The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1896-12-31

and after all, her moneys goes to them she
hated. The cousin from England takes it all,
except the little bit that goes to Miss Eva.
'Tis pity for the poor that Miss Eva isn't
rich. She's good ladyy God bless her, an
no Conyers at all"
"But there is a son. Mary ventured at
last "a.
The gossip looked at her with q smile Of
compassion. R4s
sure, where are your wits wanderln' to
at alis Sure he was gone to Australy an lost
In 1t years ago, when you am me was girls. "
Mary said no more, s1She knew better.
For some reason or other they were keeping
Geofirey return secret, or else the news OF
it had not reached the village. The Castle
and the village had little kindly contact
Old Lady Conyers was not the Lady Bonnti-
iui sort; and the way through the village led
nowhere. The servants at the Castle were
English. Except when Larry brought the
post bag to the Castle gates, there was no
direct communication.
But Godfrey had said they would meet
again, and Mary never thought of doubling
his word. She spent all her days at the post
office now, not daring to he absent for
and not finding her should go away, perhaps
for another quarter of century She stayed
late at the postoffice. 1t was after IL that
night when she met him. He might choose
the same hour to come again. All day the
sound of a foot on the road brought her heart
into her mouth; and SO many times she had
to endure the sickness of disappointment
Every night as she slowly made her prepara-
tions for returning to the village, her heart
listened in her ears for his foot; she thought
that when she went out into the dark she
would again see his figure stepping up the
mountain road toward her. She grew pale
and scared-looking with the constant strain;
but still Ec never came.
The days turned round and round, and
Lady Conyers had been two months in her
grave. The gossip about it was dying out
now, though Mary, whenever neighbor
dropped in for a talk. stealthily turned the
conversation that way. She had not dared
again to hint at Godfrey; yet it was strange
that none of them had heard that he had
come. She never allowed herself to think
that he had come and gone; he had said he
would see her again. To that promise she
held greedily, despite the years of his silence
before.
His sister was still at the castle, had in
deed been seen in the village, where she
stole like one ashamed to offer help and COM
fort. She was likely to stay in the castle.
The English cousin was not anxious to dis
possess her, and what would she do in the
world, who had always been as a little child
under the heavy hand of her mother Free
dom TO fly out in the world was as of little
use to her as it would have been to an un-
iiedged bird. Her only gain was that now
she might minister to the poor and the sick,
after whom her heart had yearned all those
years. Scraps Of gossip about her came to
Mary's ears. She's; as shy as birdyeen,
and if bit of gossoon even looks into her
face she's all one blushu Or, "'Tis she has
the compassionate heart; am where did she
get it at all, at all? The tears is ready to
her eyes for the laste Bit Of a tale o. distress
Sure It's a fairy changeIin' she must be, for
it isn't in the Conyers breed.
Mary listened avidiy to such things
Sometimes on Sunday, when the postoffice
was closed, she would climb the hill and
wander through the castle woods, lowering
on the skirts of them, where she could get a
glimpse Of the castle itself, and the winding
roadway up to its great doors. But no such
figure as she looked for ever came forth.
She saw the lady of TIE castle pacing the
terrace with her dogs, and reading from an
open book in her ha,lds She saw that the
lower rooms were all suffered, and from the
chimneys the faintest,s tHinnest thread OF
smoke issued; the house might have been un-
inhabited. The horses had been sent away
to be sold, all except Miss Eva's shaggy old
pony, which she drove in a low basket chaise
about the roads. The place surely had no
sign of a mans presence.
One day Miss Eva herself called at the
postoffice. 1t was the busy time of day,
and the people were all ont in the fields
She and Mary had never before been face to
face; but as Mary looked at her she recOg-
nized with a sharp pang the sweet and hand
some mouth and the fine, thin nostrils. The
eyes too his eyes had been gay and coax
ing, and the light in his sisters faded eyes
was not of earth, yet once the hue must have
been the same and the dark curling lashes
were still the same.
Mary felt herself growing paler, and the
perspiration came out thick and cold all over
her face. Her lips went blue, and a mist
hid from her the lady's face. She heard the
sweet appealing voice:
am afraid you are ill. Pray sit down,
and | shall fetch you some water"
g i am not i'll, J" she answered, dragging
herself back to earth, yet her hand held on
by the counter to keep her from falling. She
was neryed all at once by sudden wild
resolution.
8 Miss Conyers," she said, "I humbly
beg your pardon for asking the question. Is
it true that Mr.. Godfrey has come home? /"
The lady looked at her with an air of
shocked surprise
q am afraid you are very i'll, my poor
woman. What can you know of my
brother?"
is it true, miss? heard he was home,
and wanted to know"
There was an anguish of appeal in the voice
to which Miss Conyers responded
ut is not true" Her voice fell, and the
ready tears came into her eyes,
If you ever knew him you must pray
for him. He is dead"
Dead he is not dead Ispoke with him
two month ago-the veryhight..your mother
was dying-at the door there, not a yard
from where you stand"
My poor woman, it was delusion. He
died in Melbourne on Christmas eve. Pray
for him; he needed all your prayers"
He said he had come home to--to-see
his mother, who was dying -
He-died on Christmas eye."
ut is mistake. He is not dead. He
hurried away to be with his mother He
talked of many things things of long ago."
Miss Conyers looked at her curiously, al
most shrinkingly. GG
s. did not know he knew any one in the
village. But if you knew him, be glad that