THE TESTIMONY OF ESTHER SANDYS.

Bruce Herald, Volume XXX, Issue 3030, 24 January 1899, Page 6

THE TESTIMONY OF ESTHER SANDYS.

BY ROMA WHITE. , I

CHAPTER IVi

(Continued.) Esther lifted her head from her aunt'B »houlder, and drew slightly away from her, irith a gesture wif she wanted to face the TpgKestioDi done. Betty looked at hei% and hesitated no longer. *'", J " Esthie," Bhe said quietly, "it seems to me t' best plan. When oneßt thoo'rt wed, theer'll be no\ moreTfrettia* ajnTf^uble^ j I'd Bay nowt to thi 6^an&aa an* Tjro.:but Tse ax TttestherPhizacklea if ned be willin' to be wed quiet i' th' Church here wi' no one by but mysen'. Not a soul i* Ovelstone 'ull hear tell on't, an' thoo con go back when it's ower, an' tell 'em as it's done. L«assie. I'm afeard, if 'thoo ■wont back home, it 'ud niver be a weddin' at a'; an< 'tis best thoo should be wed, Esthie— best thoo should be wed." Shu had Baid more of her conviction than was her wpnt,for Esther's face had gone very thoughtful and perplexed. "Be wed wrout Tim'B an' Grandads kuowin* on't," Bhe said restlessly. "it dunnot seeni right, Bomehow. I'd ha' liked *em to be theer." Betty made no answer. She knew Tim would never have been there, but Bhe did not say so. She left the girl to weigh the question alone. " But Mesther Phizacklea— what 'll he say on't ? " demanded Esther suddenly. " He'll be wiliin' enow. JNiver f ear ! " I " But we man be axed i' t' Church — Tim an' Grandad '11 hear." " Nay. I'se get t* license here. Theer'B no ca' to be axed i' Little Tarnside. Thoo niuu just bide thy fortnight wi' nv\ i' t' parish, ant parson 'ull be ready to marry ye at th' end on't." She did not say that she would have to pay double fees for such an arrangement, and that she intended the second guinea to come out of her own pocket. "An' how'B Farmer Phizacklea to know on't ? " " We'se write him a letter. I'm not much of a scholard mysen, but .To Dickenson, across, 'ull write it for us." " An' then ? " _ He con drive ower t' bay iB cart, Wednesday fortnight, an* ye con be wed t' next day. " Esther's face had gone even graver. She coked into the tire and kept silence. Preuently Betty began to talk tranquilly of other things, and the girl gave brief absent replies. When thepld woman rose to prepare supper, Esther suddenly caught at her hand. " Aunt Betty," she said huskily, " thoo'rt ,^ht. The more I thinks on't, t.h' more 1 see thoo'rt right. It 'ull niver be a weddin' if I stay wi' Grandad an' Tim, an'— an' — I eon do a deal for 'em if I'm wed. We'se send t' letter to ulesther Phizacklea to-mor-row." The letter was duly sent and Farmer Phizacklea's ready acquiescence received. The license was bought, and the hour filed for the wedding; and, on the evening that they awaited the arrival of' Josiah, Betty robed Esther for the first time in her bridalgown, and pinned the little drawn Bilk bonnet upon her hair. They had spread a patchwork coverlet upon the parlour floor, and Esther stood on it, the long gleaming folds of the silk shiniitg against the bright mosaic of strong colouring. The firelight played over her, and her slender figure wa3 brought out in glimmering relief against the dark oak of the settle behind her. Betty fell back, and gazed long at her in silence, her bands