Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-01-06
the darkening woods like a hunter who
goes on q long hunt.
CHAPTER XII.
The Great English Drovfng.

Inc Great English DrOvfng.
But Of Philip Stansfield the murderer Of
his father, the almost assassin of his wife,
nor htlt nor hair was seen in all the coun-
tryside. Bands Of men went, twenty to-
gether, securing the wild places, beating
the woods, quartering the muirs with blood
hounds and scent dogs. All was in vain.
Not footprint. not a shred Of clothing on
thorn Only some few of the searchers
would come back whispering under their
breath of hooking laugh which they had
heard Cor thought they heard. 1t seemed
to hang about the skirts of the party as the
night came on, and they turned YEARLY
nomeward But it might have been no
more than blinking cue-owl searching for
Held mice In the early twilight
Only those who have known what ii is to
nave a red-hand murderer IA. -, - ,.....
very nelShborhood conceive the agony
or fear that seized on the whole country
side. Cmphray Spurway was the one man
who kept his head, and even he shranl,
into himself, his fine robust body waxing
thin and his rosy cheeks falling slack and
Wrinkled
all this panic was the man who gave me
being, felt no interest in the affair save
that l hoped they would soon catch and
hang him. But l enjoyed the mounting of
the guards, the passwords, the glancng
musket barrels of the brave weavers, the
red coats of the soldiers whom the govern
ment sent from Edinburgh to seize the muir
derer
Every morning new tale ran from lip to
up. Every evening fresh alarm circulated
from gable window to gable window. Wo-
men shrieked and tainted. Several children
appeared untimeously in the world. A car
rIer was found dubbed, his cart and pock-
cts rified, on the Edinburgh high road,
within mile of the city lights. Every
family in the country put up fresh bolts
and bars. Poor folk barricaded their door
with heavy furniture, and filled up their
windows at nightfall with slabs of whin-
stone from the nearest rock face.
At last they took my mother away in a
litter, borne on the shoulders of men all
the fifteen miles of the plain road to the
town of Abercairn, where there was an
hospital equipped with physicians of great
skill. l was not permitted to go with the
party, which in the first instance consisted
of Umphray Spurway's weavers, with him
self walking on one side of the litter, and
Caleb Clinkaberry on the other The old
Quaker refused to be separated from his
little maid" even for a moment and so
fierce were his denunciations of woe and
desolatton upon all who withstood him that
he gained his point.
So l was left at the mill house with little
Anna Mark under the governance of Will
liam Bowman, which was just as good as
none at all.
And then it was that 1 first knew how
much nicer 1t Is to be friends with a girl
than with boy. Never before had l
known any save of my own sex 1 loved
my mother in the way In which all boys
love their mothers-that is 7 made her a
very poor and perfunctory return for ali
the wealth of love she had weared on me
during my years of infancy. Nevertheless
l loved her.
Besides her had never seen any good In
womanknd. was fond of Umphray Spur
way, and on this point shared his preju-
dlces. For save my mother (who, of course
did not count. being my mother) the York
shire man would never consent to have one
of the breed within the Min house. He had
perforce to employ them in the fine work of
the mill, but ever under protest. They
were his bane, the i'll drop in his cup, the
fly in bis ointment-with other things that
mind not ow. He had a full stock of
odious comparatives for them.
But as to little Anna Mark, had proved
TO myself that she was a very different
story. For one thing, Umphray Spur
way thought her different. For he who
admitted none of her sex had taken Anna
INTO his house. Then, again, 1 liked to
play with her and to walk hand-in- hand
with her. I never did this willingly or I'M
willingly with my grandmother, who was
wont to extract catechism out of her
pocket and set me to learn proofs of doc
trines If she found me idle. Now, Anna
Mark was guiltless even of MANS Chief
End and as to the scriptural proofs of
that noblest Of all summations of human
destiny-"M ms chief end is to glorify God
and to enjoy Him forever''-why little
Anna simply did not know that the thing
needed to be proven.
wonder If can convey any idea Of what
little Anna Mark was then, when 1 first
knew her in the mill house of Moreham
THE witch-child," the Unaffected called
her. and. indeed there was something not
quite of this world about her. She had
far-off look of her gypsy father. Saul
Mark; nothing whatever of her mother ex-
cept her dazzling teeth. All else was her
oWn-no child in the village or among the
weaver lasses at the min cottages in the
least to be compared to her. She was slen-
der and tall for her age, quick and 1.-THE in
every movement as a wild thing of the
woods. Her eyes would follow any one
with whom she was not well acquainted
with the lightning suspicion of Gagged
squirrel. This shy, wild wood look after
ward left herr the bright glancing of her
eyes never.
Her hair, as have said, ran in a ripple
of brown crisps and curls over her Shout
ders and down her back. But even as a
child she had a fashion of her own of
packing it on the top of her head out of
the way, when any childish scheme re-
quiring agility on hand.
Now, l, Philip Stansfield, the younger,
thought well of myself then as now. What
ever I did I tried hard to do better than
any one else. And yet, I admit that there
was nothing, running. climbing, jumping,
standing on ones head. on ones hands,
making faces fighting with fists, shooting
at mark with the bow and arrow, play
ing at quoits. tops, marbles, tic-tac-toe
jacks. knuckle bones-it was all the same,
1 might be good at them. but-Anna Mark
For a while I had the better In learning
but day by day she overhauled me, spurred
on with the ambition of beating me. The
Books Of the Old and New Testaments''
were a stronghold for long while, be-
cause she did not see the necessity for
getting them by heart But one morning
she puzzled me with Ecclesiastes and then
when she went on to offer the books of the
Apocrypha, either forth or back just as I
liked, I rose in wrath and called her a
Papist, which was the direst term of re-
proach known to me-
"Papist or no." she answered back, IT
can beat you at the books of the Bible'
I did not care, of course, even if the al
legation had been true. For a boy, being
manifestly superior in all points to a girl,
does not need to make good his superiority
in particular instances.
I had, however, one stronghold that could
not be assaied. Anna Mark could not
throw a stone as we'll as this not for
want of trying. I remember that once I
came on her weeping at a dykeback, and
upon my asking what the matter was she
sobbed out, II have tried to throw stones
like you till my arm is near broke with
trying-and I cannot do it bit betterr'
Never mind" I said, as kindly as 1
could, for I hated to see her cry, I'VE will
try race to the end of the m1l-lade end