CHAPTER VII.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 135, 2 January 1886, Page 4

CHAPTER VII.

A PAINFUL INTERVIEW. Arthur hastened on his journey, but there had gone before bim a white-winged missive to Mr Wjddeinar from Mr Richard Halstead, and thia, alas ! was destined to sadly mix and mar the pattern of tiro human lives. Immediately after leaving his son, Mr Halstead had shut himself in his chamber, and there he had written a long letter to Mr^Waldemar, telling him the story of the last few weeks, and colouring it to suit himself. He represented Arthur as having paid their young and beautiful guest the most marked attention ever since nis return from New York, giving the impression that he had entirely won her heart—" perhaps not wantonly," he said, as if willing to offer what excuse he could for his only boy, "but at least thoughtlessly." And then, when matters bad gone as far as he thought they ought without a denoueynent, and he had questioned him regarding his intentions concerning Miss Montrose, he had confessed to a prior attachment for Miss Waldemar, greatiy to his astonishment and dismay, and had flatly refused to give ber up. * Perhaps you may be able to imagine, ' he wrote, in conclusion, " something of what my feelings as a father may be— the grief, the humiliation I suffer in being obliged to make this confession to you regarding my dear and only son; and I ask that you will use your influence and authority to assist me in rapair*ing the -wrong which has thus been done Miss Montrose. That such a measure will doubtless cause suffering and a sense of injury on your own part and that of your daughter. 1 am forced to admit and bewail. To be frank with yon, however, I will say that I have already laid my commands upon my son regarding: his duty to the young lady in question and I have threatened him with disinheritance and banishment in case he refuses to obey. While, I had not this unhappy episode transpired, I should have been proud of an alliance with so highly respectable a family as your own ; yet, I must confess," that for years I have cherished a fond wish that the child of my dearest friend should become the wife of my son. With sincere regret over this very unpleasant state of affaiis, lam Most truly yours. Richard Halstead." This letter keenly wounded Mr Waldemar. He was a proud, high-spirited man, and he had not read the missive half through before he angrily asserted that Arthur Httlstead should never marry his daughter, though his lip curled with acorn as he realised how lightly Mr Halstead appeared to regard the wrong done her feelings compared with the injury which Miss Montrose was supposed to have suffered. He had been grealty pleased with Arthur Halstead— had thought him a noble, promising young man, and ono who would have it in his power to make Audrey very happy ; while he knew Bhe had given herself entirely to him, and it would be almost like rending soul from body to part them. Yet, believing now that he had been deceived in him — that Arthur's was an ignoble, or, at least, a weak, fickle nature, he resolved that there should be no further communication between them. Thus it will be seen why, when Arthur reached Chicago, he was received with exasperating coolness, united with the most rigid politeness. As it happened, Mr and Mrs Waldemar had just returned from a drive, it being a mild day, as he alighted from the carriage which had conveyed him from the station to the hotel where they were stopping. Audrey had not gone out with her parents that day, and was at that moment in her own room, writing letters to some of her friends at home. She had not yet been told of her lover's supposed faithlessness, for her father and mother both dreaded to break the heart of their darling, and were putting off the evil day as long as possible, and they had not a thought that Arthur himself would make his appearance among them. They were both startled and astonished when he sprang forward to greet them in his old hearty, affable manner, and as if expectins to be received upon the game footing as before their separation. After the first salutations were over, Mrs Waldemar stole away to detain Audrey in her own apartment, and to prevent, if possible, a meeting of the lovers. A shock ran through the young man as h6 became conscious of the cool manner and averted glances of his former friends. But like a flash the truth came to him— he understood it all. "My father is bound to carry his point at any cost, and has written to them," he said to himself,* and then, eager to have everything explained, he asked, as once before, though with very different feelings, for a private interview with Mr Waldemar. It was readily granted, and that gentleman at once led him to a room where they would be undisturbed. Then, before Arthur had an opportunity to utter one word, he took Mr Halstead's letter from his pocket and passed ifc to him. ** You will see by this, that I know before you tell me why you have come to us. You will also see that there will be no need to waste time over unpleasant explanations," he said, with a grave face and a severe eye. Arthur Halstead's face flushed and paled alternately as he read his father's cruel, tricky letter — for such it was ; and hie blood boiled with anger as he saw how he had been misrepresented. When