The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1900-06-02

dead father-called him "prodigai" and
''spendthrift'-of servant trying to
quiet him, saying:
Hush! the child is listening"
1.-THE child had better be dead than a
beggar," he answered.
Here is my lady coming" said the
servant.
"And my lady had better be dead, too, y
declared the man savagay.
She remembered a hundred similar
scenes-how her mother came to her one
morning dressed in deep mourning, her
pale face looking quite colorless and con-
trasting with her black robes.
"Beatrix," she said, come with me,
child, and say sood-by to your home. You
are little child, but you are old enough
to remember what l am going to say to
you. Look at that beautiful castle; II
should be yours. You were born heirees
of Erceldean, yet you have not a penny in
the world. Beatrix, only heaven knows
what lies before us-what Is to be our
| fate; Tut promise me always to remember
that this Is your home, always to remem-
Der that you were born lady"
Il am lady" said the child, proudly
mot beggar as that man called me
but lady"
Promise me, too, my darling. that, II
| In the years to come you should be fortu-
nate or prosperous, you will, if you can
buy back the old home Of the Le1noxes.
| II viii, mamma" said the child.
| Remember another thing, my darling
They used to call you Prince Charities
daughter in the days when feasting and
revelry wasted your fathers substance
! shen men fattered him and borrowed
| from him and led him to ruin
| Poor papa!" said the child, with fast
| dropping tears.
| Dear, noble, generous papa" cried
Lady Lennox. "Oh, my little daughter
lie has left me almost penniless; yet,
| declare to you that would rather be his
| widow, left poor and obscure, than the
widow of king. But you do not under.
stand me-
Eyes, l do, mamma. / understand you
loved papa. So did ]"
Then came journey over the hills
Beatrix asked her mother whittier they
we're going. Lady Lennox said:
| You have never heard of the place
child; we are going to the old Grange
at Strathnarn, an old house left to me
years ago, and an income of a hundred a
year with it. l smiled at the time l
heard Of the legacy; now thank heaven
for It,"
Stra.hnarn wa reached at laS1. The
Grange was a large, rambling building,
pleasantly situated. The house stood on
the summit of a richly wooded hill. and
beautiful lake, called Loeb Narn, lay
at Its feet. No scenery could have been
richer or more picturesque; no landscape
more lovely. The Grange itself was a
dreary habitation. In that great lonely
house there were no carpets, no pictures
nothing but old osken furniture quite
out of date, long, dark passages, and
gloomy rooms.
There was one servant, Margaret by
name, a staid, ,warm-hearted Scotchwom-
an, who had long been accustomed to the
Grange. She had lived there alone since
her late mistress death, looking after the
gloomy house as well as she could. She
gazed pitifully at the beautiful child with
the bright face.
at will be a queersome place for her, to
grow up in, my lady" she said; I'VE never
see the sight of a human face here from
one year to another. Perhaps it will be
only for time that you will stay here?"
ut win be for life," replied Lady Len
nox sadly-''for life; but If heaven Is
good to us, that life will not last long"
And Lady Lennox found it even worse
than she had expected and feared. Just
at first there was glimmer of hope that
something would happen-some source of
relief would be found: that glimmer of
hope died, and the full sense of desola-
ton came home to her at last. The only
thing that saved her from despair was her
little laughter; to teach her, to brighten
the little life, to make herself child for
the child's sake, was the only thing that
kept her from the very madness of de-
spair. As the mournful years passed
without change, without event, she busted
herself thus, only waking at intervals to
the Consciousness that her daughter was
rapidly becoming a beautiful girl, while
she herself seemed to grow more helpless
and feeble every day.
CHAPTER w.
It was q brilliant morning. A rich am
Der light lay on the loch, soft, golden
haze had overspread the hills; the long
line of distant sea shone white in the sun
the bess were humming over thespurple
heather and the golden gorse; the lovely
water lilies glistened white in the sun; all
the ambient air was filled with perfume.
the first soft freshness of morning smiled
over the land. A little boat was fastened
to the trunk of a tree that grew close to
the waters edge.
In the fragrant silence of the summer
morning there came faint sound OF mel
ody. 1t was woman's voice, clear, full
of music, with an undertone of passion,
as though an imprisoned soul found its
vent In song. From the dark glade be-
tween the hills the voice came sweet and
thrilling.
The singer emerged from the darkness
of the mountain gorge into the full light
of the sun. She looked Ike the queen of
mountain and lake. 1t was prince Char
lies" daughter-the child who had been
named after the Beatrix Lennox who had
won kings heart-Beatrix Lennox, a
child no longer, but girl in the full SUI
perb promise of magnificent womanhood-
o girl of rare and dazzling loveliness.
The girl walked to the boat. and, I'M
fastening 1T, jumped into it, then taking
the sculls in her hands, she rowed rapidly
across the blue waters Of the loch. She
rowed swiftly across the lake, watching
the light, feathered spray as it fell from
the SOULS; then, when the other side OF
the loon was gained, she secured the boat,
took rom it volume that she had
brought with her and sat down on the
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