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Evening Star, Issue 12395, 7 January 1905, Page 2

UNKNOWN

ix. mothers have nourished fine Iv^Wr''*"" their children from nof'allowing them to count > k* o ' 3 arouigenients, and so ' t * iat wi its "Wis teaching them—givmg them ";£ t in the gentler forms of Belf-,f-cf|§pfiu? 4o mVh so that their own lives wettt through some such experiH*ith aer,baby. She had not at all iwhit she was undertaking, and she was rather strong-minded than i:\ Virtherwiseia most respects, yet she clung £Vf/, abjectly to old Martha in her present JV .-strait, of her experience with, chil■>v" "drem. - "$. * Thna it came about that Thren remained L-; Gartfell very much longer than she had .v in the first place intended. Her father's '. farm was relet; but for tho present she continued to live in the house, and Martha r - I Wb constantly with her. Both were } wrapped up in the child; he was their prime .interest. His health never gave V -them any anxiety; not even tho most timid >j and foreDoding parent would have thought 1' ■; 'of him as a child not likely to live; every ,» t month saw him grow' and thrive apace. ;■'. £>o delightful was the process, so comforting the serene tenor of existence in the % rgreat farm-house kitchen, which had been > ; £oms ever since memory could cast back, that Thren was only roused to consider *>■ ,;what she should do next by finding her Stock of ready money began to run low. , She observed the utmost economy and v simplicity ins bar way of living; still, the time approached when the question, of ■where to settle for the best with her " charge must be faced. Threnodia, felt so lost in doubt and jnexperience when she considered this matter that she began to take quite a superstitious view of it, and wished that some mysterkras chance would decide it for her. She remembered that her father had at tunes used bis Bible to assist him' in 6uch states Of dubiety; and one Sunday evening, while sitting brooding by the clear firo, she opened the great leather-bound volume as he had been wont to do. She did so •with a faint flutter of the heart and a certain doubt as to whether she were good v enough to receive the guidance she , de--'sired; ■ . - Her eye fell on a narrative passage, and the words that struck her attention were: "I dwell among mine own people." Thren ,*'• mused. We easily cull food for fancy, and ' her mind was speedily filled with nebulous suggestions. Hero she could not stay; the new tenant must enter the house before winter, and she must place herself in a centre of some little life and activity before she could ply her' trade with any hope of providing successfully for two. "Butl will not go far," she said; "not out of my own home county. There must be many an opening. If I did but know what place woula be best for him as he \ grows npT She bent her brows and pondered. A .1 ' thought struck her, and, lighting a candle, she went into one of the unused chambers of the house,

