Lady Trebor's Secret, OR THE MYSTERY OF CECIL ROSSE.

Patea Mail, Volume III, Issue 213, 25 April 1877, Page 4

Lady Trebor's Secret, OR THE MYSTERY OF CECIL ROSSE.

[By Mas. Harriet Lewis.] CHARTER ill. LEFT A TONE. Herr Brocken unfolded the mysterious letter, a strange agitation quivering through all his nerves. He believed himself to stand upon the threshold of the solution of the strange mystery of Cecil's origin. A blur obscured his vision, lie removed his spectacles anil wiped them with a trembling hand. Then he spread out the sheet of paper, his eager old eyes fairly devouring its contents. The. letter, as ho noticed after reading it, was written upon plain white paper, ■without water-mark or imprint of any sort whatever. The handwriting was coarse, and slanted backwards, with evident attempt at disguise. There was no date to the letter, which was as follows ;

“ IIEm: Brocken: It is now fourteen years since i left you with the little nameless child whom you agreed to bring up. and in all that time 1 have never written a line to you, nor have 1 heard from you directly : hut Lam aware that the child is, unfortunately, still alive. I have remitted regularly to yon for her support the sum of forty pounds per annum. I. remit that sum licrewith, as usual’, in Bank of England notes. As she is now about seventeen years old, and quite able to make her own way, f shall not send any more money for her. As this is the first, it will also be the last, communication you will ever receive from me. I suppose she has been brought up, in accordance with my instructions, as a German peasant girl. .1 .supjio.se, also, that she is contented witli her lot, since she has never known auv other. If she should marry some wood-carver of your people, then my best wishes fur her welfare will have been fulfilled. It is scarcely necessary for me to repeat what ! told you fourteen years ago, that the girl has no friends save those she may have made at Zorlitz ; no relations ; and that the best she can do for herself is to live and die in the obscurity of the Black Forest. Alycare ami concern for her end herewith. Neither she or you will ever hear from me again.”

There was no signature to this epistle, i lerr Brocken read it over the second time and sillied heavily. The unknown guardian washes Ids hands of Cecil,” lie muttered. “ All eonneeLiou hetween the girl and her <air!v past is now completely severed. She will never solve the mystery, will never know her origin. I almost wish that 1 had not sent Lord Glenham away, yet I could not do otherwise. According to the traditions and usages of the world, a girl like Cecil, no matter how great her beauty, genius, and goodness, is no jilting wife for a great lord.” The door opened while his eyes were riveted on the paper, and Cecil came in slowlv, half-shyly, her lace paler than usual. Her eyes red with weeping. What is it, lieheheu '!” asked the pastor, tenderly. £; What troubles vmi

“ f am lonely, uncle,” cried Cecil, wearily. t£ How tiresome the dear old parsonage is ! It we could only go awav somewhere ! Von miss the Englishman, dear ? So do 1.” said I lerr Brocken, sorrowfully. Come, sit by me and we will comfort each other. Cecil approached him. more swiftly, and sat on a stool at his knee. A.ml then her eyes rested upon the open missive. l£ A letter, nnelc !” site exclaimed. Who can have written to yon ! Is it a last message from Lord Glenham ?” The pastor made a movement to pul the letter in Ids desk, but changed his purpose. “My dear,” he said, ££ yon seem somehow less of a child to me than usual to-night. My heart is heavy and sore with many burdens. Shall I lay them upon your young shoulders ?” The tender young face grew stronger at once, resolute and thoughtful, with a gravity and courage that touched the old .scholar. ££ I did not know that yon wore bearing secret burdens, uncle,” said Cecil. “ Let me help you. Do yon need money ?” The pastor glanced at the two banknotes on Ids desk. £; No, dear, it is not any fear of poverty that troubles me,” lie said, gently. ££ I feel strangely weak. 1. i-calizc to-night that I am growing old. I may not live another year, and there are things you ought to know. I will toll them to you now. Cecil, this handsome English lord asked me to-day tor my consent to address you as your suitor.” The girl blushed and paled, and her eyes glowed with n swift and dazzling splendour. ££ What did yon say, uncle ?” she whispered, after a little pause. “I bade him wait a year. I told him that yon were too young to many.” £: He loves me ! He loves me !” Cecil said to herself softly, her glorious young beauty radiant as a star, “ And he is coming back next year! Oh, nude, I am the happiest girl in all the world to-night!” The old pastor sighed and stroked her rod-brown hair with a shaking hand.

