shook my heal. | could not tell them
! GwendOline Pomeroy's secret; it would dc
no good.
mo, il can never be explained" said
III only Gilbert would come back to thu
Grange. SO that | might know he was not suf
fering for what | have done. And his return
would take me from a false position | oughi
never TO have been placed in"
My parents thought Gilbert was angry be
cause st. Gabriel's Grange had been left I,
me. and they could not advise me what Il
do. They must have wished sometimes
was really ard truly mistress of the proper
ty so strangely bequeathed. did not thini
then how helpless and perplexed they mus
be, and how good they were to withhold tn
probing questions and Tie searching 70
every link in the chain which would hay'
been natural enough, but in my low AM
nervous condition would have tortured Inc
II don't think you are fit to 90 ava,
again, VIOLA my sister Barbara said. "lol
had better let me try this time; you nee'
rest"
But / knew occupation was the best med
cine | could have; so l took a situation a
governess to two little boys In a town in
distant part of England, where there wa
netting 70 recall the Grange to my mind o
Gilbert Glscolgne TO my he trt.
But lust before | went | needs must taxi,
one more look at my lost home. /. was Z
be my last, to remain with me all my lif,
alter Win t1e Thought oi tue past anu U
what might have been. La my black dres
and mantle, with a thick veil over my face
knew | shonld hardly be recognised, ard
even ventured to accept from a friendl
farmer, whose name and face were strang
tn me, a lift along the familiar road fror
Norbury to Marlands. Tie snow was o
the ground, although ii it was March, and til
wind was cold and piercing; but there wa
ON. CLEAN of sunlight Oh the lake as suS
denly / saw il through the pine-irces; and
held my breath with a gasp, and a great so
rose up in my throat.
The man pointed out the Grange TO me
II was the great house OF the village, an
every one was proud of 1t.
perhaps you are a stranger in thes
warts" 20 said lyons our Granvc-Squire
house. It's empty now, barring the servants
OFT Squire he died, and there's all kind {
stories, whispers like, going about. Son,
say he left it TO a yourg lady a was Their
and was to have been married to his nepl
ew, and then Tilted him; some that they al
going to be married after a bit, and there
nothing h. talk about at all. am new
Marlands myself. used to live at Brattoi
ten miles away. You know Brattonf'
No"