clasped together in admiration, her great grey eyes full of tender delight. " Weel?" said Esther at last, with a shy look of self-consciousness. " Weel?" Betty had to wipe away a tear before she could answer Hpt. " Thoo wast right, Esther,'" she said then, with a deep sigh, " it's made thee look like the angels i' Heaven." " If Tim an' Grandad could but be theer," aiurmured Esthie regretfully, gazing down on her shimmering folds. "It's like a real lady isn't it, Aunt Betty? " " It'r. more beautiful nor that," said Betty, unable to remove her gaze from the bright picture. " Me&ther Phizacklea 'ull — eh, what's that? " and the girl broke off, and Btarted violently as a loud " rat-tat " sounded upon the outer shop door. " Speakin' on folk allays brings 'em," said Aunt Betty. " Bide quiet, Esthie. I'd like him to see ye as ye are." She hurried to the door, and Esther, trembling a little, heard Josiah's loud greet ing and the old woman' 3 quiet, brief reply. Then their footsteps echoed through the shop, Betty opened the parlour-door, and the farmer's portly figure filled the dark space between the portals. He stopped short on the threshold with a start, Mb eyes dazzled by the sudden firelight only half realising the picture before him. Betty waited behind, smiling to herself. Esther'B face was drooped forward a little, as ehe glanced shyly up between her eyelashes. Standing there in the firelight, her draperies seemed almost luminous, excepting where their outline was clear, shimmering and opaquely white against the dark oaken settle. Her sweet tremulous face was in shadow, but her clustering curls caught gleams of burnished gold from the fire. She stood Bilent, expectant, waiting for the verdict of the man who was to become her husband on the morrow. V.Weel !" Baid Phizacklea, slowly, as he realised that it was indeed his bride that stood before him. " Weel, I'm flanged." Esther broke into a little pleased nervous laugh, and Aunt Betty came forward into the parlour. " She looks boniiy," she said, glancing a1 the farmer. He took out his handkerchief and mopped his face, unable torcmove his eyes from the girl. ■-"•■■->.■■*. ■■•■ .... " I man go an' tak' it off;" said Esthie, suddenly blushing red with embarrassment under his gaze, and moving hastily though carefully to the door. Betty hurried after her, to hold the gown away from the wall. Bidding the girl lay it out on the bed in readiness to be folded up till the morrow, she hastened down again to the parlour, and began to busy herself in preparations for supper, once more a silent, reserved old woman with beut face and overhanging brow. " Is't for t' weddin' ?" asked Farmer Phizacklea. whom she had found still gazing with rounded eyes at the staircase up which the vision had disappeared, and who. seemed amazed into uneasiness by the transformation in his bride. " Aye.":., v . .- ■; . " It's a sight too fine," he Baid, with a deep sigh. Betty madeno answer, and he continued to watch the staircase until Esther came down again in her ordinary high white cap and stiff gown. , '*• EhV thoo'rt more thyßen now," he .said, i ''come and gie me a kias^: Esthie." j ..-,< She went quietly enough, and submitted .to his 'CfcreifcV 'k ''■-■ : J:-<: ' '" ■ ' ■ ''■ "-'■ ' '• ." -.."■■ ' J

