The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1902-05-24

plot had ever been anything like the
skein this was.
I'm like a child In your hands" he
said. I'm a blind man on the end OF
q string; q man dazed with wine in a
labyrinth. And II ever I help a woman
again"
He paused as he caught sight of Ruth
Gates lovely face through the window
Of No. 219. Her features were tinged
with melancholy; there was a look OF
deepest sympathy and feeling and com
passion in her glorious eyes. She slip
ped back as Steel bowed, and the rest
Of his speech was lost in q sigh.
CHAPTER x.-The House OF the
silent Sorrow.
A bell tolled mournfully with a slow,
swinging cadence like a passing bell.
On winter nights, folks passing the
House Of the Silent Sorrow, compared
the doleful changing to the boom that
carries the criminal from the cell to the
scaffold. Every night all the year
round the little valley Of Longdean
echoed to that mournful clang. Per-
haps 1t was for this reason that a wan
dering poet christened the place as the
House Of the Silent Sorrow.
Fol " years this had been going
on now. until nobody but strangers mo-
ticed 1t. From half-past: seven till eight
o'clock that hideous bell rang its swing
ing, melancholy note. Why it was no.
body could possibly tell. Nobody in
the village had ever been beyond the
great rusty gates leading to. q dark
drive Of Scotch frs, though one small
boy holder than the rest had once
climbed the lichen-strewn stone, wall
and penetrated the thick underground
beyond. Hence he had returned, with
white face and staring eyes, with the
information that great wild dogs dwelt
in the thickets. Subsequently the vii
lage poacher confirmed this infOrma-
ton. He was not exactly lo%quacious
on the subject. but merely limited that
the grounds Of Longdean Grange were
not salubrious for naturalists with a
pedatory disposition.
Indeed. on moonlight nights those
apocryphal hounds were heard to bay
and whimper. A shepherd up late one
spring night averred that he had seen
two Of them fighting. But nobody could
say anything about them for certain:
also, it was equally certain hat nobody
knew anything about the people at
Longdean Grange. The place had been
shut up for thirty years, being under
stood to be in Chancery, when the an
nouncement went forth that a distant
relative Of the family had arranged
to live there in future.
What the lady Of the Grange was
like no one could say. She had arrived
late one night, accompanied by a niece.
and from that moment she had never
been beyond the house. None of the
large staff Of servants yer left the
grounds unless twas to quit altogeth-
er, and then they were understood to
leave at night with a large bonus in
money as a recompense for their prom
Use to evacuate Sussex without delay.
Everything was ordered by telephone
from Brighton and left at the porter's
lodge. The porter was a stranger; also
he was deaf and exceedingly i'll tenn
pered, SO that long since the village
had abandoned the hope Of getting any
thing out Of him. One rational being
they saw from the Grange occasionally,
a big man with an exceedingly benevo-
lent face and mild, large blue eyes-a
man full of Christian kindness and
given to largesse to the village boys.
The big gentleman went by the name
of-'Mr. Charles" and was understood
to have a lot Of pigeons Of which he
was exceedingly fond. But who "Mr.
Charles" was, OF how he had got that
name, It would have puzzled the wisest
head of the village to tell.
And yet, but for the mighty clamor
Of that hideous bell and that belt of
wildness that surrounded 1t, Longdean
Grange was. a cheerful looking house
enough. Any visitor emerging from
the drive would have been delighted
with it. For the lawns were trim and
truly kept. the beds were blazing with
masses of flowers, the creepers over the
Grange were not allowed to riot too ex-
travagantly. And yet the strange,
haunting n of fear was there. Now
and again a huge black head would up-
lift from. the coppice growth, and a
long, rumbling growl come from be-
meath double row Of white teeth. For
the dogs were no fiction. They lived
and bred in the fifteen or twenty acres
of coppice round the house, where they
were fed regularly and regularly
thrashed without mercy IL they showed
in the garden. Perhaps they looked
fierce and truculent than they
really were, being Cuban bloodhounds.
but they gave g. weird color to- the
place and lent 1t new terror to the sim
pie folk around.
The bell was swinging dolefully over
the stable turret: 1t rang out its pass
ing note till the clock struck eight and
then mercifully ceased. At the same
moment precisely as she had done any
time the last seven years, the lady OF
the house descended the broad. black
oak staircase to the hail. "A butler OF
the o~ld-fashioned type bowed. to her
and announced that. dinner was ready.
He might have been the butler Of an
archbishop from his mien and deport-
ment, vet his evening dress was seedy
and shiny to the last degree, his patent
leather boots had long lost their luster,
his linen was terribly fraysd and vel
low. Two footmen in livery stood In
the hall. They mieht have been superrs
playing on the boards Of . travelling
theater. their. once smartly cut and
trimmed coats hung raggedly upon
them. ss
Az 70 the lady. who was tall ana
handSome, with dark eyes and features
contrasting stragely with hair a. white
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