VIOLET LISLE; OR, A PEARL BEYOND PRICE.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VI, Issue 444, 2 March 1912, Page 2

VIOLET LISLE; OR, A PEARL BEYOND PRICE.

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y By the Author of "All or Nothing," "Two Keys," etc., etc. PART 10. "No joke at all, parson," one oi them said earnestly, " txit the truth as all the countryside knows by now. She went away with him last night." Martin looked at them one by one with a growing fear in his heart. He said nothing, however, and one of the group went on : " Some say she'll come back as Lady Darlington ; some s a y not." Then Martin Jenkins spoke quickly: "No one who knows Miss Lisle Lisle will doubt her, and shame be to the man who will give voice to a suspicion against her."

John Broad, the brawny young farmer who had spoken flushed deep at this rebuke, and was the more angry that he saw that the others were very much of the parson's way of thinking, though his brawn and muscle had kept them from open resistence.

" It's well known, parson," he said with angry sarcasm, " that you would speak well of the devil, let alone of a young woman." And then the farmer made use of some expressions which roused all the passion in the curate's nature. " Shame on you, John Broad," exclaimed Martin ; " it's a coward's act to defame a woman." John Broad took a step forward towards Martin, glowering on him in anger.

" You snivelling puppy !" said he. " Parson or no parson I've a mind to shake you into manners. And if it weren't for your cloth I'd lay you in the dust."

" When I defend a woman," said Martin, I do it as a man not as a priest, and no man shall speak ill of that lady in ray presence." " What'll you do, then ?" demanded John, contemptuously. " What I say, I say ag-ain, and stand by it." " Say no more, John," remarked one of the' young men, uneasily. " Enough has been said already, and more," ventured another. But John was angry—as angry with himself as with them, probably—and would not stop where he was. "That for her virtue !" he said, snapping his fingers in the face of Martin, but looking at the others, who, he thought were more likely to take it up ; for who would believe that meek Martin Jenkins, the curate would ever resort to violence ?

But he did, with a passionate anger such as he had never felt before towards one of God's creatures. He sprang at the brawny young farmer and struck him such a blow in the face with all his strength as laid him full length in the dust. Up jumped the brawny farmer with a roar and rushed at brave Martin Jenkins, who stood waiting, exultation in his soul at the thought of doing battle for Violet, and he would have died if the need had been. The young men, however, now interposed, and put themselves between the furious giant and the defender of Violet Lisle.

" That's enough, John," said one, very sternly. " You shall fight us all first. It was a shame that we ever let the parson take the brunt of it. Go your way, John Broad ;as I for one, am ready at any time to take up the quarrel for Miss Lisle." " And what Oliver Hawkins says, I say too," said another ; and it was evident that the feeling was general. " He has struck me a blow," roared John, who would willingly have assaulted the crowd, but for that remaining grain of common sense that told him it would be foolish.

" Well," said Oliver Hawkins sturdily and uncompromisingly, " it was what one of us should have done instead, and I honour him for it. I think there is no man in the countryside that won't be proud to shake the hand of Parson Jenkins for giving you that blow. There's my hand parson, and I only hope you'll die a bishiop."

There was bitter hatred in the big farmer's heart as he walked off cursing his impotence to injure the parson, thinking that he would never rest until he had paid off his score with generous interest.

Martin stood in the centre of the throng, pale with emotion, quivering with excitement. He could not but feel glad that the young men pressed earnestly round him, shaking him by the hand, and saying those things of his courage which meek Martin Jenkins had never dreamed of possessing —and yet there was an uneasy feeling that he had not acted as one of his cloth should have done.

" I am afraid I was too hasty," he said, depreciatingly. •>" You're not sorry you did it, arc you ?" queried one.

" No, no," he said, honestly, " I tvould do it again."

It was difficult for Martin Jenkins to go about his homely duties in the parish after that. He recovered from the excitement of the encounter with John Broad after c while, but he could not rest satisfied until he had had a talk with Goody White. The father of Violet he would no more have approached for information than if Melville Lisle hac been u fere-breathing dragon. Tc Martin Jenkins who knew no suet thing as pride of blood. Mr. Lisle and his pride were the most awe some things in the world.