It had been her sister's bedroom long ago. There was.her Mttie bed; there the casement from which she had escaped to join her lover. The moon shone in, causing the latticed panes to cast a sharp shadow on the floor. Thren felt a sort of thrill as if some shadowy presence might be near her. Recovering herself, she set he*, light down on a low stand and drew from a corner the little trunk containing her sister'B things, which she had carefully brought home with her. She turned its contents slowly over, with the old rising' feelings of shame, scorn, and passionate refor the dastardly desertion, icprn of the unknown traitor, resentment for all that had resulted from his base , action. She took ont the two little articles indicating that such a person had ever mixed with her sister's affairs—the handkerchief the slim black book in unknown. charac- , texs, Opening it and looking at its first pages, as she had more than once done before, she wondered that no name was to >^^&«od^it'.--v, Her.father had possessed jar three> <mcT'Volumes of rather the same appearance, but they were all inscribed witli the names of several owners, nob£to Bpeak of poetical efforts desiring anyone examining them not to steal them. j3hajfluttered the leaves impatiently, and us aha did so a bit of paper, such as might „ baye been placed in the book for a mark, propped on the floor. Thren hastily picked v)t up and unfolded it. It was part of an r sttvelope, and simply bore what looked >'Tike the fragment of a direction: Kingston-Royde, Yorks," . Threu's cheeks began to burn, and her - ( bands to grow cold. She shook the book and examined it thoroughly; there was, V V, however, nothing else to be found. This ,f f . was her sole clue, and it might be per- " fectly valueless; not that she believed it v would turn out to be of no worth. Intuitively she felt this to be one Qj Destiny's fatal momenta She had never heard of ,-", &ngston-Royde; still, it was within the Emits of her own county, and must be * r fairly easy to discover. "\ x j, made nasteto close the box, and rert turned to the firelit kitchen. Here she * hunted out from among her father's books S %? 18 a lar S e road map of the county. ' i After diligent search, for she was unaccusy tomed to .such investigations, she found toe desired spot. It was a real place! f b«? grew more eager./ Apparently it was ',., l but a village; still, the map was an old Igry"^ 1 1" eh angod. It was not £1"ohr! ai ! d not Tei 7 '« from York. She determined that she would E o , to Kmgston-Royde that very week, and si least see all that was there to be seen %k LiT? 8 v*" 7 t° leave her nursling in Marthas charge for a day or two; she was Mdy too glad, to absorb him. One fine frfternoon, therefore, found Thren standing jm the platform of a little railway station. Much, for the time, was as quiet as her i* r s le f amon ff the fcHs. She \i ™j™™ on the road to Kingston-Royde, V' which was about two miles away, with a Y famous sense of dramatic interest. K She observed the rolling rural scenery, ;, the undulating meadows, the bowery hawJhorn hedges, and great, spreading single j Li, - road ' with its gentle heights jnd hollows, gave many changes of view, '< l °^ 6te , lon & K'ngston-Royde opened £ out before her. The greater part of it, [, Vhich was obviously new, lay in the valley, 1 through which ran a little river. The encroaching town—it could hardly be called now—stretched away rather drearfly over the fields and into the hollows. There were mills' and large works, also many streets of cottage-houses. Thren did not care, much for this part, hut she walked on, for there was a con- ' .fflderable hill in front of her, and its as_/'cent was evidently the main street, the older part of the town lying higher up its slope. Here were quaint old shops in perfect keeping and repair; there, solid stone houses with bright flower gardens in front 1 of them. Standing a little back in fields, or directly bordering the roadside, were Suaint brown houses, whose mullioned winows shone in tho sun. Unexpected stilepaths, turning off from the roadside, showed t seductave glimpses of fields, hedgerows, and -■- Tats of coppice. An old parish church with „;« a low, square tower appeared on the left; ''> almost opposite to it was a large country * '■> » > *?°, y* eß6 a P riva *e road branched * 'off,from the highway, leading apparently - t> to house or manor farm, for ,r t lubstanbial gables and chimneys could '' be discerned among the trees The f J*Wle?;; f road t was ,a pretty" lane, % with! a?; low holly hedge on either side eL A *M grassy borders. Tt commanded a view m," ? f ™ e sW°fe valley, and Thren paused at gw «s entrance, to look about. "This place she said to herself. largest mill down there is quite new. W&> X,<raght>.t£ be 'able to get plenty of work, I don't-want to live down there either suit me better. I Bhould mffitfpk»"to apS^'ft.:few questions.'' scrupulousJly : clean, ■'■'■■■■■ ' ■'',

