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HomeMy WebLinkAboutHuron Record, 1881-04-22, Page 2THS ARUNDEL MOTTO, BY MARY CECIL, HAY, Author of "' Ord Mt ddleton's, it(onef ;" "'idle,! $ Perils; "The Slam's jegacd,•" ' Vidor and re "gurihe4 ' "Nora's •Gose 2'edt;" "A Shadow on the Threshold;' "(tack to the Ord Lions;" etc., ate. CHAPTER IL -,--Continued. And the little cl►ild, as she sat silent there, tried to fix her eyes oe some- thing attractive enough to blow out the. vivid remembrance of 1tarat's face. But she could not ; the brilliance seeuted, to have left the rooms, for her forever. There were several shops to be vis. itecl on the way back, for Bella's stock of 'gloves and ribbons,required replen- ishing, and the early winter twilight had filled the hall with gloomy sha- (lows,when they entered it again; A young lady was waiting in, the• drawing -room• to see Mrs, Lane, the servant said, as he opened. the. door. And while she went in, the „young people lingered at the stove, chatting idly. Suddenly Mrs. Lane came among tlieui again, drew Hester to her side, and pot or► the hat the and bad just thrown off. Her fingers trembled a little as she tied the strings ut,der the heavy brown curls, but her voiee.was calm as usual. " Do not be frightened, my dear;. but you are going home. Your papa has seat for -yon, and,Miss Goldsmith is here to take you." • • " What is it? Oh what is • itT gasped the child, turning suddenly to face. her. "Your mamma is ill, dear, but you must not be frightened; it nay•not be much. And your brother stand still,: wy dear." Miss Goldsmith; . who had' followed Mrs. Lane into the hall, telt her heart beat as she looked upon the group which in that one moment seemed photographed on . hen mind. • Mrs, lane, in her long. rich dress, calm and incapable; helpless to soothe' ox sympa- thize. The elder girls, in.their fashion able costumes, looking with.'supercili- ..crus. inquisitiveness txold. emitter: pale face. Tlie Handsome little __ s, I,s nnl�,oy_.avith_•his blue. eyes full-gf:: pitying inquiry ; and, above :all, sad fat►d dreary to Pollie,'the .little, startled figure, . in its short brown.' velvet coat,. the brown hat pushed on one' side, and the glorious eyes all misty . with bewilderment: --until they'cau'ght sight • of her ! Then, in e.minute, they.were.: (ridden un her shoulder. • "Take me home. Oh, Polite, Pollie,.1 please take me home I" : Mists Lane raised her • eyebrows do hetiring the junior ,teacher addressed i with such familiarity,.and Miss pieta! suswered by a shrug of law shoulders.' But .the signs were lost on every one else ; and in the, strange, sad hush that followed, .Pollie •Ooldstnith : and her weary little charge weredriven through, the lighted streets back to Lorne HousH: . There .vas no train until' the night..; nail, and for the hour or two before it started Miss Berrington kept Hester., with her in her own room ; while`Pollie tenderly packed every treasure her. lit tle, favorite had gathered, rnund_.her,. packing away not a few . with tears' upon them. The cab was at the door before Hes- ter .had spoken ono word. Then she faltered, as Miss; Berrington., held her in her arms : " Is—nnamrna—dead ?" ` "No1 dear. Ob;:no," she answered„ relieved to hear the voice,.even so faint .and low. " Is—Arthur--dead 1" "The message never said so; dear,", answered Miss Berrington; trying to hide her face from the searehing, tbist- ful eyes. " Whatever. sorrows •mav come, though, God will give mit little one strength to bear it, And she must help her mother=with His help," ; ' No words could have roused the child as these did. She rose and .took the tea Miss Berrington,• with swine-' ming eyes, prepared for her; and 'then. she said her sad good-byes. • " If I comae Back, (.will try as hard Rs I can to he Setter..- I will, ''indeed )" she said, simply. Miss Berrington was. still. Hovering about. her, wrapping her awn. great shawl round' her, and sootaing and eoniforting the little, breaking heart, when Bella and Lydia ,enterer] . the house full of questions., Miss 13erring- tan signed to 'Pollie to make haste, Tic' other girls gave .their .stilet, ;tear- ful kisses, and went'hack to the .elase- ronin. Bella and I,yelia hesitated, Th, child in the big grey shawl •looked wistfully into their faeee. " i haven't ever: liked you very tromh," the soft; childish voice whisper - lel; "hut please forgive the before.1 go, ami oak God not to punish me ,any more,' ..a I. They Kissed her war►nly, and in an- other moment she was lost to. them; in. the wide, gloomy street. "Sbe will soon be back,. 