The Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Ky.) 1895-19??, 1902-12-26


"How pretty your little home
looks" said Miss Evelyn through her
tears. 'It seems sweet to see it
again. But don't get out, Sophronia,
don't! Come with us to the Hall.
cannot bear to go alone. We need
some one - but - but - who are
those?"
I looked out of the window across
Miss Elizabeth's black draperies, and
saw, to my infinite establishment, my
lower-back apparently in very inter
esting conversation with my lower
front.
''They-they-are some boarders I
-I-have taken" 1 stammered. Miss
Elizabeth stretched out her hand
and took mine within it. my poor
Sophronial Has it come to that?
My poor Sophronia!" AS the car
riage passed 1 saw my IOwer-back
look towards it, then turn suddenly
and run around the house and disap-
pear. Miss Dacres leaned back in
my rocker and closed her eyes.
"Are they friends?" asked Miss
Evelyn, with some interest.
mo! Never saw each other be-
fore this morning to my certain
knowledge. They are utter stran-
gers to each other" said I. 'He
hated the idea of her being there,
and she is Disguised with Che thought
of his coming. 1 hoped TO get rid
of her to-day, but now 1 suppose
I'll have to keep her until to-mor-
row."
"WhyP"
And now I began to show some
emotion on my part, as L told my
kind friends in what an unpleasant
predicament 1 had been placed.
"And you were going for a lock-
smith when we turned you back.
Poor little Sophronia! You must go
back in the carriage!''
We drove on past my home, past
the farmland next it, by the mill,
"Marchbank," and "The Larches,'
and then a sudden turn brought us
in at the gate of Darlington Hail.
Miss Elizabeth looked out with
streaming eyes.
81 often think what it would have
been to have brother Eugene back
again." said she. Things might
have been different then. He had
a good deal of control over David,
more than any of us had, though
he was the youngest of ALL"
81 suppose you are certain about
his death?" said 1.
eyes, oh, yes. His wife, you know,
died long before he did. What 1
worry about most is the child. It
was a girl. 1 have never been able
to discover any trace of her. Our
lawyers, Smither and Blake, think
they have certain proof of her death
also, but I can't bear to believe that
she is dead"
How old would she have been had
she Iived?"
Don't say had she lived Sophro-
MIA. Say how old is she n6w?' I
will never believe that little Amar-
anthe is dead until 1 have better
proof than L have to-day"
"Amaranthe!" I said, slowly.
Eyes, why not Amaranthe? Why
not? Why, SOphronia? You remem-
Der our little Amaranthe, surely?'
"Of course remember her; 1 have
heard the name lately, that is ALL"
l had noticed a constable at the
gate as we turned in at the grounds of
Darlington Hall, but though he
looked scrutinizingly at us, he did
not attempt to stop the carriage,
which was, or had been, the Squire's
own, sent by DR.. Williams for the
ladies. Their deep mourning also
saved them from closer inspection,
and then too, 1 was with them, and
John SOmmers had known me from
child. He was our annual, peren-
NAL, ever-vernal constable, and as
such knew every man, woman and
child in the village and for miles
around. AS we approached the
house, we saw that there was another
man in plain blue clothes standing
by one of the great pillars of the
old colonial porch, and before the
carriage stopped DR.. Williams came
hurriedly out of the house, bare
headed and properly solemn. He
opened the carriage door He and
the man in blue clothes helped the
ladies from the carriage.
THANK you, jennings" said the
doctor. THANK you" So this was
the great detective, Bob Jennings!
He looked slight and simple enough,
though L knew later that he was
about 38 years of age at this time.
Wont you come in with us, So
phrOnia?" asked Miss Elizabeth
IF you really need me-" 1 said,
''but 1 have so much to occupy
eve do not need Mrs. Brathwaite, -
said DR.. Williams, kindly.
very well, then, Sophronia. Good
by, my dear. Come up when you can.
We shall see you tomorrow, shall we
not?"
"Oh, yes" I cried.
"'Take Mrs. Brathwaite back to the
village, john" said Miss Elizabeth to
the old coachman, whom she had
known since her childhood, land when
she has finished her errands drive
her homo