with a great range of stables and farm buildings to one side of it, and field land spreading all about. 1 " Just at the moment, a heavy waggon, which had been waiting in the space be« fore the door, rolled ponderously on 4 its way, accompanied by a driver, who ranooutl t looking much cheered ana inspirited, and calling out a hearty "good-day" to those he left behmd. Thren walked in, and found on one side of the entrance a great kitchen, with a -vast expanse of scoured And sanded floor, and rows of shining utensils on the walla, which reflected the glowing bank of fire piled in the grate. A stout, capable, dark woman eyed the visitor and came forward. "Can you let me have teat" asked Thren, with confidence; women like tks were not unfamiliar to her. " -Aye, to be sure' Come your way in," returned the hostess. She took toe guest into her parlor, which was crowded with solid furniture, but by no means bo cheerful as the kitchen. Here, in due time, she supplied her, not with a meagre loaf and teapot, but with rounds upon rounds of buttered toast, which she brought in hot and hot from the kitchen. To these she added new-laid eggs and a great dish of boiled ham; also a liberal supply of jam and currant' cake by way of variety. Not only so, but she pressed her visitor to partake, bidding her " make 'herself at home and make a good tea." Such treatment would surely have thawed a human iceberg; so when she had paid the modest shilling which her good hostess charged, and had parried her reproaches for "eating nothing." Thren found it easy to fad into a little gossip. " It wasn't often die had visitors," Mrs Bolton admitted. "It was mostlv the carriers and country folk that came about. Oh, ves, she knew Kingston-Roydo well, hud •lived there all her life. Her father kept the farm just beyond the Manor House, aid her husband's father had been landlord of this inn before him. Yes, to be sure she could take her in for the night." She conducted her guest upstairs, where she proudly showed her a large, clean bedroom, with a mighty four-poster in it, and eo many white covers in crochet work spread upon the different articles of furnitttre that the apartment sesmed to have been frosted all over. Thren decided to stay the night, and later on, as her hostess was evidently curious about her, she partlv explained her visit, speaking of her idea o! settling hi the place with the intention of quietly and gradually establishing herself as a good dressmaker. The landlady would not commit herself to any opinion on the spot, and customers coming to claim her attention, Thren by-and-bye sauntered out for an evening stroll. She naturally turned into the pleasant, grass-bordared, private lane before-men-tioned, and wandered slowly ,on, watching the crows that wheeled black against the glowing west, before settling for the night. A sudden turn of the path brought °her rather abruptly to a large iron gate which formed tho entrance to the grounds of a considerable building. The whole place had a somewhat desolate look—there was a slow drift of yellow leaves on tho lawn and a solemn sighinnr of the evening breeze amon" tho firs. The front was manifestlv all ehut up, yet though doors and windows were ••losed and dark, a thin, blue stream of smoke rose from one massive chimney-stack. The house was no lordly mansion, but one of those solid structures here and there to be seen in the North, which date from about the middle of the seventeenth century. It had several ivy-colored gables, great chimneys, wide, mullioned windows, '.hick walls, and somo kind of scutcheon over its quaint- doorway. Possibly it might not be a very comfortable modern home, but it was highly picturesque, and full of an air of rustic dignity. Anvone might live there, and one could suppose that anything might have happened there. Darkness was now stealing' over the land; the old house scented to frown more drearily on her moment bv moment; so Thren was glad to turn away. She went back to her inn, and retired early to bed. Next morning brought a return of practical activity. She rose betimes, and before breakfast she had thoroughly explored tho best parts of the village in every direction. She had examined" tho principal shops, and decided on their probable prosperity. She had even seen anempty house halfway down the clean, broad High street in which she thought she might like to live and work; she was only eager for more information. The landlandy, in a very friendly way, asked her guest to breakfust with her in tho clean and vacant kitchen. THrerr readily consented, and as she sat at the beautiful table she spoke of her previous evening's walk, and asked whether the large house down the road to the left was shut up. "You're thinking of the Manor," said Mrs Bolton. "Well, you may say it is an' it isn't. The family's mostly been away for a year past. The old gentleman died, and the place went to relations that nobody knew. Squire Rovdo we alwavs called him hereabouts. He was well thought of—a deal more tlian many fowk that's much richer, by all accounts. But the Roydes are an old famly; they're mixed in wi' the stufl of the place, as one may say. However," she proceeded, with a touch of disparagement, "this young nun, his nephew through tho mother's side, has changed his name sin' coming to the property. Ellis it was; it's EUis-Royde now." "Yes*" said Thren attentively, and with a tone of inquiring! interest. "Aye," assented the landlady in turn, pleased with her listener. "He's young and single, as I understand, and has his mother and sister to Eve with him. They're coming home in the spring, and I hear the sisters to be married soon. After that it'll be time for him to think of doing tho same, and thatll be something fresh for the grand folks all round, I expect." "Is the house a fine old place?" asked Thren, trying to speak unconcernedly. "Yes; you should see it, now you're here. You've nothing to do but go and say I sent you, for my sister, Mrs Haigh, is housekeeper, and has charge of everything." ° J " I should like to see it," soJC her truest musing. ' "Ay, surely! If you were thinking of fieUimg, as you say, you miglyt do worse. My sister has so much sewing to do, wi' putting the house to right for the homeoonrmg next spring, she doesn't knouwhere to turn. You'll need to somewhere, you know." ° "I shall be busy with my own work at first,' said Thren, rather coldly; "but thank you for telling me. I suppose I might walk over this morning." ' "There's naught to hinder that I know on, sa!d the landlady. "Just tell her L sent you—that's all." Mrs Bolton after this became discursive about her sister's position and prospects at the Manor House, and declared the impossibility of her continuing her valuable services to the new family, if there proved to be " too many missises." Thren listened rather mechanically, and as soon as she could well escape she set off on her tour of investigation. This morning she entered the wide iron gato through which she had peered last night. She traversed the mossy drive, I noticed the pleasant sweep of lawn, the flaming crimson of the foliage on the great bushes of guelder rose; the gleam of scarlet in the hollies; the yellow linden, strewing the turf with goid. Following the landlady's directions, she made her way to a side entrance, knocked —and waited. • i Some few minutes passed, during which i her thoughts were very busy. Alive to every suggestion, it had at once struck her when Mrs Bolton mentioned the name of the new owners of this property—Ellis— • that (j the initial would correspond to the "E" with which she was familiar, on the large handkerchief among her sister's things. There was just enough in all that she had heard to awaken her curiosity and suspicion. The new proprietor was young, unknown to the district, unmarried;. ho had undergone a change of name; anything was possible. She was conscious of an unusual interest in the place and its surroundings;, something fierce, jealous, intuitive; she hardly understood it herself. By-and-bye she was admitted and very

