The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1905-05-24

settle down again, for he became en-
gagged to Rachael Howells, our second
housemaid; but he has thrown her over.
since then and taken up with Janet
gamekeeper. Rachael-who is a very
good girl, but of an excitable Welsh
temperament-had a sharp touch Of
brain fever, and goes about the house
now-or did until yesterday-like a
black-eyed shadow Of her former self
That was our first drama at Hurlstone;
but second one came to drive it from
| our minds, and it was prefaced by the
| disgrace and dismissal of Butler Burn
ton.
This was how it came about. I
have said that the man was intelligent,
and this very intelligence has caused
,, his ruin, for it seems to have led to an
| Unsuitable curiosity about things which
did not in the least concern him. I had
no idea of the lengths to which this
would carry him, until the merest acct
| dent opened my eyes to it.
"' have said that the house was
rambling one. One day last week-on
Thursday night, to be more exact-I
found that l could not sleep, having
fc olishly taken cup of strong cafe noir
after my dinner. After struggling
against it until 2 in the morning, I
felt that it was quite hopeless, so I
rose and lit the candle with the inten-
ton of continuing a novel which l was
Left in the billiardroom, SO I pulled on
nv dressing-goWn and started off to
get it;
g In order to reach the billiardroom
l had to descend flight of stairs and
then cross the head of a passage which
led t. the library and the gunroom. You
can imaagain my surprise when, as [
looked down this corridor, I saw glim-
mer of light coming from the open door
gu;shed the lamp and closed the door
before coming to bed. Naturally, my
first thought was of burglars. The cor
ridors at Hurlstone have their walls
la, gely decorated with trophies Of old
weapons. From one of these I picked
a battleax and then, leaving my candle
behind me. 1 crept on tiptoe down the
[" 'Brunton, the butler, was in the
library. He was sitting, fully dressed,
in an easy-chair, with a slip Of paper
which, looked like map, upon his knee,
and his forehead sunk forward upon his
hand in deep thought. I stood dump
with establishment, watching him from
the darkness. A small taper on the edge
OF the table shed a feeble light which /,
suffced to show me that he was fully
and, walking over to a bureau at the
side, he unlocked it and drew out one
of the drawers. From this he took pa
per, and returning to his seat he fiat
tened it out beside the taper on the
edge Of the table, and began to study
it with minute attention.: My lndlgna
ton at this calm examination OF oul
family documents overcome me SO ~fa1
that [ took a step forward, and Brun
ton looking up saw me standing III
: the doorway. He sprang to his feet
: his face turned livid with fear, and hi
; thrust into his breast the chart-like pa
per which he had been originally study
ing: :, .,r f<u
in YOU You will leave my service to
morrow ... ~ 81.
F'He bowed with the look of a maj
2 who is utterly crushed, and skunk pas
me without a word. The taper was still
on the table, and by it's light l glanced
to see what the paper was which Brun
ton had taken from the bureau. To my
: surprise it was nothing of any import
! ance at all, but simply a copy of thu
questions and answers in the singula
g old observance called the Musgrave Rit
4 ual. 1t is a sort of ceremony peculia
) to our family, which each Musgrav
. for centuries past has gone thru on hi
t coming of age-a thing of private in
L terest, and perhaps of some little i'm
portance to the acheologist, like gu
l. own blazonings and charges, but of n
practical use whatever
Y "'We had better some back to tn
paper afterward, said I -....
T. eff you think it really necessary,
he answered, with some hesitation. T
continue my statement. however,:
g relocked the bureau, using the Ike
l. which Brunton had left, and I ha
" turned to go when [ was surprised t
= find that the butler had returned, an
y was standing before me.
l. " "Mr. Musgrave, sir,O he crie6
o in a voice which was hoarse with emo
: ton, ~ can't bear disgrace, sir. Nv
Il always been proud above my station i
life, and disgrace would kill me. NJ
p blood will be on your head, sir-it viii
indeed-if you drive me to despair. I
you cannot keep me after what ha
r passed, then for Gods: sake let me Civ
: you notice and leave in month, as
q Of my own free will. I could stan
j, that, Mr.. Musgrave. but not to be cas-
! out before all the folk that know S
G well.' . .-
t g '"You don It deserve much cor
4 sideration, Brunton,' I answered
:, Your conduct has been most infamous
However, as you have been long tim
q public disgrace upon you. A month
however, is too long. Take yoursel
! away in a week, and give what reaso
n you like for going.''
l. .'fF " Only a week, sir?' he cried i
r a despairing voice. "a fortnight-sa
at least fortnight!
q g" A week. [ repeated, "and 20
y may consider yourself to have bee
very leniently dealt with
He crept away, his face sunk upo
his breast, like broken man, while
put out the light and returned to m
J. room. a@
r For two days after this Brunto
1 was most assiduous in his attention t