Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1894-02-01

DdE9 sHuunuefS uOOT, now the CrDtter
and his gui6wife, being sore in heart
for their own bonnie lassie who had
year or two before been spirited away
by some huntsman nohleman never to
be heard from again, had given the waf
their own BARNS name and place in
heart and home; how she had grown
from babe to BARN, from BARN to lassie,
from lassie to lass and on to woman
hood, beloved in all the valley crofts,
the pride of the minister and wife who
taught her in the messy manse below
the cliff, hard by the ancient church
and bridge of Fasnakylc, the peasant
pet and favorite at Guesachan, until
she had become his almost inseparable
companion; hut ever true and strong,
and free of heart until Art had become
with Love to grand Strathglass.
All this he remembered, and with it
his own often half-formed conviction
that, could the truth be known, some
where behind this wild-hower crofter
life was strain Of blood which, rs
these things are counted in the heredity
of beast and human, would make her
the equal of any; for intellect, pride
and true nobility were in every move
AhAhb VI liSl 6lhNClut lOIlll, III tNtIN
quiet, well considered act of her life, in
every tone and thought she uttered, and
shone forth almost majestic in the lumi-
nous calm of her splendid eyes Of gray.
Gene here, JOAN" he said at last,
leading her to the messy rock from
which the hundreds of valley sketches
had been made in all the pleasant sum
ner days, II have something curious to
tell you about myself,
well, you see, am au orphan, too,
just like yourself, joan"
"Guid!" said Joan, complacently.
u never had half-crown Of my own
in all my life"
"Guid, guild !" was the quiet response
~ just 'growed up like Topsy. You
never heard of darby Topsy, Joan2"
ma, ma; bit gang on wi tn tale"
81 was a 'minder,' put out to be cared
for in London, Joan. My father, n
Rossshire barrister, had been driven out
OF the North here, for his lingering love
of Prince Charlie. lie went to London
and starved and died. Then the
mothers life light was soon dimmed,
and she followed him. Then the parish
beadle tossed Hugh Richie into an
orphan asylum"
"Guid, guild, guid!" interrupted Joan,
joyously.
and why SO very good when all SO
very sad, Joan2"
."Ablins, ilka guild mon that rises DOT
O. sair hecklin' an fio.ter, maun dow
an thrivep
well" continued the artist, smiling
at the happy prophecy, "there learned
to draw a little, and by and by the
curate OF the asylum took me into his
own scanty home and helped me along
very kindly. Some one saw my poor
little sketches and sent me to Rugby;
and there got on so well with the lads
that one fine, lazy fellow took me with
him to London; put me into little
studio in High Holborn, with three
years rent paid; clapped me on the
shoulder, bravely, with, Now win or
starve 7 and went away"
AN ye did ma starveN' Joan insisted,
rapturously.
well, not exactly. But l am afraid l
would have starved, Joan, only for the
| queerest old lady you ever saw in all
your life-Lady Mac Tavitt, whom we
expect at the lodge this very day.
The dear old lady is an odd picture,
Joan. She is taller than your foster
father, Davy Saunders; uglier than
sandy Nichols, your fighting, stone
mason neighbor, across the way; scrag-
| gler than this fir; and her nose is as biz
as turnip and crimson as that dogwood
| copse. Her little eyes snap and glitter in
their deep hollows like fiery black dia.
monds. Her furrowed face, notified with
rich streakings of snuff, is a perfect
lichen-nest OF moles and warts, each
with Its own tuft Of bristles, like clump
| of alder branches in winter, while her
| polished head is as bare of locks as are
Lord Glebemoth's polled Angus cattle
of horns"
"Hech!" exclaimed Joan in amaze.
ment, bit its grye-carling frowdie for
"True, Joan; but hard as are her face
and heart to others, she has been very
good to me. l would not have seen
Strathglass, nor Fyou, but for her. She
is rich and grand lady, besides, and
owns half Of Aberdeenshire, with many
many London houses.
Her brother was Lord Mac Tayitt
Duke of Fyvie, who died in India. Hi:
only son, young Lord Barlsfold, sad
scapegrace, married woman far below
his station, but Us far above his deserts
whom Lady Mac Tavitt always call.
the brat and the two died, after one
Child was born and was spirited away.'
"Puir lassie p murmured Joan sym
pathetically.
THE old lady is little soft on three
subjects which are of endless importanc,
to herself and of as endless torment IL
others" continued Hugh, as if kindline
with mirthful reflections. "The first /
her mission to find the brat's BARN,
which she is certain must be a boy wht
is to restore the family line The seconc
Is her wonderful wig. This she is con
tinually losing, often to the distraction
OF whole communities, and which, dur
ing her travels, while swathing he
head in shawls and plaids, she carrie
in precious casket of curious Indian
workmanship. The other frenzy Of he
strange old life is to recover the mate .
this Indian wig casket; gift from tn
duke to the young lord at the same tim
the one was sent to her from India, anc
which disappeared fully twenty wear
ago from the family possessions"
"Puir, puir dottled auld budyl | keI
We fettle her weel
"oh, yes, Joan; / always comfor
her when she will let me. But that
mot often. Why, she's not yet so year
of age. She's far too spirited for mucl
of that.
II fell into her favor entirely by acct
dent She had learned that some Lop
don artist had painted miniature o
the lass Lord Barlsfold married. VIII
this as a possible clue, she rummnget
every studio in London, becoming quit
an ogre to the artists, and occasionally
having regular set-tos with few, be