Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-04-28
MAURICE SANDYS.

Sandys, leaning forward little and look
ing out of the carriage window at the eyrie
of wind beaten houses perched here and
there among the rocks Of his birthplace.
1T don't remember it SO bleak as this,
withdrawing sharply from the curious
gaze of the handful Of men and women
who had braved wind and rain to witness
the home coming Of their landlord.
'They'm black and bitter set, quoth
the nearest Cornishman to his wife, Shut
there never was Sandys yet as weren't
good to look on, and nuns as fair O. face
as nuns father was, and M 'appen as hard
hearted"
Maurice Sandys heard and laughed lit
tie.
"Truth will out, hesaid, struggling his
shoulders. Isn't it almost pity you
troubled yourself to fetch me home, Drys-
dale? Lanstead doesn t seem to hunger for
my presence as much as you represented. "
II only did my duty" said the Rev.
John Drysdale stiffiy. "There is always
plenty Of help needed at Lanstead in tho
winter time, as told you, Sandys."
eyes, you did," Maurice Sandys said,
sinking back into his corner with shiver.
II wish you'd draw up the window, Drys-
dale. The air cuts like knife, and don't
want to benefit the Lanstead undertaken
earlier than is absolutely necessary. Are
we at the house? Ugh how cold it Is. No,
don't want helping out, thanks, my good
fellow" passing by a manservant's prof
fered arm and going slowly up the shallow
steps, followed by the clergyman. "Well,
Mrs. Mallow, how are your" He gave the
group Of servants a careless nod and smile
and went straight into the dining room,
still followed by Mr.. Drysdale.
"a glorious fire." he said, holding out
his thin, brown hands to the pleasant
warmth. "But, all the same, Drysdale I
wish you'd left me to die in the SOUTH
Lanstead doesn't want me, and | don't
want Lanstead. Well, you'll dine with me
tonight MOP Why not? You know how I
hate being alone, Drysdale. /"
"I'm very sorry, but my wife will ex-
pect me" Mr.. Drysdale said ungraciously.
"You are old enough to be able to amuse
yourself, Sandys. Good night.
"Good night. And now" Maurice San
dys said, standing up and looking down
the long room, with smile half humor-
GUS and half bitter, chow am to amuse
myself, wonder? Here, my good fellow,
you needn lay that table. I'm not going
to dine alone. Bring me cup of black
coffee and some dry biscuits, If there's any
in the place. And ask Mrs. Mallow what
time the posts go out"
eyes, sir.'' The footman hurried out
with scared look, and Maurice Sandys
threw himself into the nearest seat-a
monks bench in finely carved black oak
and dropped his head on his hands. Cold
as death here, and l was always fond OF
the sunshine" he muttered. II wonder
why came away. Did Drysdale really
touch my conscience, or was it that Nice
bored me? The worse reason, l expect, to
be in keeping with my life Is that you,
Mrs Mallow?"
eyes, Mr.. Maurice. have brought you
your coffee, sir. l thought" said the
housekeeper nervously, you might have
orders to give. !"
"No; you must manage by yourself, Mrs.
Mallow,'' Maurice Sandys said, taking the
coffee cup from her. Pm certain you can
do it very we'll. You see, carelessly look
ing up at her, you won't have to keep
house for me very long"
''I beg your pardon, Mr.. Sandys," fal'
tered the housekeeper.
''Did not Mr.. Drysdale tell you that
was coming home to die, Mrs. Mallowf
Some one should have done So" Maurice
Sandys said quietly. "I'n afraid I've star
tied you. Sit down"
'sNo, thank you, sir. II am sorry to
hear that, Mr.. Sandys. Perhaps your ma
tive air.
''My native air has knocked half q dozen
more nails in my coffin already" said hei
master rather sharply. "Neyer mind-on
ly Mr.. Drysdale should have told YOU Is
this place damp The room is horribly
cold"
'.Let me put some more wood on the
fire, Mr.. Sandys. John says you won't
dine tonight, sir. Will you sup, then? MOI
A glass Of hot mulled wine before you &c
to bed, at least, sirP"
Eyes, II you like" Maurice Sandys Gel
down his empty coffee cup and began te
crulnble biscuit between his fingers
"Have you been long at Lanstead, Mrs
Mallow?"
Seven years, sir. ("
"Ah, thanks" as the hOusekeeper deftly
slipped a cushion between his tired heal
and the hard carved arm of the monk
bench. aThat's better. Tell them to max.
up a biz fire in INV bedroom, and that /,
all / think. Mrs. Mallow."
aThank YOU. sir. and good night
hope you will be better tomorrow, Mr.
Sandys.n
"Thank you.n Maurice Sandys said
looking up at her with curious smile
"Perhaps I shall be. Good night, Mrs
Mallow.n
rha ,.ras,,, that had overuhelmed hal
MT ays ne ana doTen aon