Oakes Republican., 1902-07-18

to believe, and prepared to set the
whole village down as a lot Of gossips.
who seemed to mind everything but
Lsttimer might come riding through on
his big black horse, small, 1.-the. brown
as mahogany, and with an eye piercing
as diamond drill. One day he looked
almost boyishly young, there would be
smile on his tanned face. And then
another day ne would be bent in the
saddle. huddled up, wizened, an old.
old man, crushed with the weight of
years and sorrow.
In sooth he was a man of moods and
contradictions, changeable as an April
sky, and none the less quick tempered
and hard because he knew that every
body was terribly afraid of him. And
he had a tongue, too. a lashing, cut
ting tongue that burned and blistered.
Sometimes he would be quite meek
and angry under the reproaches of the
vicar. and yet the same day history
records it that he got off his horse and
administered a sound thrashing to the
village poacher. Sometimes he got the
best of the vicar. and sometimes that
friends these two, though the vicar
never swerved in his fealty to Lady
Littimer, whose cause he always
championed. But nobody seemed to
know anything about that dark scan
dal They knew that there had been a
dreadful scene at the castle seven
years before, and that Lady Littimer
and her son had left never to return.
Lady Littimer was in a madhouse
somewhere, they said. and the son was
wanderer on the face of the earth.
And when Lord Littimer died every
penny of the property, the castle In
cluded, would go to her ladysh1p's
nephew, Mr.. Reginald Henson.
In spite of the great cloud that hung
over the family, Lord Littimer did not
seem to have changed. He was just
little more caustic than ever, his tongue
little sharper. The servants could
have told a different story, a story OF
dark moods and days when the bitter
ness of the shadow Of death lay on
their master. Few men could carry
their grief better, and because Lltti-
mer carried his grief so we'll he suf-
fered the more. We shall see what
that sorrow was in time
There are few more beautiful places
in England than Littimer Castle. The
house stood on kind of natural plat
eau, with many woods behind, trout
stream ran clean past the big flight of
steps leading to the hall. below were
terrace after terrace of hanging gar
dens, and to the left sloping, ragged
drop of two hundred feet into the sea.
To the left lay magniicently-tim-
bered park with a herd of real wild
deer-perhaps the only herd cg the kind
in the country. When the sun shone
on the gray walls they looked as il
they had been painted by some cum
ming hand, so softly We're the grays,
reds and blues blended.
Inside the place was a veritable art
gallery. There We're hundreds of pic
tures and engravings there. All around
the grand staircase ran long, deep
corridor, filled with pictures. There
were alcoves here fitted up as sitting
rooms, and IN most of them some gem
or another was hung. When the full
flood of electric light was turned on at
night the effect was almost dazzling.
There were few pictures in the gallery
without a history.
Lord Littimer had many hobbies, but
not one that interested him like this.
There We're hundreds of rare birds shot
by him in different parts of the world;
the corridors and floors were covered.
by skins the spoil of his rifle; here and
there a stuffed bear pranced Startling
ly; but the pictures and prints We're
the great amusements of his lordship's
lonely life.
He passed along the corridor now
towards the great oriel window at the
end. A brilliant sunlight filled the
place with shafts of golden and blue
and purple, as it filtered through the
stained glass. At a table in the WIN
dow girl sat working a typewriter.
She might have passed for beautiful,
only her hair was banded down in hid
eously-Puritan fashion on each side of
her delicate, oval face, and her eyes
We're shielded by spectacles. But they
We're lovely, steady, courageous blue
eyes, as Littimer did not fail to OBJ
serve. Also, he had not failed to note
that his new secretary could do very
well without the glasses.
The typewriter and secretary bust
ness was a new whim of Littimer's.
He wanted an assistant to catalogue
and classify his pictures and prints,
and he had told the vicar SO. He want
ed a girl who wasn't fool girl who
could amuse him and wouldn't be
afraid of him, and he thought he would
have an American. To which the vi
car responded that the whole thing
was nonsense, but he had heard of
Boston girl in England who had a pas
sion for that kind of thing, and who
was looking for situation of the kind
in genuine old house for a year or
so. The vicar added that he had not
seen the young lady, but he could OBJ
tain her address. A reply came in due
course reply that so pleased the inn
petuous earl that he engaged the ap-
plicant on the spot. And now she had