Middletown transcript., 1902-10-25

-
whilst the startled auditors turned 70
greet the missing blacksmith, Jim Ran
some.
.sWheres't thee been, lad2" queried
Garbutt. 'Here we've been waiting and
wondering, and the parson
"Yes,n replied Ransome, ungraclously,
che has sore need to pray to be delivered
from all uncharitabIeness, SANDER and
evil-speaking himself"
"But where be Jessie?" asked one Of
the village youths, with more tl:an .
shade o. anxiety in his voice. "Ain't she
come back along with thee2"
The blacksmith stared inquiringiy at
the speaker. "Jessie?'' lie exclaimed.
"Jessie? Isn't she in the houseT
''No; she's gone, and nobody knows
where"
The rich, red blood surged into the
smiths swarthy face, and sHelied the
veins till they stood like whipcords on bis
brow. ''What's thee mean?" hesdeman-
ed. Jessie not in the house? It's lie
it must be liel She's not girl to
leave her father like this, to creep away
| as a thief in the night.
He strobe past the group, who gave
| way in silence, and watched sympatheti-
cally as he lifted the latch of his cottage
door. The villagers remained expectantly
outside, waiting the blacksmitll's return;
but he came not, and, as the shadows
| were beginning to steal around. they re-
turned wonderingly and sadly to their
| homes.
Meanwhile, Ransome entered his little
front room, but no Jessie gave him kindly
greeting. The fire had long since burnt
itself out; the room had dreary. desolate
appearance that sent cold chills through
the devoted fathers heart. Upon the
table was a sheet of paper, carefully
folded. The blacksmith opened it with
trembling hands, and, as he read the con-
tents, his rugged face grew strangely agi-
tated. The big, burly frame shook with
an alLpowerful emotion, and, in his
agony, the strong man bent and sobbed.
Again and again he read the words that
had so strangely moved him.
But soon change came over him. His
features grew stern and hard, and he
clenched his fists savagely, as he NUT
tered: "a poor mans lamb is lawful prey
for the prowling wolf. It's the parsons
son-it's Walter Haydn. May heaven
have pity upon him, for / will show him
none! Jessie has gone-she has gone;
but one thing remains to me-a fathers
vengence. The wolf shall not escape,
even as the lamb, his victim, did moi.
Look to yourself, Walter Haydn-look to
yourself!''
James Ransome set out to find his
daughter-and Walter Haydn. Naturally
he first called upon the rector, who re-
ceived him with scant courtesy; and,
| when the blacksmith blurted out his be-
lief that the girl had gone off with Walter
Haydn, waxed nightly wroth and indig.
nant.
.Nonsense-rubbishr' he retorted, an
grily. "The notion is monstrous, absurd,
/ impudent. DO you ttIiuk my sUn would %
demean himself as to elope with one oi
my parishioners2 You may depend upon
it that the girls cleared off on some wild
goose chase"
Ransome's fingers twitched neryously,
and menacing expression fingered upon
his face; but, mastering the impulse to
strike the rector, he replied, with forced
calmness: NAY, sir; my girls not that
sort. There's only one thing that'd drive
her from her home, and that's disgrace.
Disgrace! Do you hear me?'-and he
brought his big fist down heavily upon
| the table in front of him. Disgrace a
thousand times worse than death. Oh,
that I had long ago laid her to rest be.
side her sainted neither in Primrose
Garth churchyard! You are a father "-
his voice sank into an earnest, pleading
whisper-"if it we're your daughter =
Dear me, how you do talkP inter.
rupted the rector, with some show Of in
dignation. 'My daughter, indeed, as
though such thing were possible! Now,
listen to me, Rancome. Pm sorry fol
you-from my heart I'm sorry. But why.
ever you should 60 fiinging about charges
such as you have brought against my
house, can't for the life of me under.
stand. Once for all, the things prepos.
ferrous. Why, Walters in London"
Eyes; tell me his address, and | will
see him, ask him to answer me himself. =
"No, no, Ransome. In your present
mood it is very undesirable that you
should call upon him. ! will write tc
him, and put the question bluntly
though, really, that is not BY any means
necessary. But you must not go-cer
tainly you must not" and the rector
paced up and down his study floor ii
unmistakable agitation.
| Then you refuse to give your SOM
| address?"
i 'Most certainly / do"
Every we'll" The words were spoker
quietly enough. II will go to London
and if / have to tramp the city over II
find him, and I'll tear the truth from hi
throat"
| The threat staggered the Rev. Septimus
He fairly reeled, painted, and when h
!, had recovered himself the visitor hat
J vanished. Still, upon reflection, th
blacksnlith's words did not appear i
mean much. London is big place, an,
, Ransome's task was SO stupendous as t
: be well-nigh impossible. At any rate
| tile rector had been forwarned, and Ii
} lost no time in putting his son upon Lii
guard against the angry and sorrowin
} father.
In the heart OF London Ransome ps
tiently and persistently pursued hi
search. He had never been there before
! and in his ignorance of its vastness
] had thought that his purpose would
) easily carried out, and the first strange