Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1897-04-17

A STORY.
BY wILKiE COLLINS.

lnstinctively she fl th~' her ,lCughtS
were leading LCY back a. in 10 Il state OF
doubt from which her youthful hopefulness
recoiled. Was there nothing she could find
To- do which would offer some other subject
20 occupy her mind than herself ard her fut-
NTe?
Looking absently round the room she no
ticed the packet of her fathers letters placed
OH the table by her bed lie.
The first three letters tnat she examined
after untying the packet, We're briefly writ
ten, and were signed by names unknown to
her. They all related 10 race-liorses, and t.
cunningly devised bets which were certain
TO make the fortunes of the clever gamblers
on the turf who laid them. Absolute indif-
ference on the part of the winners 10 the
ruin of the losers, who were not in the secret,
was the one feeling in common which heT
fathers correspondence presented. In mercy
to his memory she threw the letters into the
empty fireplace and destroyed them by burn
ing.
The next letter which she picked ont from
the little heap was of some length, and was
written IN Il clear and steady hand. BY COM
pariSOn with the blOtted Scrawls which She
had just burned, il looked like the letter of
a gentleman. She turned to the signature.
The strange surname struck her: il was
"Bennydeck."
Not a common name, and not a name which
seemed TO be altogether unknown 10 her.
Had she heard her father mention II at home
IN the time of her early childhood? There
were no associations with it that she could
now call TO mind.
She read the letter. Ii addressed her faith
er famlliarly as MY dear Roderick, " and il
proceeded in these words:
"rhe delay in the sailing of your ship Of
fers me an opportunity of writing to YOU
again. Ny last letter told you of my fathers
death. | was then quite unprepared for an
event which has happened since that afiic-
ton befell me. Prepare yourself TO be sur
prised. Our old moated house at ~Sandyseal,
in which we have spent so many happy holt
days when we were schoolfellOws, is sold.
You VIII be almost as sorry as | was 10
hear this; and you will he quite as surprised
as | was when | tell you that Sandyseal
Place has become a priory of English nuns
OF the order of ST. Benedict.
II think | see you look up from my letter
with your big, black eyes staring straight be-
fore you, and say and swear that this must
be one of my INVESTIGATIONS. Unfortunately
Cor | am fond of the old house in which /
was born ii Is only too true. The instruc-
tons in my fathers will, under which Sandy
seal has been sold, are peremptory. They
are the result Of a promise made many years
since to his wife.
You and | were both very young when
my poor mother died; but | think YOU must
remember that she, like the rest OF her iami-
ly, was a Roman catholic.
Having reminded You of this. | may next
tell you that Sandyseai Pace was my moth
ers property. 1t formed part of her mar
riage portion, and it was settled ON my faith
er if she died before him, and if she left no
female child TO survive her. am her only
child. My father was therefore dealing with
his own property when he ordered the house
to be sold. His will left the purchase money
to me. would rather have kept the house.
But why did my mother make him prom
ise to sell the place at his death?
"A letter attached to my fathers will an
swers this question and tells a very sad story.
In Difference to my mothers wishes it was
kept strictly n secret from me while my faith
er lived.
There was a younger sister of my moth
ers who was the beauty of the family-lOyed
and admired by everybody who was ac-
quainted with her. 1t is needless to make
this long letter longer by dwelling Oh the
girls miserable story. You have heard it of
other girls, over and over again. She loved
and trusted; she was deceived and deserted.
Alone and iriendless in a foreign country
her fair fame blemished, her hope in the fut-
IRE utterly destrOyed-she attempted to
drown herself. This happened in France.
The best of good womcn-a sister Of charity
happened to be near enough to the river to
rescue her. She was sheltered; she was
pltlcd; she was encouraged 10 return to her
family. The poor, deserted creature abSO-
lutely refused: she could never forget that
she had dlSgraced them. The good sister Of
charity won her confidence. A retreat. which
would hide her from the world and devote
her to religion for the rest of her days, was
the one end to her wasted life that she long
ed for. That end was attained in Il priOry
of Benedictine nuns established in France.
There she found protection and peace-there
she passed the remaining years of her life
among devoted sister friends, and there she
died a quiet and even a happy death.
You will now understand how my moth
er's grateful remembrance associated her
with the interests of more than one COM
munity of nuns; and you will not need to be
told what she had in mind when she obtain
ed my fathers promise at the time of her last
illness.
"IIe at once proposed to bequeath the
house as a free gift to the Benedictines. My
mother thanked him and refused. She was
thinking of me. If our son fails to inherit
the house from his father she said, it is
n,ly rinIt tI,t Ia gIy,,JI I,,, AI,, A., In, ~
the house in money. Let it be sold
80 here | am-rich already--with this adj
ditional sun, " money in my bankers care.
my idea is to invest it in the funds, and
to let it thrive at interest until | grow Older
and retire, perhaps, from service in the navy.
The later years Of my life may well be de-
voted to the founding of a charitable institu-
ton, which / myself can establish and direct.
If | die iirst-oll, there is a chance of il! We
may have a naval war, perhaps, or l may
turn out one of those ~incorTigible madmen
who risk their lives in arctic exploration. In
case of the worst, therefore, / shall leave the
interests of my contemplated home in your
honest and capable hands. For the present
good-by and a prosperous voyage outward
bound"
So the letter ended.
Sydney dwelt with reluctant attention on
the latter half OF it, The story of the UNI
happy favorite of the family had its own
melancholy and sinister interest for her. She
felt the fOreboding that it might, in some of
It's circumstances, be her story tOo-without
the peaceful end. Into what community Of
merciful women could she be received in her
sorest need? What religious consultations
would encourage her penitence? What pray
ers, what hopes, would reconcile her, Oh her
deathbed, TO the common doom?
She sighed as she folded up Capt. Benny
decks letter and put it in her bosom to be
read again. "lf my lot had fallen among
good people" she thought, perhaps | might
have belonged to the church which took care
of that poor girl"
Her mind was still pursuing its own sad
course OF inquiry. She was wondering in
what part of England Sandyseal might be.
She was asking herself If the nuns at the old
moated house ever opened their doors to wo-
men whose one claim on their common
Christianity was the claim to be pitied, when
she heard Linley's footsteps approaching her
door.
His tone was kind, his manner was gentle.
His tender interest in her seemed TO have re-
viyed Her long absence had alarmed him.