Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1908-07-07
The Fatal Three
MISS n. E. BRADD0N
CHAPTER v.-(Continued. f,

part In the gayeties of the capital. Here
they lived until the spring and then, even
In the depths Of his gloom, yeaming
came upon George Greswold to see the
home OF his race, the manor which he had
loved as if it were living thing.
Mildred, do you think you could bear
to be in the old home again p ne asked his
wife suddenly, one morning at breakfast
II could bear anything better than the
life we lead here" she answered, her eyes
Cling with tears.
I'VE will go back then-yes, even if 1t
Is only to look upon our daughters
grave"
They went back to England and to En-
derby Manor within a week after that con-
versation.
1t was summer again, the ripe, full
blown summer of mid-July. The awful
anniversary Of their bereavement had
passed in silence and prayer. All things
1t Enderby looked as they had looked
IN the years that were gone, except the
faces of the servants, which were for
the most part strange. What change of
the household made a great change in
the life of people so conservative as
George Greswold and his wife; and the
old home seemed so much the less like
home because of that change. The Squire
OF EDderby felt that his popularity was
lesseued In the village for which he had
dore so much. His severe dealing with
the offenders had pleased nobody, not even
tire sufferers from the epidemic, whose
losces he had avenged. He had shown
himself implacable, and there were many
who said he had been unjust
George Greswold felt the change from
friendly gladness to cold civility. He
could see the altered expression In all
those familiar faces. The only sign of
affection was from Mrs. Rainbow, stand
ing at her cottage gate In decent black,
with sunken cheeks worn pale by many
tears. She burst out crying at sight of
Mildred Greswold, and clasped her hand
in fervor of sympathy.
Oh, to think of your sweet young lady,
ma'aml that you should lose her, as
lost my Polly p she sobbed; and then
two women wept together-sisters In af-
Fiction.
"You don't think we are to blame, do
you, Mrs. Rainbow" Mildred said gent
ly.
mo, no, indeed, ma'am. We all know
1t was Gods will. We must kiss the
rod"
One day the door was opened by the
new footman, who announced ''Mr. Cas-
tellani."
Mn. Greswold rose from the piano to
find herself face to face with a man
whose countenance had pleasing express
sion.
He was tall and slim, well dressed in
a subdued metropolitan style and he had
an air of distinction and elegar ce which
would have marked him anywhere as a
creature apart from the common herd.
1t was not an English manner. There
was a supple grace in his movements
which suggested Southern origin. There
was a pleading look in the full brown
eyes which suggested an emotional tenn
permanent.
IAN Italian, no doubt" thought Mil
dred, taking this Southern gracefulness
in conjunction with the Southern name
She wondered on what pretense this
stranger had called, and what could be
his motive for coming.
Mrs. Greswold, | have to apologize
having first sent credentials and waited
for your permission 10 CALL" he said, in
very perfect English, with only the slight
est Milanese accent; and then lie handed
Mrs. Greswold an unsealed letter, which
he had taken from his breast pocket.
She glanced at it hastily, not a little
embarrassed by the situation. The letter
was from an intimate friend, an amateur
litterateur, who wrote graceful sonnets
and gave pleasant parties:
81 need not excuse myself, my dear
friend, for making Mr.. Castellani known
to you in the flesh, as | have no doubt
he Is already familiar TO you in the spirit.
He Is the anonymous author of 'Nepen-
the the book that almost every one has
been reading and quite every one has been
talking about this season. Only the few
can understand II; but you are of those
few, end l feel assured your deepest fell
ings have been stirred by that most ex-
ceptional work. How delicious it must
be with you among green lanes and Eng
lish meadows We are just rushing off to
a land of extinct volcanoes for my poor
husbands annual cure.
DIANA TOMKINSON."
pray sit down." said Mildred, as she
finished her gushing friends note; my
husband will be in presently hope in
time to see YOU"
Pardon me if, in all humility, l say
1t is you i was especially anxious to see
to know, if it were Observation-Disclosures
as 1t will be also to know Mr.. Greswold."
"Your name is among my earliest rec
elections" pursued Castellani. my
mother was educated at convent at Roe
hampton, and she was very fond of Eng
land and English people. The first jour
ney l can distinctly remember was
Journey to London, which occurred when
l was ten years old. l remember my
father and mother talking about Mr.
Fausset. She had known him when she
was little girl. He used to stay in her
fathers house when he came to Lyons
on business. She would like to have seen
him and his wife and daughter, for old
times sake; but she &ad been told that
his wife was a lady of rank"
II am much interested in your remi-
piscenees," said Mildred. after brief
pause. My father was very dear 10 me.
Ny mother came of an old Irish family
and the Irish, as you know, are apt to be
proud OF high birth. l had never heard
my fathers commercial life spoken about
until to-daP. | only knew him as an idle
man. without business cares of any kind.
able to take life pleasantly. lie used TO
spend two or three months of every year
under this Toef. 1t was a terrible blow
TO me when we losl him six years ago and
think my husband mourned him almost
as deeply as l did. But tell me about
your book
His half deferential. half .careSSing
manner: his easy condolences about hine
self and his own tastes, had made her
more familiar with his individuality tn
the space of IN hour than she would have
been With tcs average Englishman in s
month. She cid not know whether she
liked or disliked him; but he amused her.
and II was a new sensation for her to feel
amused.
George Greswold approached from a
little gate on the other side Of the lawn.