The record-union., 1894-01-06
/ i.
LAYING THE GHAIsT.

Adjoining the ancient paneled hall OF
Rosedale Mano r-house were two large
apartments with huge bay windows.
They were each half chamber, half Sit
ting-room, and looked out past masses of
! flowers, melodious fountains, shaded
paths and driveways, over all the sweet
| Grasmere vale, with its sleeping hamlet,
/ lake and the blue, circling mountains be-
! yond.
The master of Rosedale, Matthew Sea-
croft, an invalid since the death of his
wife, Margaret, remained almost con-
/ stantly in one of these rooms looking
across his many acres with patient pain
and longing; pain at the fear of ever leav-
ing the living image of the dead behind
him, longing through that living image
10 call again his own the deathless image
| beyond the grave.
The other bayed room, which had been
his wife's, was now his daughter Mar
gery's, as she was called in loving famil-
arity at Rosedale and in the valley
homes below. The toast of the country
gentry for years, ''to the bravest woman
in Westmoreland, and the tenderest,"
had been to this fine fair gentle woman,
with auburn hair and hazel eyes. Such
the power of pure. calm soul shining
through steadfast, kindly eyes upon hui
man kind, that Grasmere peasant folk
had the common saying, when Miss
Margery claps cen on yam, yen na langer
| hide yer thoWts."
But few hours had passed since the
ravens were croaking beside the Gras-
mere Inn. Margery was in her own
room at Rosedale, her fingers listlessly
! but fondly wandering over the keys OF
her piano, her eyes fixed upon her moth
er's portrait opposite the huge carved
oaken bed, and her whole attitude that
of one gently but anxiously awaiting
| the outcome Of some fondly cherished
| project.
| And well she might, for that very
morning she had won from her father the
only reluctant gift OF his lite--a letter to
/ her lovers father, Ralph Oldgarth, ask
| ing in no measured words that the past
might be forgotten, that their children
might be spared the shadow of hate be-
| tween them, and that the Oldgarths
and Seacrofts might henceforth be known
! in dear old Westmoreland only as friends.
| Old Geordie, when ordered to deliver
| this letter at Deepdale Hall, had, for the
! first time, come close to rebellion. He
bothered about long before going, and
lnuttered ominously to himself when
| finally setting out. In fair weather,
/ like this, his errand to Deepdale Hall,
which lay just over the brow of Fairfield,
should require but an hour, and Margery
was now awaiting the old mans return.
/ She unused thoughtfully over her piano.
passed now and then into her fathers S
/ room for a moment, but always came
! back to the window, looking wistfully
over the hedges along the mountain path
/ over which Geordie must come.
| She came again TO the piano and softly
/ played the airs of the morrow's sacred
! hymns and songs. Soon her sweet true
J voice rose strong and clear with the mel
ody and words of that grand old hymn tC
! st. Oswald, which had been borne alofl
/ through the black timbered vault of the
ancient Grasmere Chnrch by thousand
voices, led by her own, for many pas
Rushbearing Day:
They won US peace, Thy saints, Lord,
Even though, like Royal David, they,
Shifting and snitten with the sword,
Toiled through their mortal day.
Thou makest the wrath of man thy praise
! At this moment old Geordie burst into
! the room, faint from exertion and over
/ come by terror and rage. Margery, with
! ont an exclamation, but almost as quick
as thought, with q warning gesture Ol
silence TO Geordie, had softly closed heI
fathers door, got the old servant into her
own easy-chair and herself close and qui-
citing beside him.
"Time enough, Geordie; time enough"
she said in her grave, gentle way as she
picked the brambles one by one from bis
torn clothing tc divert him. "We lei
none of these grow on our side OF Fair
field, do we, Geordie?"
Ma ma, Miss Margery; bit th' curs'd
Auldgarth pleace-"
There, there, Geordie. know all that
has happened. You just went to Ralph
Oldgarth with the letter, and-and-it did
not quite please him; and"
! AN fore t. Lord I'd murdert ee on Y
| fur loave o. yersel an auld maisUer theer!''
broke in Geordie viciously and passion
ately.
Murder is dreadful, dreadful word,
/ Geordie. And then, you telt so badly
about disappointing US, that you hurried
away, Geord ie."
! Hurried awai-hurried ava! Lord,
Miss Margery, th' auld curse loos'd th'
houns' on mea, afore I'd med th geat.
cieard tn geat at boun', fur my leaf:
an as l toorned Z heeze bow'der at Il
pack-Lawsi wha met my cen oop theer
! i th' auld Hall wundow, aboon th'
pearch, bit th' Boyle o. th' Wush' u
Great, glowerin an clutchin like eed
lowp th houn's an geat an a.. an ha'
my vera leaf. Oh, Miss Margery %
whined the old man piteously, yer a
deed CONAN, if ye gae t Geat t'morrer
meet. Ye'll be smashered t. bits wp auld
John Auldgarth's ghaistn'
Margery raised Geordie to his feet, and
with parting injunction to secrecy, dis
missed him as graciously as though her
own heart were free from pang or storm.