'llfiss Ber- rington;" said Bella, feeling that she ought to say something, as they turned in together after watchi►ig the cab out of sight. But Miss Berrington did not trust herself to answer, and Lydia was quite right when she whispered her com- panion c "She doesn't expect her to come back, that is pretty evident, Poor Lit- tle thing ! There was some good in her, after all." And the big, tearless eyes, which Pollie watched in a nameless fear, look- ed from ,the lighted railway carriage out into the darkness of the winter night, trying to pierce the misty, shad- owy future, which seemed so far away from that. life of careless :ldhood, which she had left forever., CHAPTER• • IXESTER'S v0W. ' Seven years bad passed since the mistress of Lorne Tiouse had watched the departure of, her little fadorite, when one morning,, as she sat alone 'beside her cheerful fire, the carne into her there little pupil •of her thoughts, "My own dear little pupil," she said, in a tremulonis voice, while glad tears started to her oyes, "yet neither little nor my pupil now." " Ho.w •pleasant this is l Dear Miss Berrington, how pleasant it is to see you again," said Hester in. the soft, musical voice of old, asshe rose from the low, clinging attitude into: which she had fallen beside her old governess, and, put down. her hat.. "The room is just the same, and you; are .just. the same; only .Iam changed, in the years anti, years since—<ncethat time." "Naturally, niy dear,", said Miss Ber- rington, stirring the fire and putting a' low seat for Hester beside her own. "You left the a little child, and you conte back to tee a-7". •"Don't '• hesitate,, Miss . Berrington," said Hester; smiling. "We're .you •go- jug to say,a,'.hoydcu V' • "Let me see before I can . judge: NOW' Side! li(IVO".tal:eti elf you 'hat;• I :eau see be_ttnr. Stand there a., aniunte." With tieob' !tend of I With the obedience the ;hilt she had been when they parted, •Hester stood opposite the grave, kind' .eyes, with a.look half of laugh'ter.,and half of tears. .Miss Barrington gazed long' into the beautiful yeeeet face,'' .w.hich• flushed shyly unites .her' keen scrutiny, then: tnirnncl . to the fire again ,with an. unction-• sctotis'little suixie . "I don't look:like a`stranger to you do I, Miss Berrington ?"'. asked Hester, 'wistfully, as she slipped down . `on the ru.g and looked up into her eyes "What shall I clo to show you .utinnis- takably 'the little Hessie of old, the naughty child 'to whole you were •so very, very kind and good?". "She .is here; quite ,unmistakably". said ,tile old lady, gently :kissing `the quivering. lips, ."and yet,let me• have the curls again fora Minute." With aelaugh; Rester let down the masses . of 'brown hair, the • ends. of which .curled heavily and' richly • still; and Miss Berrington gave the childlike face another intent gaze, then stooped and .left' another lingering kiss upon it.• "Now go to the glass and 'put it up' again dear," she said, wishing only for a quiet moment's thought. ibiy winning about the girl's •fencethat she•really wanted • a 'minute's pause from gazing at it, and wondering where- in the charm lay. It was not that the feature's were perfect,. yet 'there was a very perfection: of;beauty in the chang- ing expressions of the swan, bright face, and,the glorious dark eyes. "Wilt , that :clo, Miss ` Berrington V' asked Hester, turning from the glass, and breaking in upon the old lady's• long thought. . . . There was something so unexpress- "Yes, theft will do, Beat. Now sit here and tell Me eyerytheng.f" May I' have some breakfast, please?" asked Hester,lightly, though her- eyes` had saddened at theold lady's words, "We only eame into , town • late last night, and . we go on to Dover to—clay; so, as papa is late in the mornings, I told him I should ge out to breakfast;, to matte the most of nay time, you see" • c'That'was a kind 4 plan, dear ; but how careless I have been hover to think of it. "It would not have been avery nat- ural thought, i1:[iss Berrington, Chat 1 had not breakfast . at eleven • &dock. May I have it in one of the schoolroom ceps, please 1" , Miss Berrington laughed as she gave the order. "13reakrast for two in the schoolroom service," ' C And when it came,they took tba meal together, making it last as long as possible, though they did little exec" tion among the delicacies, Asthey talked, in an idle, loving, desdltory waya they seemed to avoid; by tacit consent, everything relating to the pest.But when the eleth . was taken away, and the chairs'drawn again to the fire, •Hester