CHAPTER XXVI.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 158, 26 June 1886, Page 7

CHAPTER XX VI.

A PI T,l^i: TOUCH, Thou ha°t, not half iho power to do me ha"ni,asr I have to be hurt.— Otui^llo, Tira tumult in my mind and heart were groat, but my task was not yet completed, and till it was I could neithor stop to. analyse* my emotions nor measure fcbe depths of darkneps into which I had been plunged by an occurrence as threatening to my peace or it was pitiful to my heart, Mrs Pollard was to be again interviewed^ and to that formidable) duty everything bowed, even my need of rest and the demand which my whole body made for refreshment. " She will see you, sir, I am sure," was his la t remark as he want o.it of the door, "for, though $hoi° so very tired, she lolct ma if you cillod to ask you to wait." I looked around on the somewhat desolate sceno that presented itself, and doubt-ino-iy shook ray heud. This seaming eub~ mission on the part of a woman so indomitable o a she, meant something. Either she WM thoroughly fiie:ht«med or else she meditated sorae treachery. In either case; I needed all my self-command. Happily, the scone I had iu^t quitted wag yet vividly impressed upon my mind, and while it remaitud so, 1 felt a« strong and unassailable as I hud once felt weak and at the mercy of. my fours ; I did not have to wait long. Almost immediately [upon the aervant's call, Mrs. Pollard entered the room and stood before; me. Hor first glance told me all. She was frightened. " Well ?" she said, in a hard wluaoer, and wirh a covort look ai'ound aa if ~sh.Q feared the very walla might hear us. "You have touud the girl, and you have caoie to aek for money, it ia a reasonable request, and if you do nofc ask 100 much you shall have ib. I think it will heal all wounds."

It "was eight o'clock when 1 stood for the second time that day at her door ; and, contrary to my expectations, 1 found a 9 little difficulty in entering as I had before. Indeed, the servant was even inor© affable And obliging than he had been in the afternoon, and persisted in showing me into a small room oil the parlour, now empty of guests, and going at once for Mrs Pollard. My indignation iLued up through all my horror ai.d di-may " Money ? ' I ciied, " money ? what good will money do thw dead ; you have killed her, raaduuie." " Killed her V" No wonder she grew pale, no wonder she half gaspud. " Killed hor ?" she repeated. " Yes," I returned, not giving her time to think, much less speak. "Lured by you to a den of evils, chose to dio rather than live on in disgrace. The woman who lent you her clothes has been iound, and — I sets 1 hare leached you at last," 1 broke in. 14 I thought (Jod's justice would work." "1 — 1 ' She had to moisten her lips before she cculd speak. "I don't under stand wh it you mean. You say I lured her; that ia a lie. I never took her to this den of evil, as you c-*U it." "But knew the street and number of the hou«o, and you gave her into the hand ol the woman who did take her there.'" " I knew the number of the house, but I did not know it was a den of evil. I thought it was a respectable place cheaper than the one she vraa in. lam sorry " "Madam, 1 ' I interrupted, "you will find it difficult to make the world believe you so destitute of good sense aa not to know the character of the house to which such a woman aa you entru?ted her with would bo likely to lead her. Besides, how will you account for the fact that you wore a dress precisely like that of thia creature when you enticed Miss Morriam away from her home? la there any jury who will beliove it to be a coincidence, especially they learn that you kept your veil down in the presence of every one there ?" *' But what proof have you that it was I who went for Miss Merriam ? The word of this woman whom you youiaelf call a "Tho word of the landlady, who described Misa Merriam's visitor as tall and of a handsome figure, and my own eyesight, which assured me that the woman who came with her to her place of death was not especially tall nor of a handsome figure. Besides, I talked to the latter, and found sbe could tell me nothing of tho interior of the house where Miss Merriam boarded. She aid not even know if the parlours \rere on the light or the left side of the hall." 41 Indeed,' came in Mrs Pollard's harshest and most cutting tone?. But the attempted sarcasm failed. She was shaken to the core, and there was no use in her trying to hide it. I did not, therefore, seek to break the silence ■which follow ed the utterances of this bitter exclamation ; for the sooner she understood the seriousness of her position the sooner I should see what my o\\ n duty a\ as. Suddenly she spoke, but not in her former tones. The \wly woman had sounded the depths of the gulf upon the brink of which ahe had inadvertently stumbled, and her voice, which had been harsh and biting, now took on all the softneaa which hypocrisy could give it. But her w ords w ere sarcastic as ever. " I asked you a moment ago," said she, what money you wanted. I do not ask that now, as tho girl ia dead, and a clergyman is not supposed to take much interest in filthy lucre. But you vant something, or you would not be here. It i« a sentiment worthy of your cloth, and I can easily understand the desire you may have to indulge in it." " Madam,' 1 cried. " can you think of no j Other motive than a desire for vengeance or ; gain ? Have you never heard ol such a thing a3 justice V' i " And do you intend "she whispered %< There will be an inquest held," I continued. " I shall be called as a witness, and doubtless so will you. Are you prepared to anawer all and ©very question that will be put you V" "An inquest?" Her face was quite ghastly now. '* And have you taken pains to publish abroad my connection with thia girl?" "Not yet." "She i* known, however, to be a grandthild of Mr Pollard ?" 