CHAPTER XXVII.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 163, 31 July 1886, Page 11

CHAPTER XXVII.

AT STERLING, Whex Doctor Berisford said, "I would pursue this investigation, to clear Clarence Aehworth, if cure that it would involve myself.".he simply used a strong figure of speech to indicate his sincerity. "I believe you ; I beliava you with all my heart," said the hermit. "And though I do not wish you to work in order to prove your words, I am sure you will act with energy." "Beyond speculating— which is never very profitable— certainly not in a matter of this kind. I do not see what I can do," sighed the doctor. " We shall find something to do shortly, Dr. Berieford. And now, if you do not'object, I shall accompany you to the Manor, for I want to talk with your excellent daughter, and with this young man, Shirley Benson, if he is still here." '•Mr Benson is still here,!' said the doctor.^ " And your mention of my daughter 1 reminds me that I have pot had an opportunity till this time to thank you for the protection you gave her the night she was lost in the hills." ••If against the protection the pleasure she gave me were ba?anced, I should be largely her debtor, so we shall take the thanks for granted on both sides, and say no more about it," said the hermit, rising and turning towards the Manor. "My dear sir," said the doctor, as they went on side by side, "you have been in these mountains for very many years, yet this is the first opportunity you have given me to talk with you, though I assure you I have long desired it." "Your manner has ever indicated your good will, but as I took up my present life in order to avoid talking so much, you can readily see why I have not been more sociable." " I hope you are going to change." "Thanks for the wish, as I know it is well meant ; but do not think I shall change at this late date." •' You talk like a man of education." •• So I should." •* And you are content in your exile ?" "If I were not I should change it Happiness is a very indefinite and elastic term. If 1 knew less about the world I should be happier. If I did not know Clarence Ashworth, would I make his troubles mine ?" "No, surely not," said the doctor ; "but your question would imply a selfish nature which I do not think you possess." *' Selfishness) is the strongest of human attributes. lam human. But let me prove I am not wholly selfish by ehowing that I can think of another — " "Your interest in young Ashworth proves that." " Yet it is of your daughter I was thinking at this moment. How dees ehe bear up under the blow ? ' "It has stunned her, for she had formed a very high estimate of her newly-found cousin." " A high estimate !" repeated the hermit. " Why he is altogether worthy her love. He is just the man, if 1 could suppose myself in her place, whom I should select for a hueband. Has she been to Sterling yet ?" "Why— no. I do not think ehe has thought about going," said the doctor, startled by the abrupt question. " Then I shall remind her of her duty. lam on my way to Sterling now, and I want Miriam Berisford to accompany me. You have a carriage and a coachman. You will not refuse to place them at my service, under the circumstance." * "Of course; you can have them," said the doctor, mentally concluding that 'this man|B mind had drifted from its moorings. Miriam flaw her father and the hermit coming up through the grounds, and ehe hastened out to meet them. She shook hands, with her father's companion, and expressed horeelf as being glad to welcome him to the Manor. v " Where we have long wished to , see you," she said. ' ' '