' «* So thoo'rt ready to be wed tomorrow," i he said, not without a certain gruff tender* < ness. " Aye." "No • more. ' rayder thiß, rayder that,' now ?" I " No, Mesthur Phizacklea." " Aye, thi Aunt Betty ha* gi'cn theo a bit , o' her gumption. Wheer's t* church, mis- < bus ?" he continued, in a high state of goodhumour, turning to the old woman, who moved bo silently about the kitchen. /'.At t*- top o' t* hill," she responded briefly. ' " An' what's t' time ye've fixed ?" Eh, but I am being managed bi two women !" " Eleven o'clock." " Eleven o'clock ? 'Tis a good, time. Ye ha' gi'en me ho chance p' ;gettin'. : out o't. I reckon t*'parßo"n ; ha''beten -towd an* t' license is a" ready," he went on, chuckling loudly. "Aye." - /'An' Tim and Jerry knows nowt on't," he coritiuned, exploding into a loud laugh, " eh, 'tis a gran 1 bit o' business!" He was evidently in high feather, and continued talking of the "gran' bit o' business " all the evening. He did not notice Esther's dreamy preoccupation of manner, nor Betty's brief qriet replies. It was perhaps fortunate that they were all three accustomed to an early bedtime; and they very soon retired for the night, Esther to share her aunt'B room/ and Phizacklea to take possession of the little guest chamber that the girl had occupied until now. The morning of the wedding-day dawned grey arid windy, with gusts of breeze shaking the windows and puffing the smoke' of the tire down int» the parlour. Esther ate her breakfast Bilently, looking white and upset, and unable to Btill her craving for her grandfather and Tim. She was as pale as her gown when she presently stood to be robed by Aunt Betty in the bridal silk, whiio Farmer Phizacklea stumped uneasily about the parlpur below. Then the old woman en« veloped the girl in her own long grey cloak, drawing the ample hood about the little bonnet, and concealing evory shimmer of the daiaty attire. Only the rustle below the sombre folds betrayed the gown underneath asEsther stepped through the shop, and mounted the hackney-coach that stood in waiting at the door. Josiah and Betty climbed in after her, and, almost entirely free from observation, they drove away through the narrow streets to the Church. Both priest and clerk looked curiously at the bridal parly when Phizacklea led Esther to the altar. The fair sweet-faced girl in the garb of a lady, the stout farmer in his Sunday fuslians,and the old woman in her brown stuff gown and high cap were nol a trio to escape comment. The ceremony proceeded without interruption or mishap. When Betty folded the grey cloak once more about her niece, as the clerk carefully signed the register in the vestry, Esther Jupp and Josiah Phizacklea had been made man and wife " till death should them part." They drove home in silence, and sat down to dinner. Josiah began to get hot and embarrassed, feeling that matrimony made a man look foolish. But Betty brought out the whisky-bottle with which she sometimes — though rarely — comforted herself on cold winter nights, and he mixed himself a stiff glassful, and presently grew more resigned. Then Esther and her aunt hastened upstairs to don their every dayattire. and prepare the girl's neat bundle of clothing; for they bad agreed that all three should drive across Motecambe Bay in JEMiisaeklea's cart, go straight to the Gate Farm, and break the news of the wedding to Tim and Jerry without further delay. They moved quietly about between the little upper rooms, scarcely exchanging even necessary words. Betty folded up the wedding-gown and put it, with sprigs of lavender, in a ioog drawer, Esther felt dazed and weary, and collected her possession? mechanically. The wind seemed to be rising, and hurried, sobbing, pant the window, and moaned in the wide chimneys. The little bit of sky that could be seen from the bedroom was tossed and grey; and presently a few <Irous of rain pattered, sparkling, against Uie easement. Josiah seemed to notice tlie rising wind, and by-and-bye Esther heard his stop on the staircase, and his voice calling to them. " Hey. missis, I'd beat go on t' King's Arms, an' get th' cart ready. I'll drive back to meet ye. 1 reckon it'll be a wet nasty artcruoon." " Aye, do so," Betty said, coming to the door of lier room. " Tak' another sup o' whisky Hist, hooivcr. " "Trust me," responded Josiah, with a laugh. And the chink of the bottle against the glass came up to the two women. folio wed almost immediately by his heavj departing footstep, and the baug of the shop-door. "Aunt Betty, ha' 1 done right ?" whispered Ifisther tremulously when, cloaked and bonneted at last, they looked round to Bee that nothing had been forgotten. " Esthie, thoo hast done right, to my thinkin'," replied the old woman solemnly, kissing her cheek. •' An' may the Lord love ye, an' mak' ye a good wife, an' bless ye wi' bairnß an' a' prosperity. Amen." The grave tranauil words were almost a prayer, and Esther instinctively bent her head and repeated " Amen." A.nd then they lifted up their bundles and passed down the staircase and out of the house together. Josiah soon met them, and they mounted iato his cait without further delay, lie drove them through the town without mishap, and along the lanes that led to Hest Bank, where the coach-route left the land for the shore. When they were near tiiis spot Esther observed for the first lime that Josiah was driving badly, and appeared a little unsteady in his seat. When they turned the corner that led upon the wide desolate expanse of bay. Betty looked uneasy, for the moaning of the wind was mingled with the moaninjr of the sea and the water tossed, grey and murky, against the misty horizon, fretting itself into little breakers of white foam. The mouuted guide who awaited the coach rode restlessly to and fro upon the sands, and some men who were gathered together near the door of a lonely farmhouse were saying among themselves that, in half an hour, it would be too late to make the crossing over- the "bay .that night. Phizacklea pulled up, and suggestedr;.that they should go inside and have a " sup o' tea, "which was provided for travellers by the farmer's wife. The two women acquiesced, and went into the house, while the farmer, drawing a bottle from his pocket, drove round into the yard. Esther and her aunt hurriedly drank their hot cups of tea, and thon went outside agaiu. Josiah was not to be seen, but the little group of labourers was still outside. Betty went up to one of them, and enquired for Phizacklea, and, at that moment, the cart rattled out of the yard, with the farmer seated, rather unsteadily inside it. ..._" Yo'll ha* to look sharp to get across t' sands tornight," said the man to whom Betty had spoken, glancing at Phizacklea's flushed and rather dazed eyes. " Eh, t' tide's a'most away at Ireland," replied Josiah, speaking thickly but with perfect good-temper. " Get i' t' cart, missis. Theer's no fear." Esther's face had paled when the ostler had

