The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-04-08
(Continued.)

CContinued0
She went upstairs, and chose her
own sleeping-room, with good pros
rect from Vide windows, across the
Anne country, with its heaving uplands.
Later. they assembled for dinner In
= dining-room which, though much
out OF date, was at least itself. aud
not deliberately pretending to an age
il could not boast.
During this meal, which was plain,
solid. but well cooked and served,
Mira Bardsley put question which
I seemed to take her niece aback.
Ny dear. she said, you tell me
poor Vernon has been dead two years.
IL that is so, why did you not come
10 me before?"
Vernon paused moment as If the
/ question found her unprepared. Il
Il did not wish to leave my home,
she said slowly. Father left me free
To STAY II chose. But he said, if I
grew restless. CT needed change, 1
was to come to England, TO you" The
color Tanned up in her face Il
thought I would have q change this
spring. she said
who's looking after your placer"
asked Jem-
MY manager, a man called Glad
ywyn."
| .@r@AH
"A good manager? Oh, excellent.
de has been ten years on the place"
Msrried?"
Yes"
I'm, was checked He thought ne
IA discovered a reason for Vernon's
flight
rs his wife = nice woman?" asked
Mrs. Bardsley sympathetically. "One
must be 30 thrown upon peoples
society out there. Is she a woman
! you can make a friend of"
"I-don't know. I never saw her"
said Vernon, In some confusion. Il
don't think he knows where she is.
she left him. She turned to her
aunt. and began to tell her about her
house. and about the Chapmans, a
man and wife who had been with
them from the first, and who had
brought her up. Her mother had
lied at her birth. OF course she was
70 have been q boy, and to have her
fathers name: but the poor young
wife in spite of the sex, would not
nave The name changed. Call her
Vernon" had been her last words,
and naturally her distracted hus-
band acted upon them. Mrs. Bard
sley listened, and was, as her niece
intended, drawn away from the sub.
ject-- Of the managers matrimonial
effairs. But Jem pondered.
Dear me, dear me-" said Mrs
Rard.ley mournfully, ito think Of the
mischief a girl can make! OF course
Via was your mother who was at the
bottom of everything, between you1
father and Sir Miles Umfrayille.'
Vernon stared. But he-Sir Miles
must have been a little boy then!
-Oh, this is the new Sir Miles. He
only inherited a year ago. 1t wa.
his uncle who fought your father ir
I.ancelot's Tower. They said it wa:
n because of the Swan Weir meadow
IN save her name-but it was about
her really. Poor child. poor child
4 couuette she was, but, like many
such girls, good at heart; and she
! loved my brother well enough to 81
aboard q fishing-boat with him tina
very night and sail for America
trusting in him that he would be
have 20 her as a gentleman, and mar
r. her when they landed And 81
II course he did. and very happ.
\ ,hey were But Sir Miles never re
.-erered your fathers handling. HI
as always an invalid, and never
married. Poor Madge. And sh'
had but two years of her dear-snatch
ed happiness, We lived in a hous'
about five miles away rrom here a
that time. Your father was head
strong, and i dare say I was hare
upon him. Mother was dead, and h
vas imprudent. arrogant and reck
less. Madge was the Wears daugh
Ter, and had all the young men buz
ling round her from morn to niEhl
She was that kind of girl. and I, Co
forgive me, thought she was heart
less little hirt- A woman like m
doesn't know what it feels like to. b
a. she was-to have men always az
ger you. whether you will or no. Sh
was that tempting, ripe kind of girl
with great eyes that shone like stars
and lovely white limbs. Somehow
one j. apt to think that such a cir
haz not much soul. But she wa
rave and Discerning, too. She knew
which to choose among her suitors
rat at the time, / did all I could 4
,:eep your father from her; and on
day went too far. I told him
D. God n