OCR Text |
Show ' 'THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON CopyrigLt by Tbe BobW-Merrill Company months, from th boar t watched you paddl off into the tunset in your canoe, th thought of you made the day? brighter, steadied and cheered me, and wakened ambition? that I had forgotten abandoned long ago. And thi bid-eou? bid-eou? struggle here it seem? so idle, so worse than useless now But I'm glad I followed you I'm glad that neither fortune sor duty kept me tack. And now I want you to know that Arthur Pickering shall sot suffer for anything that has nappened. -1 shall make no effort ef-fort to punish him; for vour sake he shall go free." A sigh so deep that it was like a sob broke from ber. She thrust forth her band entreatingly. . "Why don't you go to him with your generosity! You are so ready to be-ueve be-ueve ill of met And I shall not defend myselft but I will say these things to you, Mr. Glenarm: I nad no idea, no thought of seeing bim at the Arm strongs' that night. It was a surprise to me, and to them, when be tele graphed be was coming. And when I went into the tunnel there under -the wall that night, I had a purpose a pur pose" ' ' 'YesT" she paused and bent forward, for-ward, earnestly waiting for ber words, knowing that here lay ber great offending. offend-ing. ' "I was afraid I was afraid that Mr. Glenarm might not come in time; that you might be dispossessed lose the fight, and I. came back with Mr. Pickering Pick-ering because I thought some dreadful thing might happen here to you " She turned and ran from me with the1 speed of the wind, the cloak fluttering out darkly about her. At the door, under un-der the light of -the lamp, I was close upon her. Her hand was on the vestibule vesti-bule latch. But how should I have known!" I cried. "And you had taunted me with my imprisonment at Glenarm; you had dared me to follow you, when you knew that my grandfather was living and watching to see whether I kertt faith with bim. If you can tell me if there is an answer to that " "I shall never tell yon anything more! You were so eager to think ul of ma to accuse me!" "It was because I love you: it was my jealousy of that man, my boyhood enemy, that made me catch at any doubt. You are so beautiful you are so much a part of the peace, the charm of all this! I had hoped for spring for you and the spring together!" "Oh, please!' . Her flight had shaken the toque to an unwonted angle; her breath came quick and hard as she tugged at the latch eagerly. The light from overhead was full upon us, but I could not go with hope and belief struggling unsatisfied in my heart. I seized her bands and sought to look into her eyes. "But you challenged me to follow vou! I want to know why you did 'that!'? . " She drew away, struggling, to free herself. . "Why was it, Mariant": "Because I wanted " "Yes." - "I wanted you to come, Squire Glenarm!" Glen-arm!" , (To Be Continued.) CHAPTER XXVIIL (Continued.) "I'm certainly glad I'm not dead." declared de-clared my grandfather, staring at Bates. "Life Is more fun than I ever thought possible. Bless my soul!" he said. "If It Isn't a shame that Bates can never cook another omelette lor me!" We sent Bates back with my grand- j father from the boatbouse. and Stoddard, Larry and' I started across the Ice; the light coating of snow made walking comparatively com-paratively easy. We strode on silently. Stoddard leading. Their plan was to take . an accommodation train at the first sta-' sta-' - don beyond Annandale, leave it at a town forty miles, a way, and then hurry east to n obscure place In the mountains of Virginia, Vir-ginia, where religious order maintained a house. There Stoddard promised Larry asylum and no questions asked. Wa left the lake, and struck inland , ever a rough country road to the station, sbere. Stoddard purchased tickets only ' a few minutes before the train whistled. We stood on the lonely platform, hands joined to band, and I know not what . thoughts in our minds and hearts. "We've met and we've said good-bye In many odd corners of this strange old : world," said Larry, "and God knows when . we -shall meet. again." "But . you must -stay in America there must, be no sea between us!" I declared, v "Donovan's sins don't seem heinous to 'me! It's simply that they've got to find - a scapegoat" and Stoddard's voice was all sympathy and kindness. "It will blow over in time, and Donovan will become an enlightened and peaceable American ..Mtlien." - 1 There was a constraint upon us all at " this moment of parting so many things bad happened that day and when men fhave shared danger together they are F bound by ties that death only can break. I Larry's effort at cheer struck a little vy hollowly upon us. I . "Beware, lad, of women!" he impor-1 impor-1 tuned me. V . "Humph! You still despise the sex on ? account of that affair with the colleen of ithe short upper lip." "Verily. And the eyes of that little lady, who- guided your grandfather back from the other world, reminded me strongly of her: Bah, these women!" "Precious little you know about them!" I retorted. "Tho devil I don't!" , "No," said Stoddard, "invoke the angels, an-gels, not the devil i" - "Henf-hlm! Hear him! A priest with co knowledge of the world." 