Vernon County censor. [volume] (Viroqua, Wis.) 1865-1955, 1904-06-08

/ AIDE, and came herself, TIE last thing
before Maggie vetircl.
And so you are going into Devon
shiref 1t is long way off. Well, Miss
/ Ouncombe, if ever you want friend OF
Ladviser, far or near, if you send TO me,
| will come to YOU
/ And Maggie, remembering the letter
| and reading Alright Mrs. Atkins signid-
cant glance says, with downcast eyes
and trembling voice. Thank you. Mrs.
Atkins: If ever do want a friend near
me, | will"
And now new life opens for this
dark eyed girl, and she is only a little
thoughtful and does LOT dream that she
is going to her fate, as she looks out
of the car window upon the meadows
and fields and hills and valleys, bathed
in the hot sunlight on this autumn day.
Size grows very weary before she
reaches her destination. There are no
| passengers for Changmoor beside her
self. and so, presently, tall footman
tonchcs his hat and asks, inquiringly.
Miss Dd9combe?
Maggie says Yes" smilingly. and
then he directs the solitary porter to see
tile groom, who has brought the cart for
the lady'S luggage, and escorts Maggie
10 the carriage. touching his hat as he
shuts the door and p7estatly the high
mettle3 pair are dashing through quiet
country lanes and a noble park, up a
splendid avenue Of old trees, and, with
a dash, stop before the oak door Of the
old mansion.
There is a great rat-a-tat-tat at the
door, and, when il is opened, the foot
man opens the door Of the carriage. and
offers Maggie his arm. with great resDect,
as she deseends. There is the same quiet
respect paid her in the hall, aud pres
entity she Is ushered into the drawing
room. and tail, slim. stately lady comes
forward. and says, Miss Duueombe,
believer
Maggie very family replies in the af-
irmative. for she is tired; and then
fairhaired, blue-eyed girl comes eagerly
10 look at her, and a stately old man
stands smiling in the background.
She is rested a little presently, and
then the tail lady suggests that s;:s must
be tired. aud would she like to go to her
room at once, where refreshments would
be brought to her, to which Maggie Gag
erly assents.
They meet the next morning at break
fast. Maggie very beautiful in her pure
white. and very quiet; and the rair girl,
In delicate blue, q wonderful contrast to
her.
Mr. Royston. Miss Duncombe." says
the tall lady, and the old man bows
gracefully and with a look Of warm adj
miration. This is Miss Dacre. your fu-
~ L.
neously smile and shake hands--'and |
am Mrs. Downing There is no one 20
introduce me-" adds the lady, pleasantly.
"and so l am obliged to introduce my
self And then she too, offers her hand
to Maggie. and they sit down to break
fast in the pleasant breakfast room, with
its low windows overlooking the park.
where the deer are feeding in quiet con-
tent
And So he day goes on, and, lessons
being over, governess and pupil wander
out into the glade, cat 'hing the sun
beams and shadows under the grand old
oak, aud talking quietly and gently Of
the oid eocgs,ral homc
They so through the conservatory. a
modern addition 10 the old mansion. and
running along its western side, into
which open the drawing and reception
rooms. and linger among the flowers and
plants covered with red and blue and
purple blossoms.
Now. side by side, they look out of
the windows, and Maggie admires the
oak summer house, with its pointed ga
bles and twisted pillars, curtained in
with green boughs from the grand old
tree under which it stands.
The two are very friendly, even in
this .U-t time; and. by and by, May
Dacre is telling Maggie, with a conscious
blush on her fair cheek, that her cousin
Randall S. John had devised the pretty
summer house, and that he was coming
home next year from Vienna for good,
and then they would all be very gay and
lively.
They 60 to dinner In due time, aud
the old man draks Maggie out in a subtle
and clever manner. and has quite
pink flush on his pale cheek as she leaves
,ha room with the rest Of the ladies. And
when he comes into the draking room,
there is a ntJIe .ousic, and Mrs, Down
ing asl.s Maggie 70 ing.
She runs upstairs tor hcr music, and
sits down 70 the piano and sings to them
~ she had done to poor George that
Night before the captEre--as she had
sung 70 them 10 that room in Brighton
before Ernest b al half-broken his heart
aud rajued bis future life. And here was
the strangest thing Of all, with precisely
the same effect.
The old man listens. aud goes back to
his young life, when pale, pretty girl
had consented to beeo4se his bride: when
he had been yoa NJ. and joyous and buoy
ant, when he Lad sprung from the ter
race that summer morn, soaring the
naughty peacock. spreading his tail out
in the sun. and bursting out into a
III of Joyous laughter. In pure happiness
Of heart--oply to meet the sad face OF
his future fatherin-law whispering TO
hin that Isabel had been found dead in
her bed that very morning, and that. in
81 If wedding bells, there must be q
funeral toll.
Maggie is binding about them all the
spe1 that shan only be Embossed when
suffering and bitter pain shall have been
endured and the shadow of death has
lowered over the old house, striking one
at least with terrible darkness.
Thus Maggie begins her new career in
the last act of the drama n her young
life at Changmoor House. Devonshire.
CHAPTER NXIII.
Twelve months have passed away, the
leaves are beginning to wear an au
fttraual tint and Randall ~ Inhn is ax