CHAPTER XII. THE DEPARTURE.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 157, 19 June 1886, Page 4

CHAPTER XII. THE DEPARTURE.

For <a few minutes the hormit and Clarence Ashworth stood in silonce, each looking at the towering rock and. evidently forgetful of Hie presence of the other. At length the former broke the silence. ! "It was," he said, in an abstracted way, "bad for your poor brother to come here, yet there are wov^e thingH than death." " Yes; a life of misery is one," said Clarence. "Trno ; and in following the footsteps of your brother, or, rather, in remaining so near to the olaco that was so fatal to him, you may be preparing yourself for that life of mit-eiy. Do not speak," said the hermit, ra;sing his hand to retrain Clarence. I know your thoughts, and that you would ask how I have come by my knowledgo I have my secrets and you yours ; let us keep them and part. I have good reasons for wi^hinsc you well, and it is thi* desire that leaJs mo to hopo that you will never return to Borisford Manor again." Tho hermit shook Clarenco's hand, and then, without waiting for the young man to ppeak, ho strode up tho pith that wound round Hanging Rock and led to the glen in the mountains where he had hi? home. As Clarence watched this mysterious man out of sight he paw Shiiley .Benson and Dr. Beri'-ford standing o'» the opposite e-ide of the Hanging Rock, and it was clear to him that they mu=fc have been witnesses of his altercation with tho detective. If he onteitainod any doubts as to this they were dispelled by the doctor, who approached him alone, while Shiiley went on, and by a roundabout way struck the road that led down to the \ill.ige. "I should havo come to you sooner," said tho doctor, rai-ing his ha-f al*a 1* ho approached Cluience, "if I could havo prevented your misunderstanding with the young man, who, [ am informed by Mr Ben«on, is a detective." "I had no misunderstanding with the fellow," said CUuence, his anyer retuiioino. "To-day, as on many days before, ho persisted in dogging my steps. He follow ed me to this point, and whin I asked him for an explanation ho became off nsive. 1 knocked him down, and he drew a pistol, and he would havo u=>ed ifc, too, but for the timely appearanco of thi^ man whom the villagers call the duke. I regret the incident, and yet I cannot see how I could have acted differently." They walked on side by side towards the Manor, the doctor evidently in one of hia dreamy, thoughtful moods. The old gentleimn made no comment on what Clarence had ju&t s^id, but, with the manner of one thinking aloud, he said : '•Shirley knows this man and speaks highly of him. Of course, you cannot expeet'much refinement in a man who delights in such a calling. Penfield is working for tho roward, and possibly for the fame success may bring him ; but I must confess his methods impress me as being very crude. Bly —l think he calls himsslt Wilson Bly —is a much more subtle man. But as I said, I regret tho altercation, though it goes to prove that the Berisford blood ia dominant in your veins." Tho doctor smiled at the latter sentence and looked up into Clarence's troubled face, "I feel proud of the Berisford blood," said Clarence, becoming calmer again, "and I fed very grateful for the Bemford hospitality. Mv mother and myself leave in the morninc, but we hope we shall take with us the promise of yourself and Mi=s Miriam that you will give us an opportunity,before the year goes by, to return —no, not to return your kindness, for that we could not do, but tofhow how much we appreciate our recently restoied relations." "I should be happy to visit you," said the doctor, " but that may not be. When I gave up my practice in Now York and returned to the old Manor, in which your ancestors on one side and nearly all of mine for two centuries were born, I had good reasons —reasons which remain with me and errow stronger every day. it in better that I ehould remain at Willowemoc forever." "And you have given up tho world?" said Clarence, surprised at the inexpressible sadness of the doctor's voice and manner. "Yes, for ever. I never again expect to go out of sight of these hills. It is better for myeelf, better for tho world perhaps, that I should not. But lam talking like a doting old man. The day of my strength has gone by. Here, at least, is the calm that should precede our descent into the Valley of tho Silent. It is very quiet now, but what will it be when ehe is gone ?" " When she ia gone ?" echoed Clarence, as with his ejes he followed the old man's upward gaze. "Yes, when Miriam iq gone. Did I not tell you that she is betrothed to Shirley Benson ?" " You did not, ' gasped Clarence. " She is ; and he wishes to take her away before the snow comes again. This is why I would hold you and your mother — as I would hold her —as long aa possible. But if you go away now, ycu will coon come back to me again ; say that youatleast, will soon roturn, for my heart goes out to you, my cousin. " The doctor reached out hia hands, and as Clarence took them, he said : " Whenever sou write to me saying you would like to have me here, I shall come." By this time, they had entered the Manor grounds', in which they found Mrs Ashworth and Madame Ban on walking and discussing the departure of the former on the morrow. Miriam was surprised and pained when she learned the purpose of Mrs Ashworth and her son. She would have been more persistent in urging them to stay were ifc not that her heart told her that it would be better for herself, better for all, that she should not meet Clarence Ashworth soon again. There had been but few novel incidents to vary the placid monotony of her lifo, so that the coming of Clarence Ashworth was an event in her experience of 80 much importance that it might bo called an epoch. She had become acquainted with him under circumstances that stirred her sensitive emotions and gave particular activity to that pity which is said to be akin to love. Hitherto she had not met many young men, nor had she felt more than a passing interest for any of them excepting Shirley Benson. Up to the coming of Clarence Ashworth, j Miriam had looked on young Benson much as she might have thought of an unsteady brother if she had had one. She was not blind to Shirley's faults, for this would argue the existence of a passion that he had never excited ; but ehe had an idea that all young men were more or lees w ild, and that men of exceptional intellect, like her father, were xarer than white blackbirds. She had so long known that she was to become Shirley Benson's wife that she had come to look on it aa a matter of course; and though tht thought had not become

