CHAPTER I.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 112, 25 July 1885, Page 6

CHAPTER I.

THE DYING MOTHER — AN ABDUCTION. The time: an evening of late autumn, A.D. 1860. The scene: British India; a substantial brick dwelling, overlooking Wellington Square, in Calcutta. In a comfortably furnished chamber, with here and there traces of former luxury, upon a bed from which Bhe was never again to arise in life, lay a woman, of middle age, still beautiful despite the wear of time and the ravage of disease. She was a widow— her name, Mary Ash lon. By her side, with gentle hand smoothing away tho nut-brown tresses from her marble brow, stood her only child— a girl of sixteen ; of medium height, possessing a beauty like what her mother's must have been in its prime. Her hair was of a rich golden brown, clustering in bewitching ourls about a perfect female head ; her eyes, of a deep warm hazel, were full of liquid light— truly a lovelight—smiling in joy, and infinitely tender at all times; her face was more th in beautiful—it was charming in its heart-given loveliness, with a sweotness and truthfulness at once winning and assuring. Her voico wps all music ; her smiles, lurking about her dimpled cheeks and sparkling in her golden oyos, wero entrancing ; her every movement, by its rhythmic easo and grace, giving token of a character as mild and unobtrusive as it was firm and reliable. " Dor^a !" — the voice was faint and laboured—" I think I will have my head raised. I do not breathe easily lying thus." "0, mamma ! has that cruel pain come! back again?" "ho, darling. No, no,— it is not so much pain as it is heaviness —a weakness — a sort of— of- suffocation. And I fool it here, too," placing hor hand over her heart. The daughter slightly tinklod a small silver hand-bell that stood upon a table at the bed side, and then gently lifted the sufferer's head, holding it against her bosom until help came. Help fjuickly appeared in the person of a native Hindoo maid, named Leila Saba. She was twenty years of ago ; a small, bright-eyed pretty girl, full of life and energy, and devotedly attached to her beautiful young mistress, whom she had served from earliest childhood. Her mother had been in the employ of Doris's father, nnd in that service had ended hor life, and the relations., of mistress and maid between the two children had begun when Doris was three and Leila seven. The Hindoo child had grown until she had reached the age of fourteen, after which not an inch was added to her stature, nor the atom of a span to her size ; but she had grown keen and sparkling, developing intellectual capacity of high order, at the same time retaining the unswerving honour and truth of childhood, with a love and devotion that knew no variableness nor shadow of turning. When Mrs Aahton had been raised to a sitting posture, with plenty of pillows for the support of her back, she sweetly smiled j her gratitude, and breathed with less of painful effort. But Doris, after a little waiting, was not satisfied. 11 Dear mamma !"— vith her arms around the loved one's neck — "this must not be. You are suffering as you have never suffored before. Toll me, truly— is it not so V The failing woman would have persisted in a negative had not the symptoms been too apparent for denial. As it was, she was forced to admit the truth. "0! I know it —I have seen it since the middle of the afternoon. Now, mamma, dear, not a word. Do you juet mind me, and be good, and let me do what I wish, I shall leave Leila to watch with you while I go for a doctor. I shall not think of rost until he has seen you." '• No, no, darling !" cried the fearing mother, putting forth a thin, wasted hand imploringly. "Think of the darkness of the night, and the distance, and— o, my own precious child !— the danger !" " Mamma, mamma, do not, I beseech you, let your fears run away with your judgment.j udgment. Where can there bo danger ? Only across the square, and a few steps beyond. I can run to the doctor's house in a few minutes, and I will come back with him." At this point the little maid put in her plea. Moving lightly to Doris's side, and taking one of her hands in both her own, she said, with heart-sent earnostness : "Dear lady, let mo go for the doctor. 1 ! know where he lives— close by the Union Church ; and — " But Doris did not allow her to finish. She had in mind the message — the instruction —which she wished the doctor to receive, and she would not trust it to another. Leila could be parsistent, when she felt in her heart that she was right, as well as coujd her mistress, I " Doris," she said, reaching up to rest a hand upon the girl's shoulder, "you know what you and I have both agreed upon. Your mother says truly. There is danger —•or, at leaßt, wo have reason to believe so. Until we can know something more—something definite and positive- of the man who so mysteriously hovers near you, and who, Tom sure, has more than once sought to do you harm— until we can know that, you ought not to expose yourself