Tales of Trail and Town | Page 9

said angrily.
But she only tucked the little blond curl into her waist belt and shook
her head. He urged his horse forward, but she turned and fled, laughing
as he pursued her. Being the better rider she could easily evade him
whenever he got too near, and in this way they eventually reached the
town and their house long before their companions. But she was far
enough ahead of her brother to be able to dismount and hide her trophy
with childish glee before he arrived.
She was right in believing that her unfortunate cavalier would make no
revelation of her conduct, and his catastrophe passed as an accident.
But Peter could not disguise the fact that much of his unpopularity was
shared by his sister. The matrons of Atherly believed that she was
"fast," and remembered more distinctly than ever the evil habits of her

mother. That she would, in the due course of time, "take to drink," they
never doubted. Her dancing was considered outrageous in its unfettered
freedom, and her extraordinary powers of endurance were looked upon
as "masculine" by the weaker girls whose partners she took from them.
She reciprocally looked down upon them, and made no secret of her
contempt for their small refinements and fancies. She affected only the
society of men, and even treated them with a familiarity that was both
fearless and scornful. Peter saw that it was useless to face the
opposition; Miss Atherly did not seem to encourage the renewal of the
young lawyer's attentions, although it was evident that he was still
attracted by her, nor did she seem to invite advances from others. He
must go away--and he would have to take her with him. It seemed
ridiculous that a woman of thirty, of masculine character, should
require a chaperon in a brother of equal age; but Peter knew the
singular blending of childlike ignorance with this Amazonian quality.
He had made his arrangements for an absence from Atherly of three or
four years, and they departed together. The young fair-haired lawyer
came to the stage-coach office to see them off. Peter could detect no
sentiment in his sister's familiar farewell of her unfortunate suitor. At
New York, however, it was arranged that "Jinny" should stay with
some friends whom they had made en route, and that, if she wished, she
could come to Europe later, and join him in London.
Thus relieved of one, Peter Atherly of Atherly started on his cherished
quest of his other and more remote relations.

CHAPTER II
Peter Atherly had been four months in England, but knew little of the
country until one summer afternoon when his carriage rolled along the
well-ordered road between Nonningsby Station and Ashley Grange.
In that four months he had consulted authorities, examined records,
visited the Heralds' College, written letters, and made a few friends. A
rich American, tracing his genealogical tree, was not a new thing--even

in that day--in London; but there was something original and simple in
his methods, and so much that was grave, reserved, and un-American in
his personality, that it awakened interest. A recognition that he was a
foreigner, but a puzzled doubt, however, of his exact nationality, which
he found everywhere, at first pained him, but he became reconciled to it
at about the same time that his English acquaintances abandoned their
own reserve and caution before the greater reticence of this melancholy
American, and actually became the questioners! In this way his quest
became known only as a disclosure of his own courtesy, and offers of
assistance were pressed eagerly upon him. That was why Sir Edward
Atherly found himself gravely puzzled, as he sat with his family
solicitor one morning in the library of Ashley Grange.
"Humph!" said Sir Edward. "And you say he has absolutely no other
purpose in making these inquiries?"
"Positively none," returned the solicitor. "He is even willing to sign a
renunciation of any claim which might arise out of this information. It
is rather a singular case, but he seems to be a rich man and quite able to
indulge his harmless caprices."
"And you are quite sure he is Philip's son?"
"Quite, from the papers he brings me. Of course I informed him that
even if he should be able to establish a legal marriage he could expect
nothing as next of kin, as you had children of your own. He seemed to
know that already, and avowed that his only wish was to satisfy his
own mind."
"I suppose he wants to claim kinship and all that sort of thing for
society's sake?"
"I do not think so," said the solicitor dryly. "I suggested an interview
with you, but he seemed to think it quite unnecessary, if I could give
him the