The Minneapolis journal., 1904-06-04

There was no one in 1t, but Beatrice
uttered g. cry when Lord Catherington
picked up from the boards at the bot
she recognized as torn from the trim
ming Of one of Ermyn's white shawls.
Meanwhile their wanderings, miser-
able ais they were, could not be COM
pared In lonely Wretche edness to the
pilgrimage which the unhappy Robert
Burnet had made that night.
Mad with the madness which is all
the more to be feared because Its man
ifestations are erratic and UNEQUAL,
he had, indeed, as he had told Rosa,
after sinking again about Gathering
ton House during Lord Catherington's g
brief visit to town, followed him down
to the grounds Of Stone Court and
seen his hiding place, all with the In
tention Of finding his child, as he be-
lieved Ernyn to be.
Here, prowling about on the look
out for a chance of getting inside the
mansion where he had in the mean
time discovered the child to be, Robert
Burnet had suddenly found out that
Rosa herself, the woman for whom he
still entertained what may be de-
scribed as the wreck of a great pas
sion, was inside also.
Having made his entrance in the
manner related, and having been In
famed by the crafty woman to a high
pitch Of frenzy against the man whom
he looked upon as the author Of all his
| wrongs, the unfortunate wretch had
gone to the chalet, watched his oppor-
| tunity Of entering and attacking the
viscount unawares, and then left him
for dead, as he thought, and hastened
back to the house.
| With all the cunning Of the insane
he had carefully chosen the moment
to re-enter the drawing-room, which
was then empty, by the still open win.
dow, and had stolen In and upstairs
by the servants staircase, whence he
had found it easy to get into the nur.
series, while Mrs. Bream and Harvey
We're hanging over the banisters ques.
! tioning the servants below.
/ He took Ermyn out Of her cot sc
gently that he did not wake her, and
| wrapping her tenderly in the shaWl
and coverings which he found to hand
again watched his opportunity t.
make his escape from the house 81
Again his cunning stood him IL
good stead. He knew of the boat II
/ the creek. Running quickly over tn
grass, as much as possible in tn
shadow of the trees on the western
ing child in the little craft, and jump
ing in himself united the rope whicl
i held it moored, and cast off for tn
Esea.
4. Nobody would think Of this way o
escape, so he told himself with a vii
laugh Of delight and triumph.
But his eIation did not last Ions
creek the unfortunate mite was wild
awake, and, frightened out Of he
baby wits by finding herself alone ou
of doors, with a strange and fearful
looking man, was weeping and sobbin
her little heart out.
In vain Burnet, putting down hi
, oars, tried to comfort and console he
She would not be coaxed, she woul
not be quieted, and presently she be
gan to shiver, for wrapped up as sh
was in shawls and blankets, the kee
cold of a February night was pene
trating thru them all to her little bal
2 feet and the hands with which ST
: feebly tried to free herself, SO that sh
could find out where she was.
Burnet took her in his arms, rookie
/ her with the tenderness of a woman
5 spoke to her, called her his darlin
3 his own child. To all his endea:
ments she replied only by sobs, and /
/. weak little wailing cries for Man
> mie! mammie"
D Already a fear was gaining posse
/ sion Of him, that with all his hungl
love, he should make but poor sui
, stitute as guardian for a young chill
9 for the clinging woman's arms she he
: left. Already he was wondering VIII
Y he ought to do for the best Of the Ii
:, tie one, and asking himself whether
e should take her back to Stone Cou
and put her once more into the ca
I of the gentle widow who had had tt
l charge of her.
4 But, then, even as he stopped sho
: and leant on his oars when after
i vain attempt to soothe her, he four
. that she was, on the whole, quiet
{ when he left her in the bottom Of tt
y boat than she was in his arms, tt
: thought came into his mind that r
. :. turn to the mansion would mean +
- himself arrest and incarceratio
= either in prison or a lunatic asylum.
! For his mind was clear enough (
= some points. He knew that his actio
would be regarded by others; kne
Z that his attack on Lord Catheringto
:, whether he had killed him or NJ
:. = would be punished as a crime. An
mad and miserable as he was, his Ii
: erty was dear to him, tho that liber
a gave him nothing but the power
r roam, half-starved, wretched ere
n ture, hiding in holes and corners, al
e earning the scanttest Of livelihoods
! the erratic exercise of his old art.
h Even his powers in that directi
e were failing him, as he knew. T
= clever hand now faltered in it's tas
i the old, sure mastery Of his tools,
e his ideas, was gone, perhaps never
return.
d And as the chill Of night and of I
= Election came over him, after the fev
= of the evenings events, he saw t
le ugly truth staring him in the fa
, that life with him meant starvation
= misery for the little creature he Low
10 as we'll as for himself.
Once more he seized the oars, a
8, goaded by his renorse and distress
10 mind, rowed on eastwards as befo
,e But now he was no longer the pl
10 poseless madman, fleeing with his J
~ covered treasure he knew not whith'
~ he was despairing, anxious m;
~ seeking some shelter, not for hins
but for his child and searching in
20 mind for some means Of restoring
a at least to care and happiness.
er And before long, keeping well
l. shore, he came in sight Of a lon
f. little inn just above reach Of
ne highest tides, and making instantly
is it, he found an inlet Of the sea a
post which was evidently used ]
Is, mooring boats.
Id He made his own craft fast, q
then, taking up once more in his ar
e. the child, who had now cried hers
he into the state in which she could
lis no more, he went straight to the d.
er Of the inn and knocked loudly at 1t
as 1t was past II o'clock and all the
wv mates were in bed. Before he
re repeated his summons more tE
he twice, however, some one threw
oa rp,,a,, window and a. wOma