needlessly." " O, pshaw !" cried the eager girl, with a slight tap of her foot upon the floor. "I have talked with George about the matter, and he agrees with me that the man is but a whimsical fellow, who seeks to amuse himself by hailing young girls on the street. If he had meant me harm, he would have done it long ere this, for his opportunities have been many," " Dear, dear Doris," pleaded the faithful maid, "George, in the goodness of his heart and in his great love lor you, seeks to allay your fears, being determined to stand between you and harm, That he suspects that strange ruffian of evil intent I know. He may be near us at this very moment. If you will go for the doctor, let me go with you, Mrs Driscoll will come and sit with your mother. You can trust her, I was in her room when you rang your bell, and I know she is at leisure. Let me call her." As the mother added her earnest plea, Doris finally consented that Leila might bear her company ; and she smilingly added that companionship would be agreeable on the street at night. So the maid went upon her errand, and presently Mrs Drjscoll came. She was a pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman, wife of a captain of heavy artillery stationed at Forb William, and occupying apartments in that same house. She was strongly attached to both the widow and her daughter, and it gave her pleasure to assist them in any way within her power. On the present occasion, she came with a smile and a word of cheer and brought light anti blessing, so that Doris could go away,' taking Leila with her, without feeling that sho was neglecting her mother,

When the girl was ready to • set forth upon her errand, she came and gave her mother a kiss of love, as she always did when going out. '•Now mind, darling," the sufferer said, trying to smile in the old fond way, " you will not frighten good Doctor Bloom. It is only this strange feeling here. I never had anything like it before. He will know how to help me, I dare say." When Doris had reaohed the door, and partially opened it, Mrs Driscoll, who had been sitting by the bedside holding one of the sufferer's hands, quietly called her by name, at the "same time rising from her seat and approaching her. "Doris, I have just thought of a word that I wish to send to Dr. Bloom. If it will not bother you, I will get you to deliver it." She joined Doris at the door, and, gently pushing her out into the hall, went out after her, where, in a whisper, she quickly said, and earnestly : " Dear girl, tell the doctor that your ! mother is very low. He must not tarry a moment " " 0, Mra Driscoll, do you think mamma is dying?" " sh ! I will not say that ; but she is in a very critical situation. Her heart is weak and fluttering. Your own judgment will tell you what that may signify. There — that is all. Do not be long away." The anxious daughter would have questioned further had not fear of exciting her mother restrained her. She pressed the good woman's hand in token of her gratitude and her confidence, then turned, and was soon in the open air, with Leila by her side. Welling ton Square was an open park, of several acres in extent, bounded on the south by Dhurrumtolla-stieet, the other three sides being flanked by some of the most desirable residences in the city. The house in whifh our friends resided was at the north-west corner of the square ; the residence of Dr. Bloom was on the street above mentioned, a little distance to the eastward, fo that Doris would make a saving of time and travel by crossing the square diagonally, which she could easily do, as walks were laid out in all directionsSide by side the two girls crossed the car-riage-way, entering the spacious park by one of the lighted arches, and striking at once into a path that would lead them on their course direct. The night was dark ; there was no moon, but plenty of light was afforded pedestrians in this part of the city by the numerous gas-jets that flamed in all directions. The twain had gone halt the distance between the point of entrance and the centre of the square when Leila touched her mistrets upon the arm, at the same time pointing to two shadowy figures ahead. " They are going the same way that we are," said Doris. " Yes," answered the other ; " but where did they come from ? They were not in the path a moment ago— of that lam sure." "They may have come in from another walk." "There is none between us and them." " You see a bugbear, Leila." But her boldness was on the surface. Though she spoke lightly she slackened her pace, and took her companion's hand. Presently the two figures came within the glare of a gas-light, upon which they were seen to be men of ordinary size and appearance, and well dressed. They were not gentlemen, however, for they wore heavy boots, and their garments had a look of the sea in their cut and fashion. Moreover, thoy walked with a slouching gait, dragging i their feet like men used to devious ways. Doris was upon the point of suggesting a halt, when the strangers turned