The Dickinson press., 1894-09-15

and my father hal M;s.rii, W [ should
;.ot stay iuns IN his house. / salt NY
father ever wra: lave wished me to
marry al.scl:c witt out love. He answer
eli that il was of 10 consequence lie was
now in my fathers place. left him
and " mt to my room, and, thinking it
over. it came to me how lie must have
disliked my !.or father, II he could
speak to ne so. and how he, perhaps
did not much wish to have fathers
death cleared uD. Then I thought 1t
was likely he had not taken much trOu-
BILE to inquire about him in London;-
MI that. you gee was in his hands.
But now 1 will go to london myself,
away from his rEdencss. and f;nl out
the whole matter for myself, If you will
help me-"
She had I'll on in a rapid tone Of in
tense excitement that permitted of no
interruption.
ut is singular" l said, that you in
your " way should have come to the
same conclusion about Steinhardt rs l
have gradually been coming to. ] do
not trust him at all: he is pitiless and
INSCRIPTIONS. and l am sure he would
make no more inquiries concerning
your father than seemed necessary for
h sake of appearances. But, dear
Miss I-,c:cix, 1 think You can do no
good by going to London yourself. Let
me act for You in the matter. Believe
me, l have 1t rs much at heart as II
1t were my own. Have q little patience
and l think we shall get at something"
Why" she asked. eagerly, ''have
you heard something Mt last from the
friends to whom Won wrOte9"
mo; l have not"
Il suppose" said she, with some bit
terncss. 1T Is to them only the loss
Of one stranger out Of the crowds all
around Them
l then told her of the mission Free
man had Undertaken, refraining how
ever, from saying that I had directed
his attention to the railway stations,
more particularly to the Great North
ern. aud l advised her to remain at Tim
perley Hall for the present, and to cor.
duct herself toward Steinhardt so as
not to excite his resentment Or suSpic-
ion.
Upon this, we prepared to leave the
cottage, and on glancing casually away
from her, / was arrested by the be-
havjor OK tile old man.
Look at him." l involuntarily ex-
claimed.
His face was pulled, and as II puffed
with blood; his eyes We're e%xtraordln-
arily bright and watchful; his mouth
twitched grotesquely, Is If in the effort
to use it for speech; and his right leg
and shoulder stirred Il little under the
blankets.
"Oh!" cried Louise, perhaps seeing
us, and hearing us talk-if he has heard
us-has reused him! Uncle Jacques,'
she said, in n loud voice, going to him,
and laying her warm, soft hand on his
withcrcd, lifeless wrist, ARE you feel
ing brttcrY
His only answer was Il wink of his
bright eyes.
Here is John coming" she contin.
ued to him. II shall come and see you
tomorrow again."
We left the cottage as John ap.
proached with his wheelbarrow, bear.
ing the shellfish for his afternoon
round. He knew me: 1 had assisted
him once with the barrow on the hill,
It struck me strangely to note his dis
tinctly foreign, his French look, and his
French courtesy Of manner, and then
to hear him speak the rough Lancashire
tongue. He had been for many years
the. faithful attendant of old jacques
he commonly passed among the vii
layers by the name of Bite y my Leg
because Il: dis odd u%ttcrance of the cry
buy them alive!
II think your master must be rousina
up a little, John" said Louise.
YEA" said John; II think he nun
miss. Seems to me he may get as wee
again as he was afore tn other master
went to LunnOn."
AS I took my way through the village
to my lodgings. I found myself turning
over these words of John; how WELL
I wondered. had old Jacques been be
fore his nephew went to London? II ht
could recover his speech, could he tel
us anything Of consequence concerning
him?