The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1904-05-26

II thought it was best that you should
come home" said he. IF only for a
day. OF course. the place would be
safe enough with old John; but you
know l never fancied leaving It unless
you were at home. and just now there
are a dozen or more strangers at the
Hall. 1t is strange piece of business,
this affair of your Aunt Annie.
have relegraphed to your grandfather
that I will do all 1 can to find out
where his daughter is, though, so far
as 1 can perceive at present, that will
be very little. Annie is the last girl in
the world l should have expected to
err in that way; she was always such
loving child. would no more have
believed that she had thought hidden
from her father than would at this
moment believe such a thing Of YOU
At this remark l WINGED. yer fool
ishly held my peace as to what l had
so lately read, and which now en-
crossed all my thoughts. To be wise
after the event is the quality of mod
| ern prophets-of dispensers Of gener-
| alities and copy-book wisdom, whom
1 have no desire 20 initiate. I know
not how it was. / suppose IN by
nature secretive. or that at the time
some ill-defined idea suggested itself
to my mind that should best serve
my interest by carefully reserving
| to myself the information l had ac-
auired; though I have never at any
time regarded my fathers interest as
other than identical with my own, nor
did I conceal my information as part
of determined policy. That my reti-
cence was a grave error now know.
Had 1 at once impaired my discovery
TO him who by nature and statute law
had the greatest right to know of 1t,
| had spared myself much misery and
the British public had not been af-
ficted with these memoirs.
Even If you cannot suggest any
thing for us to do in the matter" said
my father, continuing, 1T is we'll that
you have returned home. When two
persons discuss a case some practica-
BILE notion will often occur to one of
them which solitary contemplation
fails to produce. Ycu have read your
grandfather's letter."
"Yes; 1 have read grandfathe-'s let
ter" I replied.
well, and what is your opini on:'
81 think he has acted unwisely in
making such long journeys to find his
daughter. more especially with such
slender means as his. If he Cid not
know at all what had become Of her,
l could better understand his doing
so; but according to Annie's own let
ters. as grandfather describes them,
she has gone off Of her own free will,
and repents her act only so far as her
present position prevents her seeing
her father. Suppose Annie's address
is discovered, and grandfather visits
her and learns all her circumstances,
depend upon it his qualification will
end there; having been heartless
enough to voluntarily abandon her
father, she would hardly be likely to
give UP whoever she is with and return
to- Holdenhurst. or to some employ
ment in London. That you may
gather from her protest that she is
kindly treated. do not think so we'll
of her as you and grandfather do
why, Ernest, my boy, you begin
to reason like your uncle, and are
rather uncharitable; but l fear you
are right"
Il am not in the least uncharitable. "
I retorted warmly. 'On the contrary,
l regret what has happened as much
perhaps as you do; but my sympathy
is more with grandfather than with
Annie. Although 1 see but little use
in the inquiry he has asked You to
make, l was in the act Of starting
for Richmond to investigate the clue
| he gave when the Rev. Evan Price
brought me your message. and | at
once came here instead. Don't think
I'm Indifferent to what concerns you
! so much.
MY dear boy, why asurc me Of what
| | know so well?" asked rnis best OF
fathers. Your prompt return Is suf-
ticient proof of that AS this parental
commendation was uttered we passed
| through my fathers gates, and the
next minute alighted at the porch OF
Holdenhurst Hall, where old John
stood at the open door to receive us.
/ had been absent from my birth
place only one week, but the changes
which had been made in that brief
period astonished me. The entire Hall
was encompassed with an intricate
network of scaffolding, and our beauti-
full lawn, distigured by planks, ladders,
and piles of slate and white hewn
stone laid about in confusion. Many
of the upper windows had been taken
out, the vacant spaces presenting a
grim, inhGspitable aspect. Thoughts OF
the enhanced grandeur of the place
a few months hence failed to diSpel
l l. tha{