CHAPTER XXV.

Te Aroha News, Volume 1, Issue 47, 26 April 1884, Page 4

CHAPTER XXV.

A SORROWFUL STORY. " And now, my friends," said the dowager, gravely, "I shall ask you to listen to a sorrowful story. I will try to have it told as briefly as possible, with only such words as are needed to show you the true situation. You have all known the Mildmay family and its history. I think you will sustain me in saying that its pride, however overfed and wrong it may have been, was more on account of its stainless escutcheon, its pure women, its noble men, than of its wealth or rank. My husband's father, old Sir Hugh, was almost a monomaniac on the subject. I remember well how often his son, my husband, has told me that he was trained in his boyhood to hate all dishonourable doings, all sin, and lowness, and folly, not so much for their own hideousness as because they were unbecoming to the Mildmays, and because none of the family had ever been guilty of them. They were very hard, I know, upon all erring men and women ; they had no charity for shortcomings, misdemeanours, weaknesses. Be cause they had held themselves so clear from all mire they believed all the rest of the world might walk with unpolluted garments. Ah, me, ah, me ! They did not know there is such a thing as walking too erect in this v, orld full of fallen and bruised and fainting i creatures, so that one does not see where a helping hand is needed. '' "They had a right to feel thus," broke in the earl, decisively. " Theirs is a proud record. No fleck mars the purity of their escutcheon." " Ah," sighed the dowager, " that is the way I used to think. I was prouder even I than my husband of this grand, stainless character for which the Mildmays held such reputation. Alas ! are not all men mortal, and is not mortality fallible ? Could I think the Mildmays were to be exempt from sinfulness and human frailty ? Dear friends, I have been taught a bitter but it may be a wholesome lesson. My only son " " Hapless Sir Richard !" interrupted the judge. "How often I have mourned for the brilliant light he would have shed in these degenerate days. Ah, Lady Mildmay, I shared your grief. You know he was my boyhood's dearest friend." "Would he had been worthy of it," sighed a deep voice behind him. The judge turned indignantly. "And that he was, sir. No one can convince me otherwise." "He was the sole representative of the Mildmays, and a mother's love might be pardoned for believing him the flower of all the chivalrous nobility of soul they so delighted in," went on the dowager, sadly. "I believe he was a youth of generous heart and worthy purpose, but in a blind belief that his name and blood secured him against all weakness, he was never taught to strengthen or shield himself against temptation. You remember the tragic event that draped this house in black, and | killed his fair young wife, and filled my heart with woe." "Ah, who can forget Sir Richard's untimely death," moaned the judge; "so young, bo promising, so true-hearted ! It was no wonder that you were changed into a statue of ice. Do not pain yourself by recalling that dreary time, dearest Lady Mildmay." "Sir Richard did not die," said the dowager, in a low, awed voice. " Let me show