spoken, and now she glnncod apprelmn^tvih over the wide misty bands, and Bluvered. " Let's not go, Auntßetty," she whispered, " let's not go." ' Betty turned to the labourer, and lifted her eyes.to his face with an inquiring look. " It's safe enow for half an hour," he said', an&wering the mute question, " if thi master drives straight." "Drives straight," Baid .Tosiah, " I ha' niver driven squintin 1 i' my life." 'He laughed as he spoke, and looked down on the little group about the cart with the good-humoured indifference ' of a man comfortably " in liquor." " Weel," said the man, " it'H no business o' mine. But t\ guide's, sayin* he shanna take t'icoacii across if site's half an hour later. Ye'd best be Btartin 1 ifyaduunot Want to' sleep i* t' cockle-beda to-nightl" " Aunt Betty, I conna go— l. Bhahna go," cried Esther, with ' an hysterical burst of tears that drew all eyes to her,! "let's walk' back to Lancaster ! I con Bee t* tide stremnia' in a'most. like a river. I conna go." . She clung, tenified and Bobbing, to her aunt, while Josiah turned his eyes upon h«r with a half-daaed, half- startled look. He was not exactly tipsy, but callous to danger, and insensible to what would, at another time, have provoked him to annoyance. " Bless my soul !" he ejaculated. " Theer's a frcetened lassie. I'm not goin' to be the one to niak ye do what ye're afeard on, Esthie. Wilt turn buck to Lancaster an' bide wi' thy Aunt Booty till to-morrow ?" He felt considerable prido in hie forbear, ance as he finished Breaking, and glanced round upon the bystanders for approbation. "Aye. that's weel spoken, " Baid the farmer's wifo, who had joinod the little group about the cart. " It's ill takin* women across them dreary Hands on an arternoon o' this sort. Hey, .John, 1 ' she raised her voice, and called to the guide on the sands, " is't safe to crwss tonight? " "Aye, it's safe for another twenty minutes/ and the guido rode his horse up to where they stood. " what's to do? " " T' lassie's afeard o' crossin'." •' Eli, is that bo? " glancing kindly at the poor sobbing Esther. " Well, 'tis going to ba an agly night. Couaa yo bide till tomorrow? " turning in his saddle and ad dressing Pliizaeklea. •' I coma,'" said the farmer with some importance, " but t' wurneii aro welcome to." " Aye, wo'se bile lill to-uiorrow," Esther panted imploriugly through her tears. •' We'd best settle it so," said Botty with quiet decision, anxious to get the girl away from the curious faces*. '" An' ye'd best be startin", too,Mesthcr Phissacklea," she added, looking over the grey misty bay, where Iho incoming tide was beginning to sob anil j moat), far away in the distance. " Aye, yu'<l best br, atartin'," repeated the guide emphatically, " 1 doubt I'se get t' coach across to-night." " Good-night to yet then,"' said Josiah, still maintaining his imperturbability and food humour, " l'so bee thoo to-morrow, Esthie. Good-night to ye, Missis." And he drove away with tolerable rapidity, in no mood to cavil, and well content with himself and the figure ho had cut in the eyes of the bystanders: for his " drop too much " of whisky had tilled him with an unusual toleration and benevolence. Instinctively every glance followed the cart, as it rolled smoothly down the sloping road, and on to the broad trackless waste of sand. The sky was spread overhead like a grey teat, and, across the bay, a dull irregular purplish tongue marked the opposite head land. Two sounds were apparent in the rising wind; it trumpeted overhead among the clouds, and hissed along the giound, as if through blowing grass. Here and there, upon the flat desolate bay a wide pale glimmar of water denoted a shal'Vw channel; and a company of sea-gulls whteled low along the nearest stretch of sand, Knowing white and sinning against the dull background. Gradually the cart lust form and colour and was gathered into the mystery of the distance; a moving grey shape that had become merely a feature of the landscape. Seen thus, it belonged no more to the bustle, warmth, and life of the little group collected about tlio door of the house, laughing and talking in the stream of red firelight that shone cheerily from the kitchen. That dim and If-sscning dot upon the windy Bhore had neither part nor parcel with humanity; it appertained wholly to the cold mist that wreathed the headlands, to the desolute wailing of the gulls, to the wan trackless expanse of the treacherous bay, and to the restless far-oif moaning of the incoming sea.

