The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1902-10-10

his message was bound to give. He
was trying still when he reached his
journeys end long after Dick had left
the train at Exeter. A drive of six
miles brought Oliver to the quiet
Cornish village of Terluth, near which
the Bentleys lived. But he delayed
his going to the house for little while.
He dreaded his task and had not the
faintest idea how best to convey bis
news. He turned down to the shore.
He had always loved the sea and per-
haps it would teach him how to tell OF
its cruelty. But that day the water
maddened him. 1t was so wickedly
calm-a great grey waste beneath a
sullen, leaden sky. The wind was ris-
ing, too; there was every promise of a
storm by nj ightfall.
What a strange, wild, cruel coast it
was, with its treacherous rocks and mar
row channels. Oliver did not wonder
at beacon being necessary. He re-
called old stories of the terrible dan
gers and OF the many wrecks which
had taken place before Mr.. Bentley
had caused Terruths Beacon. short
encd into Truths Beacon, to be built
and lighted in bad weather whenever
any of the local fishing boats were out.
Truths Beacon. tstood firm, clearly
outlined against the gray sea and
grayer sky, and it touched divers
hesitation into resolution, and he turn
ed towards the Bentley home, deter
mined to give his news fully and simply.
At the house Oliver was admitted
by the oldest, most trusted servant.
"Eh, master will be mighty glad to
see you, sir, and Miss Muriel.'
"Is she about?' interrupted Oliver.
mo, SIR"
THAT is right. Say nothing about
my coming to Miss Bentley, and take
me to your master.
SIS it bad new>?' quericd the old
man.
Oliver nodded. and nothing was
spoken till the servant opened 4 door
ami announced him.
Within the room. Mr.. Bentley start
ed up anh advanced to meet Oliver,
but tue words of welcome died on his
lips. chilled hy lhe sight of his visitors
grave face.
"What is the matter? You bring
bad news?' he asked quickly.
YES" was the quiet, sad response.
about Cyril? Is he iii? Dead?''
came the startled question.
II am afraid So"
But how? When? Wenever heard
he was i'll. Why were We not told?''
And Mrs. Bentley joined her husband
in quick and anxious inquiry.
So Oliver told his story Himself a
prisoner in the hotel through sprained
ankle, he had seen Cyril sail away, to
return, lie hoped, in four days; lie had
waited and Cyril had not come. He
told of the upturned boat, of the bodies
ofthe two drowned sailors being washed
ashore, of the fading away of every
hope during the following fortnight.
Then voice-a merry volcc-sing-
ing, was heard; and Mr. Bentley said
imperatively:
"Muriel- must not he told"
But t." Oliver was beginning.
No, not today nor tomorrow. She
must be prepared for the shock gradu-
ally. Not word of your real news
to her, Mr.. Vernon. please"
And Muliel came into the room.
How her face llShted up when she saw
that her parents were not alone.
"Olivel! she said, stretching out
both hands in greeting, IL am glad to
see you!'' Then looking round the
room, she asked: "Whcre is CyriI?"
Oliver looked inqnirinsly at Dir.
Bentley.
"CyriI, my dear. is delayed. He
will be here, think you said, turning
to Oliver, "in two or three days?'
Oliver nodded acqniescingly; he felt
that there was nothing else to du.
"Blt what is the matter? Why
couldn't he CONF" Muriel went on.
"WrII, You see, my dear" taltcred
Mr.. Bentley. "lr has met with slight
accident, only Il very silly Yht one, in fact
he has-he has spraincd his ankle
Oliver turned away, annoyed and
hurt hy Mr.. Brntley's childish, stupid
invention. He looked out through the
window over a stretch of gray sea, to
where the beacon was standing firm
and clear.
But Muriel was pressing another
question upon her father.
"Wh, didn't he writ,2 It. ia more