Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1903-05-23
CHAPTER V.
THE ARREST.

On a morning when the snow was fall
ING softly over the landscape, the re-
mains of poor Dick Fernleigh were laid
in the family vault in the shadow of the
New Church tower.
The Squire had loved his nephew, and
he mourned deeply for him now; but
yet. in the midst of his sorrow, there was
a wild eagerness at his heart.
His son was coming. Reginald, the
only offspring of his darling Winifred,
was alive, and would yet be heir of Fern
leigh.
He would not give heed to the idea
that his boy would be arrested and put
to public shame for crime he could
never have committed; and so, being
only human, he found his grief tempered
by this thought.
that gathered in the old Manor. But
they did not remain long. There was no
will to read, or business to transact, and
SO, when they had gone, the Squire re-
tired to mis- library, and there closed him
self in, even from Gladys.
The wind began to rise later on, and
bitter wind it was; but this did not
prevent Ernest Walton wrapping him
self up and quitting the Manor.
Wind and weather was nothing to him
in view of the fire of mingled rage and
jealousy which was burning in his heart.
Richard was dead; but just as he had
made up his mind that he would be the
heir to the property (if not the title),
the long-los heir was found-the hope
Of the Squirrels heart was about to be
realized-and, as for himself he would
sink back into insignifcance.
He, too, loved Cora, and he had fool
ishly compromised himself by promises
to her. yet he had expected, now that
Dick was out of the way, that she would
be persuaded to be his bride.
But now all that dream had vanished
into thin air.
What he had suspected all along had
come true. Reuben the gypsy was Reg
maid Fernleigh, and now that he had
removed one obstacle he was confronted
by another, more difficult to surmount
than the first.
On leaving the Manor by the side gate,
Ernest turned to the left. through the
wood path, and made his way towards a
side road which led to a tiny village
named Whichley.
There was place of refreshment here,
which served as a house of accommoda-
ton Tor all travellers of medium pockets,
and was called the "Waysidc Rest"
The only other house of entertain
ment, at the end of the High street, was
chrlstened the Whichley Hotel, and was
frequented by the higher-classed inhabi-
tants, and the guests who fiocked to the
hospitable board of the reckless young
Lord FoXburn, the front avenue of whose
mansion opened with wide gilt topped
gates opposite the hostelry.
Walton was not much known at the
"Wayside Rest"
II he ever visited this dead-alive ham,
let he used the bigger house, and so.
when he entered the bar of the "Wav-
side Rest" he was taken little notice Of
lie drank brandy, glanced about him
uneasily, and then entered the coffee
room.
No one was there. The tap-room gave
the same results.
As he returned to the bar the landlord
said:
Did You expect anyone here, sir?"
les, did. | suppose he is late"
ii II was dark gentleman. of foreign
cast OF face" said the landlord, ''he has
oeen here, and 4eft word that he was
gong up to the hotel. He seemed to
Turn up his nose at my little place"
Didn't know when he was lucky, Lex
poet, said Ernest Give me another
brandy, and what Is yours, landlord?"
IN few minutes he was out once
more in the open air. The snow had
ceased falling. and the moon was shining
a frosty sky. The wind was bowling.