The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1893-04-08

| hoped Lnat u time WOuJu cone WIG" on
would awake and be herself again, and
that then-then- He hoped it-at
first he believed it. But no matter lie
bought house as near her as he could
find one. He bought all he could buy OF
the land round it. He would suffer moth
ing, possible to avoid, between that house
and-hers Thirty-five years! waited
thirty-fve years.
The old gentleman rose suddenly. The
faded paper futtered to the ground.
"Ahl Look you here, my boy. L
mustn't 20 without showing you this. 1t
came to me three days ago from lawyer
office. She had fortune in her own
right; and on her twenty-frst birthday
some two years after she met the young
tulor-she made her simple will, leaving
him ALL Here is her signature:
"'Ruth Ennerdale.
That is her hand. 1t has been accumulat-
ing. Il comes to great deal Of money.
You will hear more of it some day. my
Little Lad. | have done with it what she
would have desired.
He folded the paper, enclosing 1t in his
silver clasped pocketbOok. Then he took
his hat and went out.
Robin followed like little dog, through
the glass door, round the house, into the
road. The sun wassetting, as on that even
ing week ago; its glow TRANSPORTED the
hedges. After some time they passed into
peaceful lane, whence presently a gate
opened upon quiet walks, green swards,
aud graves hegniled by flowers. -
The old gentleman entered, Robin still
following. They turned from the main
path to still spot overshadowed by a
weeping ash Here was one grave alone,
newly made, covered with fresh and fra
grant wreaths.
The old gentleman stood still, looking
down upon it.
"Ruth r. he said suddenly. ado you
remember the story of Ruth, boy? !.
Ruths words reversed; Ruth's words re-
turned to her Despitefully entreated, flung
away, but now returned TO herl
lie barred his white head, and repeated,
still gazing upon the grave:
"Entreat me not TO leave thee, or to re-
turn from following after thee for whittier
thou goest, will go; and there will | be
buried
Then he was silent.
At length Robin pulled timidly at his
coat.
"Its getting very late, said the child.
81 think its bedtime. see two stars"
"Rup home" said the old gentleman
dreamily. "Your mother will miss you.
Bun home as fast as you can, my Little
Lad
CHAPTER VIII.
Early next morning, when Robin went
out Of doors, he saw u small knot of people
looking hither and thither, discoursing in
anxious tones-a policeman, two or three
women, and majestic man-servant-whom
Robin knew
"What's the matter, Mr.. Bolton p he
inquired, stealing up in the rear.
''Here is the little gentleman | men
toned, policeman said Bolton. 81 was
just about tostep across, young sir, to ask
when you last saw my master.
"Hes in the habit of staying up in the
library, policeman, till very late these sum-
mer nights" said one of the women. she
bars the glass door himself. That's why
we never found it out till Mr.. Bolton took
his shaving
''He went last night to the cemetery,
said Robin Il went, too, and he sept me
home"
"We'll try the cemetery next, then,
said the policeman cheerfully.
Tbs liitle party proceeded in silence along
the road, and down the quiet lane. Robin
followed as a matter of conEse.
The gates were not yet unlocked. fhe
lodge-keeper apologized. He had oversight
himself, and neglected his early round. He
had seen no one.
But they went on, led by Robin, into
the shadow Of the weeping ash.
Stretched upon that newly made grave
the wreaths which had covered it arranged,
with soldierly precision, belQw--his arms
clasped about its head, his face turned
downward, as il to meet some other face,
dearly loved, lay the Gentleman Opposite
How saapdly he was sleeping thought
Robin.
And in his sleep he smiled.
CHAPTER TX.
The blinds were all drawn down in the
long low house The "History of the
Seventeenth Lancers would never be fin
ished.
But over the way, in the cottage built
out of spite. there was Ioy--all the sweeter
for its surprise. II was like fairy-tale,
she could hardly believe it, Mrs Sayile said,
That the very day before the awful bill
BECAME dpe-the bill renewed again and
again, bpt now nevitable-which would
have plunged tbem ipto hopeless ruin, a
lawyer shonId come and tell them that they
we're poor no longer, but rich-pot merely
''welI off, but rich-beyond their widest
desires
The Gentleman Opposite, said the law
yer. had made them heirs TO IA fortune long
ago bequeathed TO him. His own property
was entailed; but the present legaey-the
original testatrix having died without kith
or kin, and being formerly upon intimate
terms With the Savile family-was, the law
yer opined, eminently suitable. lie begged,
in any necessary business arrangements, to
offer his services.
The lawyer having bowed himself out,
the curate-vicar ran swiftly up the narrow
stairs, and found his wife, whom the strange
voice had startled, trembling and praying
for courage to encounter new SORROWS.
but her prayer became praise. Together
they thanked God. The one shadow tenn
pering their happiness was tbat-on this
side the grave-they could not thank the
Gentleman Opposite.
Robins bereavement was greatly soft
ened yhen he found that they were all
going home in peace; all except Clara, who
had promised to marry the milkman.
On the night before that happy journey,
it seemed to the child that he stood once
more in the old library, and near him
stood a tall figure, which he knew and yet
kpey pot. The face was young; the black
eyes had never shone with such brilliance.
They were looking TOWARDS the picture;