The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1917-09-20
CHAPTER XIII.

It was room of silence, save for
the kissing of the green logs that
burned on the open hearth, and for
the. slow movements Of Jennings as he
cleared the table. Straight and grim
in his chair, with the newspaper by
his side, Stephen Strangewey sat
smoking stolidly. Opposite to him, al
most as grim, equally silent, sat John.
Things were quiet at Market Ket-
ton today, then, John?" Stephen asked
at last.
"There was nothing doing" was the
brief reply.
That, for the space of a quarter of
an hour or so, was the sole attempt at
conversation between the two broth
ers. Then Jennings appeared with
decanter of wine and two glasses,
which he reverently filled. Stephen
held his up to the light and looked at
it critically. Johns remained by his
side. unnoticed.
"a glass for yourself, jennings"
Stephen ordered.
Il thank We kindly, sir" the old
man replied.
He fetched a glass from the side
board, filled it, and held it respectfully
before him.
IT'S the old toast" Stephen said
glumly "You know 1t"
"Aye, Master Stephen!' the servant
assented. "We've drunk it together
for many long year. I give 1t ye
now with all my heart-cOnfusiOn to
all women!"
They both glanced at John, who
showed no signs of movement. Then
they drank together, the older man
and his servant Still John never
moved. Jennings drained his glass,
placed the decanter by his masters
side, and withdrew.
so the poison's still there, broth
err" Stephen asked.
"And will be so long as live" John
confessed gloomily. For all that, I'll
not drink your toast"
"Why not?"
"There was little girl-you saw
her when you were in London. She is
married now, but I think of her some
times; and when l do, you and old
Jennings seem to me like couple of
blithering idiots cursing things too
wonderful for you to understand"
Stephen made no protest. For Il
time he smoked in silence. CuriOusly
enough, as they sat together, some of
the grim fierceness seemed to have
passed e-om his expression and settled
upon John. More than once, as he
looked across at his younger brother,
| it almost seemed as if there was some
thing of self-reprOach in his question
ing look.
"You dined at the ordinary in Mar
ket Ketton?" Stephen asked at last.
"I did"
"Then you heard the news?
''Who could help it?" John muttered.
"There wasn't much else talked
about"
"Bailiff Henderson has been over
here" Stephen went on. There's q
small army of painters and decorators
coming down to the castle next week,
You saw the announcement of the
wedding in the morning Post, maybe?
John assented without words. Ste
phen smoked vigorously for few mo,
ments. Every now and then he
glanced across to where John was sit.
ting. Once again the uneasiness was
in his eyes, an uneasiness. which was
almost self-reproach.
John moved little restlessly in his
chair.
Lets drop it, Stephen" he begged
"We both know the facts. She is go
ing to marry him, and that's the enc
Of it. Fill your glass up again. Here's
mine untouched. I'll drink your toas
with you, if you'll leave out the little
girl who was kind to me. I'll give i
to you myself-confusion to all won
en-"
"Confusion to-" Stephen began
"What on earth is that?"
They both heard il Mt the same tim