Late in the afternoob, he suddenb dropped everything, and betook him self to the Lisle cottage, and was fortunate enough to catch the cy< of Goody White, who had the leisun to do a bit of talking, and -was ir

the thought that Miss Violet had gone off to be a countess, in spite of her father. At the sight of Martin peering wistfully from among the trees in the lane into her kitchen window. she threw down her knitting and ran out to him. " Won't you come in, sir ?" she said, hospitably. " Thank you, no, Mrs. White. I could not help coming to ask you a question about Miss Violet. Can you tell me anything ?" " Lady Darlington, we'll call her, bless her dear heart !" said Good}, who had been aching to use the title to someone ever since she had discovered from the father that Violet had eloped. "It is true, then ? She is Lndy Darlington ?" said Mertin. " True? Yes, it are, which I don't mind admittin' sir, to you, that I never knowed a word of it till yesterday, for the first time when Lady Darlington—the dowager, I think we will call her henceforward," said Goody with an air of knowing aristocratic ways —" the dowager came here and had a talk with Mr. Lisle. Excuse me, Mr, Jenkins, if I smile, which I can't no more help when I think of the baker man. He gave her is good and better every time. The Lisles, Mr. Jenkins, were gentry when the Darlingtons were bakers which Mr. Lisle told her not mincing matters no more than I would talkin' to you, sir, which you know ain't necessary." " I judge, then, that the parents were unwilling, and that the young people took matters into their own hands." " Which I couldn't have expressed it better myself And her father, sir, mercy me, he be that proud, says he to me, or words in substance the same, ' Vi'let's left my house, gone I □either know nor care whither. You will never speak her name to me. She ceases to be a daughter of mine,' which it was like as if it. came out of a book. But, Lor' bless you,sir, [ knowed where she had gone and why."

" I could wish," said Martin slowly, " that it bad happened in a more regular way ; but when you hear :rom Lady Darlington —your mistress I mean —will you tell her that no one rejoices in her happiness more than I do. She is happy, is she not, Mrs. White ?"

"He worships the ground she treads on, Mr. Jenkins. I know it, for I see it."

"I am very glad. lam sure she must love him, and he her. Thank j-ou, Mrs. White ; you have been very kind to confide in me." " Which if it were confidin' Mr. Jenkins, was only because I knowhow much she thought o' you." " Thank you for telling me that. Thank you. Good-bye. lam going away for a day or two."

CHAPTER XV. FATHER AND DAUGHTER

Violet watched Guy disappear through the door with staring, strained eyes, and if she could have found her voice, she would sureh have called him to come back to her; for a sort of frenzy of defrauded love overwhelmed her and made her catch at her throat and gasp inarticulately after him.

Tnen she ran, or rather staggered, to the door, as if to go after him ; 3ut Lord Coldenham who had been watching her, laid a restraining hand Dn her arm, and said :

" You have done nobly. Do not undo it now."

" Oh, Heaven ! what have I done ? what have I done ?" she moaned. And then her senses failed her, and she would have fallen, had not Lord Coldenham been there to catch her in his arms and support her. She had not fainted, but rather fallen in a numb despair, which with ier exhaustion had made her utterly aerveless.

Lord Coldenham placed her gently on the sofa and waited until he saw that she had recovered somewhat, ivhen he said :

" You must not remain here. Come ,vith me."

She. looked up at him and obeyed without a word. She seemed tc have lost all wish to think for herself, and he was not a little alarmid at her dreary apathy. She donicd her coat and hat at his word and followed him downstairs, waited while he paid the hotel bill and followed him into the street, leaning passively on his arm until he coulc rail for a cab.

His intention had been merely tc get her out of the. hotel, believing that Guy would return after a time to see her once more ; but now thai they were out, and he saw that slu continued in the stupor into whicl she had fallen, he was alarmed anc jmbarrassed, " Rouse yourself, my dear young lady," he said ; " do not give waj so. Tell me "whsre I shall tak« you." " What does it matter where I g< now ?" she answered ; and he feare< that her mind had been unhinged bj tier agony. A sudden thought came to him and without further words he walk ed on until be found a cab, when h> had himself and her driven to an other hotel., There be remained witl her until evening, when he ordered i carriage and was driven to the sta tion, wtvare he bought tickets fo Penarth, without consulting his pat sive charge, who during the whol day had not spoken a word withou being first questioned. The world, indeed, was all a blan to hetr. She had gone to the limi of herr endurance in the interview with Guy, and all she could feel wa; the recurring agosy of his look whei she told him it "was money she d< sired ; all she could see was his fac when he turned from her and ran ou of her presence., which, she told her