asked laying her Band gently otn Miss Berrington 's ; "What did you ask use to tell you V' "Tell me, dear ---you know: just what you said you could not tell me in your letters." "About --that time you mean ?" "Yes, dear." "I don't know how,' Hesteranswer- ed, with the old childish simplicity, as sloe dropped leer head a little, and look- ed into the glowing tire, her brows con- tracted as if she saw some painful pic- ture there. "There is such a 'heavy cloud above that time, Hiss Berring- ton. that I can . hardly yet see how things were. f remember how the store was told me of my brother's fall, ing into temptation, led by a wicked Ivan : who enticed hien to the gaming houses, night after night, until his ruin was 'complete ; how, leaving one: of these dens of wickedness ono night, penniless and not himself,, mad ander the pressure, of debts lie could never pay, Arthur turned 'upon this• villain ancl'told him a bitter truth: r)la, you know,the rest; how they •quarreled end - fought ; ndfought; and, how this man, though he was a soldieand an Englishman (oh, what disgrace to the nation and the army i), left him " lying with a bullet through the rash, boyish heart, in a • wood near.Berlin. . Oh 1 Miss Berriug-:. ton, how, can . these things be done in God's•bright, beautiful world]? and Loa! can we believe he orders them 1" "Never • Mand that question, little one," said Masa Berrington, uti<consci- ousty falling into the. old • manner of addressing the child.. • • • "I remember," Hester went en, new: er movin her eyes, 'the terrible'chengo I found at bonne i •the bush and dark- ness of the:.house;. my, father'e stern and silent agony,. and my mother:'s vain effort to;bear up against this grief. I knew how• fresh tidings came, dayafter' -clay;'.of..A;rtliur's..:debts.;. end- whythe olcl luxuries' were. given up,and; the o1cl. soryants ' dismissed, . 411 this •knew and.end erstood, ,chilli as l was,: but nothing:seemed to matter, because my. lieart sewed . dying. as.I watched-• my another fading day by day.• Oh 1 the agony ,of the feeling .that I'could hot help her, : that I could not: keep her. witla`tne.by `all the :strength and inten- sity .bf any love; could . only cling to, her with: a wild hope that airo' •might he so close.together that God;.ceiyld,not part •`us; •:ane]. • when be teak .hef,'lie Wight :be., abliicd to' take nae, too: It was a wicked, cowardly prayer, I•know, and he was too merciful to• heed it. He left mete be a little -help and comfort• to•one 'wlao mourns her with. a; deeper sorrow even than.any own: •We two h•ave- ' been always together:. •,sines, she Ieft.us, and very restless; never stay- ing. long in, any ono, place,•; 'this -nigh all the six. years. But now," Hester whis- pered, her hancls.clasped.tightly in her lap, "he is weak and suffering himself, and ive are on our • way • to Italy, to to try if that will strengtheri'him.: 1\Zy dear, dear teacher, .you,have taught me so many things, teach- me to be brave and patient. in this painof seeing my father suffer:: Oh,.' isn't it'worse than •anythi,ig on earth to be helpless.to. pre- vent pain and, Suffering; to one you love ?" • I can .but pray for your;: dear." said the old.lady, softly' kissing thetiemb: ling lips.. "That.•I shalt always do; as I have always, done."- • , • Hester was silent a longtime, still. gazing among the ruddy coals, and Miss $er.rington did not disturb her. When she spoke at last,.' it•was with a little start. "1 should have beenjust leaving you now, Miss •Berrington - girls • leave school'about seventeen, don't they ?-- and I should have had all .your lessons and advice to help me. T might, then, perhaps, have been more fit for the years before:me, morebravo to meet their trials ; more humble .to bear their •blessings." "Idow, has your educationbeen car- ried on, Hessie ?" the old lady asked, with a little trouble in her voice: "On most curious prnneiple," said Hester, trying to laugh. "I have hail inmy wanderings, a few lessons here' and there -here in dancing, perhaps; there in• whist," • "I hope your music has not been ne- glected ?" "I have had a lesson news and then ; but I don't play—oh,not like any of your pupils, of course, Miss Betting - toe ; 3erring-ton; though.I love it, if possible, bet- ter than ever, But• -.