11 No," said I. " What is known ''." she inquired. "That ghe was Mr Pollard's protege." " And you, yon alone, hold the key of her real history '/" "Yes," I assented, "I." She advanced upon me with all the venom of her evil nature sparkling in her eye. I met the glance unmoved. For a reason I ■will after divulge, I no longer felt any fear of what either bho or hers might do. >l I alone know her history, and what sho owes to you," I repeated. She inptantly fell back. Whether she understood me or not, she saw that her hold upon me was gone, that the cowardice she had been witness to was dead, and that shp, not I, must plead for mercy. 11 Mr Barrows," said she ; *• what is this girl to you that you should sacrifice the living to her memory ?" " Mrs Pollard," I returned with equal intensity, " shall I tell you ? She is a victim to my pusilanimity. That is what she ia to me, and that is what makes her memory more to me than the peace or good name of her seemingly respectable murderers." Waa it the word I used, or did aome notion of the effect which a true remorse can have upon a conscientious soul pierce her cold heart at last ? I cannot tell ; I only know that she crouched for an instant as if a blow had fallen upon her haughty head, then rising erect again — she waa a proud woman still and would be to her death, whatever her fate or fortune -she gave me an indescribable look, and in smothered tones remarked : "Your sympathies are with the innocent. That is well ; now come with me, I have another innocence to show you, and afteryou have seen it tell me whether innocence living ot innocence dead has the most claim upon your pity and regard." And before I realised what she was doing, she had led me across the room to a window, from which she hastily pulled aside the curtain that hung across it. The eight that met my eyea waa like a dream of fairyland let into the gloom and terror of a nightmare. The window overlooked the conservatory, and the latter heing lighted, a vision of tropical verdure trad burning blossoms flashed before us. But it was not upon this wealth of light and colour that the graze rested in the fullest astonishment and delight. It was upon two figures seated in the midst of theße palm-trees and cacti, whose faces, turned the one towards the other, made a picture of love and joy that the coldest heart muat feel, and the most stolid riew with delight. It was the bridegroom and his bride, Mr Harrington and the beautiful Agnes Pollard. I felt the hand that lay upon my arm tremble. '• Hard you the heart to dash such happimm at that?" murmured a voice in my Was it Mrs Pollard speaking? I had never heard sneh a tone as that from her frafort. Turning, I looked at her. Her

face was changed as her voice ; there was ' not only softness in it but appeal. It was no longer Mrs Pollard who stood b«3ide me, but the. mother, "She has never made a mistake;" continued this terrible being, all the more terrible to me now that I saw capabilities of feeling in her. " Sho is young, and h«ia 1 her whole life bofore her. If you purau-e the claims of justice, as you call them, her future will bo w locked, "it id no fool s-ho ha* manied but a proud man, the proudest of his race, it ho had known she had for a brother one whom his own country had suntonccd to perpotual imprisonment, he would not have nianiud hor had his Jovo been ten times what it, is. Il NVO s becauso her family was hououied and could bestow a small fortune upon her in dowry that ho bravod his English prejudices at all. What would be the result \i he knew that not only was her brother a convict, but her mo. her " She did not finish, but broke iv upon herselt with a violence that pai took of fionzy. "li«* would first ignore her, thon hato hor. 1 know these Englishmen well." h It was true. Tho happines3 or misery of thia joung creature hung upon my decision. A glance at her husband's face mado this Qvidont. He would lo \o her while he could be pioud of her; he would hate her the moment hor presence suggested shaino and opprobiium My wily antagonist evidently saw I was impressed, for her face grew still softer and her tono more insinuating. " dho was her father's darling," she whispeied. "Ho could never bear to see a frown upon her face or a tear in her eye. Could he know now wh»t threatened her, do you think he would wish you to drag disgrace upon hor head for the sake ol justice to a being who i 3 dead V I did not reply. The truth was I felt