CHAPTER XXX.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 219, 10 September 1887, Page 7

CHAPTER XXX.

THE HEIR OF SUMMIT M-VisOß. Ah ! why should memory, veiled with gloom, And like a sorrowing mourner draped. Sit weeping o'er an empty tomb, Whose captive has escaped ? Tis but a mound, and will be mossed Whene'er the sumincr's grass appears ; The gone, i lough wept, arc never lo&l, We only lose— our tears. A.NONYMOUS. Thm;e days later, amid a vast concourse of friends, neighbours and relatives, the mortal remains of Maurice Fit/gei aid were laid in the family vault, under the little chapel on Summit Manor. After the last solemn services wei cover, the great crowd dispersed and icturned to their several homes, leaving only a few oi the neaiest relations and most intimate friends oi the family, v>ho were invited to i emain and be present at the reading 1 ot the last will and testament of the late Main ice Fitzgerald, of Summit Manor. Among those who accepted the invitation and remained were the Greenleaf.s, of Greenwood, represented by Mr Royal and Mi--* Sue Grocnleaf, Mis Uoy, and Mis-, Patricia Fitzgerald, and Mr Benjamin Bowers, the Fitzgeralds, of Forest Lodue, and half a dozen other manors, all represented by Miss Geraldine Fitzgerald, and the Rowleys, of the Cave House, by Mi-s lloratia Rowley only. The reading of the will was appointed to be performed in the middle ot the afternoon in the long dining-room of the manorhouse ; and there, at the proper hour, v»eie assembled all persons supposed to be interested in the matter, including the household seivants and many of the iield labourors. The attorney of the testator, the holder of the will, Mr Keywoith, of Wildeville, .-at at the head of the long dining-table, w ith n black .Japan box before him. Nearest relatives and dearest friends- iilled the seats dow n each side and at the bottom of the board. Goiald and Geialdine Fitzgerald found them eh es by accident or Providence, seated side by side on the rig-Jib hand of the attorney. This was the first occasion on which they had met since their quarrel. And now only necessity hi ought them together. Colonel Fitzgerald acknowledged the presence of his beautiful betrothed only by a grave bow, which the returned with a slight inclination of hei stately head, just as they took their places at the table. That was all. No -word passed between them. He sat in pei feet silence, his lips compressed beneath his dark moustache, and his eyes fixed upon the table. She reclined back in her chair, and slowly fanned herself m ith the black crepe fan of her deep mourning buit. The reading of the will was a short and simple affair. Summit Manor being already in entailed estate, fell of itsell into the possession of Gerald Fitzgerald, as the only =on and heir of his father, the late proprietor. A few legacies were left to friends iclathes, and dependants, and then all real ?fctate, not entailed, and all the personal pioperty of the testator, was bequeathed to bis only son, Gerald, residuary legatee and -ol<; executor of will, "And now, 1 ' said Mr Kcyuoith, as lie :oUed up the document, returned it into it-> .Japan ca^e, and handed it over to Jolond Fitzgerald, "I have to congratuate you, sir, upon your succession to a atge and entirely unencumbered estate. [t is very seldom that such a tiling occurs. [ have ne\ cr before, in my long legal practice, met with a case in which so A'ast an estate was passed from father to son en:hcly free of all liabilities:—" Here the speaker was intctiupted by a oud, ciackling, deri&ive laugh. All turned in the direction of the open window, whence the sound proceeded. A tfild face, with piercing black eyes and streaming black hair, was seen suddenly to Irop down from the outside to tho ground, md then all was silent. "It, is that unhappy crcatuie, Magdnla, of whom we weie just speaking;, Gerald, *aid Royal Greenleaf, resuming his attitude of attention to the lawyer. "Do not mind her. Go on, Dr, Key worth. " "hvafc saying that I had never before known fco vast an estate a<3 the Summit Manor to pass from father to son .so entirely free from encumbrance as this is. Even the legacies, you will observe, Colonel Fitzgerald, are to be paid out of the idle capital remaining in the Wildeville Bank to the account of the late Mauiice Fitzgerald. But it was always the pride of my late honoured client to keep the great manor entirely free from amiabilities." ••I wish I