CHAPTER V.

A etrange uneasiness lay upon Tim's senses- as he moved about the farm on the morning that followed Esther's wedding day. The chill wind still blew in pitiful gusts; the suu was veiled; and the earth had, for the time, lost all the warm bloom aud fragrance of Spring. Towards evening mists from sea and mountain be^an to blow up about the farm; and the sea-gulls came inlan I, flying so close to the windows that, at times, you could almost distinguish the rustling of their wings. It wa3 nearly dark whenTira and Jerry sat silently down to tea. As they began their | meal they caught the bound of rumbling wheels coming down the l^ne. Jerry leant forward, with a slow word of surprise. " Eh, Tim," he said, '* t'coach from t' Bull an' Cock's at 't gate." " It san't be no one comin' here," answered Tim, turning his head to look. " Eh, but it be, though! There's a gentleman gut out, a.v' comin' through t' yard." " lie's axitj' h:s way, I reckon," Baid Tim, as he pushed back his chair. Jerry had sunk again into his seat, with a v;:;jueJy distressed look. " Open t' door, my Jad,'' he murmured, j " I ha." a feelin' as if trouble war comin'." I " There's trouble enow in' t' world without fcfti in "s o'j," responded Tim, somewhat curtly, Htri'iinsi across to the threshold. Hh flung the door oven wide, and went out into the yard. Humphrey Sandys was coming across the cobbie Btoncs.and his eyes met the eyes of the handsome boy with sudden enquiry and interest. " Does anybody of the name of Jeremiah Jupp livs here ? " he asked. " Yes. sir. " Tim's slight touch of delianse changed into quick ready courtesy. He stepped aside that the visitor might enter. " Will you walk in, sir 7 Grandad, here's a gentleman ayking to sec you." Humphrey removed his hat as he entered the little kitchen. Jerry did not speak, but leaned forward a little, regarding this unexpected guest with the slow enquiring glance o old age. " You are Jeremiah Jupp ?"' said Humphrey gently. " That be my name, sir." •' Formerly of Lymscot, near Preston." " Aye, formerly of Lymscot sir." Humphrey paused, and Tim, who bad dusted a chair as handily as Esther herself, pushed it fro ward, and fcaid, " Won't you sit down '!" Humphrey laid his hat and cane on the table, and sat down. He was thoughful and evidently a little puzzled, as to his next stop. He asked another question. " Probably you know my namo 7 It is Sandys." Jerry shook his head, and Humphrey asked perplexedly, "'Bui surely you have a daughter called Jessie 7" | Jerry's lips tightened into an expression of obstinacy. He shook his head. Is she not living, then ?" said Humphrey gently. " No. Hoo's dead and gone." " Has she left aay children 7" Jerry's face became more obstinate than before " Theer's no call to talk about Jessie now," he said with a curious touch of dignity. Humphrey was conscious of a feeling of

impei liriencn: ne congbfrl a.iittJe, ond went on blowly,' weighing Mb wordu. " I'm obliged to ask about her, and I will tell you why. TMy name ia Sandyß, and my cousin, Sir Francis Sandys, who is dead, has left a statement which may, be to— to your advantage. He sayn ho was married, in his earlier youth, to ~a~ girl 'called Jessie 3 upp. From enquiries which I made, I Relieved her to be your daughters Bu.t-1 may be mistaken. I want to find out." He broke off rather abruptly, and for few moments there was silence. Tim's breath came quickly, bu,t that was all. Outside, in the gathering mi«£,tbe sea-gulls went on crying to each other. It was Humphrey who broke the pause again.' " You can help me to find this out if you' will," he said. " Sir Francis was married— married to Jessie Jupp. "Was she your daughter?" ; - , Jerry was looking at lvm J closely, and emotion was stirring in his. face, under lte veil of old age. " They war joined T wedlock? ho auked, " joined i' wedlock?''. V ! . "Yeß, they were.", ....... ■ ■ ■ The old man put up his hand. One slow tear gathered in the corner of bin eye, and loitered down his puckered.cheek. " Th* ow.d missus allays said it war so, he murmured dreamily. (To be Continued.) '