staggered. " See what an exquisite creature she is," the mother now murmured in my ear. *' Look it her well- she can bear it—and tell me -where in tho world you will find beauty more entrancing or a naturo lovelier and more enticing .' ' " Madam, '" said 1, turning upon her with a severity the moment seemed to do^orvo, "in a a bed of contamination, amid surroundings such as it will not do for me to mention even befoie hor who could mako use of them to destroy the innocence that trusted in her, there lies tho dead body of one as pure, as lovoly, and as attractive as thia ; indeed, her beauty is more winning, for it has not the stamp of worldliness upon it." The mother before me grew livid. Hor brows contracted, and she advanced upon me with a menacing gesture almost as it sho would strike me. In all my experience of tha world and of her I had never eeen such rage : it was all but appalling. Involuntarily I raised my hand in defence. But 9he had already remembered her position, and by a violent change now stood before me calm and collected as of old. •' You have been injured by me, and have acquired the righcto inault me," cried she. Then as I mado no move, said, " It was not of the dead we were *• peaking It was ot her. Samuel Pollard's child. Do you intend to ruin hor h»pptnosa or do you not? Speak, for it is a question I naturally desire to have settled." "Madam," I now returned, edging from that window with its seductive picture of youthful joy, " before I can settle for it I muht know certain factd. Not till I understand how you succeeded in enticing her from her homo, and by what means you transferred hor into the care of the vile woman who took your place, will I undertake to consider the possibility of withholding the denunciation which is in my power to make." " And you expect me to tell you — " " Everything," I finished, firmly. She smiled with a drawing in ot her lips that was feline. Then she glared ; thon ?he looked about her, and approached nearer to me by another step. "I wish I could kill you," hor look said. " I wi?h by the lifting of my finger you would fall dead. ' But her lips made use of no such language. She was caught in tho toil 0 , and lioness a? £>ho was, found herself forced to obey the will that ensnared her. •' You want facts ; well, you ?hall have them You want to know how I managed to induce Mia3 iMerriam to leave the house whore my husband had put her. It is a simple question. Was not I her grand- I father's wife, and could I not be «npposed to know what his desires More concerning her ?" te And the second fate ? ' She looked at me darkly. " You aro very curious," said she. 11 1 am," said I Her baleful smile repeated itself. '•You think that by those confessions I will place myself in a position which will make it impossible for me to press my request. You do not understaud mo, sir. Had I committed ten times the evil I have done, that would not justify you in wantonly destroying the happiness of the innocent." " I \\ ish to know tho fnct?, ' I said. " She went with me to a respectable eat-ing-house,'' Mrs Pollaid at once explained. " Leaving her to eat her lunch, I went to a place near by, where the woman you saw met me by appointment, and putting on tli6 clothes I had worn, wont back for tho girl in my atead. As I hud takon pains not to rai?o my veil except just at the moment when 1 wanted to convince her I was her natural guardian, the woman had only to hold her tongue to make the decep tion euccesrful. That she did this is evident from tho repulfc. Id there anything more you would like to know ?" " Ve?,"lrepliod,inwardlyquaking before this revelation of an inconceivable wickedness, yet steadily resolved to probe it to the very depths. " What did you hope to gain bv thi3 deliberate plan of destruction ? The giri's death, or simply her degradation ?" Tho passion in this woman's soul found its vent at last. " I hoped to lose her ; to blot her out cf my path— and hers, "she more gently added, pointing with a finger that trembled with more thanonefiorceeinotion. atthedaughter for whom she had sacrificed so much. "I did not think the girl would die ; I am no murderes?, whatever intimation you may make to that effect. lorn eimply a mother." A mother ! Oh, horrible • I looked at her, und recoiled. That such a one as this should have the right to lay claim to so holy a title and asperse it thus .' She viewed my emotion, but made no sign of understanding it. Her Wordß poured forth like a stream of burning liquid. " Do you realise what this girl's living meant ? It meant recognition, and consequently disgrace and a division of our property, the loss of my daughter's dowry, and of all tho hopes she had built; on it. Waal, who.had given Samuel Pollard the very money by means of which ho had made his wealth, to stand this? Not if a hundred daughters of convicts must perish." *' And your sons V " What of them ?" " Had they no claim upon your consideration ! When you plunged them into this abyss of greed and deceit did no phantom of their lost manhood rise and confront you with unappeasable appeal ?" But she remained unmoved. '* My son* are men ; they can take, care of themselYee."