could say the same of Greenwood and its owner, Mr Key worth,"' said honest Royal Greenleaf. " Hush, uncle ! You have a large unencumbered property in Paradise,laid up there by your good deeds to widows, orphans, poor cousins, and other forlornities— deeds that you could not have done and left your little farm of Greenwood entirely free from J burden," whispered Patricia Fitzgerald. The attorney now drew from his breast pocket two letters, saying : " These were placed in my hands about ten days ago by my late esteemed client, who sent for me and gave them into my keeping, to be delivered to the parties to which they are addressed, in case of just such circumstances as now exist. The letters will explain themselves," he added, as he delivered them both into the hands of the heir. " Are you acquainted with their contents, Mr Key worth?" inquired Colonel Fitzgerald, as he looked at the superscription of the envelope, and seeing that one was addressed t9 his cousin, passed it silently over to her"; . - , , , , "Vee, Colonel, I know their contents. In fact, I Avrote the letters with my own hand to the dictation of the late Mr Fitzgerald. The letters may be called both private and public as to their nature ; and it is, of course, optional with you to read them aloud or in fcilence," said Mr Keyworth. . | "If my good friends will give mo leave, I will look over my father's letter before reading it aloud," said Colonel Fitzgerald, with a courteous glance around the table. Royal Greenleaf, in the name of tho company, begged him not to stand on ceremony, but to proceed. Gerald Fitzgerald bowed, broke the seal of his letter, and began to read with a perplexed and troubled brow, which grew more troubled and perplexed as he went on. Geraldine held her letter unopened m her hand, and her pale, proud lace seemed prouder and paler than ever. The company looked on, and waited in anxiety and' suspense. Gerald Fitzgerald finished the reading at length, folded the letter, placed it in his

breast pocket, and sat for a moment iii troubled sillence. His friends looked on with feelings of disappointment, too plainly betrayed by their faces. At length, after somo reflection, Colonel Fitzgerald looked up, and said : "M y friends, this letter from my father speaks to me now like a voice from beyond the grave. lam called to act upon its counsel ; but such action requires consideration and — the co operation of another. Under these circumstances, I must beg that you will allow me time for reflection before I shall make the subject of this posthumous communication public." " 01), certainly, certainly, take your own time, Gemld," .said Royal Greenleaf, heaitily, though looking the disappointment he could not all conceal. " Take a year ! Take a lifetime, my dearboy ! In fact, take for ever, if you like ! If you don't like to make known the contents of that letter to us, you need never do it. The laAvycr said it was optional with you to do it, or not to do it," pompously exclaimed Ben Bowers, who did not care one penny what was contained in the mysterious letter so that it was not a codicil revoking the legacy of a thousand dollars left him by the will of the late Maurice Fitzgerald, which has just gladdened the heart of the poor, impecunious loafer. "Certainly, Colonel Fitzgerald lias a right to keep his own seci ets, if he pleases to do so," said Mrs Doy Fitzgeiald. " There is, I assure you, my dear lady, some counsel that requires consideration on the paitof myself and co-operation on the put of another," said Gerald Fitzgerald, with a gentle smile. " Now, ladies and gentlemen, as my busi- | ness here is concluded for the present, with Colonel Fitzgerald's permission T will bid t you good-afternoon," said the lawyer, rising and taking up his green ba£. " You will do nothing of the sort, Mr Keyworth. You will remain and dine with us," said Colonel Fitzgerald, heartily. The attorney lifted his grey eyebiows, shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and bowed assent. "Oeraldine, my love, are you not going to icad your letter?" inquired Mis Doy, \\ ith interest. •' No, madam. I shall reserve it for the present," said Mi?s Fit/geiald, in a low tono, and with a face as white as marble. "My dear, you aie not well. What is the matter with you ?" anxiously demanded Mrs Doy. " Nothing is the matter with me. lam in robust health. I always was so; but now 1 am tiled to death of fitting heie so long. Since