THE NOVELIST.

Patea Mail, Volume IV, Issue 364, 12 October 1878, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE NOVELIST.

THE STROKE OF A PEN.

lIST FOUR CHAPTERS. CHAPTER 111. Some time had passed; the long winter months had come and gone, and birds were beginning to bestir themselves in the business of nest-making, when Helen Seton took refuge in her own room one morning from the companionship of her cousins. It was a pleasant, sunny room, looking out over an extensive and trimly-kept garden and shrubbery. Helen had altered in these months. Her figure, always slight, seemed to have acquired a weary droop, her brown eyes were meeker and more often shaded by their long lashes, and her face was paler, unless, perhaps it v/dl. L*—- «, -It---. c 4 -VlTl+ll mourning dress she wore. She carried in her hand a little basket, filled with late primroses and early lilies of the valley, confusedly tossed together, as if just gathered. After locking the door, she sat down to arrange them. But her fingers trembled, and the tears gathered one by one upon the flowers. At last the task was given rrp, the basket was pushed aside, and Helen sank upon her knees by the becl-side and wept bitterly. Life had not gone well with her since we saw her last; she tried to find out whether the fault lay with her. Her cousin Henry was entirely changed. Before her father’s death he had been kind, and tender, and considerate; even after she had refused his love, he had cared for her like a brother. What could have altered him 1 He had grown gloomy and capricious; now pex-secxxtixxg her with professions of love, now recoiling from her as if with dislike ; sometimes overwhelming her with gifts and attentions, sometimes leaving her to the mercy of his harsh sister, who made her cruelly feel her dependent position. Poor Helen ? her heart ached sorely as she thought of the years that might have to pass before escape could be found for her from all this. Since that one time at Hythe, she had never dared to hint to her cousin her love—nay, her engagement —to one who was poor and obscure. She had learnt to fear Henry. She almost knew he would sternly exert his rights to the house, and refuse to admit Alan Morton within it. Besides this, she was not yet twenty, and Henry Seton was her guardian, and watched suspiciously the very letters she received. Altogether, life looked very dark and Helen wept, if not “ till her heart grew light,” at least till it was eased of some of the burden of grief ■which, was heavy indeed to hear. A servant tapped at the door. “Mr. Seton would be glad to speak to Miss Helen in the garden.” Helen rose, calmed herself, and prepared to obey. These interviews were frequent and were most distasteful to her; yet if Henry chose to require them she had no choice but to submit, for was she not a pensioner on his bounty ? It was with a very grave face that she joined her cousin; he came to meet her, and drew her into a lonely walk fringed with wild flowers, and partly shaded by the budding leaves of early spring. Henry had changed as much in appearance as in manner; his face had grown worn and haggard, like that of a man preyed upon by some constant, wearying anxiety; and an expression of suspicion had become habitual to him. He walked silently by his cousin’s side for some time, and she was beginning to wonder why he had sent for her, when at last he spoke. “ Helen,” he said, and his voice was low and Ixxxsky, “it is time that yoxx and I should come to an understanding." Helen was silent. “I have asked yoxx to be my wife often,” he continued, irritably; “ and I would have loved and cared for you, God knows. Bxxt yoxx chose to refuse, and now I have sent for yon to hear my decision. My wife you shall he. There are reasons why no reluctance of mine, no sxxfterixxg of yoxxx-s, shall txxrn me from my purpose. It is the only way to atone,” he muttered, between his set teeth. Helen caught the words. I do not understand you,” she said, gently, “ what have I to atone for 1 ” “ Nothing, nothing,” he axxswered, with a gesture of impatience ; “ ox-, at least, only the sxxspense yoxx have kept me in.” He flung away from hex-, and walked xxp the path by himself, Ixx a minxxte he txxx-ned, and came rapidly back to whex-e she stood. “ Listen, Helen,” he said ; “ yoxx told me once that you loved another. That may still be; I ask no qxxestions; bxxt yoxx will belong to me, if not by fair means then by foxxl Helen ! Helen ! you are mine. Why will you rebel against fate 1 ” He spoke almost like a man dei-anged; his look was excited and wild, and Helen shx-ank from him, horrified by a new idea. “ Never mind, now,” she said, •oothingly, “ come home, and we will alk of it another time.” He tui-ned xxpon hex-, angrily.

“We will not talk of it another time. We will settle it now, this moment. I tell you you are mine—mine,” and he str etched out his arms as if to seize her. In mortal terror, Helen evaded hisgrasp, and looking round for the best way of escape, she saw the figui’e of a man approaching under the trees. With infinite relief she waited a moment; it must be one of the laborers returning from dinner, she thought, and surely he would help her. The stranger came rapidly forward. Henry had seen him, too, and lost his excited manner, but still Helen did not feel safe ; nearer and nearer the man came, treading with a light elastic step, and they could see now that he was not a laborer, but a gentleman in a , light shooting-coat and straw hat. Suddenly, as he approached, Helen’s face lighted with a vivid flush; as he came on, the colour mounted—mounted until her cheeks glowed with a tender red; a moment more and he had reached them.