"I am on my way to Sterling. Your father has. "agreed that" l >hall hWe his carriage and driver." And you/ of course, will ayail yourself of the opportunity* to go there?" ' ' • ">" ■" & l " I should be glad'" to do ' so—" Miriam cheoked herself and looked at heir father, to whose face the haggard, aged look had returned. "For to-day," he eaid, "she shall be wholly her own mistress. " Then to M iriam : 11 My daughter, I shall leave our Mend to you,' while I find Hans and order the carriage." The doctor bowed and turned away, and Miriam conducted her companion into the library, Before the hermit sat down he took a quick glance about the room, and his eyes rested on the portrait of a handsome youth of twenty, in the grey and bell-button uniform of a Weat Point cadet. "Whose portrait is that?" he aeked, pointing in the direction of his gaze, "It is the portrait of my Uncle Paul, my father's favourite brother, 1 Baid Miriam; " Very young," he said. " Yes my uncle Was a youth, and a very handsome one, when that was taken fifty years ago." "la he living?" ' "No, he went to India when he was twentyfouri and he rose to great eminence in his profession ; but he way killed out there long, long before I was born." " Well, that's what soldiers must expect." The hermit threw'another glance about the room and sat down. With a manner entirely changed, he asked : " Where is yourig Beneon ?" ' " He has gone to the village," she said. "To work up the case against Mr Ashworth?" ! "That Ido not know." "But do you thin* it?" " He has interested himself in that way." " But why should he do co ?" " I cannot say." " Will you let me tell you ?" 'If you will." "It is because he knows that Clarence Ashworth loves you, and that while he lives, he, Shirley Benson, will need a wife if he must have you. There ! Do not be provoked at me. I have forgotton the formahties of society ; and you should remember that if age brings wrinkles and grey hairs, it also confers privileges. But if you would -go with me to Sterling, you must be getting ready. I can interest myself in the library till you return." In the hermit's manner, as he said this, there was the blending of the soldier and the parent ; and a3 Miriam looked from him to the portrait of the handsome young cadet she gave a start and stood up— why, she could not tell. Ever since Clarence had been taken away, Miriam had been filled with an agonising impulse to go to him. How to accomplish this she did not know, till the hermit appeared like a good angel to show her the way, In view of this she could pardon his strange interference with the affairs of her own heart, and his effort to pry into the one great secret •— which he must have divined, though she did not dare to whisper it to herself. When she returned to the library, dressed for a ride, she found her father and their visitor talking together m a very earnest way, and again she was startled, this time by the resemblance which she saw -it was only for a moment — between the two men. Through the drawn curtains Hans could be seen seated in the carriage, while he talked with Mary Brady in a very ecirnest way. "My daughter," said the doctor rising and kissing Miriam, "our friend haa just promised me that he will return you safely in a few hours." " And shall I bear a message for you to Cousin Clarence ?" asked Miriam. " Yes. Say that I stand ready to do everything in my power toaid him ; and say further that if his mother will come hero and make her home till the trouble is over, she shall be as welcome as if she were my own sister." "I shall do so, father, although, you may remember, we have alraady written to Mrs Aehworth to that effect. But there is something that he would value more highly from you, I am sure, than the offer of help —if you were only to send it by me " " What i8 that, my daughter?" " The assurance that you do not believe him guilty." " A splendid suggestion !" exclaimed the hermit. "And set," sai.l the doctor, "I cannot adopt it, Miriam, even for form's cake. You would net have me utter a lie?" " ISTo, no," she said, with a sob. " Then do not a«?k me to do this thing." She said no more, but walked out to the carriage. While Clarence's best friends were planning to see him, and working for hia deliverance, he had every reason to believe that he was forsaken by the world. By way of economy, the sheriff was the keeper and turnkey of the gaol at Sterling ; a position that co far in bis term of office had not worked htm beyond his compensation. As has been intimated, he was a coarse, brutal fellow, elated at the sudden prominence the custody of Clarence Ash worth gave him, and he detei mined to make tho moat of it. In addition to believing Clarence guilty, and that it was his privilege to inflict on him all the punishment he well could, the eherij had a positive dislike for all men who dressed well -and epoke good English. Had Clarence been a fellow like himself, the sheriff would have fraternised with him without ahy thought of his crime. The cell in which Clarence found himself was indescribably filthy, and so damp that the straw in the dirty mattrcas was positively offensive to the emell. He waß going away when Clarence, who felt faint, called out to him. " Is this the best you can do, sir?" "It's the best you deserve, and if I I had worse, you'd have it," growled the sheriff. ••But lam willing to pay. You have money of mine." "So I have, and it's blood money. When it becomes my duty to hang you, I'll fix the noose with pleasure." "Men should take pleasure in the work for which they are best adapted." ! Clarence saw it would be folly to speak further with this man, bo he sat down on the broken chair and resigned himself to his fate. Boys came, and stooping down, Btared in through the grating that admitted the light, but Clarence did not see them, Late in tho evening the sheriff pushed in come bread and soup ; but Clarence left them untouched. Night came, and still he sat there, as indifferent to his surroundings as if he were dead, , He may have slept on $he chair; if so, his eleep was .filled with troubled dreams that were a continuation of his waking thoughts. ' , L The sheriff brought' and what he called "breakfast" in the morning, but i Clarence did not seem to' be "aware of his presence. ' ' • * •

It ~w«s , an age, measured by the agony, since he entered that cell, arid he was wondering if he would not look, old and grey, if he eVer got our, when tho sheriff again came to the door, and this time he called in : ' * - " Prezoer, there'a a laJy an' a gent come to see you."