'Alas,- my cloth! And you fling it at me after I have gone through battle, murder mur-der and sudden death with you gentlemen!" gentle-men!" "We thank you. sir. for that last word," said Larry mockingly. "I am reminded .nf the lata Lord Alfred: I waited for the train at Coventry; I bung with grooms and porters on the bridge. To watt tho three tall aplrea he quoted, looking off through the twilight twi-light toward St. Agatha's. "I can't see a blooming spire!" ? Tho train was now roaring down uptm is and wc clung to this light mood for our last words. Between men. gratitude is a thing best understood in silence; and these good friends, 1 knew, felt what I could not say. "Before the "year is out we 6hall all eject agtin," cried Stodtfard hopefully. the darkness was unbroken. There was silence for a moment. In which I drew quite near to them. Then my grandfather's vole? broke out cheerily. "Now I must go back with you! A fine person you are to guide an old man! A foolish virgin. Indeed, with no oil in ber lamp!" . "Please do not! Of course I'm going to see you quite to your own door! I don't intend to put my hand to the lantern lan-tern and then turn backV "This walk Isn't what It should be," said my grandfather, "we'll have to provide pro-vide something better in the spring." They were still silent and I heard him futilely striking a match. Then the lantern lan-tern fell. Us wires rattling as It struck the ground, and the two exclaimed with renewed merriment upon their misfortune. misfor-tune. ( "ir you will allow me!" I called oot. my hand fumbling in my pocket for my own match-box.- I have sometimes thought that there Is Ireally some sort of decent courtesy in me. An old man caught In a rough path that was none too good at best! And a girl, even though my enemy! These were, I fancy, th thoughts that crossed my mind. "Ah. it's Jack!" exclaimed my grand-, father. "Marian was showing me th way to the gate and our light went out." "Miss Devereux," I murmured. I have, I hope, an Icy tone for persons who have Incurred my displeasure, and I employed It then and there, with, no doubt Its fullest full-est value. ' I She and my grandfather were groping In the dark for the lost lantern, and I. putting put-ting out my hand, touched ber lingers. "I beg your pardon," she murmured frostily. Then I found and grasped the lantern. "One moment," I said, "and I'll see what's the, trouble." I thought my grandfather took It, but the flame of my wax match showed her fingers, clasping the wires of the lantern. The cloak slipped away, showing ber arm's soft curve, the blue and white of her bodice, the purple blur of violets: and for a second I saw her face, with a smile quivering about her lips. My grandfather grand-father was beating Impatiently with his stick, urging us to leave the lantern and go on. "Let it alone," he seid. "I'll go down through the chapel; there's a lantern In there somewhere." "I'm awfully sorry," she remarked; "but I recently lost my best lantern'." To be sure she had! I was angry that she should so brazenly recall the night I found her looking for Pickering's notes In the passage at the Door of Bewilderment! Bewilder-ment! She bad lifted the lantern now, and I was striving to touch the wax taper to the wick, with Imminent danger to my bare fingers. "They don't really light well when the oil's out," she observed, with an exasperating exas-perating air of wisdom. I took It from her band and shook It close to my ear. - "Yes; of course, It' empty," I muttered mut-tered disdainfully. "Oh, Mr. Glenarm!" she cried, turning away toward my grandfather. I heard his stick beating the rough path several yards away. He was hastening has-tening toward Glenarm House. "I think Mr. Glenarm has gone home." "Oh, that is too bad!" she exclaimed. "Thank you! He's probably at the chapel by this time. If you will) permit me" "Not at all!" A man well advanced In the sixties should not tax his arteries too severely. I was quite sure that my grandfather ran up the chapel steps; I conld hear his stick beating hurriedly on the stone. "If you wish to go farther" I began. I was Indignant at my grandfather's conduct; he had deliberately run off, leaving me alono xvith a young woman whom I particularly wished to avoid. "Thank you; I shall go back now. I was merely walking to the gate with Mr. Glenarm. , It is so fine to have him back again, so unbelievable!" It was Just such a polite murmur as one might employ in speaking to an old foe at a friend's table. She listened a moment for bis step; then, apparently satisfied, turned baek toward St. Agatha'. I followed, uncertain, uncer-tain, hesitating, marking her definite an-ward an-ward flight. From the folds of the cloak stole that faint perfume of violets. Tho sight of her. the sound of her voice, combined com-bined to create and to destroy! a mood with every step. I was seeking some colorless thing to 6ay when she spoke over her shoulder: 'You are very kind, but I am not in the lfast afraid, Mr. Glenarm." "But there is something I wish to seizing the bags. "Ah. If we could only be sure of that!" 