“ Oh, Alaxx ! ” came with a sob from Helen’s lips. “ My owxx Helen ? ” axxd ixx axxother second she was clasped in the strangers embrace. CHAETER IV. “ Pardon me, Mr. Seton. Really, it is qxxite impossible that yoxx shoxxld x-efxxse to give this gentleman a heax-ing.” The speaker was Mr. Gardixer, the old lawyer and friexxd alx-eady mexxtioned, and he alluded to Alan. Morton, who was sitting ixx Hexxx-y Seton’s dx-awing-x-oom, waitixxg till he shoxxld be listened to, with a look of qxxiet resolution oxx his handsome face. Helexx was in the room too, standing teaxfxdly ixx the deep alcove of the window, almost hidden by the cxxrtaixxs. Mr. Seton will, I think, hardly feel justified in coxxtixxxxing to x-efxxse his consexxt to my marriage with his ward,” xxx-ged Alan, addx-essixxg himself to the lawyer, “when I mexxtioxx that I had her fatlxer’s consexxt to the engagement. Nothing bxxt the dangeroxxs illxxess of a sister who x-esides abroad woxxld have kept nxe fronx hastexxixxg to Englaxxd on heax-ixxg of Miss Seton’s bereavement.” “ Circxxmstaxxces ax-e changed,’ pxxt ixx Hexxx-y, with considerable irritation of nxaxxxxer; “ I refxxse xxxy consexxt.” “ Hxxsh, hush, xxxy dear sir,” interposed the lawyex-, trying to keep the peace; “ let xxs hear what Mr. Morton’s proposals are. We lawyers, yoxx know,” txxrnixxg to Alaxx with axx attempt at a joke, “are obliged to have an eye to poxxxxds, shillixxgs, axxd pence. Have yoxx axxy objectioxx to give me, as Mr Seton’s friend, some idea of yoxxr means ? ”

“ They ax-e little enough, I own,” replied Alaxx. fx-axxkly; “bxxt it seexxxs to me that, under the circxxmstances, it is only for Miss Seton axxd me to decide whether they are sufficient. If X had not been obliged to leave England Mx-. Setoxx woxxld have allowed me to marry his daughter at oxxce, yet at tlxat time it was tlxoxxght, I know, tlxat she was likely to have a coxxsiderable fortune.’ ’

Alan Morton, as he said the last words, happened to glance towards Hexxx-y Seton, and noticed with sxxpx-ise the blood mount to his fox-ehead.

“ Yes, yes,” answered the lawyex-, thixxking that by talking the matter over he should give Henry time to x-ecover his temper, which had seemed to be on the poixxt of failing; “it was thought that Miss Seton would be rich, bxxt uxxfortxxnately her father died without havixxg made axxy provision for her.”

A suspicion exxtex-ed Alan Morton's head that Henry Setoxx was concealixxg from hinx the true state of Helexx’s affairs, which Mr. Gax-dxxer might xxot know, ixx order to induce him to resign her before she was of age to act for herself. Therefore he pursued the subject. “ I understood,” he said, turning pointedly to the lawyer, yet keeping an eye on Hexxry, “ that there was soxxxe moxxey likely to coxxxe to Miss Setoxx by settlement. Caxx you tell what can have givexx rise to the idea ? ” “ It was a vex-y natux-al idea,” replied Mx-. Gardxxer; “ indeed, I believe that Mr. Seton almost shared ixx it himself, for he always had a faxxcy that he should survive his bx-othex-, I caxx explaixx the circumstaxxces to you in a xxxomeixt. Mx-. Setoxx, I am sure you have xxo objectioxx to xxxy doixxg so?”

He looked towards Hexxry, who muttered very surlily, “ Say what you please,” axxd began xxervously to put some papers together oxx the writingtable.

“ Well,” resumed tlxe lawyer, “ I need not xxxake a long story of it. The simple fact is, that Miss Seton would have beexx xxot only well off but wealthy had her father lived a few houx-s loxxgex-. He and his brother-, Captaixx Setoxx, died the same tlay, but Miss Seton’s fatherdied at elevexx in the morning, axxd Captain Seton not till two in the aftex--noon; therefore, by a singular px-ovi-sioxx of the will under which they inherited, his soxx, as heir to the survivor-, succeeded to the px-operty.”

What ailed Alan Morton 1 The color flushed into his face ; he rose and stood, still addressing the lawyer but with his face turned towards Henry. “ May I inquire,” he asked, “ on what day Captain and Mr. Seton died 1”

Henry turned upon him in a frenzy of ungovernable passion. “Leave my room, sir, instantly, if you don’t want to be kicked _ out of it. Good heavens! do you think I am going to submit to the insolence of a confounded meddling scoundrel like you?” “ Stay, sir, stay,” interposed the lawyer, laying his hand on Henry’s arm, and perfectly aghast at this uncalled, for burst; there is no insolence in the case. Under the circumstances there is no wonder that Mr. Morton should wish to hear the particulars. Mr. Seton died, sir, at eleven o’clock in the morning of the 15th of October, and—”

“And I saw Captain Seton lying dead at six in the morning of the same 15th.”