careless of where lie should take her. More than once the hard man o! the world had looked at his victim with a shuddering sense of havim: done a worse thing than murder in destroying the happiness of smh a guileless innocent creature ; but e.K-h time he had driven the feeling away with a forced assurance that she would get over it in time. He remembered that her father bad said that he renounced her as a daughter of his ; but he wats inclined to shrug his shoulders at that as a bit of heroics. At any rate he knew of nothing else to do with Violet than to return her to her home, and that was what he proposed doing. Possibly Violet was conscious in a way of where she was going, but it did not impress itself on her mind, even when he lead her out of the train at Penarth station, and she stepped as apathetically into the carriage that stood waiting as she had done everything else. Lord Coldenham gave his order in a low voice, and then threw himself hack in the cushions, congratulating himself that his charge would be soon off his hands. Violet sat listlessly in the carriage. thinking, thinking, thinking of Guy. ".Mien the carriage stopped and she was assisted to alight, she noticed for the first time with a shock of sudden consciousness, where she was, and she turned with a sort of terror to Lord Coldenham.

" You would not leave, mo here ? I cannot go to him —my father!" " There is nowhere else to go," said Lord Coldenham, taking her by the hand and leading her almost forcibly to the door of the little cottage where he knocked and waited till the door was opened by old Goody White, who had heard the carriage drive up, and had hastened with proudly beating heart to welcome the new Lady Darlington. " My sweet lamb !" she cried taking her in her arms, " yon came to tell old Goody first, then, did you ? You will never go, Lord Darlington!" she cried out to L<ord Coldenliam who had hurried back to the carriage.

He made no answer, but gave the order to drive to the castle and stepped into the carriage. Goody looked a moment in amazement, but concluded it was by some arrangement with Violet and turned to her once more. " Oh, but he's angry," she said in a whisper, drawing Violet into the little dining-room ; " but, mercy me, he'll forgive everything to you now. My blessed lamb ! a countess you be now, sure enough. Why, whatever is the matter, my lamb ? —my lady I should say now."

" He is gone—gone !" moaned Violet, finding in the familiar presence of old Goody the charm to loosen the bonds in which her soul had been tied.

" Gone ! Ay. but I'll be bound he'll be back pretty quick. Don't fret about that, dear : and pluck up your heart and see your father. Speak up to him bold andifreo a~s a countess should. You be a Lisle like himself, an' no cause to fear him. An' if he don't like it so much the worse for he."

" I'm not married, Goody," said Violet, holding t.ljv good creature ofl from her, and staring into her eyes like a hunted creature. I have come back as I went, \ iolet Lisle. If I had known," she wont on dreamily, " that he was brinjrinp mc here I would not have come, but I think I have been dead since lie loft me." " Not married !" cried Goody, sharply. " Come back as you went,! The villain ! the wretch t" " Hush, Goody, you do not know what you are saying. It is I who am the wretch ; I who have ruined and desolated his life. Oh, why did I do it ? Was it necessary ? Oh, I shall go mad."

Here was something quite beyond the good woman's ken, and she could only try to comfort the terrible distress of her young mistress by incoherent. soothing words. Suddenly Violet stopped her. It seemed as if a complete realisation of her position had come to her in an instant, [t left" her pretcrnat.urally calm and cold, and in after times she could recall, that she even then wondered at herself for being calm when she was near enough to madness to feel that she might plunge into it the next moment.

" You say that, my father is angry, Goody ?" she asked.

" Terribly angry. Not in a fury, but like I never Keen him afore." " What did he say ?" " I wouldn't worrit about that now, my lamb," said Goody dread ing to tell what he had said. " Tell me what he said, Goody, j must know."

" I was never to speak of you a gain, and "■—

"He said I was no longer hi daughter, was not that it. Goody ! asked Violet with an awful calm. " Something like that, my lamb but don't you think of that-"

"Yes, I must, think of it. 1 luivt sinned against, my father. Goody ; but I am punished. I shall not stay here," she went cm wearily hui with the same dreadful calmness . " I will go to my fattier and as': him to forgive me ; but 1 have m rigiJt to stay." " YOll will not stay here !" Goody, wringing her hands. " Shi doesn't know what she is sayin pooi lamb'! Don't say a word to youi father to-night, my darling. -'"si go to your room and lay your tim head down and sleep. Tomorrow'; ti«ne for that." " No, I will go to him now, H/ is in his library, is he not 7" (To be continued.)