THE STORY-TELLER.

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 2, 16 June 1883, Page 4

THE STO RY-TELLE R.

Lord Elsdaile's Secretary. (From jL<wi>on Truth.) Lori El^U'ile's hrow grow very d ark ? .- bo \.\hoA his wife's inanimate form, mi I run" 1 the bell for the servants. He nded lier over to the care of her maid v \<hout a word, and retired to his study, -^ ."re he remained till the sjnall hour*, '" over what had occurred. It . i * not Claude Taunton's miodemean...f that exercised his mind. His life's ' nuting-fit had given him more serious u for bitter reflection, for there was " i f»ngei' room for doubt Unit the love 1 t ich she had withheld from him had .n bestowed upon this boy. it would be difficult to analyse the lings which this startling conviction -•;<Hi*od in his lordship's mind. At .•-i, fierce indignation predominated, "l he was vaguely conscious that the ' < c k ho hail received had wounded him 1 Vw the surface. Even the keen, -Mi'jiug sense of humiliation which lie i m onenced would not. account for the >i,;!ml'O numbness at his heart when the i\'.'i paroxysm \>f rage and indignation ju'i passed away. Involuntarily, his lii>nii>hts reverted to the now distant iiry when lie had loved her ardently. lie kid grown reconciled to the idea t u his wife did not care for him, v?i iXv because he had persuaded him--Mt that it wa^ not her nature to care i'<«r any man. But now that she had .^ome infatuated with the blue-e\e! ( iMolboy, his jealously was so strong XA'l bitter that it was evident his old ] >>v had only lain dormant all th^se ) 0.1 .S. T ord Elsdaile's long vigil in his s'nAy was chiefly devoted to fierce ebulli'^ns of raire and indignation. But it buppened he had arranged to go into d-o country the following morning, to •\ <-■<■. one of his estates, anil he started i on his journey without seeing his wife, :h<\ of a pretext for taking time to conic r the situation camly. In the course • • die next few clays he had ample Li -ure to examine his heart, and he c."-uld not conceal from himself that he 'oved his wife better than he could have sieved it possible. The proof was that, I'.oughhehad never yet hesitated to find i \uit with her on the smallest provor.it'on, he felt fault strangely inclined to Ignore the grave iudiscretion of which he 'relieved her to be guilty. In truth, by m .iking his lordship jealous, Lady Elsda'le had unconsciously hit upon the most L-Jectual method of arousing his affec4 ions. While Lord Elsdaile was uneasily de;x; x. J ing in his mind whether to treat the r 'tter seriously, or whether, now that • iung Taunton had left the house, it . aid not be wiser to conceal his annoaiice, he received a short note from her luyship, reminding him of a clinner])arty at his own house in town, which be had forgotten. As there was no UK.c to recall the invitations, Lord Els}aile had no alternative but to return jimediately, still undecided what course to pursue. He had notevci come to a Jeci-b.-jii when, the same evening, he met his Itvdj&hip for the first time since die raomontous scene which had so disturbed him. He thought she looked very thin ai» 1 pale as she entered the drawingroom to recieve the expected guests, aiiu her embarrassment was as great as Ins own, "V. r 'nere are your diamonds, Clara?" !if inquired, abruptly, for the sake of <v<t\iu'.c something to conceal hh emotion. "^ on mean my — my tiara ?" replied Lady Elsdaile, evidently striving to appe.ir calm. "Yen you know I always like you to wotir them on these oct-asions," he rem;T i.ed, in a less peremptory tone than usual. "1 ( ie fac f is, John, I have sold them," an-\vered Lady Ehdaile, turning vavy whit". u I sold them for £5,000 to Bem 3 , tlie jeweller. You know they v/crt 1 my own absolutely. Yon said so \ ivn yon gave them to me before our !n£-ri!.)i>e.'' " Why did you sell them?" demanded Lord Ulsdail, sternly, instinctively anticipt't'ug what the answer would be. "I wanted the money to give to Claude Tallinn," said his wife, confronting him alino'-t defiantly. " What !" exclamed Lord Elsedale, h\ ringing to his feet. "You dare to tell mo » "tStay, John ! Lifeten. Hear me !'» jntenupted her lady ship, seizing his arm eagerly. a Xot another word !" he cried, losing his self-control and thrusting her from him vwlentiy, "I untlersland everything.

You love that worthless scamp, Wel^ , go to him !" "My Lord, you insult, me ! How dnro you speak to n\c like that!" exclaimed her ladyship, in a tone of istonisl.men •nhich cairiril with it tlie (onviction o nor innocence. ' How dare you, my lord 3' ' Well, is it not so V he inquired, uithor feebly. * No, my lord. lam wicked enough, but 1 have never forgotten my duty to you,' said Lady Elsdaile, drawing herself up. ' I gave that money to Claude Taunton because I did him a cruel injury, which I have been striving to atone ior.' ' What do you mean V demanded Lord Elsdaile, thoroughly taken aback, and feeling very foolish. 'It was by my direction that he attempted to pawn those earrings,' said her ladyship, hurriedly, forgetting her wounded dignity, and speaking with great earnestnes. 'My lord, I have been wicked and deceitful. I wanted money to send to one of my brothers, who is ill, and 1 knew it was no use applying to you. 1, therefore, requested Claude to pawn some small articles of jewellery, which he did. I stood by that night, coward that I was, and suffered him to be wrongly accused and punished. I have no excuse to make, except that it all happened so suddenly, and I was afraid . I—l1 — I wanted time to summon up my courage to bear your wrnth. The least I could do aftcrwauls was to seek the poor boy out, and endeavour to make some atonement. He lias now sailed for New Zealand with the £5,000 which I persuaded him to take by sa)ing it came from you, and you were convinced of his innocence. i hope you will forgive mo that falsehood, at ieast, John.' Lady EWlaile, in her eagerness, had laid her trembling hand on her husband's arm again, but this time he did not shake it off. On the contrary, he pressed it closer to his side, and said, in a kinder tone than he had used for I years, while the frown disappeared from , his brow — I 'My dear Clara, you were foolish, but we will say no more about the matter. Hush, my dear. Diy your eyes. I hear somebody's carriage drive up to the duor.'