he had finished it he refolded it, then deliberately tore it in four parts, crumpling the fragments in his hand. " I only wish I could destroy the influence of this cruel falsehood as easily," he said, looking up and meeting the eye of the man who was watching him with a Btern, forbidding expression. "It is a bold son who accuses his own father of lying," was the laconic response. Again the young man flushed hotly. "I know, sir, that I seem disrespectful," he said, " and I confess that I spoke under the influence of excessive anger ; buteif you will allow me to tell you the story of the last few weeks, I think you will be willing to admit that my conduct has at least been somewhat misrepresented." •'A man certainly has the right to defend himself," Mr Waldemar answered, briefly, but without relaxing a muscle of his rigid face. Arthur Halstead's lip quivered. He was hurt to the core by this ungracious reception ; but in a manly way he proceeded to tell his story, exactly as it was, and it was not long before he saw the look of stern reproach die out of his companion's countenance, and one of sorrow and anxiety take its place. "I can understand," he said at least, «when all was told—" yes, I can see very well how it has all come about. Your father has desired, for years, that you should marry the daughter of his friend. Undoubtedly the family were invited to

your home at this time for the very'purpoal of throwing you into eaoh other's society and.bnnging about this very result. Had you met niy daughter, I believe this c ,. c^ 5 - p woul d have been "accomplished;; and all would havebeen well," ' " But I did meet her and I learned to love her ; she is, and always will be, the deareßt object on earth to me. I won her heart j I pledged my own to her, and my first/ my onty duty is to her," interrupted Arthur, vehemently. " I know, all that, my young friend," returned Mr Waldemar, softening more and more as ho saw how true the young lover really was at heart j "but you have allowed yourself to drift into a false position since parting from Audrey. You have to ail appearance conducted yourself as the lover of Miss Montrose j at least," as Arther made a gesture of dissent, " the world, her friends and yourown appear to judge so } while she herself, believing that you were seeking her love, has yielded her heart to you. I never could give my consent," he continued, with dignity, "for Audrey to marry any one who would suffer 'banishment' and ' disinheritance ' on her account, so, according to my judgment, it only remains for you to right the wrong you have done Miss Montrose— innocently perhaps— so far as you are able," he concluded, with a decision which made the heart of Arthur Halstead drop like lead in his bosom. ••Mr Waldemar, you will not part us?— • you will not, surely, destroy the happiness of your daughter's life and mine by adhering to such mistaken ideas of justice as that ?" he cried, in a voice full of passion and anguish. ; "It may possibly be 'mistaken justice/ as you term it, J ' he replied, with thoughtful gravity; "but I have been trying to put myself in the place of Mr Montrose, and I find that I should expect a man, who had conducted himself toward my daughter as you have conducted yourself toward his - who had associated with her in a way to make all the world believe he meant to marry her and beguiled her own heart from her keeping— l say I should except him to do the only thing that an honourable man could do to savo her name from being lightly tossed from lip to lip and made the subjectof a public scandal— make her his wife." " And what of my plighted faith to Audrey ?" Arthur Halstead questioned with ashen lips. "You will be released from all vows to Miss Waldemar ; you know there was no formal engagment," Mr Waldemar returned briefly. "And what of our love— our wounded hearts - our ruined lives?" and the young lover's tone was one of agony. " Time, the great healer, roust take care of all that ;" but the strong man's voice broke over the worde which his inflexibility prompted him to utter. "Sir, you cannot mean it— you never will be so cruel. It is outrageous to imagine for a moment that we can be disposed of in this heartless manner. I tell you we can neither of us bear it," the despairing lover cried hoarsely. " My friend, you must both learn to bear it. I have said it —my daughter shall never be wedded to a man doomed to suffer 'banishment and disinheritance' on her account." " Is it because of my ruined prosDects— " began Arthur, but Mr Waldemar "stopped him with a gesture of his hand. "I should give but very littly thought to the state of your worldly affairs, all other objections being disposed of ; lam not a mercenary man, even if I did not already posses* abundance ; but my daughter will never be allowed to bethecauseof division in any family. Mr Halstead, you must consider your relations with Audrey dissolved.' TWs last was spoken with such inflexible decision that hope almost died in Arthur's heart, and he swayed dizzily in his chair. Oh, I do not believe you have any right to settle this matter so arbitrarily ; surely you will allow her to have a voice in it," he pleaded. "Certainly; but I know beforehand what that will be. She is too much her father's counterpart not to concur in what I have aaid. I know that ahe would never