Hot Springs weekly star. (Hot Springs, S.D.) 1892-1917, 1894-10-26

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other time" cried Frederick. cat this
moment I'm busy-Im mean, III have an
engagement. Gocd-by, everybody. in
be back at dinner-time."
"A little before dinner-timc, plea.e.
my dear. Remember we have compa.
nN-twcnty at lca,t-a regular dinner
party"
oh, yes, a meeting of creditors.
as my father used to call it," said the
young fellow somewhat bitterly. "No
fear. mother: LII be back in time. and
do my duty to all the old fog.es."
"Iheyre not old fogies; there arc
some as nice girls as you could wish to
SEQ, If you'd only look at them, Roder-
lck. said Bella, who. going to be mar
ried herself, quite lamented that her
only! brother seemed determined
only iN let me- ! w so move 6sl!' aapa f0n sass,5 yGn;
up his hat-a Glengarry bonnet which
he persisted in wearing, though his
sisters told him it made him look like
the Highland portcrs ut the quay-he
fairly ran away.
Rapidly the young fellow walked on
through park and square, through
street ami wind. or "vennel," as such
drcary dens arc often callod hero:
shrinking from and detcsting alike
the poverty and the riches, the splcn.
o and the rags. 1t began to rain
heavily. IL he needed not. Though
brought up in luxury. he wa not lux
uflous by nature, could stand a good
deal OF hardship, and had u young
mans instructive pride in "roughing
IT. Still AN even down-pour," US his
' mnfhnts NyDr,IfJ nee -.1l.J 81 -. ~
agreeable thing: AMI as in reality mis-
only engagement" wa, with himself,
whose company he felt free to enjoy a,
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 90
ing ont.
But having no very interesting cor
respondence-:or he had left behind
at Cambridge few intimates and no
duns. also being, I fear. of a rather
dllatory turn of mind. and given to the
bad system OF Observation-Disclosures
lett the letters unopened in his pock-
ct, and sat idly watching the passen-
gers gather for q train just about to
start.
And when he heard the guard call
~ ~ cAio AisiiiiS VI u pace Wnefe ne
and his father had spent many Il happy
day, IN u sudden impulse he sprung
into the train without ticket l"iust
like Rody. silly fellow" they would
have said at home, and wa, borne
AWAY.
As he swept along in the train. and,
quitting it. started on an old familiar
walk. along high cliffs which gave him
u 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 Il
map: the map of an untraveled country
untravelcd hut Yet not undiscovered,
for there We're in it more ce%rtuintics
than lie in the lot of many Young MOI
OF his age.
Poor fellow! so young. SO ignorant of
life and its burdens. Vet he thought
himself quito wise and quite old. and
ielt his burden Very heavy indeed, and
himself Il most unfortunate fellow. o II
being obliged to GO back to that
meeting of cred tors" which he de-
tested.
But Ill enjoy myself hero to the
very last minute." thought he. and sat
down on IL heather bush-for on that
high ground everything looked as if it
never had raincd and never would rain
again, till the next time, which would
probably be within twenty-four hours.
| Wrapping his plaid about him, he felt
perfectly happy. That lovely outline
OF hllls-he 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.
Mana n4{vont1l 1;,, 11.-1-
edged one, which. opened. he found
vas one of the "intimations" of death.
customary in Scotland, acquaintins
him that there had died "at Blackhail,
aged siXty-nine, Miss silence Jardine."
silence Jardine. Surely q relation.
Who could she be? For he knew his
father and he we're the last of their
family.
However. thinking a minute. he re-
membered that in the business ar
rangements 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, a second cous-
in. This must be she who had now
died.
II wonder, ought l to go to her flu
neral?:" However, consulting 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 u queer name, by the
by. wonder whatshe was like, or if
l ever saw herr"
And then, by a sudden flash of mem-
Dry, he recalled q 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 q lady-an old lady, nearly as old
as MIR. Jardine, and c~uriously like him. |
At sight of her wonderful brightness
had come into the dying face. Cousin
siience:?" Eyes, Henry" was all they
said, but she knelt beside him; and
they kissed n another. and he lay
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