'I replied. And In a moment they were both waving their hands to me from the rear platform, and I strode back home-jrard home-jrard over the lake. A mood of depression was upon me; I had lost much that day, and I had -' gained my restoration to the regard of the kindly old man of my own blood, who had appealed for my companionship In terms hard to deny seemed trifling as I tramped over the Ice. Perhaps Pickering, j after all, was the real gainer by the Jay's' event. Sly grandfather had said nothing to allay my doubts as to Marian Oevereux's strange conduct, and yet his confidence In ber wa apparently unshaken. unsha-ken. I tramped on, and leaving the lake, salf-unconsclously struck Into the wood beyond the dividing wall, where snow-. snow-. covered leaves and twigs rattled and J broke under my tread. I came out Into an open space beyond St. Agatha's, found L 4 the walk and turned toward home. ' As I neared the mala entrance to the school the door opened and a woman rame out under the overhanging lamp, she carried a lantern, and turned with a sand outstretched to some one who followed fol-lowed her with careful ateps. "Ah. Marian," cried my grandfather, "it's ever tbe task of youth to light the - t ay of age." eav to vou. 1 suouia u.e She slackened her step. "Yes." "I am going away. Yes, of course; you arc going away." Her tone implied that this was something some-thing that had been ordained from the beginning of time, and did not matter. ' ' And I wish to say a word about Mr. Pickering." She paused and faced me abruptly. We were at the edge of the wood, and the school lay quite near. She caught the cloak closer about her and gave her head a little toss I remembered well, as a trick compelled by the agaries of woman 's head-dress. "I can't talk to you here, Mr. Glenarm; Glen-arm; I had no intention of ever seeing yon at;ain; but I must say this " "Those notes of Pickering's I shall ask Mr. Glenarm to give them to you as a mark of esteem from me." 8he stepped back as though I had struck her. "You risked much for them for bim " I went on. "Mr. Glenarm, I have no intention of discussing that, or auy other matter with vou " "Jt is better so " "But your accusations, the things you imply, are unjust, infamous!" The quaver in her voice shook my resolution res-olution to deal harshly with her. "If I had not myself been a witness wit-ness " I began. 44 Yes; you have the conceit of 3'our own wisdom, I dare sav." "But that challenge to follow you, to break my pledge: my running away, only to find, that Pickering was close at my heels; your visit to the tunnel in search of those notes don't you know that those things were a blow that hurtt You had been the spirit of this woodland to me. Through all these - CHAPTER XXIX. . . And So the Light Led Me. He had been to sea Sister Theresa, and Marian was walking with bim to the gate. I saw ber quite plainly in the light that tell from the lamp overhead. A long cloak covered her, and a fur toque capped her graceful head. My grandfather grand-father and bis guide were apparently In bigh spirits. Their laughter smote harshly harsh-ly upon me. Tbe world lay there within the radius of that waylng light, and I bung aloof, hearing her voice and jealous " jf the very companionship and sympathy between them. But the light led me. I remembered with bltterneas that I had always fol-jowed fol-jowed her whether as Olivia, trailing In ber girlish race across the enow, or as tho girl in gray, whom I had followed, wondering, on that night Journey at Christmas eve; and I followed now. The distrust, my shattered faith, my utter loneliness, could not weigh against the oy of hearing that laugh of hers breaking break-ing mellowly on the night. V I paused to allow the two figures to ' widen the distance between ua asthey ' traversed the path that curved awaY to-f to-f ward 1 the chapel. I could still bear their ' voices and see the lantern flash and dis- j " 'anpear. -I felt an Impulse tq turn back, , or Plunge into the woodland; but I was rrled on uncontrollably. The light gUmmered. and her voice still floated back to me. It stole through the keen aimer dark like a memory of JPs: and so her voice and the light led on. Then I heard an exclamatlou of dismay followed by laughter In which my grandfather grand-father Joined merrily. . ..... "Oh, never mind; were not afraid, she exclaimed. I had rounded the curve la the path where I should have seen tbe light; ut s ." - -.' |