you now the foul spots in mother and son that a cruel inexorable pride covered over, and hid from the world's knowledge. He came to me, a skulking fugitive at dead midnight, just two hours in advance of the fatal news of his death, and he showed to me what at the time was blacker and more horrible than any death. He had fallen into bad company. He had followed evil ways. He, the last Mildmay, and shame and disgrace, nay, worse, the deadliest dishonour that could be imagined, were waiting to clutch upon him, and show up to the world what their paragon had become. Knowing the shrine at which I had worshipped, you may be able to see how the mother in me died, and only pride lived and spoke. What I said and did, 1 dare not even now recall. I only know I wrung my hands once, exclaiming : ' Oh, if the message that is coming were only true, there might be some hope of peace for me.' And that the wretched creature grovelling at my feet started up, white and wild-eyed as a ghost, and declared it should be so, if I had only strength enough to carry it out. " She stopped a moment, gasping, shuddering. " Mother, mother, leave the rest to me," said the strange gentleman behind her. "You cannot bear any more. Give the story into my hands." " You— you !" Btammered the judge, starting out of his chair again, and one could almost see the sleek iron-gray locks rising on his shapely head as he turned eagerly upon the speaker. "You are then " "Richard Mildmay." "Dick, Dick, merry old Dick, I can hardly credit it, and yet I see the old trick of the lips," cried out the grave judge, bursting into a laugh that was half hysterical, and wholly unnatural. But he seized and wrung the hand the returned baronet had not ventured to extend. The earl went hastily to the dowager, and taking both her hands in his, repeated incoherently : "Oli, my poor friend — my Spartan mother; indeed, what have you not borne in all these years ?" She looked up with a tremulous smilo. "You will help us by your wisdom, your friendship, now that the trial hour comes ? You will advise us what is best ? '' " Can you doubt us for a single instant ?" asked he, clearing his voice from a husky sob, before he could articulate. " Proceed, Sir Richard, let us have the painful story ended, so that we consult together how safety and happiness can be brought about, for I know it could be no ordinary danger that would drive you from this mother's side. Perhaps 1 have a dim suspicion of it all. I remember that Marmaduke Earl shared your repotted death." " Poor Marmaduke " sighed Sir Richard ; " though I had been dwelling in a paradise all this time, the very thought of him would have poisoned all my joy. At. it has really been, his memory has been one sharp scourge pressing cruelly into my breast by day and night. It was by my hand— my wickedly thoughtless, but never criminally murderous, hand — that he came to his death. I solemnly confess the fact here." Ho paused, while a low cry cf horror burst from Lady Hortense, as she looked up wildly into Konrade Earle's face. He was very pale, but he stepped more closely to her, and held her hand now opouly and fearlessly. "I was the victim of "my own foolhardiness, as well as most unfortunate circumstances," went on Sir Kichard after the little stir of agitation had been again silenced. " Let me be just, alike to myself and to the hideousness of my deeds. 1 had been nur&ed and fed upon the proud assertion that a Mildmay could not go wrong or do evil. I thought my hands so clean that nothing polluting could cling to them. Morever, I am not sure that I fully realised that it was really evil that 1 handled so thoughtlessly. When I look back upon it, I cannot see just whose was the plot, and yet I feel sure I was the victim of some wily, diabolical plan that led me on step by step. I was sent away, perhaps the judge remembers, upon a secret political errand, although ostensibly sharing a plea»ureyachting cruise of Lord W 's. I found myself nattered, feted, and intoxicated with specious adulation, which I see now most of all compassed my ruin. I was led to drink, to gamble, and get dangerously entangled in the train of a certain notorious woman, who kept the stale and surrounded herself with the luxuries of a princess Marmaduke Earle was my constant companion, but from our first acquaintance we had clashed and been antagonistic. He was bitter, misanthropical, sardonic. There is something still a mystery. Sometimes I think that my evil genius was really that gay, genial Charley Blair, and that it was he who secretly fanned the flame of ire constantly rising between us. But I dare not judge. I only know I had no real anger or resentment of any sort against poor Marmaduke, and that it was his own rude words or stinging remarks that fired my anger whenever I was heated with wine. I feel sure, though, that Marmaduke Earle owed me some grudge, and that it was his contrivance that thrust me into the clutches of a notorious sharper and gambler, who plucked mercilessly the unwary pigeon in his talons. I woke suddenly to the horror of a startlingly large gambling debt, and to the shameful consciousness of a dissipated life which I dared not show to my mother's scrutiny. The scales fell from my blinded eyes. I saw how low I, a Mildmay, the last of his proud line, had fallen. It was under the smart of this wretchedness and humiliation that I was coaxed by Charley Blair to share a shooting expedition he had organised. I was only too thankful to escape trom the raillery of Lord W and his party, and I stepped into the little sail-boat that waa to take us from the yacht to the shore, without knowing or caring who else was in the company. Why need I dwell upon the details ? Marmaduke Earle was one, and he and I and Blair were at one time alone in the boat. The former had been drinking freely, if I can judge by his extraordinary behaviour. He turned upon me with the most insulting words, the most bitter denunciations. In my utter humiliation of mind I muttered something about deserving the worst he could accuse me of. At which he vociferated, "So you own that it was you ! " and with a terrible oath he sprang toward me. I believe now that it was more the goading look and sneer of Blair than my own anger at the poor fellow's madness, that impelled me to lift my arm and strike him that awful blow. He had been standing carelessly in the boat, about midway, and Blair held the rope of the sail, and also managed the tiller from the stern. The wind was a little squally, and the tide setting in pretty strongly. It is likely, in the excitement of the altercation, that Blair was careless in his management, and that a flaw of the wind caught the shifting sail. At all events, not five seconds, it seemed to me, after my blow felled poor Marmaduke, who struck his head againt the thwarts as he fell, even while Blair exclaimed, ' You have killed him !' the boat went over, and we were all in the water. I I was cool and collected enough, when I rose from the dizzy plunge, to call out to Blair.' '•'In Heaven's name, where is Earle? Tell me where to dive for him 1'

