The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1893-11-14
OUT
THE JAWS OF Death
IcoNrIiIUED. |
CHAPTER XII.

biOuBh ne was tOlu bney were foreigners.
The Grange was this side of the village
and the first house after passing the
"Wheatsheaf,n which was about half way,
and couldn't miss it. as it stood just on
the edge Of the common rs you come
through the fir woods With this informa-
tlon left him, and following his direction
came at last upon the open common, and
there, standing back from the road, was the
Grange-its twisted chimneys and many
gables thrown into relief by background
of moonlit cloud.
The front faced the common. Looking
through the iron gates up the yew bordered
carriage drive saw light on the lower
floor. / felt that Taras was there. Cling.
ing to the bars Of the gate, gazed at the
light with such joy as l think they must
feel who reach shrine after long and weary
pilgrimage. Il
gave myself up to sentiment and suf-
fered my emotions to have unrestrained
play. Solitude, the stiffness of the night,
the slowly creeping clouds that mounted
the heavens, the feeling of unattained and
yet unattainable happiness-all conduced
to this devotional ecstasy Taras was play
ing the viola in that room. A low, sad
sound reached my ear. 1t might have been
celestial music, it was so patheticaly beau
tlful. listened in awe, not knowing that
Taras played, and the sound rose like cry
OF despair, filling my heart with such woe
that l could bear it no longer and turned
away.
/ found lodging that night at tho
"Wheatsheaf." Early in the morning
left the inn to return to London.
''1t's little better than two miles to the
station" said the landlord, 'but you will
catch the up train nicely if you step out a
bit brisklike."
Anxious now to get back and learn the
result of the solicitors application to Mr.
Lazarus, | ran, as soon MS l turned the
bend of the road, that might not miss the
train. But presently the sound of wheels
behind Obliged me to change my pace to
one more in keeping with the character of
gray headed woman. The sound drew
nearer and nearer; n couple of shaggy dogs
raced by me, and then, as 1 turned my
head, the carriage ratified past. 1t was an
open carriage; gentleman and a young
lady sat on the back seat. She was on the
further side, and speaking to him; her face
was toward me, his inclined toward her in
listening attitude. They did not notice
me-the smile on their faces was unchanged
but at the sight of them l stopped as il
lightning from the heavens had shot down
and struck me, for in that momcntary
glance recognized both. He was Taras-
she Judith! / stood by roadside watch
ing the receding carriage in blank dismay,
till the curve of the road hid it from my
sight. ...
What did 1t meanp asked myself in a
frenzy Of jealous terror. Why was Judith
by his side, smiling in his face? Had she
taken my place, having lost Gordon? Had
Taras given up all expectation of my re-
tttrn md hat "a
stead? Had he gone still further than
that and made her his wifeP That was the
more probable supposition. Judith was
not homeless, friendless waif, to whom
such position could be given as the sole
escape from destruction. With the con
ventional views Of her class, she would con-
sent to live under his roof only as his wife.
Where were they going now in that car.
riagef To the station undoubtedly, and
thence to London. might see him again
at the station if hurried. But / did not
stir from the spot. The thought of seeing
him ngain with her cut my heart like
sharp knife. felt it would be better for
me if never saw him again. Better for
him too.
Suddenly it occurred to me that il Taras
and Judith were gone to London Mere Lu-
cas- would be alone. Tmight call upon her
and make inquiries, taking care to conceal
my identity and my purpose in case there
might yet be necessity for concealment.
The iron gates were unfastened | pass
ed through and walked up the broad path
to the house. There was no need to assume
the iniirmity of agony steps faltered with
quaking fear; my failing courage gave me
scarcely the strength to ring the bell when
reached the house. Through the glazed
doors saw Mere Lucas coming across the
hall in response to my feeble summons
with ponderous step, her white cap with
the strings tied in a broad bow under her
double chin first catching my eye She
opened the door and gr eted me with a
serious inclination of the head, her full
lips pursed up and a slight expression of
mistrust upon her face as she took in
my shrinking attitude and shabby appear
ance.
My back was to the light She could not
recognize me, and it was only natural that
she should receive me in that manner, but
the strangencss of it frightened mel was
SO used to think of her beamiug with kind
ness and genial warmth. Everything had
changed SO in these past few months that
return to the happy conditions of old
seemed impossible
tried to recollect the phrases had re-
hearsed for the occasion coming along, but
my memory played me false, and after
stammering a few incoherent words in
French and English l abandoned the at
tempt to disguise myself in desperation
and cried in 4 broken voice:
'Oh, Mere Lucas, don't you remember
mes"
She started-her lips fell-she turned me
quickly to the light and exclaimed:
mon Dieu! 1t has come to this. You
have returnedy"
For minute astonishment bewildered
her; the muscles of her face were agitated
by conflicting emotions; then, recovering
her self possession, she composed her fea-
lures and with severe gravity told me that
monsieur was not at home.
II know he Is not" said. "I have seen
him. He passed me in the road. did not
speak to him. did not wish him to know
me-"
zone can understand that,p she replied
significantly. HAS madame come to speak
to maS"
'Yes, yes, Mere Lucas faltered pit
eously.
Her GOODNESS and formality perplexed
me. l could not understand why she called
me madame now that had revealed my
self. My embarrassment touched the good
old woman, and she broke the painful 81
lence.
monsieur Is quite well?" she asked, with
hesitation in her voice.
"Monsieurr' echoed interrogatiyely.
an. Gordon.n
ayes, but it is long time since lest
him, and have Travelled long, long way
to come here, and find everything changed
and altered, and-and-" impulsively CIV
ing way to my feelings, 1 sobbed-"and /
am wretched and unhappy"
l rose and went toward her, and she,
springing up, broke through the barrier OF
reserve and elasped me in her arms, she'd
ding tears of affectionate sympathy.
"Ah, my poor dear" she whimpered,
s.we are wretched and unhappy, all Of us,
and this is no time to bear grudges, one
against the other. My heart melted the
moment you told me who you were, for
know how cruelty you must have suffered
to come down to this. But felt that
r,tol,t mi tn ali - D.. a.