Thex-e was dead silence in the i-oom. The lawyer fixed his keen eyes on Henry, whose face had txxx-ned a yellowish livid white. Helen had stolen fx-om hex- retx-eat at the soxxnd of her coxxsin’s angry voice, and now stood Xjj Lm oL.xL. f -onx xvlxieh hex- lover* had just x-isen. Hexxx-y turned upon her fiex-cely. “ How dared you not tell nxe this 1” “Tell yoxx what?” said Helen’s gexxtle voice. “ Thex-e was nothing to tell, fox- Ahxn did not see my uncle alive; besides, I coxxld xxot speak to yoxx aboxxt his lettex-s.” Alan coxxtinxxed steadily “ I ax-rived at K on tlxe morning o£ the 15th October, in the course of a walking trip of two or three days. I was just passing tlxe inn, when I heard xxxy name called, anti saw xxxy old school axxd college friend, Edward Wilson, at a window. He was ixx a room on the groxxnd floor; axxd ixx the same x-oom, on a bed, was Captain Setoxx’s body. Wilson told nxe he had died at two ixx the moxTxing, axxd I saw him lyixxg there with my owxx eyes at six. I waxxted to remaixx with Wilson, bxxt he woxxld xxot hear of it. He told xxxe that he waxxted xxo help, axxd reproached himself with havixxg allowed me to risk infectioxx by coming in. So I left the way I had entered, without seeing axxyoxxe bxxt him. I saw his death afterwards ixx the paper, and regretted bitterly that I had xxot stayed with him ; bxxt as to the time of Captain Seton’s death there is not the slightest doxxbt aboxxt it.”

Axxother dead silexxce; Helen’s soft toxxes broke it. “ There must be soxxxe mistake,” she said, approachixxg her coxxsixx with her old gexxtle nxaxxnex-, all anger havixxg givexx xvay to pity at the sight of his ghastly face. “ Henry— Olx, Henry, ax-e you ill ? ” “ Miss Setoxx, you had better leave us for tlxe presexxt," said the old lawyex-, stex-ixly. “I fear there is room foxsome paixxful sxxspicioxxs regarding Mr. Seton’s condxxct. At axxy rate, the matter must be ixxvestigated. I shall start for JS. myself to-morrow, to make the necessary inquiries.”

A kixxd of gurgle startled them.

Henry was standixxg witlx his two haxxds px-essed agsinst his brow as if to keep his sexxses. He strove to speak, but somethixxg seemed to choke him axxd his words were hax-dly articulate; yet he forced them out and they stood still to listen.

“ There is xxo need; it is true ! I altered the letter. Not for tlxe fortune; it was to win Helen, but—oh, xxxy God ! What is this?”

He staggered, and his eyes closed. Helexx turned white: tlxe lawyer axxd Alaxx Mortoxx spx-ang forward, but before they were able to reach hinx, Hexxry Setoxx had fallexx to tlxe ground at their feet, stricken with paralysis.

# * * #

The seqxxel is soon told. Helen is happy. She axxd Alan Mortoxx have sold the old family place, where the change of ownership mxxst have beexx kxxown axxd coxxxnxexxted xxpoxx, and have settled ixx a distaxxt part of Exxglaxxd, within easy reach but oxxt of sight of the sea. Two tixxy childrexx play round tlxe fire-side ; besides these, their hoxxxe has axxother occxxpaxxt. Whose easychair is that drawn xxp in winter to the warmest axxd sxxxxggest nook by the hearth? Who is the ixxvalid, a yoxxxxg maxx still, bxxt with wasted lixxxbs axxd drawn features, who on summer days caxx jxxst crawl down the terrace axxd sit basking ixx sxxnxxy spots ? He brings a book soxnetimes, bxxt his mind is weak, and he likes best to play with the childrexx, axxd tell them long rambling stories, which are their chief delight. Bxxt whexx they x-ead hinx stories ixx retixx-xx, they xxotice that if thex-e is any mexxtioxx of a lonely pool expend their- playfellow’s face chaxxges ; it seexxxs to strike a painful chord ixx his xxxemox-y; he grows gloomy axxd sexxds thexxx away. They have leax-nt to pass ovex- sxxch passages ixx their little books.

See! there come Helen, and her husband; how handsome he is ! and how lovingly she leans upon his arm, and looks up at him with her soft, trusting eyes. They join the invalid, and Alan makes him lean <ai him, while Helen walks on the other side. He brightens up a little and thanks them, and they speak cheerfully to him but he soon relapses into melancholy. Thus it has been for years; thus it will be to the end of the life of this wreck of what once was the calm, keen, clearsighted Henry Seton,