pleasanter with the years, she was quite willing ifc should be so if ifc gave her father pleasure. Jt need not be said that Miriam's heart had not yet been moved by that srreat new love of which it was so capable ; and though the coming of Clarence Aehworth may not have stirred this feeling into activity, it set her to thinking and to instituting in her own mind contrasts between him anc' <he man to whom ehe was botrothed. Up to her meeting with < 'larence, Miriam's life had been at least negatively happy, now as ehe realised that he was about to leavo, and that it might be long before t>ho saw him again, the thought made her positively miserable, though she was still in complete ignorance of the true cause of her feelings. The night before the on which Clarence and his mother were to leave for Philadelphia, Miriam, unable to sleep, dressed and walked out on the broad piazza, which presented a glorious view of the CatBkillB to the rforth, ovor which the full moon in the zenith was pouring a Hood of silvery light. The fall of her daintily slippered feet made no more noiae on the floor than the movement of the shimmering vine shadows making fairy mosuicd in her path She hrid walked up and down three or four times, absorbed in thoughts indefinite, when, as she was about to turn, with tho intention of entering the house, she was startled at peeing a man with his back to her and his face turned to the mountains. She gave a sigh of relief, and the blood rushed back to '-or frightened face, a3 she rocognised Clarbnco Ashworth She woul J have retreated w ithout attract ing his attontion, but as she was in tho act of turning, he too turned, as if moved by pome mysteiioua power, and they stood face to fa co He could not have been moi - e startlod had he been confronted by tho spectral figure which he had formerly t-een in his bedroom. •' Miss Miriam I" he managed to stammer. "Yes," she said. "I was in the hope? that I was the only one in the house that could not sleep to-night ; but lam repaid for my restlessness. Can you imagine anything more peaceful and grand than the moonlight on yonder mountains ?" "I was just thinking the came thing," s<rid Clarence, half turning in tho direction of her extended arm ; " find like youraolf, J feel topaid for not being able to bleep, I should feel repaid, now that I have you to talk to," he added, after a paiue, " oven if the mountains were invisible." Simplicity and candour were- Miriam Berisford s distingut-hing traits. She paw no compliment in Clarence's icmark, or rather, she heard it with tho delight of a child who gives pleasure " I am Forry to think," ?he said, quietly, " that to-morrow you will not be here to look at tho bills of Willowemoc ; but, then, how could you love them as I do, who have known them from my earliest memoiy?" " I could love them for themselves, but still more because you lovo them." He hesitated, and, leaching out his hand, after a pauso, he said : " Will you pardon me and not think me rude if I ask jou a quo-rtion that concerns youi own future, and the reply to which must greatly affect mine ?" She gave him her hand, and said, as sho plowly released it from his detaining fingers : "It is impossible for you to be rude. Cousin Clarence ; and as to the question, if it concerns my future, it will show your interest, and I shall ba happy to answer it." "Madame Barron," he said, "told me some days ago that you were betrothed to Mr Benson. lam sure she would nor, knowingly make a misstatement in tho matter, but my interest is so great that I am glad of the opportunity of learning the truth from your lips before I leave." His voice trembled as he spoke, and he did not dare to look at her. With her beautiful eyes still fixed on the moonlit mountains, Miriam said : " I have known Mr Benson sinco I was a child. His father and mine were class mates at college, and have been life-long friends. I cannot recall iho time when I have not been given to understand that, as soon as I became of ago, 1 was to be Shirely Benson's wife. I ha\e looked forward to this event as being as certain as death." " And you have had no wish of your own in the matter?" he interrupted. "I could have no wish," she replied, " that ran counter to my father's will.' " But surely you must have, or should have, a choice in a matter that, so closely concerns yourself, and in which all your futurehappinees is involved. In the natural course of events you will survive your father many years, and, loving you as he does, I am sure he would do nothing that tended to shadow your future." "No : whatever he does, whatever ho has done or may lo in regard tome, is influenced wholly by his desiie to make me happy. Uis heart is set on this marriage, and so I could not find it in my heart to oppose it." " No, suroly not, if your heart goes with your hand." "If mv heart goes with my hand?" she said. " You mean that I should love Shirley Benson ?" " Yes : tha*. is what I mean.'' " I have thought of that of late ; but, as it brings doubt, misery, and, above all, a pense of rebellion against tho father whom I so love, I have made up my mind not to consider ib. I have only him to live for. But, come, the air grows chilly, and I think that now I may rest Good night, Cousin Clarence." She gave him her hand, turned, and was gone before he could utter the protest that struggled to his lips. If there had been any thought of sleep for that night in Clarence Ashworth s mind, ' the coming of Miriam banished it. I He walked slowly back to his own room, all unconscious of the fact that Madame Barron had been listening to his conversation with Miriam.