-•but hi every- thing," said 1•Iestera raising • of pair of big, sad eyes, in which the tears were struggling, "I silent soon know bow sadly deficient 1 am, when i mix with other girls --if ever I do," "Does it depend ate all on what the other girls are, dear I "Miss Berrington, please tell me about my old contemporaries, .Miss .Goldsmith never write..g to roe, Why is it?" • "Her.old fault, dear, I suppose; her keen, sensitive pride is to blame, She lives in Birmingham now, she and her mother, and an aunt, and they ere as happy as possible together; It is one of the happiest little home" in ntingham, I should say." "They must be very happy," said the girl, with s. little sigh. . "They are not living as Mrs.: Gold- smith has been used to live," continued. the old lady, ggietly, "but they never regret that, Pollie is not obliged to teach, but they are fond of givinrrg•; and would sooner work to earn money than • not have it to give," "1 should•so like to see her," said Hester thoughtfully; '‘‘some day, per--' baps, I shall, I wish you would .per- suade her to. write to hie, Miss Berring- tont. I wish you would tell• her what good her one letter did ane; tell her ber letters would come to me like her own gentle: voice, and help me now •in ignorance and unrest, as they used to when 1 was a little child -:.not a bit more weak and wavering and needing help than I ani now. • Would you tell her that 1 And . what of my other school -fellows ?" - "You should tell ins of someof them," answered Miss Berrington, with a mile, "Bella . Lane, for instance, is your Cousin new, .and Lydia. Dyott . a kind ;of connection, Have you seen either of them since your uncle's. marriage?" '.Neither. I have not seen therm • sihce•I left here. I was so astonished about Uncle Alfred's marriage. When we unet:ii'Hertforushire' 'gentleman in Paris; and lie was. tel of it,.lie'told papa 'Mrs. Lane made a clead=set . at lTnele Alf.' 1 remember puzzling over that, until I :decided she had performed Soule lugubrious quadrille for his sole • benefit, and that. he had been. so charm- ed that he • Married her—instead of of Bring her•+ ha�f 'half his .,kingdom: 1 Oh what11Iy'.la lonkt5tlo twbg longin. time :ago -blast . -seem !:.,.. cousins must be_ live.years olid stow •• have never seen hides Lane since. she. left oie,"'said Miss Berriugtoii:' sYet she is often here. Yoe know her grenarnother lives in' Sussex Square,. • when she is `not with •her daughter;' or• With 'the:.Dyoits at'• lebbingtoe. • Lydia and Bella are greater friends. than ever, now that they live• within a drive, •of ea4h• •oilier." • "I suppose t shall see something of theta when. we Coale 'home again,!' said 'Hester, ivith•no very: great. gladness in the thought, "I wonder how Bolla. • likes: Churleigh ?" •" • ` • "Very :ameba I should think," laugh ed Mise BFrringten._ "Churleigh is a beautiful pla.,e;.isn't it 1" • "Yes. 1. can ,just remember k.;bet" • it'.was.never like Tell nuc •of the other• girls;' please,", Concluded Iles -- ter, with a little sigh, • So long .a talk wad it about those old times --that the clocks were striking three;,.. when Hester, having returned and re-packeda entered their private'• room at the Great ,Western, .and saw the early dinnerlaid.. • . •• Her father stood at the w indew, with the Tirnes,in his. hand ; but, theugla.,ho held the paper, ie;•was'looking down into the street. • • • "?spa,":said Hester, standing beside_ hide, with unspeakable fear, as she no- ticed the angry and bewildered' look in his•oyes, "has anything happpened since I have been away 3" She had lived with him nearly seven- teen years, but•o]niy once had seen :this expression on his face before. She had been .Ms 'dearest friend • and only coni- panion for more than 'seven of these' years, yet never before bad he looked down upon her with seeh•.doubt and.. pain. "Yes," he said, hoarsely, "but you cannot understand," "Tell me, dear," she ' whispered; " 1 `shall pnderstand." ' • 'He turned from the .window, and laid the paper upon tlietable. - • "Read that, llessie," . Bending very low over the columns, that.ber face might' tell eta tales, she read a paragraph which told the world. that the Earl of Leahbluxe,; havingdied suddenly a few days after his son, the title' and the estates passed, in default of direct heirs finale, to ,his nephew, Captain Douglas Arundel, of the Forty-, farst Iiegimein, . The lines swam before her eyes, and the misery of her life all :Hooded back upon her, as she lead' the name which had .ieverr been mentioned by father or child since one certain eight • Seven years ago, -when it was' muttered to her intense loathing. • Glancing into her father's sterna white face, the words she wished to • say died en her lips. Where was a long pause before ale could speak indifie'- witty, "Did you know this poor Lora Lea, gni* has died so sadly, papal" , "'-Ilse late earl I No, I *never saw ' His quiet voice had catch a trent,: blicag pain in it, that Hester grew • • frightened; • "Papa," she said, forgetting every- thing tai her fear for him, "you surely . would not grieve that a wicked man has conte into this property ? That ie not worth a thought'of ours." "It is not that which grieves nw, darling," lie answered, steadying • hiss voice by a great effort, ":If .