THE TRAGEDY OF LIME MILL.

Ellesmere Guardian, Volume X, Issue 883, 28 January 1891, Page 2

THE TRAGEDY OF LIME MILL.

CHAPTER IV, Continued. What I admired most m Ralph Chatcote was the really heroic way m which he made the best of his wife. Not one single word escaped, his lips that was derogatory to her. He never looked ab me for sympathy when she made her most absurd speeches. He was the truest gentleman m every sense of the word that I ever met, I should have quitted the place m a very short time after my, arrival but that his patience shamed ire. »■•■■■ In most women there are some redeeming qualities. I, alasl saw none m Ralph Chatcote's wife. She bad but one idea of advancing her position m society. She was the most perfectly worldly woman I ever met; 'everything was made subservient to this her master passion •Miss Roylstun', said the master. , of the house to me one day, 'you are getting: on well with the little one. Yoa find. Harry a noble boy?' . -..,, It was pleasant to See how his face glowed and brightened as I praised them. ; .> 'You have been fortunate yourself/ be said; 'one can see you have been trained by a wise and pious mother's mmd — teach my. children as you hive been taught, that this world is but'tt school for another; ■'•■■■ '<:* More than once he came into,; tike school-room, and with the . little onSs around him gave solemn and beautiftii lessons. But Mrs Chatcote did not like it; theinstant she discovered him, there she would follow bim, and deny all he sai i. If he sought to inculcate any wise lessons, she would contradict him, and tell the children something quite different; if he ventured to remark that this world is only a dream, nothing to be compared to the world to come, she would remonstrate with him as though he had spoken falsely, and the wondering faces wouli turn from one another. He found that he was doing more harm than good. Yet, great as was the provocation, he never lowered the mother of his children; he never allowed them to see how. unworthy she was of esteem. She was pleased one day to complnient me on the progress that the children were making. ' Of course the girls must know something of history,' she said, 'but I bavet no wish for them to b troubled with much learning. They must be thoroughly accomplished— an accomplished girl always makes her way m society. They must speak French perfectly, they must play and sing brilliantly, dance well, but as to filling their minds with book learning, I hope, Miss Roylston, you will never do it That was her brightest notion of education — a few brilliant, showy accomplishments; she had no idea beyond. ' My daughters must matry well,' she said to me one day. <It is for that I am always striving to improve our pos« ition. They will have ho fortune, bub they will have every prestige of good birth,, aristocrat connections and ac-« complishments.' More than once I was tempted to gita it up and go away. I had not really needful patience, but on the first slight hint I gave her of my intensions, Mr Chatcote came into the school-room to rae. He called me aside. ' Miss Roylston,' he said, 'the few words you let fall to-day have made me very unhappy. Of course, I have no possible claim on you, but I hope you will not leave my children. Unless something urgent calls you away, do not leave them.' His handsome face looked so worn, i so sad, so weary, that my heart; ached for him, 1 knew the humiliation it must be for him to have to stand, as it were, between the mother and the children; and to have to ask a stranger 1 -,* to give them that care and counsel shsC wns not capable of giving them. I felt for him so deeply that for a few minutes I could not speak, . ' 'Only imagine,'; he' added with a melancholy smile,' ' what those children would be like if you wen* away and a fashionable — a worldly— woman took your place ; what would they be liko m a few -years' time?' ' If you wish me to remain,' I said, ' I will do so.' . 'I i]o with all my heart. The children are goo 1 children ; they areP l Kd|^* s^•intelligent,.ii.nd impressionable. 1 r\ are well trainel they will be goer ' f and good women. Mrs Chatcptv much occupie ! witfi her duties tor? j she has no time to attend, to tthe;*.n ■;*. That wns the most, severe i ",.'■■ ever said of bis wife, but I m: j him, and* he knew tiiat I did /'>, resolution was taken to remain w j and do my best for them id ov VMr Chatcote was fond of rm , 'My husband used to sing V 6 : . when we were first married,' jj said tome with a melancholy sdj I found w time t9 &oej» up wjjey

