Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1894-12-13
CHAPTER xxx.

pauper, hard work is your only cure
Is foreign travel, Lord Clanyarde, who
hated Marchbrook, now suggested this
remedy to his daughter. He felt that
IT was his duty to afford her the bene-
fit OF his pre- lection and society during
the first period of her widowhood, and
1t struck him that 1t would be more
agreeable for both of them to lead u
nomadic life than to sit opposite each
other on the family hearth and brood
upon the sorrows of this life or read
the fami y Bi le
1T would be quite the right season
FOR Rome, love, IL we were to start at
once " said Lord Clanyarde, soothingly.
Constance. yielded to her fathers
suggestion with graceful submission
that charmed him. She cared very
little whittier she went. The little
girl was still TT Hastings with hon ast
Martha. She cried sometimes for
mamma, but was happy upon the whole,
Martha wrote; wondering very much
why she and her charge remained so
long away. Martha knew nothing of
the change that had taken place in her
darling s position.
"Very we'll, dear, said Lord Clan
yarde. "YOu have only to get your
boxes packed and, by the way, you had
better write to your banker for circu-
lar notes, Five hundred will do to
start with"
Father and daughter went to Italy,
and Constance tried to find comfort in
those classic scenes that are peopled
with august shadows but her heart was
tortured by separation from the child,
and 1t was only resolute pride that
withheld her from owning the truth
that the little one she had believed her
own was as dear to her as the baby she
had lost.
Lord Clanyarde and his daughter
were driving on the Corso one sunny
afternoon in the Easter week, when
the gentleman's attention was attract
ed by lady who drove a phaeton with
a pair of cobs caparisoned in fan
tastical fashion, with silver bells on
their harness. The lady wa past her
first youth, but still was remarkably
handsome, and was dressed with an
a tistic sense of color and a daring dis
regard of ia hion OF the day-dressed
in word, to look like an old picture,
and not like modern ia hion plate.
who can she be?" exclaimed Lord
Clanyarde. Her face seems familiar
to me, yet haven't the faintest idea
where I've seen her.
A few yards further on he encoun-
tered an acquaintance of the London
clubs, and pulled up his horses on pur-
pose to interroga,e him about the UNI
known in the Spanish hat.
Don't you know herr" asked Cap
tain Filter, with a surprised air. Eyes,
she's handsome, but passee; sur 10
retour.
who is she?" repeated Lord Clan
yarde
Captain Filter looked curiously at
Mrs. Sinclair before he answered
Her name is Walsingham- widow
of a Colonel Walsingham-colonel in
the Spanish contingent rather d bad
egg. of course | mean the gentleman. /"
A light dawned on Lord Clanyarde's
memory. Yes, this was the Mrs. Wal
| singham whom peorle had talked about
years ago, before Sinclair's marriage,
and it was Sinclairs money she was
spending now, in all probability, on
that fantastical turnout with its ling
ling bells. Lord Clanyarde felt him
self personally aggrieved by the lady,
and yet he thought he would like to
see more of her.
Does she stay long in Romeo" he
asked the club lounger.
"She never stays long anywhere,
believe; very erratic; likes artists and
musical people, and that sort of thing;
has reception every Saturday evening.
! always go. One meets people one
doesn't see elsewhere; not the regular
treadmill, you know.
Lord Clanyarde asked no more. He
would be sure to meet Filter at one of
the artists rooms, and could ak him
as many questions about Mrs Walsing-
ham as he liked.
The two men met that very evening,
and the result of their conversation
was Lord Clanyarde's presentation to
Mrs, Walsiugham at her Saturday re.
caption.
She was very gracious to him, and
made room Tor him on the ottoman
where she was seated, the center of q
circle of enthusiastic Americans, who
! thought her the incest Englishwoman
they had ever met.
"Who was that lady in deep mourn
ing you were driving with Yesterday"
Mrs. Walsingham asked Lord Clan
yarde, presently.
"My youngest daughter, Mrs. Sin
I, clair You knew her husband some
years ago, think. He is lately dead. I"
"Yes. l saw his death in the Times,
in that dismal column where we shall
all appear in due course of time, sup
pose.
eyes, he died in South America.
You heard the story, | suppose. A
most unfortunate business-his conf
Dental solicitor shot in Sinclair's own
garden by little French girl he had
been foolish enough to get entangled
with. The jealous little viper con-
trived to give the police the slip, and
Sinclair saw himself in danger Of be-
ing brought unpleasantly into the
business, so he wisely left the coun-
try"
"You believe that it was Melanie
DuIort who shot Mr.. Wyatt?" Mrs.
Walsingham exclaimed, eagerly.
"What, you remember the girls
name? Yes, there can hardly be a
doubt as to her guilt Who else had
any motive foE killing him? The
creatures letter Turing him to the
spot was found in the park, and she
disappeared on the morning of the
murder These two facts are en-
vincing, l should think, concluded
Lord Clanyarde, somewhat warmly.
eyes, she was wicked creature, ;"
said Mrs. Walsingham, thoughtfully:
| she had natural bent toward evil. 3"