[ cannot 2ctacierstanti, 1 do not question Gecre • .. justice in sending all this wealth to him ivho took so much from us, and giving him a noble name, which has': been borne for years by brave and up- right men. If it -bad been any, other title, 1 would.'have read, it merely with indifference. 1 ought not to hesitate to speak ,to you of my fear, hut I al- ways do; '1 St ould. so willingly,' if 1 could, keep all painful. thoughts from you, wy darling —my, only child; But surely you must know it now ; must see yourself how short a time I can be spared to you. My days, my very hours seem auwbered now, and though T often long to be at rest, the pain of. ' • leaving you swallows up every other thought, Oh, my little girl, so closely wrapped "'about, . my heart ! that we shall have to. leave you on the. very • threshold of your life—fatherless and motherless." • "Neither fatherless nor motherless in my heart; clear," said Hester; softly, as she elung to him, and tried to raise a. calm, bright. face; to ' his.. "I shall hate your guidance, just the seine." • .The ours. .gathered slowly in her father's:eyes, and she was. glad to see them.. Even they were better than' Obit sterni; white agony, He' kissed leer many times, then roused himeeif, land -spoke :Hastily; with a tremble. in lila :voice. • •. • "There is but one,horne. for you; my child, afterward -bush.! you said you ` %vonld .listen --that 'is with your uncle. ':Alfred at Ohurleigh, •.1 -Ie will be very '.kind and tennder to, layabaphan child and; though' 1 do not kno►irl ts`wtte, 1 feel :he'•tnust' ilii a chosen eon who%ill , "' be .a mother to .the.motherles. • ,Her.. .daughter, `too, will purely be More of a com•panion'for you than your own little twin cousins can be, and Make the life. . • pleasanter; • I can onlypfay'for your happiness; my' darling, and trust. But from to -day that will be harder, for Wye'Abbey One of tie.seets :of the arb.ef Leaholnie)•• adjoinnChurleigh,: end:Lord Leabel:nil _will be your •near • est neighbor; (Lester, my dying, prayer`'to..you will be to hold hirieel- ways. in the horror I have clone As- „' . • sure -ire of tliis:evon slow, ” But. this is so unnecessary, papa," said Hester, readily ; "of course I. .must ever bate Mikes 'I bete Wien now, as •1• have .ever done: since Theard of : him:first'•when but a little child." "I must have a promise:front you Chet you will do this." "Dear father,"' she 'w.hisppr'led, lay - . her. hands en his, and looking. up . into his eyes, •"T.shall never..be able' to' forget what:he has done. I moist • •` `always look upon him as my brother's unrrderer ,- as.more-for that. was ,nay mother's life and yours afterward, 'and Oh;.'father i how could I , de ethos-: wise?": . .• . ",Where I first read the notice," :said. Mr,, I3rirce, ':wearily: ."1 thought it possiblethere might have been two of- . kers; of, the .same mime even in. that one ' regunent•; and while, you were • away I went and merle ingniries. No : —only •ata; the sande mars and bear; ing still .tine Character 'he bore when Arthur: joined the regiment' and was warned .against hind" "Pape," :said Hester, • feeling it :would .bobcat ie speak of this now for the first and last time, "'wasn't he• obliged to leave the ,regiment, . then 3 Would the gentlemen allow him to bee their comrade still.?" - "'They:•nerer knew," he answered, ..: in a veiee of• suppressed passion ;. l" hewit only by ,the letter Arther sent,. The 'servant my poor boy . had been . often bribed • before by Arundel, anti .was bribed hien. ' He. had found hia, master that • morning shot through th'e .heart,'he.said ; • and while the•mother- Ries ' looked, •rounel • for a • probabntr Murderer, the .real murderer left Ber- tie, easy and comnfortable. I found Arthur.€alone there; the servant having followed the real master whorls he had served. Bet the friends dirt' their work of secrecy but, ill, for they. had .. not prevented my poor boy 'posting a letter to the the night before he fought, • telling me everything." . .Chen it was that letter which first told yon, papa 3" • whispered Heater, her face white .and. stern like het -. father's,. tto ra; cse nvvi.oa