CHAPTER LI.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 192, 19 February 1887, Page 6

CHAPTER LI.

"OH, WHAT HAVE I DONEJ WHAT HAVE DONE !" ( Thk old woman respectfully took the grey, plußh bag and laid it by Violet's side. Violet was ready to open it at once, saying : " I will give you, the money j only I must get Borne changes of clothes, a very few, not costly ; and by the time the rest is gone I will earn some more. People do . earn their living, and so can I—lI — I can learn. You will tell me. Are there not ways? It will not take much to support me." " But it will be long before you can begin, my dear." "Oh, no: I will, begin at once— next week. I can embroider, and make lace ; and I could teach mußic to little children, maybe. Why, any young girl can support herself. How much does one need?" " But two, my dear -two needs more." "Two, certainly. But there is no ques--tion of two— only of me. Kate could do for herself. But if you will keep me, maybe I'd not send for Kate : so it ia only one." " But there may be a little child, my, dear." "No, no;" said Violet: " I've done hoping for that It might hava made things right : but it's too late." '• My dear, have you run away from your fiiends?" " Yea, I have. I pould nob endure the deceit, the — " "And will you tell me your name, my dearie ?" " I'd rather not— only Violet." The dame shook her head. "My dear, you should go back, and set things right— if not for yourself, for the child, you know." 1 ' But there isn't any child !" said Violet* pettishly. "But there will be, my dearie, after a little. Surely you think of that. Surely you know that !" Violet seized her arm. " Tell me ! Do you mean—do you think I am to have a child ? — a little child ot my own? Quick— speak?" "Why, certain— sure, you know," But the little Countess of Leigh had fallen back in her pillows, covered her face with her hands, and burst into a flood of tears, " Oh. what have I done ?" " Hush, hush, my dear ! Don't take on so ! Oh.pray think of the little child ! Be calm, my dear. You are so young, so sweet and pretty, surely you can make it all right. You will go back ; you will have justica done to you ; you will not bring shame on the little child ; you will be married to the father, my dear ? 11l man he must be to deceive a child like you ?" But Violet had started up in bed with flaming eyes and a crimson face. She cried out : 'How dare you? What do you mean? Oh, how can you be so wicked? Do you mean to say you think I >;m not married ?" "You have run away alone," said the old dame ; * your hand has no rinp- on it." " Judged me by my rings ! Oh, you wicked woman, 4o think ill of me just for that!" cried poor Violet furiously, tearing away in a frenzy at the plush bag, and toeing on the floor the laced night robe, and the soiled silk hose, and the change of cambric, and fluff of kerchiefs at ten shillings apiece, and then she shook the bag out and rolled on the counterpane before the amazed old dame, a watch and chain, some sovereigns, a jewelled brooch, and a heap of rings From these she snatched two, the half hoop engagementring and the unhappy shackle that had sealed her bitter fate at St. George's, and thrusting them on her finger, she held out a little quivering hand, crying : "Now you are satisfied? I took off the hateful things for fear of being robbed ; but here they are, I hjpe you'll not think so ill of me ! And you may believe that my little baby will be as good a baby as ever was born iv this world !" " Oh, my dear, my little dear !" said the dame, bending over her, *' it joys my heart to hear this, for I have been sick of soul for your care since I brought you in ;" and tears rolled over her cheeks. Violet threw up her arms and clasped the wrinkled neck, " Forgive me ! Please forgive me ! I will love you for ever. Are you sure, very sure, about— about — '" " Yes, sure as sure, if you don't do youreelf an ill turn." " But what have I done 1 Oh, what have I done by running away." " You'll Rend for your friends aud explain all, and no one will blame you— they'll make all right for the child's sake, my dear. It will never do. to keep on in aught that might shame or hurt your baby, my sweet. By these rich things, you come of good family." Violet was fumbling among her trinket?. She said: *' ) forgot; the money is not here It is sewed in my dress. I will do whatever you tell me. My husband doesn't love me ; but, for the child's sake, he ""ay let me come back. Oh, I hope he will ! I don't want my poor little child turned out of its rights." " And now, my lovay, for the child's sake, you'll tell me your name, won't you?' "Oh, yes," said Violet, readily. "lam Violet, Countess of Leigh, from Leigh Towers, Sussex.' But to her amazement, the old dam© flung herself over the bed, gathered her ia her arms, rocked her on her bosom, and lamented over her, and loverl her. %< Oh, my lady, my own sweet lady * Oh, my dear litfcle mistress ! Thank God, who sent you to me, my dear !" "But who are you?" said Violet, when the dame's eager words gave way to sighe and silence. "My dear lady surely knows Adam Moreland ?" "Lord Leigh's valet? Indeed yes— good old Adam " "I am his twin sister Magery, and I lived at the Towers till I was eighteen, and came away with Lady Fanny Leigh when she married, and now I live on a pension , she left mo. Attain has told me about tho sweet young lady my lord married ; and, indeed, my dear lady, I guessed as much as you were not happy, but I never dreamed it would- come to that you should fly away by yourself, sick and miserable, with only what you carry in your hand. Surely, my lord is not so cruel to you as that ?" " No, no. I see all, Magery ; it is my own fault. I have been hasty, and foolish, and impatient. Oh, I have been wrong. I have thrown all away !" "No, no, my dearie!" said the old woman, soothingly. "My lord will be most anxious for you, and for fear for the child " But he doea not know about that, nor did I." " Then, my lady dear, as soon as he hears of that he will be proud and kind, and nevec