" And I solemnly swear to you here, I would have risked my life for him at that moment. But Blair called out hastily : " • Swim to the shore, man, if you want to save your neck from the hangman, and me from testifying beforo a court of justice that you have killed him. Don't you see thoy are coming to our assistance from the yacht? Be off and hido yourself. I will meet you at the Wounded Hare to-night, at midnight, and settle the rest.' " But,' cried I, piteously, he cannot be dead ! Let me wait and find the body !' "'I will take oare of that, ' he returned. ' See, there are half a dozen boats coming this way. You haven't a moment to lose.' " And, like one stunned in mind, I turned and swam away. It was a dangerous task, and one that nearly exhausted me ; but I reached a solitary portion of the shore, and found shelter and hiding-place for the night, waiting, wretched, and still halfcrazed in mind, for the midnight visit of Blair. It loft mo in a deeper sea of horror than before. Ho showed me the debts of honour demanding immediate payment which, as he sot it forth, he had secured, for his friendship's sake, to save my name from public dishonour. He told me that poor Marmaduke Earle's body was still under the water ; that men were dragging and searching for us both ; and sincerely advised me to allow the report of my death to go uncontradicted. He had a great deal to say about his friendship, and the extraordinary exertions he had made to buy off these gambling debts of mine, and asked me to make him good for the amount, and go my way as I would, ho would keep my socret. The sum total was enormous. I could not believe then, I feel sure now, that I had never been quite so reckless. He probably made a little fortune out of my distresses. But I accepted all his statements mechanically. I gave him my promise of settlement in London, and let him hurry mo off in disguise. Then I found my mother — I need not describe that interview. She has told you enough to give you full understanding of its anguish and perplexities. If her pride was inexorable, her courage was matchless also, and her strength. I wrote the will which gave what little reparation was in my power to Marmaduke Earlo'.-s orphan boy. I took a paltry sum — enough to keep me in bread and water until I could learn to earn something for myself— and having dropped my parting kiss upon the unconscious forehead of my own motherless babe, I knelt a moment at my mother's feet, and then, beforo the tidings of the accident arrived, I had said what I believed my last farewell to all I loved on English soil. My mother managed to pay the debt within a year, and from that time she heard no more of Blair. I myself have never sot eyes upon him since. I have literally lived a living death, whose only glimpse of light and life has been through my mother's monthly letter?, which were sent with great caution and much circumlocution. I have been the lighthouse-keeper of a lonely beacon light on the Florida coast for many dreary years. At her summons I have come again to England, to defend my daughter from a threatening danger. Tell mo now, friends— peer, judge, justice — what is the one right, honurable course for me to pursue?" There was a deep, profound silence in the great room. And every face showed trace of strong emotion. Hortense and the dowager had both moved forward to Sir Richard's side, and their pale cheeks and tearful eyes betrayed what deep suspense awaited the answer. (To be Continued.)