CHAPTER XXVI.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 217, 27 August 1887, Page 8

CHAPTER XXVI.

TlfF. FITZGERALD TEMI'KR. Life is thorny, and youth is vain, Aiul to h > wroth with one wo lovo Doth work like madness on the brain. COI,EKU)GK. CrKRALniXE Fitzgkuald, prostrated by the violence of hor own passion, lay upon the sofa in the library, with her face buried in its cushions, weeping until Numo, the hall footma-u believing the room to be vacant, name in to close the windows and put out the lights. Not seeing the lady, whose black lace dress as she lay on the daik green sofa at the shadiest end of the apartment, rendered her form invisible, the servant performed his duties and went out, closing the door after him and leaving' her in total darkness. Then she lifted her head and listened. Nob hearing 1 any sound of voices or steps in the hall without, she softly arose and left tiio libr.-uy, and glided up to her own room, where she locked herselt in, lest anyone should sco her in thia degradation of grief for a banished lover. She did not e>eu ring for hor maid, but threw herself, dressed as sho wan, on the outbide of the bed, where she lay waking and weeping all night. Long the little French yirl sat up in her room that night, waiting to hear her mistress's summons, until at length, worn out with watching, she, too, lay down on the outside of the bed, to rest w hile listening for her lady 1 * bell, until near morning, when she fell asleep, and, as a natural consequence, overslept heiself. There was another pair of sleepier young eyes in (Jreenwood that night, but they weie not sleepless from watching or ■weeping; quite the contrary. They weio wide awake in a i eyerie too delicious to be lost in dream> -a roveiie of most delightful retrospection and contemplation. Gertrude, lying in her strange bed at Greenwood, lived over again every hidden t of the two e\eiuii'N that :>he had spent in the company ot (Jerakl Fitzgerald. She saw him again in e\ery attitude of his stately i and soldierly foim, in evcrj expression of his> handsome and eloquent face. She heard him again in every tone of his deep, Stall, melodious Aoice, and in her viwd memory every aspect of his maitialform was full ot majestic beauty, e\eryintona tion of hi& mellifluous voice full of divine niu^ic. You see, the poor child was falling in love, find did not know it, did not tuspect it, did not even dieani of the foil} and (Linger 01 allow ing her heart to become intoiested in a gentleman much beyond her m year*, fai above her in rank, one of the high Fit/gdaULs who ne\er had condescculed ton mesalliance, one, too, A\ho wan l>oiothcd to a lady of his own lank, and vhoni, chough he had been insulted, outsrard and banished by her, he still pas•c^gnat^ly w o> shipped. (ieitiudeV. lo\e, the lo\o that was to influence her a\ hole life for weal or for woe, v*a--> a religion from its ACiy beginning. That was die leason, perhaps, why she did not recognise it as a dangeious human jws^ion and be on her guaid against it. k was a religion from the beginning. It was a lehgious rapture to lie thcie in the .silence and daikness of her chamber, and give her soul to the contemplation of her liol. There was not the lea-t alloy of self in all hur thoughts ot him. She nevei associated heiself w ith him in her imaginings. At tin- stage she ne^er even desired his peisonal piesrnce. At this time it wi\* enough for her happiness to have seen and known him as the most admirable expi ession of manly excellence ->he liad ever imagined. bhe thought of hib trouble with his betrothed, ami she felt sure that whate\er i:iiohh ha\c been the cause of his detention from his bride on the day appointed for lhemvcdding\i f . must lune boon an honomable and heroic ono. She wondered how any woman acquainted with him fiom childhood . as Mi-s Fitzgerald had been, could po-wbiy have doubted nis perfectin-t'jgiity-how any won. an, blessed w ith his love, as Miss Fitzgerald was, could ever have biniihed him iiom her pie*>ence. To (Un (j nde's worshipping Iv.-art, to dis trust < Jerald Fitzgerald -eemed impiety, and to accuse him seemed blasphemy. Then she closed her eye>, and folded her hsjids. and prayed like any little Puritan, thatOerakU ne Fitzgerald might be brought to a se^nse o her great injustice, and be reconciled to her incom])aiable lover ; and that both might be saved and blessed in this lite and in the next. And after tin's piayer she fell asleep But (jfeialdine outmatched the that night, and saw what she had very seldom seen in the v h'»lc course of her life, the \ ery rust iay-> of the lining sun stream thiough the east window of her I cdchamber, v, hose shutters her maid had not beeii called in io elo^c. They were all early lisnrs in Crreonwood, atid (rei£»ldine got u|>, not only fiom force of habit, bub fiom weuine^s of lying on a bed v here she could njc sleep. She went ti the mirror and looked at herself, and shrank with a shuddei from the image i ejected there. The.