dear."

Ibe a word angry for your running off. The f hope of the little one will be your peacemaking, wee out; 6f . your,head^wboajou w,ent." . _ _ , " No, no, I waß not," said Violet, seizing the hand of the old.. family retainer, and pouring out all her heart ; " but I was so * wretched and lonely. My husband does not love me, and his words and looks hurt ire ; and I feel as if all my friendß were forgetting me. And then, there was one ~ she seemed to be my friend— she kept urging me to go " ** The wicked sinner 1" broke out Dame Margery Rogers. " She had her own pur pose iv it, I'll be bound." " I've no doubt she did. She was as false as the rest. She promised to meet me, and ehe did not ; she left me to be forlorn and lost, looking for & place that never was j and she will put Norman againßt me." " Hush, my dearie, don't vex yourself. Nothing will put him against you, with a child looked for The Leighs are wonderful anxious for continuance, always." "Yes, Norman is very desious of a son," said Violet. " And a son there will be," said the dame, courageously, *' Such a beauty as never was, I'll be bound." But poor Violet must pour out her whole story. " It was not Lord Leigh alone, Magery, that drove me wild. It was — there was a lady—such a lovely girl I had come to love more than I ever did anyone else in my life but one ; and she deceived me, in her name •and her friendship, and all. If Edna Ambrose had not deceived me, I could have endured, Oh, Edna ! Edna ! how could you be so cruel ?" •' But you must be quiet, my dear lady ; and haik me — Miss Ambrose never deceived you, sure. Some one has lied about her It is not in her to deceive you, sure. Some one has lied about her. It is not in her to deceive. She is like an angol out of heaven. You could trust her to the world's end. My lady, Adam and I are dear to each other : " and we write long, long letters, and he comes twice the year to see nee, and knowiug me true to the house of Leigh, and never one to talk out of it, he has told mej many things, else he would not mention. I can tell you the whole story of Mies Ambrose, my lady dear : and you'll see she could not deceive anyone, nor come between hueband and wife." Then Dame Magery eat down by the bed, and placing "Violet comfortably on her pillow?, she smoothed her hair and fanned her, and in a low, pleasunt voice, with tender looks and words, she told the story of Edna Ambrose ; of all she had been and wished to be, as old Adam knew all, who had often Been her, vvho distributed her bounty to country and city poor, and who reverenced even the shadow of the beautirul and gracious girl. When the story was ended Violet gave a deep sigh. '• Dame, how rash and wrong I have been. Bring me paper and pen, and I will write to Edna 1o come to me." "No, my dearie; write me a telegram out, and I'll go to Belper with it this blessed hour." [To be Continued.)