Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1899-02-04
WINNIE'S TRIUM PH
BY THE AUTHOR OF FAIRY COLD"
CHAPTER XXI.

The fatal storm Of that wild March
morning had long passed away, the bright
sunshine fretted with molten silver of the
great blue shield OF ocean, the warm
s~outherly breeze blew soft over Tregarthen
Head, stirring the summer grass growing
green and deep in sheltered hollows, and
the summer dews fell softly on the daisied
sod of the shipwrecked sailors graves in
Trewillian churchyard.
The weight Of regret and sorrow that
their death had laid SO heavily on the kind
heart OF their Captain had been lightened,
1t is true, for the second crew OF fifteen
which had quilted the sinking ship, after
unspeakable hardship and danger, had
battled triumphantly with wind and sea
through the terrible hours Of darkness,
and Mt daybreak found themselves eight
miles off, driving In on a smooth lee-shore.
The boat was stove Ia as they went
aground, but tho men all escaped with
life, and, making their way to Tregarthen,
tha whole number of the saved--three-
and-twenty-were lodged, fed, and cared
for-some in ~Tregarthen House itself,
some in the village-until they were able
to travel to London and receive their wages
from the merchants with whom Captain
Tredennick was in partnership.
The ship mt cargo were fully insured,
and the owners had sustained no loss:
but with the wreck of his beloved Chit
toCT had ended Stephen T~redennick's sea-
faring life.
81 knew every plank in her deck, every
scratch and mark; it seems to ME as il |
knew every rope and seam In her canvas,
md l don't feel rs if / should care to be-
gin learning such thing all over again."
he said, despondingly. to Lady Mountre,
vor; "besides-besides, Mile, You know,
| could not go away anywhere now, not il
my daily bread depended on it!'
mo, no, Of course not she replied.
They were speaking in undertones, and
the faces of both were downcast and
weary.
Mildred, isn't she any betterS"
He had asked the question 50 often dur
Ing these weeks of sorrowful anxiety, and
she had had so little variation for reply,
that her lips had grown tired, and her
heart despairing, in the accustomed sor-
rowful answer, "She is no better, Steph-
en-"
Lady Mildred's brilliant eyes darkened
with tears now, as she slightly changed the
formula Of her response.
"Stephen dear, | am afraid that she will
never be any better. There Is no use in
denying it. The doctors think so, too"
"She" over whom the dreary fiat was
uttered was lying in the adjoining cham
Der, n large airy pleasant room on the first
floor in Tregarthen House, surrounded by
all that love n care could desire or
wealth purchase. The downy satin COW
erlet and snowy linen on the beautiful
little silk-draped French led, the noiselcss
carpets, the bouquets of flowers, the little
fountain Of fresh delicious perfume, with
It's tiny jet Of spray and its twinkle Of
bilvery drops, the superb crimson straw
berries and hot-house peaches, with their
crystal dishes resting on ice; the ebony
reading stand, with its open magazines
and sheets of engravings-all that love
and wealth could give her was hers ere
she could ask or want; but all gifts and
~endeavors and achievements stopped short
here in this luxurious shaded room, with
It's dainty satin-covered couch, fit for a
French mdrqujSe.
The spacious, elegant chamber. with its
tinted draperieS and rose-strewn carpet,
It's flowers, and fruit, and pictures, and or.
naments, was after all but an inyalid's
narrow world luxurious, carefully
guarded, silent, shadowy prison, from
which fond, sad hearts and tender hands
could not set her free, into which they
could not bring one wild fresh breath Of
health and strength; they could not set
her on her feet amongst the early summer
flowers and the waving summer trees, out
on the grassy lawns and pleasant shady
paths, to rejoice as they did in the breeze
and the sunshine of May, and the song of
the lark, whose trills of ecstacy for light
and life and love floatcd into the quiet
chamber on the breath of summer air that
stirred the white transparent curtains
about her bed-the downy bed and pill.
lows, cambric-trimmed, lace-edged, soft,
snoWy-white, and scented, on which lay
helplessly IN aching head, and powerless,
crippled limbs.
"Oh, my poor little Winnie" groaned
Stephen Tredennick, sis this all the return
she is to receive at my hands-stricken
down in her youth, with nothing but the
prospect of years of sutrering-a long, lin.
gering death before herr"
"But, Stephen" his cousin said, gently
she had become very gentle and woman,
ly and kind of late, this imperious, rest
lCSS, UNHAPPY WIG u IJOIu 4hOUllI6NOE-
'there were days only q month ago when
we thought that she would not even have
those years of life, the suffering of which
l fervently trust time may alleviate in
some degree, and love and care can bright
EN- a little also. Even now Doctor Lake is
of opinion that she will not suffer acute
pain, except at intervals, although he
will not say anything about her recover
of the use Of her limbs. The strain or
her nervous system has affected her spine
he says, as well as the rheumatic fever
"Oh, don't, Mildred-I can't bear to heal
IT,"
He writhed with the agony Of s~ensitiv,
pain for the sufferings Of others-beloyed
weak, helpless creatures-which affects
some Of the bravest masculine natures 81
strangely, in contradistinction to q wo
mans self-possessed endurance under the
ike trial.
But / must speak to you, Stephen
Lady Mildred recommended unwillingly
after an interval Of silence. you know
Lord Mountrevor has written again; ant
although l gave him ample explanation
he says he cannot quite understand m,
prolonged absence" Her lip curled, ant
q cold, naughty smile hardened her face
"He wishes to see the child, too, l believe
indeed that is, / dare say, the principa
reason of his requesting my returnP"
mo, no, Millie." Stephen Tredennicl
said, earnestly-'don't say that, my dear
/ believe in my heart that your husban,
longs to see your face again for your owl
dear sake. He is not q stock or a stone
Mildred; and he was ~passionately in Low
with you when he married you. Give hin
his due-be just to him, Mildred, at least
and acknowledge he did care for you yer,
deeply, though you did not care for him.
"Well?" she questioned, with a ficke
of a cold smile.
WELL" her cousin returned, gravely