•* But Dwight " Her Belf-poBBession vanished. " Hush t" she whisp3red, with a quick look around her. "Do not mention him. 1 have sent him away an hour ago, but he may have come back. I do not trust him." This last clause she uttered beneath her breath, and with a spasmodic clutch of her hand which showed she spoke involuntarily. [ wua moved at this. I began to hope that Dwight, at least, was not all that his mother would bave him. " And yet I muat Bpeak of him," aaid I, taking out the letter he had written to Miss LYlerriam. "This letter, addressed to oho you have se successfully destroyed, seems to show that he returns your mistlUßt." She almost tore it out of my hands. '•When was this letter received?" sho asked, reading it with burning eyos and writhing lips. "The day after Mess Grace left her homo." " Then she never saw it." "No." " Who has seen it ?" "My^olf and you." " No one else?'' " No ono but the writer." She laughed. '' We will destroy it," she said, and deliberately tore it up. 1 stopped and picked up the fragments. " You forget" Siid, I " this letter may be called for by the coroner. It is known that I tonic it in charge." " 1 mi^ht have burnt it," she hissed. •• Not ao : I should then have had fro explain its 1039." Her old lear came back into her eyes. " Now I have merely to give it up and leave it to Mr Dwight Pollard to explain it. He doubtless can." "My son will novel betray his mother." " Yet he could write this letter." Sho frownsd. " Dwight ha& his weakness," aaid she. " It is a pity his weakneta did not lead him to send this letter a few hours sooner/ " That is where his very weakness fails. He struggles because he knows his mother partly, and fails because he does not know her wholly." " And Guy V " Hd knows me better." The smile with whioh thia waa said was the culminating point in a display of depravity such as I had never beheld, even in hove sof acknowledged vice. Feeling that I could uot endure much more, I hastened to finish the interview. ** Madam," said I, f ' by your own acknowledgment you deserve neither consideration normeicy. vVhat leniency I then show will bo for your daughter alone, who, in so far as' I can see, is innocent and undeserving of the great retribution which I could easily bring upon this family. But do not think because I promise to suppress your name from the account I may be called upon to give the coroner, that your sin will be forgotten by Heaven or thia young girl's death go unavenged. As sure as you are the vileat woman 1 ever met, will suffering and despair overtake you. 1 did not know when, and I do not know by what meana, but it will be bitter when it comes, ftnri the h^nd of man will not be able to Ba* c you." But it was as if I had not spoken. All she seemed to hear, all, at least, that she paid the least attention to, was the promise I had made. " You are decided, then, upon secrecy ?" she aeked. ' I am decided upon saying nothing that will bring your name into public notice." Her proud manner immediately returned. You would have thought she had never suflered a humiliation. " But how will you account fcr your interest in this young person ?" "By rolling a portion of the truth. I shall gay that my attention was called to her by a letter from Mr Pollard requesting me to hunt her up and take care of her after he was dead. I shall not say he called her his grandchild unless I am positively forced to do so, nor will I mention the treatment I have received at your hands." " And the woman you saw ?" "Is your bueiaese. I have nothing to do with her." ( To be Continued. )