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T T*?F FLOWERS CG!±£CT!0;>: SUMMER ( LOi nS. BTCUBA H. TARDY. Drifting, drifting on an azure sea, Cloud)* of golden and pink nd gray— Fairer than earthly pictures can be. Clouds of the Summer are ye to-day ! Floating on toward t'.ie sinking sun, T'nged are you with purple now. Parting asunder now, one by one, Kesting on yonder mountain's brow. Fading away in the twilight dim, Clouils of golden and pink and gray,— Birds are now sit ging your evening ymn ; Clouds, ye have faded and vanished away! A WALTER ELLINGTON, Anil Nellie Cranston. The Mysterious Murder. An Exfitiuer Story- CHAPTER XVI. Walter Ellington had just reached Tv human; Villa, and was standing near tlie drawing-room window, when bis attention was attracted by a girl who had passed the house two or three times. ‘How much that girl's I ke Nelly,’ he observed. •It must he Nelly ! .See, sir,’ said he to Mr. .Sea- grave, “she is looking up at us as if she had some th ng to say.’ ‘Go dow n and speak to her. She may have some- | thing of importance to cemmumi't a' said he. i. he: ■. I.,.-u the t -i■- Jf‘~^ rr-ts. Jt ji t'S; ';; - n\ein ! e 1 11 riid attiic*'.--ui.td of OiS voice tfTe ; girl turned r *uud quickly. ‘Master Ellington,’said she, timidly placing her hand in his. ‘I have something very important to | sav to you and your friends, if you will let me come j in and speak to you.’ ‘Come in, Nelly,’ said Walter. ‘Have you run away from Ralph Cranston, and come to London bv vourself *’ ‘‘No. he came with me,’ she replied. But i would leave him if I had any other place to go to, for he is a bad man and he is not my father.’ Mr. Seagrave called to Walter to bring her up, and in a few minutes they were in the drawing room. . , ,, ,, “Ralph Cranston is m town, sir, and Nelly wisu- es to speak with us,’ said our hero. ‘Sit down. Nelly, said Mr. Seagrave. The rich color went and came quickly on the girl s dark cheek as she sat down, and for a moment she seemed unable to speak. ‘Do not think badly of me if 1 speak of myself as well as of Master Ellington, 1 she at length said. ‘I do not know how else I can say it. I ought to speak but I do not know what will become of me if I do, because he will be sure to know' that it was me who told yon.’ . •You wished to speak of Ralph CranstoD r observ ed Mr. Seagrave. ‘Yes, sir,’ rejoined Nelly. ‘You see, sir, he has brought me up, and so far as I know I have not a relation, nor any other friend in the world. He is a terrible man. and he will be very hard upon me if he comes to know that I have been speaking to those whom he set me to watch.’ •I understand Nellv, sir,’ observed our hero. She told me as we came in. that she would leave Cran ston if she had any v here to go to. Can nothing be done for held’ ‘I am glad to hear you make the suggestion, re turned his friend. ‘Would you like to go to school, Nelly? ‘Oh, yes, sir!’ replied the girl. ‘I have been to the church school at Nettlethorpe; but the girls there would not associate with me because of Ralph Cranston’s bad character. I <’o not wish ro be un grateful to him, for he is not always unkind, though he is rough; but he is getting worse year by year, and sometimes when he has been drinking, ho says things that frighten me.’ ‘You shall not go back to him, Nelly,’ said Mr. Seagrave. ‘I will speak to Mrs. Seagrave, and we will consider what is best to be done for you. Now tell us what you have to say that concerns Mr. El lington.’ ... ‘I hope, sir, that you will not think that I came here to betray Ralph Cranston in order to serve myself,’ said Nelly,’ earnestly. ‘No, my good girl,’ rejoined Mr. Seagrave. ‘Do not distress yourself with that idea, hut tell us what brought you here.’ ‘Well, sir, Mr. Somerford came over to our house the day before yesterday, anil said that his house had been entered in the night, and papers of great importance taken away, and that he believed that Master Ellington had taken them. •But what made him go to Cranston about it V inquired Mr. Seagrave. ‘I do not know sir,’ replied Nelly. ‘He had nev- •r been there before, but he seemed to know Cran ston, and they went out upon the hf-atfc to talk the matter over. Cranston came back aloi e, and told me that we were coming to London next dav, to find out Master Ellington, and, if he had the papers to get them from him. I made him promise that no harm should be done to the young gentleman; but he said he must get the papers, and he will try and break into the house for that purpose.’ ‘This is very important,’ said Mr. Seagrave. ‘It shows that some papers of importance to you have been in Somerford’s possession. But who can have taken Them*'' ‘It Ls very strange, and baffles conjecture,’ return ed Walter. ‘Ralph says he does not believe you have got them,’ observed Nelly turning to our hero. ‘Then it i; clear that he Ls acting in the matter as the tool of Somerford;’ said Mr. Seagrave. He then rang the bell, and on the uppearance of a servant consigned Nelly to her care. ‘We must now prepare for Ralph Cranston’s visit,’ said he, and he went to the nearest police station and there gave information of the expected attempt at burglary. On bis return he provided loaded pistols for him self and Walter, and for the footman and gardener; and then he assigned to them the positions which they were to take up at midnight. *,|J. ‘You are right.’observed tee stranger. ‘It may not be easy to penetrate the mystery which sur rounds Ralph Cranston’s disappearance, but you may depend upon it that he is not dead.’ Somerford turned away with an expression of annoyance upon his features which he could not conceal, and the stranger proceeded towards the railway station. Somerford had good cause for the trouble that weighed upon his mind. At night he left home and directed his steps towards the blackened re mains of the hovel on the heath. The ashes and rubbish were now cold, and he had no dtliculty in making his way amongst the charred timbers. The poacher’s bedstead was only partially con sumed, and the remains of the bedding, which Somerford found, satisfied him that Ralph must have escaped. He was about to abandon the search in despair, when a low, chuckling laugh, close at hand, start led him, and. raising his head quickly, he beheld Black Ralph himself, standing in the darkness like a ghost hovering about the blackened ruins. Springing backward quickly, the ha filed incen diary draw a small revolver from his pocket, and levelling it at Ralph’s head, pulled the trigger. There was a snap, but no report, and the next moment the poacher's cudgel whistled round his head as it clove the air, and the pistol was whirled out of Somerford’s hand. With a cry of rage he threw himself upon the poacher, and made a desperate effort to throw him to the ground; but, though he was a man of consid erable strength, the more practised muscle of Black Ralph prevailed, and after a short struggle, he was h nieil backward, reeled a pace or two, and fell heavily ut on the heath. ‘So you would mui iler me, Mr. Somerford, would you !' aid Black Ralph. "I did not know you.' said Somerford, as he rose from tee ground. -Why do you come prowling round ir, the dark V ‘\V; at are you spying about the ruins of the old hovel for returned Ralph C*-;uistnn. ‘Tell me that, Mr. Somerford. • You did not find what you wore looking for, though.’ ‘Do not be a fool, Ralph,’ said Somerford in alow voice. ‘Wliat would yon gain by making a noise ? j \ cut would be killing the goose that laid the golden At that ib.ne L , kitchen. _ It continued for several minutes, and then came a sound as of a door opening. Walter and his friend rose and stood behind the door, with their pistols firmly clutched in then right hands. Footsteps that were almost inaudible came upon the stairs, and then ttie gleam of a light shone through the key hole, and warned them that the critical moment had arrived. They beard a hand upon the door, and a tab, dark figure strode in, carrying a dark lantern m the left hand, and a stout cudgel in the other. ‘Hold !' cried Walter and Mr. Seagrave, simulta neously, grasping the intruder s arm with dietr right. , Black Ralph—for he was the intruder— muttered a fierce imprecation, and, shaking off our hero and his friend, endeavored to retreat; but at that mo ment the door was opened and the footman and gardener entered, each grasping a pistoL ‘Surrender!’exclaimed Mr. Seagrave; your life is in our power.’ ‘I am caught in a trap “ growled Ralph, dropping his cudgel. ‘That little devil has betrayed me, and drawn me into a snare.’ •It depends upon yourself whether we let you go or hand you over to the police,’ said Mr. Seagr ve, lowering his pistol. ‘Answer truthfully the ques tions 1 shall put to you. You have come here at the instigation of Mr. Somerford, to possess your self of certain papers?’ . ‘Yes, replied Ralph, setting down li s lantern, and leaning against the wall. . ‘ What papers did you hope to find ? inquired his questioner. ‘Mr. Ellington’s will,’ was the reply. ‘There was a will then?" exclaimed \V alter, glanc ing at Mr. Seagrave. ‘Did Mr. Somerford tell you how, or xroni whence the papers were abstracted ?’ inquired his friend. ‘liecame to my cottage,' replied Ralph, and told me that bis house had been entered in the night and the desk containing them had been forced open with a screw-driver taken from a table in the kitch en.’ . why did he apply to you?’ inquired Mr. Seagrave, regarding him fixedly,. , He thought I might know something about the matter,’replied Ralph. ‘He had heard that that young gentleman had been in my company at the railway station on i he morning lie left Nettlethorpe. and that he had spoken to the girl after the inquiry at King’s Lias.’ I have no more questions to ask, and you may now go,’ said Mr. Seagravfe. ‘Let him out by the front door, Thomas, and then we will see w hat damage has been done below.’ . Ralph picked up his cudgel, and consigned the lantern to his pocket. He quietly followed the foot man to the front door, and took his departure. 'wso**- lbe nnftue cffEr-Tted upon Vtie table ten - j| his purse. ‘There, I have fulfills compact. "Now, tell me where Walter is living? Black Ralph gathered up the gold and consigned it to his leather bag; then he replied. ‘I shall tell you no more. Something may be made of that lad, who,, I can make no more out of you. , , ‘I believe you have got the papers and are keep ing them to'make your market of them with young Ellington,’ exclaimed Somerford. Black Ralph started to his feet again and glared fiercely upon his visitor. ‘Say that again,’ said he, in a voice hoarse with rage, ‘and I will Itirl you out upon the heath !’ •You need not Must r so.’ returned Somerford, his face becoming pale. Is it not enough to infu riate a saint to be balked in this manner ?’ ‘Well, 1 have done my best for you, and I will do no more,’ returned Ralph, sitting down again. ‘This is my last word upon it, and you may as well take it easy as not.’ •One word more,’ said Somesford, rising. Are the papers in young Ellington's possession ?’ ‘I do not know,’ replied Ralph. ‘I do not be lieve they are, and 1 told you so before I went up to London.’ Somerford sto d a moment, and then opened the door and passed out. : mm, ' * Fvfen J ne r., Yfild syuiewn^. tap. SimieWUu. eiL.et. might fan the 11ame, and hufp.e’l into the back room, where Ralph was sleeping, and applied fi e to the coverings that hung over the side of the b -d. He rushed out, leaving the door open, and sped swiftly across the heath. He ran a mile before he turned his head to ob serve the success of his crime. Then the hovel was wrapped in red flames, widen constructed as it was of old shins’ timbers and pitched boards, threatened it with speedy destruc tion. He had not heard a cry from the burning hovel during his flight, and could not now hear a sound of any kind. CHAPTER XVIII. Half the population of Nettlethorpe was, on the following day, assembled on the heath around the blackened ruins of Ralph Cranston’s hovel, gazing at the charred rafters and half-burned timbers, and discussing the probable cause of the catastro phe. The destruction could scarcely have been more complete. A constable was on the spot, and a couple of la borers wi re turning over the smoking rubbish. ‘Have they found the body ?’ inquired Somer- the lookers-on. lied the constable. 'Neither the t jjj,- - N '<? of Hn se ,'i lilen eggs nvirf find their herein'in !he liirre at liT^ui,.’ ’O’,' '“•* ‘Or on the beach, eh, my clever friend !’ exclaim ed Ralph. 'No, no, you cannot catch a weasel asleep. In your parlor, and iu the daylight, Mr. Somerford, you shall hand me over fifty pounds !’ • Fi ft v pounds !’ exclaimed Somerford. ‘It isn’t much, but it wi 1 do for the present,’ ob served Ralph. ‘When I want morel can write for Why it is it.’ ‘It is the ‘Not much !’ repeated Somerford. 1 more than I have got in the house.’ •Then you must raise it,’ said Ralph, price of your life.’ With these words he s’rode away from the spot, and Somerford turned in the opposite direction. mu else con'd have taken them ?’ He seemed lost in thought for several minutes, and muttered to himself: •I do not like this strange and urexplained ac quaintance of the lad with Cranston anil the g-rl. Can this vagabond be aiding Waiter? Pshaw! that is an absurd idea. W alter must have taken the papers, and, if lie has them still, I shall somi be made aware of the fact by a letter from his la-a y m*. If not, I shall then know what to do. Patience, then, patience for *■ few days longer.’ Three days elapsed without anything occurring to throw light upon the mystery surrounding t he iaimeil Somerford in atone of surprise. 'Ah, true, he had a girl—not his own daughter, I believe ?’ •So I have heard,’ said the constable. ‘No rela tion, I am told. Her father was an old pal of his, and was transported; then Ralph Cranston brought her up.’ •Was this Ralph Cranston’s cottage ?’ inquired a voice at his elbow, and, looking round, the consta ble beh 1 Id a square-built, middle-aged man, whose black hair was beginning to be grizzled, and whose naturally d ,rk complexion seemed to have been bronzed by exposure to the air in a sultry climate. The stranger’s countenance had once been hand- ui C1 )> uni „ some, but time and trouble had left th- ir impres left home in the evening and proceeded over the sion upon his features. iru uumc f, . .. He wore a pilot coat, and a red flannel shirt was visible beneath the velveteen vest, upon which he wore a heavy gold watch chain. To his question the constable at length replied: ‘It was. He lived here for several years; but it was burned down last night, and it is not known bridge, in the direction" of a sea port a few miles eastward. . , , Shortly after midnight, however, he might have been see n crossing the heath, enveloped in a dark cloak, and wearing his hat draw n so much over his brows as to shade the upper part of his face, hile the upturned collar of his cloak as effectually as yet whether he was burned in it or not.’ liL ‘There can be no doubt about it, I think,’ ob- CHAPTF.R XVII. On the evening of the day after Black Ralph sun- successful venture at Labumam V ilia, an envelope addressed in pencil to Mr. Somerford, was delivered at Fern Lodge by a sunhrowned and freckled lad, who had received it at the railway station from a tall, dark man in a velveteen jacket. It contained only the following words: ‘Just arrived from London. Going home direct^ lv Shall be glad to see you. Ralph Cranston. ‘He could not say much less,’ muttered bomer- ford ‘I wonder whether he has got the papers? Unable to bear the suspense and anxiety he put on his hat, and walked down thel&ne and across tbe heath to Ralph’s hovel. , , . . ‘Well,’ said he, as he entered Cranston s domicile, ‘have you got the papers ?’ ,, , . ‘No Mr. Somerford, 1 have not,’ replied Ralph. ‘Sorry I have failed for both our sakes; but that won’t mend it. I have not got them.’ ‘How did you bungle so as to fail ? said Somer- f °d <1 'did not bungle at all,’ returned Ralph. ‘My girl betrayed me, and I was caught in a trap, ana onlv got let out by telling the truth.’ . ‘The truth !’ exclaimed Somerford furiously. ‘You told them that I sent you on the business? Were you fool enough?’ , ‘Hark you, Mr. Somerford,’returned Ralph; hard words won’t break bones, they sav, but my crab- stick will; and there are not two men 1 would tone that from w ithout trying its toughness. If 1 was rascal enough to try and do your dirty work for -J . , you. I was not fool enough to get seven years at I he female servants retired to bed at eleven and ^ d rison when i cou i d ge t off scot free by every light was extinguished shortly afterwards. 1 ’ concealed the lower part. As be drew near to Black Ralph’s hovel, he more than once looked around him, but no one was in sight, and no sound reached his ears. He paused before the black hovel, and noiselessly raised the latch; but the door did not move. It was strongly bolted on the inside. There were no shutters to the windows, but the sash of the larger one was secured, and that of the little room which had been Nolly's chamber was too small to admit him. Removing a diamond ring front one of his fin gers he scored round a pane of th# larger window with the gem, and then, after replacing the ring on his finger, tapped the lower part of the pane ;th his knuckles, covered with a silk the served Somerford. ‘If not burned in the hovel, whero is he ?’ The stranger turned an earnest look upon Somer ford, while he was speaking, and then looked from him to t he officer. ‘He might have many motives for not being here,’ said the constable. The stranger’s countenance, which had worn an expression of the most painful anxiety, brightened a little at these words. ‘Gan you tell me whether there was a girl resid ing with him, a dark haired girl of thirteen or four teen years of age ?’ he inquired. ‘There was,’ replied the constable. ‘Poor little Nelly !’ murmured the stranger, turning away with tears in his eyes. and gently unfastened the window. d into the room, and, tak- .harply w.___ _ . he glasedropped outward?'and was i eceived on The two men who had been engaged in turning handkerchief - and then he introduced his hand over the rubbish, at this moment approached the le ’ - - • - ! blue-coated constable. ‘There is nothing there,’ said one of them. ‘We have made a thorough search me and my mate, and we cannot find even so much as a button or a hobnail.’ The stranger heard this, and his conntenance brightened again. ‘Very well,’ said the constable. ‘You cannot do any more. ’ ‘But the man must hare been burned,’ observed Somerford. ‘ What interest had he in setting tire to a tumble-down hovel, and thus attracting atten tion to the fact that he had absconded ? And, if it was an accident, why should he run away ? And if he was not able to run away through being sur prised in his sleep by the suffocating smoke, how could he help being burned ?’ ‘You are getting at me like a lawyer now,’ re plied the constable. ‘What you sav is not easily answered. I must own; but, then, if he was burned, Noiselessly he droppei . . in*r a dark lantern from his pocket, slid back the shade, and threw the light around. The table-lirawer appeared to be the only place which would be likely to be used as a receptacle for papers, and that was locked. He quietly opened the door of the back room and looked in, holding the lantern so that its light should not fall upon the eyes of the sleeping m U1 He approached the bed and put his hand under the pillow, but could feel not hing Mere. He next examined the sleeper s clothes, and in a pocket of his velveteen jacket he found two or three keys upon a ring, faking these he returned to the sitting-room, and unlocked the table-drawer, but the papers were not there. Somerford’s countenance became clouded with dis ipiKiintment at this discovery; but he had re solved to destroy the will, if it was m the poacher’s possession, and at the same tune » remove Ralph from his path, and he flinched net from his pur pose. what has become of his buttons and hobnails. Jim Mott put it,—to say nothing of his body, which girl.’ could not have been so completely burned as not to i *j mns t see her, Ralph,’ returned his friend. ‘It is leave a bone to swear by V I something to find her, after so many years, alive CHARTER XIX. Somerford evinced, on the morning after his visit to tbe wreck of Black Ralph’s hovel, an unwonted interest in the garden upon which his deceased cousin had bestowed so much care und attention. At length be saw the poacher approaching, and as Ra'ph paused before the gate, he slipped into his hand a small parcel. Ralph turned down the lane leading to the heath, and opened the parcel. It contained notes and gold to the amount of fifty pounds. Having ascertained this, he consigned the parcel to his pocket, and walked on towards the heath. Ralph had been awakened suddenly on the night t lie fire by the noise made by Somerford in his hasty flight from the hovel, anil immediately per ceived that the room was filled with smoke. Springing from the bed, he hastily dressed him self, and rushed out of the place, for by that time the flames had spread to the furniture and window- saslies, and he knew that the old wooden hovel would burn like a bonfire. The second night afterwards found him in Ihe metropolis, where he obtained furnished lodgings in the locality in which he had before resided. ‘Good-morning,’ said the cobbler, who occupied the ground floor, and was the poacher’s landlord, as the new lodger passed the door on the following morning. The poacher returned tbe salutation, and was passing out, when the cobbler’s voice arrested his steps. ‘Did you say your name was Cranston V said he. Ralph replied in the affirmative. Here is an advertizemont that may interest you, perhaps.’ observed the cobbler, handing him a newspaper, ui which he read the followinn notifica tion - ‘If this should meet the eye of Ellen, the adopted daughter of Ralph Cranston, late of Netttlethorpe, in the County of Dorset., she will hear of something to her advantage by calling upon, or communicat ing with Mr. Ashbourne, York Road, Lambeth; and any person giving information of the present residence of the said El’en will be rewarded.’ ‘Thank you,’ said the poacher, as he returned the newspaper to his landlord, and the next moment he was in the street. _ , Black Ralph hent his steps towards the York Road and upon reaching it, was not long in discov ering the shop wherein Mr. Ashbourne dispensed tobacco, snuff, stationery and newspapers, to a long list of customers. The advertisement was not Mr. Ashbourne’s how ever, but had been inserted by a lodger, to whose apartments Ralph was directed. The heavy tap of the poacher’s knuckles upon the door was responded to by a square-built, middle- aged man, with a profusion of dark hair, beginning to be grizzled about his temples and eround his face, which appeared to have been bronzed by exposure to the air in a tropical climate. ‘Natty Bill /’ exclaimed Black Ralph, with a start of surprise, as the door was opened ‘What, Ralph ?’ responded the other, extending his hand, which the poacher shook heartily. ‘I had a terrible disappointment at Nettlethorpe ! The child, Ralph—my Nellie! You hove seen the ad vertisement, and have come to *ell me of her ?’ ‘Yes,’ responded the poacher, as he sat down, ‘I did my best by her, Bill, bur she had a notion of doing better by herself, it sepms. and she cut away from me, and has been taken in hand by an old gent down at Forest Hill. It is all square, old fel low, and I dare say it will be a good thing for the t t