The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-12-04

Il asked 10 see that.
Not me-" said Still, who had no taste for
satire. "Laughing's all right in the proper
place. but the right place isn't here"
ITS bit strange Still. you to find Wis
itor o. the name o. Warlock No one can't
gainsay that"
The arrival of lady, pretty, young and
interesting, of the name of a once awe-in-
spring family, was the topic of discussion
during the whole of that evening at the
Goat" From the bar as a convenient CEN
ter the news spread throughout the little
grey town and the Evertons became proud
of their new lodger, and when questioned as
sumed an air of Importance in keeping with
the occasion.
Meanwhile, unconscious of the interest
her arrival had excited Mrs. Warlock
pitched her small camp in what she hoped
would be a calm retreat.
If she had placed her motive for choosing
this obscure and dwindling town as a resi-
dence in undraped simplicity she would
have said: Il came here chiefly to make an
experiment on my emotions; but partly be-
cause it is the last place which anyone
would expect me to select"
The innocent but resentful target for so
many keen-edged sorrows, Mrs. Warlock
had come to believe that hostile Fortune
had emptied his culver. There is a law of
averages which we all instinctively apply to
ourselves, and, when what we consider the
worst that can happen to us has come to
pass, we borrow courage from our very
sense of defeat. But she was pleased with
her refuge chiefly because the floating ele-
ment Of mystery in it suited the mood be-
gotten of her own disastrous experiences.
'Never thwart a Warlock," was a local
saying crystallized into proverb by force of
tradition The sixpenny guidebook told a
legend on the dangers of so foolhardy a
policy. Perhaps some obscure form of char
acteristic prudence on the part of the
townspeople accounted for their respectful
demeanor. For although she rented a cheap
lodging and exercised a close economy in
her expenditure. they touched their hats
dutifully and asked no impertnent ques-
tions.
CHAPTER II.
One day. a week after her arrival, Mrs.
Warlock sat in the little room over the
grocer's shop, looking on the quiet street.
At one end of it big fragment of masonry
marked the spot where the great archway
protecting the portcullis had been shaken
from it's foundations by the Cromwellian
powderbags. Part of this structure,
covered with moss, ivy and other creeping
plants, was scattered in the dry nloat; but
a dislocated fragment in the dry moat; but
defying coat-of-arms of the great family
that had once overshadowed the whole of
West of England.
In her writing desk lay seal with the
same motto and crest. But the smell of
cheese candles and Macon from the shop
below, invading the little room, presented
strangely antagonistic contrast, alike to
her own dreams and to the vestiges of de-
feated pride.
But whilst the mother sat and unused, the
child grew weary and begged to be taken
to play in the castle grounds. Under the
shadow of Hubert's tower, whilst the child
picked flowers, the mother sat and continued
her reveries. They were vague, shifting
fancies enough, but still she derived morbid
comfort from the almost unconscious paral-
lei that rose in her mind between the ruined
castle and her own shattered hopes. And
as she sat indolently dreaming. the vicar,
whom she knew by sight, entered the gate.
About sixty years of age white-haired and
clean-shaven, he was still active and alert.
She had heard with deep interest what local
gossip had to say regarding the old gentle
man OF her name.
He don't take no manner of interest in
parish matters" Mrs Everton had told her.
'qMe and Mr. Everton are church people and
always have been The chapers full and
the church empty. But, bless you, ma am,
the vicar don't care. Let every one do as
they like, so long as they don't bother mel
That's his motto"
But. all the same, nothing happened in
his parish which this observant old gen.
tleman of antiquarian tastes missed. The
arrival of the lady bearing the same name
as his own had deeply excited his curiosity
and he was determined to make her ac-
quaintance.
'She gives out she amt no relation O.
YOURS" said Burkenshaw his sexton, who
retailed the gossip picked up at the bar of
the Goat
Indeed" said the vicar
'All her famiIy's dead, she says" resumed
the sexton But the Evertons tell me she's
very close and not the sort o. lady you can
question. Sometimes she and the little girl
talks furren tongue"
'French?" suggested the vicar.
Maybe" said his sexton for they've
furren looks and furren clothes
Now the vicar had long ago decided that
he had a right to give information to any
one who visited the ruins on the ground
that he knew more about them than any
spot where Mrs Warlock was seated, and,
raising his soft felt hat, said: Pardon me,
but l thought it might interest you to know
that YOU are sitting on the spot where Hugh
Warlock murdered his brother on the 21st
of August, 1475.''
Mrs Warlock had read the story in the
guide book, but the vicar insisted on tell
ing it again
The ice thus broken led to conversation
which the lady carefully confined to the
subiact of the wears antiquarian re-
searches and so. finally, with his curiosity
piqued rather than gratifed, he departed
after adding a few appropriate remarks to
the child.
The following Sunday he was gratifed to
see Mrs Warlock and her little girl in
church sitting among his congregation.
Reading in this an inclination to extend
their acquaintance he executed the next
maneuver on his campaign of curiosity and
called on Mrs. Warlock in his pastoral ca
pacity He found the child sitting on
stool trying to dress a doll; her mother was
reading a novel of Balzac.
After expressing the pleasure it had given
him to see her in church, an observance
which he feared too many of us omitted
when absent from our homes, the vicar sat
down and gossiped genially, explained how