The citizen-Republican. (Scotland, Bon Homme County, S.D.) 1???-19??, 1908-10-01
THE.
Storyof Francis Cludde
ARomance Of Queen Mary's Reign.
BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN
BY STANLEY J. wEYMAN.

ter a glance at the address tore i
open. 1T is an order from Sir William
Cecil" he muttered. Then he ran hi
eye down the brief contents, while al
save myself pricked their ears an,
pressed closer, and l looked swift.
from face to face as the wavering ligh
lit up now one and now another-olt
familiar faces FOR the most part.
Well. Sir Philip, will you stop K
supper" l cried, with a laugh, wher
ne had had time, as ! judged, to reach
the signature.
Go to-" he grunted, looking at me
Nice fools you have made of us, young
mani" He passed the letter to Gre
vile, Sir Anthony" he continued, 6
mixture of pleasure and chagrin in his
voice. you are free! 1 congratulate
you on your uck Your nephew has
brought an amnesty for all things done
up to he present time saw for any
life taken, in which case the matter is
TO be referred to the secretary. Fortu-
nately my dead horse is the worst OF
the mischief, so free you are and am
nestled, though nicely Master Cecil
has befooled u.s."
w will give you another horse, Sir
Ph1lp,' | answered.
But the words were wasted on the
air. They were drowned in a great
shout of joy and triumph which rams
from q score of Cludde threats the mo-
ment the purport of the paper was I'M
d~erstood-a shout which made the old
house shake again and scared the
dogs so that they fed away into corn
ers and gazed askance at us, their tails
between their legs, a shout tina was
plainly heard a mile away in half a
dozen homesteads where Cludde men
lay gloomy in their beds.
By this time my uncle's hand was in
mine. With his other he took off his
hat. Lads" he cried huskily, rearing
his tall form in our midst. "a cheer
for the queen! God keep her safe, and
long may she reign!"
This was universally regarded as the
end of what they still proudly call in
those parts the Cotton insurrection."
When silence came again, every dog,
even the oldest and wisest. had bayed
himself hoarse and fled to kennel,
thinking the end of the world was
IN, swelied high with pride, and there
were tears in my eyes as well as in
my uncle's. But there is no triumph,
after all, without its drawback, no
fruition equal to the anticipation.
Where was Petronilla? 1 could see her
nowhere. I looked from window to
window, but she was at none. I
scanned the not of maids, but could
not find her. Even the cheering had
not brought her out.
1t was wonderful, though, how the
cheers leared the air. Even Sir
Thomas Greville regained good humor
and deigned to shake me by the hand
and express himself pleased that the
matter had ended SO happily. Then the
sheriff drew him n Bridgewater
away to look to their mems rrang
ments. seeing, / think. that my uncle
and | would fain be alone awhile, and
at last l asked with a trembling voice
after P%etronilla.
TO be sure Sir Anthony answered,
gotten her, dear lad. I wish now that
she had staid. But tell me. Francis,
how came you back tonight, and how
did you manage this?"
Something Of what he asked I told
him hurriedly. but then--be sure
took advantage of the first opening-I
asked again after Petronilla. Where
has she gone. sir?" I said, trying to
conceal my Impotence. II thought
that Martin told me she was here
indeed that he had seen here after I ar
rived"
II am not sure, do you know" Sir An
tony answered, eying me absently,
that l was wise, but I considered she
safer away, Francis. And she can
be fetched back in the morning. III
feared there might be some disturb
might have been, and though she beg
ged very hard to stay with me I sent |
her off"
This evening. sir?" I stammered,
suddenly chilled.
Yes; an hour ago.,
But an hour ago, every approach !
was guarded, Sir Anthony" I cried in
surprise. Il had the greatest difficulty
In Slipping through from the outside
myself. we'll as I know every field and
tree. TO escape from within, even for
a man, much less a woman would
have been impossible. She will have to
be stopped"
Il think not" he said. with a smile
at once sage and indulgent, which
seemed to add, You think yourself a i
clever lad, but you do not know every
thing yet
~ sent her gu by the secret passage
to the mill house, you see,' he ex-
planned, "as soon as I heard the sher-
iff's party outside. | could have given
them the slip myself had I pleased"
The mill house," I answered. The
nil hou stood nearly a quarter OF a
mile from Cotton End. beyond the gar
dens and in the direction OF the village.
I remembered vaguely that / had heard
from the servants in the old days some
talk Of a secret outlet leading from
the house to #. but they knew no par
tlculars, and its existence was only
darkly rumored non them.
You did not know OF the passage,p
Sir Anthonw said, chuckling at my as
tonishment.
mo; I remember, but the girl did.
GAOut AdliiSE atld IlS WIG went with
her. He quite agreed in the wisdom
Of sending her away, n indeed adj
vised it. On reaching the mill, IL they
found all quiet. they were to walk
across to Watney's farm. There they
could get horses and might ride t
their leisure to Stratford and wait the
event. / thought it best for her, and
Ferdinand agreed"
And my father-went with her??'' I
muttered hoarsely. feeling myself
growing chill to the heart. Hardly
could I restrain my indignation at Sir
Anthony's folly or my own anger and
disappointinent-and fear, for though
my head seemed on fire, and there was
a turnult In my brain. I was cool
enough to trace clearly my fathers
motives and discern with what a de-
liberatc lie had acted. HE
Went With her ~ 49,
Yes; he and Ills wife. the knight
answered, noticing nothing in his OBJ
ltuseness.
You have been fooled, sir, I said
bitterly. My father q should have
known. and. for his wife, h is a bad.
unscrupulous woman! OH h mad
ness Of At. to put my cousin into their
hAnds!ss