The Cotton Factory Times. — 1900-02-16 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

CHAPTER VII. A CRAFTY wow.  "Can you thick of nothing calculated to rouse Lilian from the state of helpless apathy in which ehe has been prostrated ever since—" Sir Hugh stopped. He could not bear to mention the supposed death of his son. "We can do nothing, Hugh. There is no oars for a broken heart. She will pine sway, and, as she has freely assured me, be glad to join Harold in the other world."  The baronet could not speak for some moments. The loss of his son had affected him more than even his sister had any idea of. "Could I but have foreseen the terrible result," he said, brokenly.  "Terrible inlea Hugh, Harold driven by despair to suicide, and now dear Lilian about tb follow him."  "Have you no pity, Agatha? Do you not think my remorse is sufficient punishment? I would give the half of all I possess to undo the consequences of that letter I sent him." "Did I not entreat you to be merciful ? It was the poor boy's first lapse, and yet you treated him as though he had been a hardened wretch who deserved no forgiveness. I promised his mother that I would as for as possible supply her place, and I did so to the best of n3y judgment and ability. There was not a finer or better lad in the °minty than your son, nor one with brighter prospects of becoming a Glenthorno you would live to be proud of. I shall always think that the scoundrel you took to your heart in Harold's place could explain that night's work in Manchester. And supposing that my suspicions were not justified by the facts, what was Harold's sin? He took a little too much wine, got into the hands Of the police, who probably, as is too often their wont, 111-treated him. He resists, and that is magnified by them into a charge of assault. To screen his tame horn the public eye he foolishly gives a false one, the worst thing he could have duce, as Mr. 'Whitlock assured me afterwards; and, suspected of being an ordinary racecourse frequenter, he is sent to prison for a month. Had you, the moment you knew what had happened, given notice of appeal, bailed him out, and provided him with counsel when the appeal came ou, that conviction would undoubtedly have been quashed, or altered to a small fine, Mr. Whitlock declares most positively. But uo! The Glenthorne pride prevented you going to bis assistance; you allowed him to suffer his sentence ; and then, as if that were not sufficient, you drive him to the depths of despair by that terribly cruel letter. He sent back your cheque, and I admired his courage in doing so, though perhaps it would have been better for himself had he cashed it. How he lived from that day until, probably goaded to madness by hunger and starvation—" "Spare me, Agatha, for God's sake!" said Sir lltigh, hoarsely. "You asked me if I have no pity for you. I have none. Had his mother been living would you have treated him so harshly ? And being motherless, ought you not to have been more tender towards his faults? Had he caused you one moment's sorrow prior to that night's escapade? Why should I spare von? Had it not been for Lilian's sake do you think I would have remained under the same roof as you, my only brother though you are? You are just as much the murderer of your son—" "No, no! Agatha, by the memory of our own mother, do not say that I" Her answer to this appeal was stopped by the entrance of Lilian Penruddocks, who looked in astonishment at the figure of the baronet, as he sat crouching in an easy chair, with his bead between bis hands, to shut out from view the accusing face of his sister.  "Are you not well, dear father?' "No, my love. We have been talking of—" "Of titer Harold ?" she said, with a burst of weeping that iutensified the baronet's grief, and With a groan he left the room. "Auntie, does father fret very much?" said the girl, when she had recovered from her emotion. "He is filled with remorse, Lilian, and no wonder. He looks ten years older than he did before we lost dear Harold. The Glenthornes have been noted for their longevity, but I do not think Liu qh will reach GO." "I had a strange dream last night, auntie I thougbt I was inside a building like a church or chapel, that had been made into a hospital for our Wounded. In one pew a man was lying, and by his side sat dear Harold. But suddenly Harold's face changed to that of his cousin, and that seemed to give me s-uch a shock that I awoke." "A strange dream,' indeed, my child." But I have not told you everything. Harold's lace was swathed in bandages, and when it changed to that of Maurice, the bandages were gone. Do you believe in spirit manifestations, auntie? Can the spirits of our departed friends re-visit us?" I cannot answer your second question from personal experience, my dear, but I have full faith in the hundreds of well-authenticated instances of such appearances, as narrated by people whose veracity there is no reason whatever to doubt." "But why should I see Harold attired as a ' soldier, auntie?"  " I cannot tell you that, Lilian. You had doubtless been thinking of him ere you dropped off to "But when roused to wakefulness by my strange dream it was past four o'clock. I wss always thinking of Harold, for we loved each other, oh, ao dearly. if it were not wicked, I should pray to God to let me die soon, so as to meet him in the world beyond. That is now my only hope. How dear to me the nreciocts thought— Eternity's communion f With sweetest solace Hope is fraught, aliat Lino will bring reunion.