the business that brought us together has been finished, I think we had better adjourn to the drawing-room,'' answered Ceraldine, speaking in a low tone that all her self-command could not make & toady. And so saying, she arose fiom the table and stood with her hands resting on the back of her chair. Colonel Fitzgerald arose, bowed, and silently offered his aim to lead her out. As silently she bent her head, and slipped iipr hand within his elbow, but held him back until the whole company had pre cecW them out of the room. Then she allowed him to lead her after them. The pair went on in perfect silence until all the company had disappeared within the diawing-room, and they found themselves at the door of the library, which happened to be vacant at the time. Then Geraldine stopped and held him back, raised her dark eyes to his, and with a gesture at once imperious and beseeching, pointed to the empty libraiy. He led her in, released her arm, aivi stood silently befoie her, waiting hci pleasure. How grandly beautiful she looked, standing In the midst of the crimson libiary, where the last rays of the setting sun, streaming through the stained glass of the fiothic window, falling behind her, surrounded her queenly form in a halo of rainbow glory — with her hands clasped to Ljether and hanging down before her upon her black mourning-dress, with her stately head bent till all its richness of purple black locks fell around the warm, glowing, eloquent face. That face had been pale as maible a few moments before, but now it was suffused with lovely flushes. The letter that she held unconsciously between her clasped hands dropped unheeded to her feet. He stooped and picked it up and gave it to her. She slipped it mechanically into her pocket, and then held out both her hands to him, exclaiming in low, impassioned, ibrattng tones : "Gerald, I have wronged you— bitteriy. I UK'Um for it— oh, how deeply ! Pardon hie, Gerald. I implore you to pardon me, for I do love you - and honour you — and believe in you utterly ! I have—ever since J was a little child." " I see the little child of {Ive pnmmers now, with her beautiful, dark, trusting eyes," murmured Gerald Fitzgerald, tenderly, as his hands closed on hers. 1 ' I was wild and mad to have uttered such false and wicked words against you— you, my beloved, my honoured — " " They are dead and buried and forgotten, as if they had never been spoken," murmured Fitzgerald, drawing her to his heart in a close embrace. " Oli, you make me very happy ! I bless — I bless your divine forgiveness, Gerald !" she sighed, and overcome by the strong reaction of her feelings, she sank, half -fainting,, into the nearest chair. He was at her side in an instant, kneeling at her feet, holding her hands, breathing words of fondest, truest love into her ears. "Oh, Gerald, I fear— l fear myself—my almost insane moods, when another spirit, not my own, seems to possess me ! Oh, Gerald, can you always forgive — no, pardon ? We forgive faults, but pardon sins. Can you always pardon your wretched, insolent, ill-tempered Geraldine, because, ill as she is, she loves you, she honours you, and she always has and always will ? Can you do that, oh, Gerald ?" she faintly implored. " I can and do forgive my own dear Geraldine for the sake of her great love, for her great beauty, and above all, for that 1 myself do so much need forgiveness," said Fitzgerald, kis&ing the fair hands that he stilllield while kneeling by her side. ' • Give me back my little betrothal ring, then," she murmured through happy tears. "See whore I have kept it since it left your finger," he answered, detaching a slender watchguord from his neck, and drawing it from his bosom until he drew out the little engagement ring from its. hiding-place. " Next my heart," he added, as he'replaced it on her finger. "Oh, Gerald ! May Heaven grant th^t. I may ever be able to make you as hap^y &&■ you have made me this evening. Bi\t mytemper—oh, my diabolical temper X' sheexclaimed, with half a sigh and half a smile. „ . . " And now, love," said FitzgersJjJv rising and seating himself by her sids, '• shall 1 read to you my dear father's ppsthumousletter, which has so awakoned the curiosity, of our friends in the drawing room, ?" " Yes ; do read it to me, and then read mine. I shall wonder what they are both. " We shall soon sco," said Gerald Fitzgerald, very gravely, as_ he unfolded the letter and read. {To be Cmttinitfd.) )