Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1901-04-25
CHATTER. XIII.

CHATTER NIII.
Like some hunted thing, Beatrice
flew to her rooms, as if their very
walls might give her protection.
But, on the threshold, the door, shat
tered of it's fastenings, met her as sad
proof that not even here could she be
secure. Indeed here as elsewhere, she
was no longer mistress.
Hastily she made her preparations
to leave Grey Oaks, to return never
again, unless with her disputed right
established.
Not until all was in readiness did she
remember that she had given to Ber-
tram the evening previous, all her re-
serve of ready money, excepting few
dollars in her purse. Her valuable
jewels We're locked in the bank vault.
For a moment her heart grew sick
with this new and unexpected obsta-
Gle; but her courage soon returned.
Taking in her hand her little satchel,
filled with a few needful things, she
bell.
Then she remembered the servants
We're no longer hers to command; and
SO, drawing her Grape veil over her
face, with one low, stifed sob choking
it's way upward in her white throat, she
turned from the rooms which she
might never see again.
The house seemed deserted as she de-
scended the broad staircase The door
of the library stood ajar. She shud-
dered as she passed it.
No one met her as she opened the
great hall door and glided swiftly down
the avenue between the grand old oaks,
which were donning themselves in their
brilliant autumn garb.
Suddenly from behind one of these
shuff1ed the unexpected figure of a
man.
He touched his hat with awkward
Difference.
Again she shivered, as she recognized
Tyrrell.
Was it an evil omen that, at the very
outset of her new life, again he crossed
her path?
He started perceptbly as his glance
rested or her bag.
You'll let me carry it for we, Miss
Markham?' he said, stretching out his
hand to relieve her of it's weight.
But she shook her head and walked
swiftly on. To her surprise, he fol-
lowed her.
you're not lavin Grey Oaks fol-
good miss?" he added, with a certain
deferential anxiety in his tone.
But Beatrice vouchsafed to the ques-
ton no reply, save in a single naughty
glance.
The man stood still. looking sullenly
after her retreating figure.
'She has her fathers eyes" he nut.
tered. ''And her father dismissed me
from his service-to starve, for all he
cared. It's her turn now. Why should
1 care? We all have our turn. The
next one, my fine gentleman, will be
yours"
And, with a swift change of express
sion he glanced toward the stone tur-
rets of Grey Oaks.
An hour later, alone and unprotect-
ed, Beatrice, with her veil still tightly
drawn over her face but the elegance
of the slender, youthful figure clearls
apparent through it's folds wendell her
way through the busy throng pouring
from the Central DEPOT of the great
metropolis.
The afternoon had not yet waned, and
the sun was shining brightly. :
The year previous she had graduated
as Madame Clair's pet pupil from Ma
dame Glars we'll known and fashion
able school. How could it be otherwise,
when Madame Clairs bills, let her
swell them to what amount she would,
We're ever undisputed. and when the
mere fact that she numbered among
her scholars the heiress of Grey Oaks
made many DESTROYS that their own
daughters might also enjoy the same
privilege of residence beneath her
roof
1t was to Madame Clair that Bea-
trce's thought now turned. She we'll
remembered that lady's honeyed smiles
and whispered batteries. Let there be
as little of sincerity as there might be
in either, she would not refuse to re-
ceive her now-at least until she might
be able more clearly to decide upon her
future course.
From the depot she had but a few
blocks to walk; but as she mounted the
steps OF the elegant brown-stone man
sion, she staggered with weakness.
Scarcely recovered from her recent ILL.,