Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1905-06-17 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER XII.  it) Mary Lestrange's Retreat, .....e-n-ft,ettcfb>ll-411-icr: /14 fl7lll.*.flt fritfeßftt rrae,: frAcrt .12  "Not alway 4 fall of leaf, nor ever spring, Not endless night, yet not eternal day; The saddest birds a season find to sing, The roughest storm a calm may soon allay." —Spencer  Harder-featured than ever, and more -reserved in manner than formerly, Janet Deeds, for lack ef other occupation, was mechanically rearranging the ernaments on the mantelpiece of a small, cld-fash;oned room, awaiting the return of her mistress anxiensly. The house where Mary LestTango had been living since the fateful visit of Esmond Wilmot to Shirley was small and oldfashioned also, standing back from the road which Jed into the vilage wherein it was situated, far removed from the scenes associated 90 bitterly with the fond hopes and confident expectations that Wilmot tad so ruthlessly destroyed, and the peace and retireineat of her new home had brought &one measure of contentment to her. She had liven ill again soon after coming to Milhurst, and (zee more Janet Deeds had nursed her with a tenderness and solicitude that were something more than love and devotion could have called for. In her presence Janet was calm and gentle, ministering to her mistress's need with every womanly thoeglit and care, and it was only when the faithful creature was alone that the emotions of her heart, which were never stilled, found relief. There was so fierce, a belief in her breast that Esmond Wilmot would relent from his cruel prpose, and place his wife in her true position in the world, that the crime which he had committed, tie memory of the foul murder in which he had taken part, was almost dimmed, although the horrors of the picture, which were ever before Janet',3 eyes, could never, never fade. They haunted her day and night, but no Spartan ever bore torture more silently than she. A word .roin her, and the means by which justice should he done her mistress might be gone for ever, and it seemed as if she waged constant war against the fear of that; against the danger that hovered threateningly over the life and honour of one whom she would have given her own life to protect. Yet try b s she did to hide the harass of her soul, Janet tailed sometimes to maintain the stoical calmness which was almost habitual to her new. There would be fierce outbursts of anger, followed by penitent tears, when, as had happened two or three times, the iisputed marriage of her mistress was inadvertently referred to; a sudden flash and lighting up of the dull eyes when NVilmot's name was mentioned; but latterly these evidenced of the ceaseless stfuggle in her heart between hope and dread and a nameless horror of the future had (*seed to be conspicuous, and by degree the secret in her breast was numied until it became no more than a dull pain, and the fervent assurance that her mistress would eventeally be acknowledged as Lady Esmond Wilmot grew stronger and stronger. And as time wore on Mary's health and strength had returned. Her voice had regained its old sweetness, and her features the look of resignment that the face of a Madonna wears. There was a hope and joy, too, in her heart; anticipation of divine happiness such as the world could neither give nor take from her, and in that expectat'on Janet Deeds shared, praying in ill-considered words but with a meaning and earnestness that made them eloquent, for aid and mercy, to be vouchsafed her young mistress in the hour of trial and danger that time was bringing so swiftly to her.  Mary had other friends, than Janet now, for in the village, where even the roughest of tho men and women greeted her respectfully, her gracious manner mil pen Ave face that lost its forrowfulness as she spoke, had won her one or two firm friendships. Her smile and gentleness made her loved by young and old alike, and though none dared ask her reason for choosing the roiet village for her home, there was a pitying regard for the sweet, sad lady who life had been uvershadowed by some heavy trouble.  So hoping always, bearing- pati,autly the ourdon of her sorrow, Mary Lestrange had found rest at last; and in the quiet village the days went quickly by, occupied pleasantly by the employment she had obtainL.d. She was very gifted in the art ot embroidery, and as the work was well paid for, enabled her, cornbined_with some small means of her own, to live comfortably. The work came from some of the leAding houses in the West End, in relerenoo to which Mazy paid an oe,