abruptly to the left into a cross path, and were soon lost to sight beyond a flanking of flowering shrubs. " Hark !" whispered Leila, stopping and bending her ear. "I wonder if they are moving on." "Yes," said Doris. "I hear them plainly." "No; that is the step of a horse in tho main path." "I am suro I heard a human footfall besides. Let us move on. Ido not think there can be any danger." | " Dear lady," urged the maid, taking her mistress by the arm, " if you will listen to me you will turn back at once and take tho open street." "No, no, Leila. I must not waste the precious moments. There can be no danger from thoso men. They would have turned back upon us when they had the opportunity if they meant us harm," The Hindoo girl said no more. They kept tho extreme right-hand side of the path and moved on. A few steps brought them to tho crossing, where they quickened their pace almost to a run ; but they were not permitted to go much farther. Doris, thinking herself safe, was beginning to slacken her speed, when a quick, heavy step behind caused the pair of them to start into a still swifter run. But their running did not avail them. Scarcely a dozen paces { had they accomplished after taking the alarm, when, at the same moment, both were caught — Doris, with a groan of distress — Leila, quicker to think, with a shriek for holp— only a single cry, however, as on the next inßtant a coarse filthy sack was thrown over her head, and a moment more she was lifted into a pair of strong arms and borne swiftly away. In like manner had her mistress been treated, both of them being well-nigh smothered by the dust and dirt that was shaken from the foul sacks. It would be impossible to picture the anguish of Doris upon finding herself thus arrested on her way to the doctor's. To herself or to what might be the result of the outrage so far asshewas alone concerned, she gave not a thought. She thought of her mother— perhaps dying, perhaps dead, if the doctor did not come in season — and her heart seemed bursting with its volume of agony. She did not try to call for help ; she only tried to implore the ruffian who bore her that he would let her g-o upon her errand ; but she could not speak. If she opened her lips in the attempt the foul dust filled her mouth and her throat, and the effort was vain. When she had given over all hope of attracting the attention of her captor, she gave thought to herself. 0 ! why had she not given heed to the advice ot Leila ? As she now viewed the matter, after the calamity had fallen, she was surprised that she could have been bo blindly wilful. Her own sense should have led her back to the open street as soon as those two men had disappeared from the path. By-and-bye a gleam of hope gaveslight relief to the darkness of her despair. She said to herself : "Georgewillcomethisevening,l am very sure. He will bring the doctor, and— o ! he will search for me. George 1 George !— o ! if you could know whither they are carrying us !" Ah ! whither ? And what did it mean ? Why had she been singled out for persecution ? This was the first time a violent hand lad ever been laid upon her j but evil eyes had haunted her, and more than once, she had reason to believe, only the unexpected presence of others had prevented overt villainy. Hark ! The men had stopped. How far they^had gone Doris could not judge, though she knew that they had, been going down hill, consequently towards the river. iij -

"Say, Jake, whefe'e the boat goin'*to meet us ?" - - ' "That's what^ I'm trying to git through my wool, Joney." " Where'd you tell 'em ?" "That's where I missed it. I told Obed to be on hand every night this week, but I didn't tell him whether hereaway, or down towards the fort." l „ " Well, it don't much, matter. We can go down by the Town Hall and Court-House; to the iandin' there, and if we don't find him, we can keep along on the Strand to the Old Stairs." "Aye, 'twon't be far out o' the way, anyhow. Heave ahead 1" And tbey set forward again, walking swiftly, and evidently keeping well in the shadow of flanking walls and buildings. Doris knew that the distance from Wellington Square to the river was a mile and a quarter ; and that from the landing of the Court-House of the Old Stairs towards Fort William was something over half a mile more. In going that distance might not help come ? 0 ! if she could only make her voice heard. Bub soon a new horror arose. She felt that she was smothering. The dust had so filled her nostrils that she breathed with difficulty, and she was forced to open her mouth. This wag dreadful. The dust would soon clog up her lungs. She could not endure it, and in her great agony she struggled mightily. " I said, Jack, the gals is smotherin'." " Well, it I let'em smother I". "No, no, I wouldn't do that. If they'll swear't they won't make no racket, let's give 'em a bit of fresh air." Presently the men stopped again, and both the girls were set upon their feet; Then the man called Jack addressed Doris : "Say, Miss, d'you want a bit o' fresh air?" Doris answered as best she could : " 0, yes ! in Heaven's name yes !" " Wai, now look 'c ; 6f we'll let you have yer heads out, will you swart you won't try ter holler ? — 'at you won't make no noise anyway ? 