El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1899-07-01
CHAPTER x.

stormy engagement the marriage day
was fixed, the guests invited, and one
evening the poor girl was trying on
her wedding dress that had come from
London when her mother came in
and tod her to take it off at once. for
her worthless lover had the morning
before privately married a famous
actress, with whom he had been ac-
quainted some short time. Cecily, to
ell appearance, took 1t quietly enough.
put her dres out Of sight and then
asked to be left to bear her sorrow
alone. In few days she appeared
again in the family circle, much the
same as usual, and her mother was
congratu1ating herself on the issue of
events.
about a week after the return of
the bride and bridegroom to the
Grange, one bright June evening, just
like this, she put on her wedding
dress and veil, slipped down to the
river unperceived and flung herself in,
hoping, 1 dare say, that the flood
would carry her fair body to the sea
as gracefully and smoothly as that
leaf you"
"Well-well-and it didn't?" inter.
rupted my wife.
ct carried her as far as the Red
Mill below the second bridge, where
poor, foolish wench she and all her
bridal ffnery were ground to pieces"
"Oh. what 2 horrible story!'' cried
Helen, with a shudder. Poor Cecily!
IL hope she was dead before she
reached the machinery"
History does not say, but 1 pre-
sumo she was. Her idea was poetical
enough, and would have been very eff
fective but for the interference Of fate
in her case. You know the river pass
es under the Grange terrace, where
every fine evening in summer it was
Master Ronald's habit to sit drink
ing and smoking far into the night,
and Cecily meant to float down.
shrouded in her wedding veil, like
Elaine of old, under her faithless low
er's eyes,"
Then he saw her." broke in my
wife eagerly-"he must have seen
her. Paul; for you know the Grange
is about half a mile above the mill.
Don't spoil the story by saying he
was not there when she passed."
"I'm afraid, my dear. shall have to
spoil 1t by a most Disseminating de-
movement, If you want the truth and
nothing but the truth. However, Il
you wish, I'll turn the story
mo. no; keep TO the text"
''Well, the text is, that when Miss
Cecily passed Henshay unfortunately
had just opened his third bottle and
his sight in consequence was trifle
misty; he just turned to his wife.
who, report said chung to the de-
canters almost as devotedly as her
lord, and hiccoughed drowsily-
ct say, Betty, there goes another
car-case of Thompson's. That is TO
fourth sheep he's lost this season by
-er-food-unlucky beggar! - to
which Mistress Betty nodded acquies-
cence with closed eyes. The body OF
the young lady was carried unchecked
to the mill, where, next morning, there
was not enough of her found to fill
even a corner of the coffin her afhict-
ed relatives laid in the family vault.
not enough to fashion the faintest
outline of a ghost wherein to haunt
the Grange and hurry Mr.. Hernshaw
to remorseful self-destrvction.''
Then he 1ived?"
"Iiyed-rather! Lived to marry
two other wives and die at the patrt-
archal age OF ninety-three.
cit had no effect on him-the poor
girls awful death?"
"Oh, dear, yes; it had a certain
effect! He left the Grange the day
after the funeral, had a fortnights
heavy spree in London. which seemed
to have steadied his nerves and
drowned his remorse, for before the
end of the month he was home again,
as hale as ever and indulging in his
usual pastimes."
"How could a woman love and die
for such a-a-man-he must have
been half an ANIMAL" muttered Helen,
her eyes cleaning.
THAT'S the very remark my poor
father used to make. when telling me
the story. Old Ronald was alive, you
know, when he was boy, and my
father has often remarked to me
that Of all the hideous bloated disrep
utable looking old boys he had ever
seen Hernshaw of the Grange was
the worst,and that if poor Cecily could
have looked on her lover in his latter
days she would have bitterly rued
the fatal plunge that robbed her per-
haps of happy useful life and a quiet
deathbed surrounded by her children's
faces"
"I don't like your story, Paul.
Helen observed. rising abruptly with
SILVER. Let us go home; it is get
ting quite cold"
Eyes, it's an unpleasant tragedy
enough" I assented, rather eagerly
"let us turn our thoughts to lighter
subjects. By-the-bye, Helen, what is
this 1 hear about garden party at the
4
an invite?
Eyes, it came this morning Don't
you remember me showing it to you?
r