well received by the housekeeper, who proved to be a quieter, more polished edition of the hostess of the Eoyde Arms. Evidently she was very glad to see someS? e wft'L.whom sh -e could talk about tho Manor House. She rather wondered at Thren s keen, authoritative air of interest, and took her to be a person of more importance than she really was. Together they lnsnected the interior; the dark, square hall, ornamented with hunting trophies, the bioad low staircase with its carved balustrade, the square gallery above, with low doors, opening into many bedchambers.

-They looked into the long, unused drawing room, furnished with faded elegance, and fragrant with tho dned lose leaves and lavender spikes of past and gone summers. Then they entered a great dining room, where the vast oak sideboard, with nothing on it, tha yawning fireplace, and long, mirror-liko table looked dreary enough. " It's dree and quiet now, to be suro," remarked the housekeeper; "but I've.seen many a merry party here and many a gay dance, when all was cleared away for it."

" I suppose so," assented Thren. " and what are all these large portraits?" " They are family ones," answered her guide. "Yon, over the fire, is the late sqmro's mother. To the right is. his father, and that one on the left, with the two dogs, nearest the window, is himselt. The small one opposite belongs to old times; I understand he was a great lawyer. Then there's the old gentleman you saw in the hall; he wrote a big book;' that's thought something of—the picture I mean—l know naught about the book—a conimon-tory it was. That one above tho sideboard was burnt for his religion, as I've heard say. There are others up and down the house; for the Roydes have been a notable family i' these parts for many a generation." Thren looked eagerly at the different protraits. It seemed to her that there was a certain regnant type in them that came out in spite of much difference of appearance. Each had a square, capable head, a keen, intelligent glance, and a shrewd rather than arniiihle expression. The lady over the mantelpiece was different ; there was at once sorrow and benignity in her countenance. The eyes were large', gentle, and brooding in expression, vet the mouth smiled a hint of humor. Though this dame woro a prim, triple-frilled cap and a demure gown of russet silk, she must have loved laughter and all jovous things. No wonder a lonely man chose to have such a presence continually before him, as a silent encouragement and consolation. Her eager scrutiny and her questions rather pleased the housekeeper than otherwise, so that they parted on excellent terms. Thren did not wish this woman to suppose that she felt anything more than a general interest in the old place, so she asked no questions about the present owner and his probable coming to take possession next spring. But her mind was made up—here she would settle for the present. . She would take her own independent course, and wait the progress of - events. Certainlv she knew nothing, or next to nothing, "except that her sister's husband had at some time apparently had a connection with Royde. Still, she fancied that at any moment something might occur to lift the dark curtain of the past. The one thin" she could do wee to be ready on the spot. a (End of Part I.)