Morning journal and courier., 1894-01-06
LAYING THE GHAIsT,

WarBt O al"
 II.
 LAYING THE aHAIsT.
 Adjoining the ancient paneled hall of Rosedale manor-houss were two large apartments with huge bay windo ss. They were each half chamber, half sitting room, and looked out past masses of flowers, melodious fountains, shaded paths and driveways, over all the sweet Grasmere vale, with it's sleeping hamlet, lake and the blue, circllng mountains beyond.
 The master of Rosedale, Matthew Sea croft, an invalid since the death of his wife Margaret, remained almost constantly in one of these rooms, looking aoross his many acres with patient pain and longing; pain at the fear of ever leaving the living image of the dead behind him; longing through that living image to call again his own the deathless image beyond the grave.
 The other bayed room, which had been his wife's, was now his daughter Margery's, as she was called in loving familiarity at Rosedale and in the valley homes below. The toast of the country gentry for years, Ito 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 a pure, calm soul shining through steadfast, kind ly eyes upon human kind, that 9rasmere peasant folk had the common saying, "When Miss Margery olaps cen on yan. yell ns lsDger hide yer thowts."
 But few hours had passed since the ra- vens were croakiDg beside the Grasmere ian. 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 mothers portrait op- posite the huge carved osken bed; and her whole attitude that of one gently but anx- iously awaiting the outcome of some fond ly cherished project.
 And we'll she might; for that very morn ing she had won from her father the only reluctant gift of his life-a letter to her lover's father, Ralph Oldgarth, asking in no measured words that the past might be forgotten; that their children might be spared the shadow of hate between them; might henceforth be known ia dear old Westmorelsnd only ss friends.
 Old Geordie. when ordered to deliver this letter at Deepdale Hall, had for the first time come elose to rebellion. He bothered about long before going, and muttered ominously to himself when final ly setting out. In fair weather, like this, his errand to Deepdale Hall, which lay just over the brow of Fairfield, should re- quire but an hour; and Margery was now awaiting the old mans return. She unused thoughtfulIy over her piano; passed now and then into her fathers room for a mo- ment; but always came back to the win dow, looking wistfully over the hedges along the mountain path over which Gsor- die must come.
 She came again to the plano and softly played the airs of the morrow's sacred hymns and songs. Soon her sweet, true voice rose strong and clear with the melo- dy and words of that grand old hymn to St. Oswald, which had been borne aloft through the black timbered vault of the ancient Grasmere church by a thouaand voices, led by her own, for many a past Rushbearing cay:
 "They won us peace, Thy Saints, Lord,.
 EYsn though, like Roy David, they,
 Shifting and snitten with the sword,
 Toiled through their mortal day.
 "Thou rnakst the wrath of man thy praise-''
 At this moment old Gsordie burst into the room, faint from exertion and over come by terror and rage. Margery, with ou. an exclamation, but almost as quick as thought, with warning gesture of si- lencs to Gsordie, had softly closed her fathers door, got the old servant into her own easy chair and herself close and qui- eting beside him.
 "Time enough, Geordie; time enough" she said in her grave, gentle way e she picked the bramblss one by one from his torn clothing to divert him. eve let none of these grow on our side of Fairfield, do we Geordief'
 "Ns, na, Miss Margery; bit th' curs'd Auldgarth pleaoe-"
 "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 s murdert ee on'v fur loave O yersel an auld maister theer!" broke in geordie viciously and passionately.
 0Murder is dreadful. dreadful word, Geordie. And then. you felt 90 badly about disappointing us, that you hurried
 ..Hurried awaaLhurried awa, Lord, Niss Margery, th' auld curse loos'd th' houns' on rnea, afore I'd med th' geat. cIaar'd th, peat at . boun, fur my leaf; an ss toorned f heezs g powder at t pack Lansi wha met my cen cop theer f th' anld Hall vuudow, sboon tn poarch, bit th' Roole e, tn, Wush'n Great, glowefin' nj clutchin' like eed lovp tn houn's an' Reat sn, q, an ha' my vera leaf. Oh. Hiss NsroeryI" whined the old man pit sously, eyer deed ooman, if ye gee t' Geat t'morrer meet. Yen be 1nashered t bits wi auld John Auldgarth's ghatstl"
 Nargery raised Geordie to his feet, and,