-tonny passion of the precetmg day and night had left their twice.* theie; hor face was pale and wan, her eyes sunken, and her brow coiru^atrd. Jier black lace dress in which she had thrown hei.self down on the bed, and tumbled about in hor anguish all night, was ciumplod ; the beautiful cim-ion fuchsia^ on her breast were withered and '•Like my li !" sho said, as she tenclo'Ay det.'f^ cd fc em fiom her bosom, and softly dropped fr c om the window down on the dewy grass b low. . " 1 nubt not o down stairs with this fa:-e. I must ke pmy room until I rcco\oi my natural hoks. .Shall J plead a headache V A f-lrillov/ woman in my case would do so, whether .-.he had one or not, and! might do »o w 1 1 Ti truth, fur my head docs ache ah, as imiu'i as my heart. But 1 will not plead a headache. The plea is too stale. Bokle-, though it might account for my pale fn<;o, it would not for my red eyes. No, ] will call it a cold, a very bad cold, attended with inflamed eves. That v/ill account for everything. And now to prepaic for my sharp-eyed, inquisitive little maid," .shy murmured to heiself, as ohe hastily took off her jewels, her laces, her black dre--, and exchanged it for a night-gown. Thon she unlocked her doon rang for her maid, and got into bed, that blxii might seem to have slept there as usral all night. Thoi c was some delay before Mademoiselle De-aieo enleivd the chamber of her mistLes-, lor the little maid had overslept herself, and had slept heavily until awakened by the s-ound of her lady's bell. Then she had dressed horsdf in haste to obey its call. ".Shall I propaie Mademoiselle's bath?" respectfully inquired the girl. '• No, I .shall not ri.'.c to-day, DesiiVe. I have caught a violent cold. Tell the ladies of the houso so, and bring mo a cup of tea." "Ah! I am very .sorry to hear it, Mademoiselle. Wi Mademoiselle have toas>t with her tea

"No, nothingbutthe tea," said Geraldine, turning her face to the wall. The little French maid tripped down stairs to make a sensation in the housekeeper's room by reporting " Mademoiselle Fitzgerald vera sock." And 'so Misa Sue Greenleaf with her own hands carried up a cup of tea to the supposed invalid, who, to keep up appearances, began to cough. " I see that you have really got a terrible cold, my dear girl. You must lio quietly in bed for a few days until you geb i id of it. I, or my sister Boy, or ono of the young girls, will be pleased to sib with you every day until you get better," said gentle Miss Sue, as she sat down by the bedside and waited until Geraldine had drunk the tea, returned the cup, and thanked her hostess. Then Miss Sue went down stairs to join the family circle at breakfast, and to tell them that Geraldino was confined to her room with a very bad cold. "Bad cold, eh!" exclaimed saucy Pab. " Well, if sho hu'-t gob a bad cold, ib is my opinion that she has sent Colonel Gerry with a worse one." "Hush, Patricia. Make no remarks," said Mrs Doy Fitzgerald, gravely. Nothing morn was said on the subject of Geraldinc's " cold " during breakfast. When it was over, Dr. Goodwin, who had remained all night at Greenwood, requested that his carriagemightbe brought to the door, Ufa he should be obliged to return home. Hospitable ontreaties were pressed upon him to stay uud spend the day, bub as the I doctor assured them that it was impossible for him to do so without a grave neglect of duty, they yielded the point, and Royal Greenleaf gave the necessary orders to the groom. Then Gertrude went up to the minister and timidly said : "Dr. Goodwin, may I speak to you for a few moments ?" " Certainly, my dear. What is it ?" " I would like to sec you quite alone, if you please, sir." " Then you shall do so, my child. Mixs Greenleaf,' he said, turning to the lady of the house, " will you allow me to take my ward into your parlour for a consultation ?" " Dr. Goodwin, your ward and my guest may take you into any room in the house thai she pleases," answered Miss Sue, i\ ith a smile. " Thank you, Miss Greenleaf. Come.Dr. Goodwin. I will be your conductor to the sisters' pailour," said Gertrude, leading the way thither. When the minister and the young girl readied the sanctum, he dropped heavily into a large ca^y-chair, and she drew a low one to his side, and .seated herselt. " Xow, then, my little ward, what have you to say to me — something in relation to your valuable inheritance of Haddon's Ferry V" cheerfully inquired the good old doctor. " Dr. Goodwin, i. have really no right to the inheritance of Haddon's Feiry. That is what I have been so anviou.s to tell you ever since dear grandfather passed away, bub I have had no good opportunity until now of entering into necessary explanations. But, indeed, I havo no right to Haddon's Feny, or to anything else that my dear grandfather left." " I do not know w hy you should think so, my dear,*' said the good minister, with a perplexed look. '•In the first place, you