Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1894-12-27

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other time, cried Roderick. AT this
moment I'm busy mean, II have an
engagement Coo d-by, everybody. | II
be back at dinner-time.
A little before dinner-time, please,
my dear. Remember we have compa-
ny-twenty at lea,t--a regular dinner
party"
"Oh, yes, meeting of creditors,
as my father used to call it, said the
young fellow somewhat bitterly. mo
fear. mother; III be back in time, and
do my duty 10 all the old fog'es,
They're not old fcgies; there are
some as nice girls a you could wish to
see, If you'd only look at them, Roder-
ick, said Bella, who, going to be mar
ried herself quite lamented that her
only brother seemed determined
against matrimony.
We'll, | will, Bell | promise you,
only let me go now" And snatching
up his hat-a Glengarry bonnet which
he persisted in wearing, though his
sisters told him it made him look like
the Highland porters at the quay--he
fairly ran away.
Rapidly the young fellow walked on
through park and square, through
street and wind, or "vennel," as such
dreary dens are often called here
shrinking from and dctesting alike
the poverty and the riches, the splen-
dor and the rags. 1t began to rain
heavily, but he needed not Though
brought up in luxury, he was not lux
urlous by nature, could stand q good
deal of hardship, and had a young
mans instructive pride in 'roughing
it," Still IAN even down-pour," as his
mother would have called it, is not an
agreeable thing: and as in reality mis-
only engagement" was with himself,
whose conn any he felt free to enjoy as
much as anybody else, he stopped his
walk and turned into railway station,
where at least he could sit down quiet
ly and read his letters, which he had
snatched up from the hall table on 60
ing ont.
But having no very interesting COR
espondence-ior he had left behind
at Cambridge few intimates and no
duns, also being, fear, of a rather
dilatory turn of mind, and given to the
bad system of ez-aller-Roderic
left the letters unopened in his pock-
ct, and sat idly watching the passen-
gers gather for train just about to
start.
And when he heard the guard call
ing out the name OF place where he
and his father had spent many happy
day, on sudden impulse he sprung
into the train without ticket ("iust
like Rody, silly fellow" they would
have said at home, and was borne
away.
AS he swept along in the train, and,
quitting 1t, started on an old familiar
walk, along high cliffs which gave him
a view of the country-land and sea-
for many lovely miles, Roderick's
heart was very full. Not only of his
father, but of himself and his own new
future, which lay before him like a
map; the map of an untraveled country
-untraveled but yet not undiscovered,
for there were in it more certainties
than lie in the lot of many young men
OF his age.
Poor fellow. so young, so ignorant of
life and its burdens. Yet he thought
himself quite wise and quite old, and
felt his burden very heavy indeed, and
himself "a most unfortunate fellow, on
being obliged to go back to that
meeting Of cred tors which he de-
tested.
But I'll enjoy myself here to the
very last minute, thought he, and sat
down on q heather bush-for on that
high ground everything looked as if it
never had rained and never would rain
tt1I ,xs4 /, taA
probably DO within tweuty-four hours.
Wrapping his plaid about him, he felt
perfectly happy. That lovely outline
of hillside must Just put it down; so.
hunting in his pocket for the pencil
that was always a-missing, he turned
out the letters that he had crammed
in there, and looked them over.
None attracted him, except black
edged enc, which, opened, he found
was one of the "intimations" of death,
customary in Scotland acquainting
him that there had died "at Blacknau,
aged sixty-nine, Miss Hence Jardine.
Silence Jardine, Surely relation!
Who could she be? For he knew his
father and he were the last of their
family
However, thinking minute, he re-
membered that in the busine. $ ar
engagements after his fathers death,
which, he being under age, had been
managed entirely by his mother. she
had told him that Blackhall, the an
cestral property, "a queer tumble-down
place which nobody would care for,
was 10 be inhabited, so long as she
liked, by Miss Jardine, second cous-
in. This must be she who had now
died
81 wonder ought to go to her flu
neral?" However, con 'ulting the letter,
which had travelled to Cambridge and
back, he found this was impossible.
She must have slept with her fathers"
for some days already. Poor Cousin
Silence. WHAT queer name, by the
| by. wonder what she was like, or If
/ ever saw her?"
And then, by sudden fash of mem
DRY, he recalled circumstance which
in the confusion and anguish OF the
time had entirely slipped, away--how,
not many hours before his father had
died, there had crept into the sick
room lady-an old lady, nearly as old
as Mr.. Jardine, and curiously like him.
At sight of her wonderful brightness
had come into the dying face cousin
Silence?" Eyes, Henry" wal all they
said but she knelt beside him; and
they kissed one another, and he lay