Charlevoix county herald. (East Jordan, Mich.) 189?-1953, 1906-05-12

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young mans lips like caress.
ii.
80 you've come" he said softly.
You see | am as good as my word.
The Kingscote Oak must go. 1t is the
| last link between me and the work.
house-for it almost comes to that"
1t was evident that the relationship
| between these two was something
more binding that the ordinary ties
existent between casual acquaintance
OF opposite sex. Each seemed to &C.
cept the situation as inevitable. Then
the girl went on, hurriedly:
You'll catch cold, Alaric, dear, IL
you stand still without your coat in
this bitter cold. Let me hold the
lantern for you while you work."
She snatched up the light. He,
obedient to her injunction, applied
his weapon with renewed vigor The
lamplight threw a warm glow over
his weather-tanned face and muscular
arms.
For time he labored on, his whole
being concentrated on the performance
of his herculean task. After a space
| he paused to rest. A great wound on
the mighty bole of the oak showed
how sure had been his strenuous
endeavors.
When he ceased she broke i,ito
quick speech.
1T seems Incredible" she murmur-
ed that you, Kingscote, of the same
race, the same blood as ourselves,
should be forced to toll like this-like
common laborer," The man came
quickly forward, and flung his arm
around her waist. Their lips met in
kiss that could not be mistaken for
a mere cousinly salution.
"Damaris Kingscote," he said,
steadily enough. "let us be frank one
with the other. What are the facts?
| am the poor relation-the blot on
the family 'scutcheon of the squire,
your father. He resents my proximity;
loathes the very idea of our love:
| therefore he has brought his batteries
| to bear upon me and mine. All that
he could do to ruin me he has done,
and heaven knows that he had been
successful enough.
The girls eyes brimmed over with
tears. Alaric was quick to note her
ready sympathy and, he gripped his
axe anew, the silence vibrating once
more with the ringing cadence of his
rhythmic blows.
Presently he rested once again.
"Damaris,' he said, did you ever
| hear the legend that runs in our
| branch of the family, that but for
some strange within of chance l should
| have been in the squire's place today,
| the ruler of the destiny of Kingscote
| Glebe. Farm? From father to son the
| tradition has been handed down that
| Nigel Kingscote, the cavalier, juggled
| in some unknown way with the laws
| Of succession-that it was not the son
Of the eldest son who was your own ia
theirs ancestor, but mine; that could
| the truth only be known Alright should
| be reigning at Kingscote Manor in
stead of being what | ANA pauper,,
fated to cut down the family tree to
raise pitiful sum of money that must
| be procured"
Damaris stood speeches. and Alaric
once more resumed his heavy task.
Finally, after long and weary toll,
the end came With cry to the girl,
Alaric flung down his axe and leaped
backward. His hand sought hers.
! lettering giant, they stood as though
spellbound, the only spectators OF the
end Of so many hundred years Of
silent, strenuous majesty.
And even as the mighty tree went
shuddering to it's tremendous fall, a
crack as of a pistol shot, foreshadow-
ed its overthrow. The noise came
from the one rotten bough that the
/ Enoh
halfway up it's stem, which now de-
taching first from it parent crashed
down at the very feet Of the wonder
ing couple.
Nor was that all. A metallic tinkle
accompanied the crash. Damaris was
the first to recognize the solution or
! the puzzle.
Il was a metal canister-a long,
| time-stained box of rusted tin, closed
at both ends-a thing of mystery, or
untold possibilities. She picked 1t up,
end as she did so one end fell away
The canister contained nothing but
a stained yellow piece of parchment,
upon which something was written
in a close and grabbed caligraphy,
archaic, hard to decipher.
Alaric swung the lantern up from
the ground. d.
"What is it, Damaris?" he asked
breathlessly.
| Slowly, laboriously, the girl read out
the following amazing declarations:
"Mayhap a day will come when that
which |, Nigel Kingscote. do set down
here in writing, insthe year of Grace,
1647, and do hide in the hole of the
Kingscote Oak, may be sete out In
the cleare light of day. And even as
Esau of old did sell his birthright, SO
do I, Nigel Kingscote, head OF the
house of Kingscote, renounce my right
and the right of those who come after
me to be the true and lawful possess
ors of the faire lands OF kingscote
Manor.
"Yet not voluntarily doe | this, but
for the life of him, my son. Know,
then, that I must flee the country.
Cromwell. the regicide, hath dcreed1
that I shall die. Therefore, have l