, 1899-03-24
CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.
1t is six weeks later, "spring has come
up this way" and all the earth is glad
with a fresh birth.
March has indeed come; boisterous,
wild, terrible, in many ways, but lovely
in others.
Mr. Monkton had come back from a
sad journey to Nice some weeks ago, to
bury his dissolute brother. He had very
little to tell on his return, and that of the
saddest. 1t had all been only too tru
about certain iniquitous debts, and the
old people were in great distress. The
two town houses should be let at once,
and the old place in Warwickshire-the
home, as he had called it-well! there was
no hope now that it would ever be re-
deemed from the hands of Manchester
people who held it; and Sir George had
been SO sure that this spring he would
have been in a position to get pack his
own, and have the old place once more IN
his possession. 1t was all very sad.
"There is no hope now. He will have
to let the place to Barton for the next ten
years." said Monkton to his wife when
he got home. Barton was the Manchester
man. HE is still holding off about doing
it, but he knows it must be done, and at
all events the reality won't be a bit worse
thar the thinking about 1t. Poor old gov
ernorl You wouldn't know him, Bar
bara. He has gone to skin and bone, and
such frightened sort of look in his eyes,"
ooh, poor, poor old man!' cried Bar
bara, who could forget everything of past
%unkindness where her sympathies were
enlisted.
Toward the end of February the guests
had begun to arrive at the Court. Lady
Baltimore had returned there during IAN
uary with her little son, but Baltimore
had not put in an appearance for some
weeks later. A good many new people I'M
known to the Monktons had arrived there
with others whom they did not know, and
after awhile Dicky Browne had come and
Miss Maliphant and the Brabazons, and
some others with whom Joyce was on
friendly terms, but even though Lady Bal
timore had made rather a point of the
girls being with her, Joyce had gone to her
but sparingly, and always in fear and
trembling. 1t was so impossible to know
who might not AVE arrived last night, or
was gong to arrive this night!
That, up to this, neither Kysart nor
80 might
come at any moment kept her watchful
and uneasy. Indeed, only yesterday she
had heard from Lady Baltimore that both
were expected during the week.
That news leaves her rather unstrung
and nervous to-day. After luncheon, hay
ing successfully eluded Tommy, the lynx
eyed, she decides upon going for a long
walk, with a view to working off the de-
preston to which she had become a prey.
This is how she happens to be out of the
way when the letter comes for Barbara
that changes the tenor of their lives.
The afternoon post brings it. The de-
licious spring day has worn itself almost
to a close when Monkton, entering his
wife's room, where she is busy at a sew
ing machine altering a frock for Mabel,
drops a letter over her shoulder into her
lap.
what a queer-looking letter. says she,
staring in amazement at the big official
envelope.
Mrs. Monkton has broken open the en-.
.velope, and is now scanning hurriedly the
eontents of the important looking docu-
lment within. There is a pause-a length
ened one. Presently Barbara rises from
her seat mechanically, as it were, always
with her eyes fixed on the letter in her
hand. She has grown a little pale-a little
lfrown Is contracting her forehead.
Freddy" says she, in a rather strange
tone.
"What?" says he, quickly. mo more
bad news, / hopeY'
"Oh, no! Oh, yes! l can't quite make
1t out-but-I'm afraid my poor uncle is
dead"
'Your uncleT"
eyes, yes. My fathers brother. | think
l told you about him. He went abroad
years ago, and ~we-Joyce and l, believed
him dead a long time ago, long before |
married you even-but now Come here
and read it. 1t is worded so oddly thai
lit puzzles me-"
LET me see it," says Monkton.
He sinks into an easychair and drags
her down on to his knees the better to see
over her shoulder. Thus satisfactorily ar
ranged, he begins to read rapidly the let.
ter she holds before his eyes.
Eyes, dead, indeed" says he, soto voce.
fGo on. turn over; you mustn't fret about
that, you know, Barbara-er-er-" read.
ing. whats this? By Jover'
"What?" says his wife, a~nxiously.
i"What is the meaning of this horrid let.
ter, FreddyY
There are a few people who might not
call it horrid," says Monkton, placing his
larm round her and rising from the chair.
lHe is looking very grave. Even though
lit brings you news of your poor uncle's
death, still it brings you, too, the informa-
ltion that you are heiress to about a quar-
tier of a million!"
"Whatv' says Barbara, family. And
then, "Oh, no! oh, nonsense! there must
,be some mistake"
"Well, it sounds like 1t, at all events.
ySad occurrence h'm-h'm-" reading.
= 'Co-heiresses. Very considerable for
He looks to the signature of the
letter. "'Hodgson & Fair Very respec.
firm! My father has had dealings