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