“Ho may never return, Cecil,” he said, very gravely. “He loves you now, but considerations of worldly wisdom may decide him to seek a bride who is equal—” “ You allude to my being poor, undo ?” I

“ Not that alone,” said the old pastor, nerving himself to the task ot telling Cecil the whole truth. “ Lord Glenhum is rich, and would not care it bis bride were poor. But, be is proud, and when the first glamour of passion should be dissipated, lie would reproach himself for having married a girl of no tannly—’ “Oli, uncle!” interrupted the girl, in loving reproach. “ Yon are not titled; you are no proud courtier ; Iml, you are of gentle blood, and your niece is the equal of even a proud English lord ! ”

Herr Brocken wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “ 1 feel strang-fly v.'eak to-uiglit,” tic said, wearily. " Who can tell what will happen ? It is time that yon know all, : Cecil. Tell me, my child, have you never wondered that you look so little like me or the dear wife who was a mother to you ?” “ Whv, no, nude. Aly father was an Englishman—” “ Your mother, too, was English, for aught I know to the contrary. Child of my love and prayers, my darling, how can 1 tell you that nut one, drop of my blood flows in your veins ! ” “ Uncle ! ” It is true. Do not look at mo like that, Cecil. Wby, is it such pain to know that I am not your uncle ?” “ Who, then, am 1 ? ” asked the girl, wondoringly, with a white, bewildered fa.ee. “ f do not know. I do not even know your real name and parentage !” “ Unde!” rejieated Cedi, involuntarily. “ It, is true, dear. You are certainly of English birth, that is all 1. know. There is a mystery about you which will never be solved in this world, Cedi.” “ A mystery ? Aon do not know who I am .'” cried the girl, in a qmek, startled voice. “ How and win,to did yon find me, nude ! And my name—is not that a dew to my parentage ?” “ YTmr name, dear, was the gift of my good wife. You had no name save “ Bet.’—none whatever. Yon are frightened, dear? Be brave, and calm. It pains me to see that wild sorrow in your eyes, my child. 1 would have spared you the story, but it. is right that you should know it.”

It is right, uncle. Where did you Ihul me ! Ju some asylum m the great cities ! ” u No, Cecil. Fourteen years ago, one rainy evening, a carriage stopped before our door and a man came from it and entered our dwelling with a little child in his arms. He told the good wife and me that the child was nameless, friendless, poor: that ho wanted her brought up as a peasant: and that he would pay fifty pounds a year for her support. The good wile was loud of children, and this one was as beautiful as an angel. The child stretched out her anus to my wife and nestled in her bosom. The good wife’s heart was won. She begged to keep the child, and the man put down the sum lie had mentioned on the table and departed. \\ e never saw him again ! ”

The child was .1. ?” *• The child was you, Cecil. Wo took yon into our hearts as our very own. Old Gretehon knew' the story, hut the villagers were content to believe yon my niece. We, did not bring yon up as a peasant, as the man had enjoined. Liven at three years of age, yon were a perfect little lady, refined, gentle, and well-bred, with pretty imperious little airs that hinted of high station, if we had wished to make yon a peasant, it would have been impossible. Generations of culture had given fo yon remarkably keen perceptions, and a quick, strong intellect. We. brought yon up as if yon had been onr own child, I taught yon the brandies of a sound and thorough education : my wife instructed yon in music, painting and other accomplishments. We thought that when we should be gone yon could earn your living, as wc did lor so many years, by teaching.” Cecil kissed the hand she held, and dropped tears upon it. ££ Yon have been very good to me,” she said, softly, £! May God bless and reward you, dear uncle. My own parents cast me off—do you think it was because I was a. disgrace to them ?” The Herr Pastor bowed assent. The girl’s features were convulsed with keen, swift pain. “ Uncle,” she said, “ does Lord Glenham know all this ?” “ Yes, dear. I iohl him to-day. I would not allow him to sacrifice himself to an impulse. In England, a marriage between him and yon would ho looked upon with abhorrence by people of his class.” “ What did he say ?” “ Of course he said that the mystery attaching to your origin mattered nothing to him,” said Herr Brocken. “ Love excuses everything.” “ And yon think such a marriage would be wrong, uncle ?” <£ Not so. If Lord Glenham stood alone in the world, with no one to bo grieved by Ids acts, the marriage would be well enough. But Mr Grafton told me yesterday that Lord Glcnham’s mother is living, and that she fairly worships her son, and is particularly anxious that he should make a grand

and suitable marriage. YTm would not wish to sow seeds of dissention between this mother and son, Cecil? I own, my dear, that I see no prospect ol your marriage with Lord Clenham.” Cecil sighed, and the pained look in her eyes deepened. “ Did you ever hear afterwards from the man who brought me .here, uncle ?■’ she asked. “ We receiiyod the annual stipend he had promised in Bank ol England notes regularly each year, but he never sent one word of message—never, until today .” Cecil glanced at the letter. “ .is that from him ?” she asked. ‘•'Yes; read it.”.. fro nr: continued.]