consent to become the daughter-in-law of Richard flalstead after learning of the objections he has raised against the alliance." '• You will let me see her— you will at least allow me to vindicate myself in her sight J" Arthur cried, almost distracted by his obduracy, and believing if he could only see Audrey and tell her his own story, he could yet win her, and cause her father to relent through her influence. "A meeting would only cause useless pain to you both," Mr Waldemar replied. " However, if she deems it best to grant you an interview, after I have communicated what your father has written and what you youreelf have told me, she will have my permission to do so." "What! Have you told her nothing as yet?" cried Arthur eagerly, his heart bounding with a new hope. " No ; both her mother and I have been so much disturbed since we heard from Mr Halstead that we could not compose ourselves sufficiently to tell her." "Then do not-pray do not tell her all. I am pleading for her life and happiness as well as my own," the young lover begged earnestly. "lam ready to sacrifice home, friends, wealth, and ccunt it joy to do so, if I may but claim the love which I knowbelongsto me. Mr Waldemar, "he continued, rising and standing before that gentleman with impressive dignity, "I am an honourable man. I would not knowingly allow myself to be drawn into an ignoble act, and I swear to you that I have never swerved in thought, word, or deed from my faith to Audrey. Oh, do not try to take my darling from me !" Mr Waldemar's head dropped upon his bosom, and he appeared deeply moved for a moment. But presently he recovered himself. "Mr Halstead," he said, gravely, "it is useless to prolong this interview. What I have said is unalterable, and we only harrow each other's feelings by discussing the subject. I will tell Audrey this sad story, and will either send her to you, if she thinks beat to see you, or return myself and acquaint you with her decision." Ha left the room as he concluded, and Arthur Halstead sank into a seat, bowing his face upon his hands, weeping as only strong men can weep. He Bat there for two long hours, but he was far too wretched to heed the lapse of time, and was only aroused from the almost apathetic state into which he had fallen by Mr Waldermar's return. The man's face was ghastly, and his step faltered as he walked, while the hand which held out a note for the young man's acceptance shook as if it had been stricken with palsy. With a groan of anguish, Arthur- took the little missive,a faint, familiar odor of violets greeting him as he did so. He unfolded it with trembling fingers, but for a moment could see nothing : a blur was before his eyes, a ringing sound in his ears. Then he read these simple words : «JV^ a P a x^ 1 $? ld me ** kindly, as tenderly, and is fairly, I believe, as you couldhave done dear .have not one word of bjamtf for yonAttbur' or in my heart I believe you are blam^ss! ££L£ Can f how a great wrong has grown out of the force of oircumatances, over ™& ?o e^* p % 3 ;? I Ji, have no control; but the wrong Is there#all the same, and I cannot be

bb ° B toe 88 °^?<MsBenBion-and sfafoin ah*ppy r true andi&ithful tome ai? it is in the' nower of man tp^be ; but we;must;feow to^e Inevitabfe^w la J»« t- 9p & sa 7l y .9 u have asked tosee me, out, dear, I dp jiot believe; either of us could bear.it and feel that we were never, to meet a» sa % bl §Mfc.^ ; :r^ *? last ; The, note ended/ ahruptly without any' signature here, and there was a great blot, as if the pen had fallen upon the paper from nerveless fingers. * „ »r A i h^ raised his eyes questioningly to MrWaldemar. % "What does it mean?" he asked, showing him the note, "Ohj>fe« me see her !" , „ "It means that, upon learning 1 the facts ofthe case, her deoision was the same as mine ; that, of her own aocord, she wrote that note to you. She did. not falter until she came to the farewell, when the pen droppedfromherfingers.andshefainteddead ????' and Bhe is Sensible still. It would kill her to take personal leave of you j and —and do you not see that my own heart is breaking for you both ?" He broke down utterly here, and for a moment could not command his voice to go on. " At last he said, in gentler tones than he had yet used : "Go, I beseech of you, and let us end this, I could have laid down my life easier than to have lived to see this sorrow come upon my darling— my one ewe lamb. But it has oome, and we must bear it as best we can. Farewell, Arthur Halstead, and Heaven bless you, for I believe, at heart, you are one of nature's noblemen, though you have been led into an error which, I fear, has ruined your own life and that of my child." He stretched forth his trembling hand, wrung that of his companion, and then, turning abruptly /left the room again. For several moments Arthur Halstead stood like one stunned by a mortal blow. His face was colourless, his lips were drawn with pain, while his eyes had a wild, j agonised look in theta most pitiful to see. At last, with a groan that might have melted the hardest heart, he thrust that farewell from his dear one into his bosom, murmuring, with a bitter sob : "My lost Audrey— mine for ever, though we never meet again. I care not what becomes of me now." Then, with the stop of a drunken man. he staggered from the room and the hotel.