afterwards, my duty to society was too r great.' I looked at her, wondering that any woman could be so utterly ignorant. Her duty to society left her no time to train or to educate her children, no time to attend to her hu3band, no time even to remember that she had a mind, muchi less to improve it ; and this woman, so rtwttnefully ignorant of her first and most sacred duties, is one of the curiosities of the nineteenth century. I soon noticed that Mr Chatcote speat the greater part of his time from home, and, indeed, I could not blame him ; never was home made more unattractive. It he asked for the children to join him m the drawing room, his wife would lash Tery angrily at him. ' ' Ido not see how you can have them here,' she woVj say ; ' what would anyone say who might happen to call m ?' If he proposed leaving the drawing room and going into the schoolroom to them, she had the same senseless objections. « Pray do not do that, Ralph. What Trill the servants say ?' Her whole life was regulated by the thought, ' What would people say ?' Finding that Mr Chatcote really liked music and enjoyed a song, I ventured once or twice to go to the piano. When I did so, he never evinced the least desire for going ; he would sing song afser song, and look most perfectly happy. As I had often heard his wife complain of his never being at home, I thought this would please her ; but who can account for the vagaries oF a woman ? * You never ca*-e to hear me sing or play, Ralph,' she said reproachfully, one evening. • I was not aware that you ever found time for either,' he replied calmly. *You always told me your duties to , society left yon no leit-ure for anything of the kind,' It was so perfectly trne, that slie had DO reply ; but she continued to have had own way. She was jealous, and the way m which she managed to put an end to onr musical evenings was by rising as Soon as I went to the piano, and quit- ' ting the room, knowing well that Mr Chatcote and the governess would not remain there alone together. CHAPTER Y. One morning m June Mrs Chatcote bad sent word that the young ladias were to dispense with lessons en that day. She had by dint of entreaty prevailed upon her husband to consent to a picnic party, and she was m a state of feverish agitation over it. I must leave the schoolroom and sit with her m order to ■write the invitations. ' I have quite determined,' she said to me, ' that this shall be a most stylish affair. I will have none but well-known names, and I will have a good report cent to the Brighton Gazette. '.There is nothing that adds so much to one's position as good notices of that kind.' I thought to myself how much better the money might have been spent m clothes for the children ; but if Mrs Ohatcoi.e had resolved u£on being fashionable, who could present it? ' I was to take breakfast downstairs, so that we might begin our work at once, Mrs Chatcote had a great deal to say — she was so full of spirits. 'Mrs Suttonwill see that money does not do everything. I thon_;:;i her last goiree very poorly attended .' Sho was so elated as to he really cheerful. My wonder again was how Mr Clitttcote could bear it. He looked quite resigned to his fate, and so through ■ breakfast time nothing was oiscussed save the picnic and the illustrious guests fliq were to to invited. I hejird Mr Chatcote sigh, and the linc3 on his his face deepened. I knew ! as veM as -though he had spoken his thought * whiit they wcie — how he was to g#ilie needful mon< 3 y, and how pitiful ijb was. to see it wasted. But no Buci» considerations occurred to his wife. T'tia-, postman come with his usual Jjurfied knock at the, door. I (To be Continued). * A cSKO wjiich excited conf-iflerabJe in-' tcifJPt ww heard at tho Resident MngistrniieVCoiirr, Nolson, -yesterday, ihe VieUiMffQi Allu^ V"' bci " : ~ {ll ° f illlintiii ' s - TlJefijiVnco wsi? ihnt defendant verbally BJrrp*.fW-nnly8 Jrrp*.fW-nnly ir portion of tlio work, jrfr Tiirnlwill, 'IJ.M., pavo judgment for ttf'je pltimM! '■ '" r tli« £ v " amount and UnAitii iii» judgment on the docision of Air JyuhUce Williams at Dunedin, and .'at*o on ' l Ti h bcliui: il.iit the weight vi eviidency ,w.;ia 01/ plaintif f.» side.