Hurston Hall [pp. 449-456]

452 H~trs1on flail.
he could see the large tears brimming Christmas snow lay white and pure
Aunt Caddy's still beautiful eyes; on the fields and groves of Hurston,
could hear the tremor in her play- and Chnstmas moonlight fell like a
ful tone; could feel, boy as he was, benediction on the spotless earth.
that some chord had been touched The old hall stood boldly out with
ti~at thrilled with saddening memo- every rugged outline clearly defined
ries. against the frosty winter sky. A
The boy baron almost idolized the strange, irregular old pile, with little
fair, gentle aunt who had replaced to architectural symrnetry; for it had
him the moil~er he had never known, grown with the fortunes of the race
and it was with a remorseful sym- that had ruled there for generations,
pathy that he flung his an~s around dating its foundation far back in the
her neck, kissed her flushed cheek, mist of centuries before England bent
and whispered fondly, "Your tire- to Norman ~~illiam's sceptre. Trasome little. troubadour knows but dition pointed to the grove where
one, and that is for you alone, dear the misdetoe was culled with many
auntie-Xe t'a~~ie, je t'~ii?flC yes, a sacred rite; to the tower where
more than any one in the world, dear the fair bride waited and watched in
Aunt Caddy." vain for her lord, who lay cold and
He was not prepared for the long, stiff on the lost battle plain of Haslow sob that shook her slight frame tings; to the gate whence issued the
as she replied, in trembling accents, stout Baron of Hurston, stern in his
"I believe you, my darling, my demand for right, to the rendezvous
own Arthur; the one sunbeam of a at Runnymede. The long, low buildcheerless-but never let us talk again ing stretching into the shadows of
as we have done to-night." the grove was said to have been
So Arthur was silent; b\it with a built by Ethwold the Saxon, when,
strange, precocious wisdom he "pon- weary of the toils of war, he retired into
dered these things in his heart." il~e quiet "Hurst," beneath whose
And the result was that a letter, leafy shelter his race grew and flouindited in a clear, boyish hand, sped rished for generations.
like a white-winged messenger of Remnants of fearftil tales still were
peace across the broad Atlantic, bear- heard around the cottage fires-tales
ing the address of Colonel Charles of awful orgies held by the fierce
Thornbury, -th Dragoons. Saxon, and of invocations of Woden
And months after that twilight talk, and Thor, and rude banquets when
when the leaves of Hurston Park fell the wild chant of the bard and the
in showers of cnmson and gold on pledge of Waeshael echoed through
the broad avenue, when the last roses the ancient Hurst. It was even
breathed their sweet farewells around whispered that these fierce, unbaptizArthur's latticed window, and the au- ed spirits still lingered around their
tumn winds began to sigh through earthly haunts, watching the fortunes
the leafless vines, far away beneath of their race and guarding it from
the clear blue sky of another hemi- extinction.
sphere a brotized, bearded man read But the young Baron of Hurston
those frank, boyish words of welcome resting in his dainty sick-chamber,
that bore the proud seal of his an- surrounded by all that wealth and afcient race, and, with a tear and a fection could bestow, yet feeling with
smile, whispered a blessing on "Ar- a strange, peaceful resignation that
t~r,s boy." his young life was fast ebbing away,