The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1897-02-24
MAURICE SANDYS.

/
"This is Lanstead, ia itp" said Mauri,
sandys, leaning forward little and lool
ing out of the carriage window at the eyr
Of wind beaten houses perched here an
there among the rocks OF lis birthplac,
II don't remember Il sS bleak as this
withdrawing sharply from the ouriou
gaze of tho handful of men and woms
who had baved wind and rain to wit,s.
the home coming Of their landlord.
"They'm black and bitter set," quot
tho nearest Cornishnan to his wife, "bu
there never was Sandys yet as weren'
good to look on, and nun as fair o. fac
as nuns father was, and IN 'appen as har,
hearted"
Maurice Sandys heard and laughed lit
| tie.
Truth will out" he said, Struggling hi
shoulders. Isn't 1t almost a pity yor
troubled yourself to fetch me home, Drys
daley Lanstead doesn't seem to hunger fol
my presence as much as you represented. >
II only did my duty" said the Rev.
John Drysdale stiffly "There is ALWAYS
plenty of help needed at Lanstead in tbs
winter time, as l told you, Sandys."
Yes, you did," Maurice Sandys said.
sinking back into his corner with SILVER,
II wish you'd draw up the window, Drys.
dale. The air cuts like "a knife ard don't
want to benefit the Lanstead undertaken
earlier than is absolutely necessary. Are
We at the houseY Ugh how cold it is. No,
don't want helping out, thanks, my good
fellow, passing by manservant's prof
fered arm and going slowly up the shallow
steps, followed by the Clergyman. "Well,
Mrs Mnllow, how are your" He gave tho
group OF servants careless nod and smile
and went straight into the dining room,
still followed by Mr.. Drysdulc.
"A glorious fire, " he said, holding ont
his thin, brown hands to the pleasant
warmth. "But, all the same, Drysdale, l
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? No? Why notY You know how 1
hate being Alone Drysdale."
I'm very sorry, but my vito will ex.
pect me, " Mr. Drysdale said ungracously.
You are old enough to be able to amuse
yourself, Sandys Good night"
GOOD night. And now" Maurice San
uys soil' SUlhuing up and looking down
'he long room, with smile half humor-
GUS ana halt nltter, how am l to amuse
mssell, wonderY Here, my good fellow,
you needn't lay that table. I'm not going
to dine alone Bring me cup of black
coffee and some dry biscuits, II there's any
in the place. And ask Mrs. A4allow what
time the posts 90 out.
YES Sir - I've footman hurried out
with scared look, and Maurice Sapdys
threw himself into the nearest seot-o
monks bench in finely carved black oak
and dropped his head on his hands. Gold
as death here, and | was always fond of
the sunshine" he muttcrCd. 81 wonder
why | came away. Did Drysdalc really |
touch my conscience or WINS If th,t Ma |
bored me? The worse r,ason, expect, to |
be In keeping with my life Is that YOU, |
Mrs Malluw:"
Yes, MIR Maurice. have brought you
your coffee, sir. | th"t@ht," sid the
housekceper nervously, you might have
orders 10 give.
No;you must manage by yourself, Mrs.
Mallow, Maurice Sandys said, takingt the
coffee cup from her. 'Im certain Won can
W. IL very we'll hou Sec clrCleSSly look
ing up at her, ''you won't have to keep
house for me very long"
Il beg your pardon, MIR. Sandys," fall .
tered the houSokcepcr.
did not Mr.. Drysdala tell you that .
was coming home to die, Mrs MallowY
some one should have done so" Maurice .
Nhndys said quietly. I'm afraid I've star
tied you. Sit down"
NO, thank you, sir IL am sorry to
near that, ME- SundyS. Perhaps your ma
i've air
MY native air has knocked half II dozen
u. NJ, nn,'Ioi ni'''i Ply NEVER inihd-on-
ii. ,lnan ' a 2"o n, nave 'o!A YOU Is
ani1 !, N''P' i'o i'oHl Is horribly
,,I
A.. niG P,iC some more wood on the
' iu .nI' T"huES' Jnhh says you won't
"" V'"'Sh,' Sir' hlIi You sap, then? No?
"a Sia9s vi h"V IlulIEu VINE before you 90
W Eu' AT leaSC, sir'
lcS' II you Ike. Maurice SandyS set
"""h MS empty coffee cap and began TO
Stuhiple Il biscuit between his fingers. I
nave you been long at LansLcad Mrs.
INFLOW
seven years sl'
An thWlks, as the hOUSckoCpcr deity
'llplru cushion between his tired head
III" Uhe hard carved arm of the monks
"hch' mat better. Toll them to make ]
Up oiR ilre IN my bedroom, and that is 5
Ill, tilnk' Mrs. MalioW'
Thank You, sir, and good night I !
rope you VIII DO better tomorrow, Mr.. j
7aholys- !
ihank you, Maurice Snndys said, c
ooking up ut her with II curious smile. h
fNrhapS L shall be. Good night, Mrs.
dailow.