know, Dr. Goodwin, that I am not ieally Gabiiel Haddon's grandchild." " I know that, my dear, and 1 fnnc-y our neighbors all know that as well as ourselves. But you do not inherit Haddon's Ferry as the heiress-at-law, bub as the heiiers accoidnig to the la^b -will and testament of the Kile Gabriel Haddon, "w Inch gives you an indisputable legal title to the piopcifcys Gertrude." " Yes, Dr. Goodwin, a legal title, but nob a moral light." " Gertrude, you puzzle me, my child. I cannot even conjecture what you mean. Pi ay, explain yoiu self,*' said the bowildered doctor. "1 will. Dr. Goodwin, did you ever know that my grandfather was manied in his early youth ?"' " Certainly, my child ; I know the whole story ot that disastrous mariiage," said the doctoi, -with a sigh. " Do you know the sequel of that marriage, sir ?" "The sequel, my dear? I know the young wife, after she was torn from the arms of her husband, died of a broken hem t, and was bi ought home and buried in the family vault, at Hill Top Hall, and that her husband never married again. Tlutb is all I know abo it ib. ' "Then, my giandf'ithcr ne\er confided to you the pcoret of the confession mado to him by old General Slaughter on his deathbed T "Why, no! I never saw Mr ITaddon alive after the dcatli of General Slaughter !" exclaimed the doctor. "He lived but three days after,'" said ( Jerlrudo with a big sigh. "If he had lived long enough to see you, he would have confided the secret to you, as he did to me. But he was called away before he could do s.o, leaving that .and some other things foi mo to do." "What was this secret, my dear girl"" inquired the doctor, with interest. " Dr. Good-win, the young- wife of Gabriel Haddon left a child an intant girl — which w.w taken horn her po.- session and left in London when she was bi ought back to die." "My clear Gertrude ! What is this you tell mo ?" exclaimod the old minister, in profound amazement. " The solemn, sorrowful truth, dear Dr. Goodwin, as I received it horn my grandfather, to whom it was confessed by old General .Slaughter on his death bed." "And what became of the child?" inquired the doctor after a thoughtful pause. "No one yet kaows. She was abandoned in London." " Did that wretched old man keep no oversight of tho babe whatever ?" " Apparently not. He happened to have retained or remembered the address ot the private hospital where the unhappy young wife became a mother, and of the woman in whose charge the child was afterwards placed. He gave these addresses to my grandfather, who made a note of them on the spot. I have this memorandum,and that is the only clue I possess from which to direct the search for the missing heiress ; for, Dr. Goodwin, you know that she must be sought for. It she should be lhing she would now be a middle-aged woman, and the heiress nob only of Haddon's Feny, bub also, in right of her mother, of Hill Top Hall, Stonylonesome Island, and other manor?." "Most assuredly she would be so," said Dr. Goodwin thoughtfully. " My grandfather meant to havo started immediately to England in quc,«t of his lost daughter ; but tho summons came that called him to another life. It is now my duty to prosecute what ho had nob time to commence. I know that ib is my bounden . duby to do it, and I am resolved to do ib immediately ; but I do net know how to commence. You arc my guardian and ti'ustee, Dr. Goodwin, and I como to you for advice and assistance in this matter. I want you, if you pleads, to take the pioper steps, employ the pi-opcr persons and to raise the necessary funds to prosecute the search on the Haddon's Ferry. Will you do this for me ?"

"Assuredly I will, my dear. But, bless my soul alive ! If this daughter of Gabriel Had don and Lily Vale should be found, she will nofc only inherit Haddon's Ferry, Hill Top Hall, Stonylonesome Island, bufc she •will strip the great heiress, Geraldine Fitzgerald, of all ncr vast possessions." "Indeed ! Can that be so? I thought that Misa Fitzgerald inherited directly from her parents," said Gertrude, in surprise. "So she did; but her parents inherited in right of Italia Fitzgerald, who was the wife of General Slaughter, and the direct ancestress of this missing heiress. Ib was only in Hie apparent default ot direct heirs of Italia Fitzgerald, the greatest heiress of her time, that the father of Geraldino succeeded to her many manors. But we must look the lost heiress up, though her discovory should cause a revolution/ 1 " l'lease, sar. do doctor's gi^ is at do door," said the footman Nurno, putting his head in at the door. "My dear, I must leave you now. I will begin immediately to attend to this matter. I would say nothing more about it to anyone just at present. I will see yon again in a few days. Good-bye, my love," 'said the good doctor, as he pressed the hand of Gertrude and left the room. In a few moments she heard the pound of his carriage wheels, as they rolled away, taking him from the hospitable shades of Greenwood.