Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1898-02-19
CHAPTER N

'AAAl I'm Il
DARRELL COURT is A PRISON TO MEr
1t was a beautiful May day, bright with
fresh spring loneliness. The leaves were
springing fresh and green rom the trees; the
hedges were all ablOom with pink hawthorn;
the chestnut trees were all IN flower; the gold
Of the laburnum, the purple of the lilac, the
white of the fair acacia trees, and the deli
cate green OF the stately e.ms and lines gave
a beautiful variety Of color. The grass was
dotted with a hundred wild-fowers: great
clusters of yellow buttercups looked in the
distance like the upspreading of the sea OF
gold the yiolets perfumei the air. bluebells
stirred In the sweet spring breeze, and the
birds sang out loudly and jubilantly.
IL one spot looked more lovely thar snoth-
er on this bright May day. it was Darrell
Court for 1t stood where the sun shone
brightest, in one OF the most romantic and
picturesque hooks of England-the part Of
Woodshire bordering on the sea.
The mansion and estates stood on gently
rising ground; a chain OF purple hills stretch
ed away into the far distance; then came the
pretty town of Audleigh Royal, the Aud
leigh Woods, and the broad, deep river Darte.
The ban Of the river formed the boundary
of the Darrell estates, a rich and magnificent
heritage, wherein every beauty Of meadow
and wood seemed to meet. The park was
Hch in its stately trees and herds of deer; and
not far from the house was a fir-wood-an
aromatic, odorous fir-wood, which led TO the
very shores OF the smiling southern sea.
BY night and by day the grand music Of
nature was heard in perfection at Darrell
Court. Sometimes il wa, the roll of the wind
across the hills, or the beat of angry waves
on the shore, or the wild melody OF the storm
among the pine trees, or the full chorus OF a
thousand feathered songsters. The court IL
self was one OF the most picturesque OF man
sions. IL did not belong 10 any one order or
style OF architecture-there was nothing stiff
or formal about it-but il looked in that
bright May sunshine a noble edifce, with It's
.auara- aaS@rz oausrad uvit alinain9 ivy.
gray turrets, and large archcd windows.
Did the sun ever shine upon such a combi-
nation of colors? The spray Of the fountains
glittered in the air. the numerous balconies
were filed with flowers; wherever il was
possible for a flower to take root. one had
been placed 10 grow-purple wisiaTias, sad,
solemn pas~sion-fl0weTs, roses of every hue.
The star-like jessamine and scarlet creepeIs
gave to the walls OF the old mansion a vivid
glow Of color; gold and purple enriched the
gardens, heavy white lilies breathed faintest
perfume. The spot looked a very Eden.
The grand front entrance consisted OF a
large gothic porch, which was reached by a
broad flight Of steps, adorned with white
marble vases filled with flowers; the first ter
race was Immediately below, and terrace led
from terrace down to the grand old gardens,
where sweetest blossoms grew.
There was an old-world air about the place
something patrician, quiet, reserved. Ii
was no vulgar haunt for vulgar crowds; i;
was not a show place; and the master OF it
Sir Oswald Darrell, as he stood upon the ter
race, looked In keeping with its surround
ings.
There was a disttRgue air about Sir OS-
valid, an old-fashioned courtly dignity, which
never for one moment left him. He was
thoroughly well bred; he had not two sets Of
manners-one for the world, and one for
private life; he was always the same, meas
ured In speech, noble in his grave condescen-
sion. No man ever more thoroughly deSeIy-
ed the name Of aristocrat; he vas delicate
and ~fastidious, with profound and deeply
rooted dislike for all that was Inbred, vulgar,
or mean.
Even in his dress Sir Oswald was remark.
2oACs IC SupNAhhc Nuit iiuris AN AehHSAS
studs and sleeve links, the rare Jewels that
cleaned on his f~ngers-all struck the atten-
tion: and, as he took from his pocket a richly
engraved golden snuff box and tapped II with
the ends of his delicate white fingers, there
stood revealed a thorough aristocrat-the
ideal of an English patrician gentleman.
Sir Oswald walked round the stately ter
races and gardens.
SI ar MT coo har - ha said 10 himsalf. Ayat
most certainly Frampton told me she was
here"
Then, with his ~gold-headed cane in hand,
Sir Oswald descended 10 the gardens. He
wat evidently La search Of some one. Meet
Ing one of the gardeners. whe stood, hat III
hand, rs he passed BY, Sir Oswald asked:
Have you seen Miss Darrell In the gar
dens?"
Il saw Miss Darrell In the fernery some
five minutes since, Sir Oswald" was the
reply.
Sir Oswald drew rom his pocket a very
fine white handkerchief and ditfused an
agreeable odor of mllleteurs around him; the
gardener had been near the stables, and Sir
Oswald was fastidious.
A short walk brought him 10 the fernery,
an exquisite combination OF rock aud rustic
work, arched by a dainty green roof, and
made musical by the ripple of a little water
fall. Sir Oswald looked in cautiously, evil
IDENTIFY rather In dread Of what he might find
there; then his eyes fell upon something, and
he said:
Pauline, are you there
A rich, clear. musical voice answered:
"Yes, I am here, uncle
MY dear" continued Sir Oswald, half
timidly, not advancing a step farther into the
grotto. may I ask what you are doingr'
Certainly, uncle" was the cheerful reply;
..you may ask by all means. The difficulty
Is to answer; for 1 am really doing nothing,
and / do not know how to describe moth
ing"
why did you come hitherp' he asked.
ITO dream" replied the musical voice. II
think the sound OF falling water y the sweet
est music In the world. IcAme here to en-
JOY II, and to dream over it."
Sir Oswald looked very uncomfortable.
Considering. Pauline. how much you
have been neglected, do you not think you
might spend your time more pr0Gfably-ip
educating Yourself, for eyAmpleY"
"Thia h educeting myself. lam teaching