'Cause, 'f you don't, you shan't have it." Doris assented, as did her maid ; and after a few precautions, interspersed with direful threats and terrible oaths, the sacks were opened, and the captives' heads were set free. 0 ! how sweet, how grateful it was, Doris filled her lungs with heaven's own fresh, pure air, and for themoment forgot all other suffering. The relief was se great that her heart swelled despite the terrors that remained. The place where tbey had stopped was nearer to the river than she had thought. By the dim light of a gas-jet at a distant corner, she could see that they were close in against a high dead wall, with a gloomylooking building, without a lighted window anywhere, on the opposite side of the way. The hum of travel she could hear behind them, while ahead, at a short distance, she could here the puffing of a steamboat, and she thought she heard the splash and rattle of oars. At all events, the river was close at hand, as ehe could see the reflection of the 6tars in its unruffled! waters. "Now mark, gals. If you open them 'ere pertater- traps o' yourn, it'll be woree for you. The chances are that you'll git yer heads stove in, 'cause we won't put up with no foolin', mind that. Come, Joney, let's heave ahead." Doris turned her head in season to see Leila lifted in the arms of the man called Joney, and on the next she was herself lifted ia like manner, and borne c n dov n to the water's side. She recognised i „ Court-House landing, and she could see boats floating alongside ; but she saw no boats with men in it. The men stopped here, and again set the girls upon their feet, while they looked over the boats that were moored along the quay. <c He ain't here, that's eartin." " He'll be at the Old Stairs ; so here's off agin." " Say, Jake, why not let the gals walk ? We can pick 'em up if there phould be any need." Jake considered for a brief space, and seemed rather to like the idea. "Look'e, my sweet little creeturs, ef we'll take these 'ere bags off m you, will you walk right along and keep quiet? By the big horn spewn ! you'd better do it, now, I tell you !" Thus far, it will be understood, the girls had been kept in the dirty eacks, their heads alone being out ; but if they were to walk the sacks would have to be entirely removed. "I promise," cried Doris, anxious to be freed from the foul environment. " And you, my little ducklin'," said the other ruffian, appealing to the Hindoo girl, " will you give your promise too ?" She gave her promise readily enough, but e\ idently with a mental reservation. The ruffians looked around the Strand, and bent their ears to listen, and having assured themselves that no one was near to trouble them, they turned to the left towards the fort, and walked as swiftly as their captives could be made to go. They had left the government buildings behind them, and were no ir upon a stretch of road not built upon, and seemingly deserted. As they passed out from the shadows o the high walls Doris looked up at the face ©f the man who dragged her along, but his features were hidden by a mask — apparently a piece of crape, with openings for the mouth and eyes. She bad just made this discovery when she felt her hand grasped more tightly, her conductor at the same time turning his head to lock behind him. . "Hi! Jonas!— l believe we're tracked. Pick up yer gal, and run for it ! By I we'll slip 'em yet ! Obed '11 be sure to be on hand. 'Taint a great way off. Now! Away we go !" Once more the girls were taken up in the arms of their captors, who now ran as for dear life ; but they were not to get away without a note of warning j for Leila, mindlees of the result to herself, sent forth a ! scream that fairly split the air — scream upon scream,— until the man who bore her, with horrible imprecations, and threats of throatcutting and heart-stabbing, had got his broad palm over her mouth. Then they ran swiftly — ran with all their might and main— passing several men on the road who thought not of troubling them — ran— ran— ran— with no sign of fainting or tiring, until at length the pier-heads of the Old Stairs were in sight, and a man standing near to them. " Obed !— Obed J" " Aye, aye 1" " Good ! Here we are. Where's yer boat?" "At the foot of the stairs." "All right. Down you go! Quick! The bloodhounds are close aboard ! Where'r yer men ?" "In the boat, all ready." "Aye, aye— down I— 4own ! Cast off! Out with yer oars 1" It was the man called Jake who gave these orders, shouting them forth as he and his companion bore their fair burdens down, the landing-stairs, and into the boat. Jonas and Leila were first on boad ; then he and' Doris ; then he shouted : "Look alive, boys! Let f&ll. Pull away. Pull for your lives ! Ho, ! We'll-." (To bt Continued.) - <.

about 12 p.m. after spending a very pleasant evetrug.