CHAPTER XXXII.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 220, 17 September 1887, Page 6

CHAPTER XXXII.

A fUIKAT SHOOK TO GERTRUDE. Oh, woman wronged can chorish lmto More deop and dark than manhood may, But when the mockery of fate Hath left revenge its chosen waySi ill lingers something of the spell Which bound her to her lover's bosomStill midst the vengeful fires of hell ►Some Jlowers of old affection blossom. John G. Wvittiku. Emily in the next week the company of friends and relatives a&semblcd at (Summit Ma noi House broke up and soparatcd to their several homes. The Greenwood family were tho last to leave. Two large travelling 1 carriage*-, one belonging 1 to Summit Manor and the other to Greenwood Farm, were brought around to the door, after all the other vehicles had rolled away. Into the first carriage Colonel Fitzgerald handed Miss Sue Greenleaf, Miss Fitzgerald and Gertrude, and then he took the remaining seat himself. It happened to be next to Geitrude, because Miss Oreefileaf and Mida Fitzgerald occupied tho back seat, leaving only the front to tho young girl and their escort. Mrs Doy Fitzgerald, Patricia, Mi- Royal Greenleaf and Cousin Ben Bowers entered tho second carriage. And in this order the whole party went on toward Greenwood. It is the party in tho first carriage with which we are mostly concerned. It was not a very talkative one. Miss Sue having nothing heavior on her sentimental mind, and holding her halfread novel in her hand, took furtivo glances between its pages, wondering what the mystery of the heroine's melancholy madness could mean, and reading occasionally by stealth. Geraldine sat with her black veil over her face, glancing from time to time at the grave face of her lover, who was in the farthest corner from her, next to the " ferrygirl," as she mentally and contemptuously styled Gertrude, and wondering why Miss Sue Greenleaf, with all hor natural refinomont,could make such an intimate associate

©f &mch. a, itiHT-borrai young woman as to take her mt» the carriage, and even receive her iii tlwdrawisne-rooitt and at the dinner-table. "Well," said Miss Fitzgerald to herself, " I cannot), ofi course, control fcho usages of the householtl at Greenwood ; but when onco I find myself mis-tress of the Summit Manor, I shall take good care that no person of that class- shall ever find entrance into m.y drawing-roona ov dining-room, except in the- capacity o£ a servant." Gerald Fitzgeuald was not quite unconscious of Geraldino's annoyance, nor yot quite unaffected by it : but he could not understand ifc. He explored his memory fou any record of a recent cawse of offence given by him. He could find none. So ho only sighed, over his betrothedi bride's suUuness, and tried to think of some delicate way of dispelling it. The only happy occupant of the carriage was Gertrude ILaddoia. Only in fctte week before she had fell hot self to be the loneliest creature in the Lord's univer&e. Now .she felt perfectly satisfied to' sit beside one she worshipped an a god, and to see him. smile upon her sometimes- as a man would smile upon a child ; yet to feel that smile sink down into her hourt, filling it with light and joy. It was nearly two o'clock when the carriages reached Greenwood. The company had just time to go to their room and lay off their outer garments before being called to partake of the dainty and abundant lunch that the forethought of Aunt Hot, who expected them,, had prepared. After luncheon, a* by a tacit agreement, the members of the household dispersed to their several occupations or recreations., and left tho betrothed lovers to return to the drawing -room alone. Miss Sue Greenleaf took Gertrude and retired to her room to enjoy an hour's leading of " St. RoDiitn's Well." Mrs Doy Fitzgerald and Patricia went into the store-room to pack a basket of jellies and home-made vine to send to a poor consumptive neighbour. Mr Royal Greenleif and Cousin Ben Bowers strolled out to the stables and kennels to Look at the horses and hounds. Gerald Fitzgerald followed Geraldine to the drawing-room, seated himself beside her on the sofa, took her hand, pressed it to his lips* and whispeied the question which had been troubling him all the morning : " What has hapjiened to annoy you ? Is it anything over which I have- control? Toll me, my own dear Geitrude." " Vouv own dear who '<" demanded Geialdiuo, knitting her brows. "Why, what is the matter with you, dearest Geraldine? Oh, I see now. Forgive me, dearest loao. It was but a stupid slip of the tonpue. lam as bad as my old nurse Jessie, who always gets her proverbs hind part foremost. But—" " Pray, are you in tho habit of addressing that ferry-girl a? your own dear Gertrude, Colonel Fit/gerald ?" inquired Gcraldino, with a curling lip. ''Why, certainly lam not. You know that lam not. I arldret-s no woman in that style except you, my betrothed, and my only beloved. As for Mis.^ Haddon, I would as soon take such a liberty with a prince-s as with her," f-aid Fitzgerald, earnestly. "Indeed! Pray, since when has this fcrry-giil been called Miss Haddon V" 41 Ever since I have known her, m hich has boon only since my last return to tho neighborhood," patiently answered Fit/.gcrald. Colonel Fitzgerald gazed at her in sorrow and perplexity, and \\ ould have taken her hand, but t-he thing his away from her and folded her arms. [ Her eyes were^parkling,her colour rising, her bosom heaving. "Geraldine, dearest Geraldine, do not "be unreasonable. Listen to me. la\ ill bo perfectly frank with \ou, truthful with you as 1 am with my Lord. Geraldine, my utteiance of that poor child's n.»me — " " You even speak of her with tenderness. You cannot speak of her but with tenderness," exclaimed the young fury, vehemently. i "With pity, Gei aldine, with •pity, cloon pity, time is all. Listen to me, my beloved. I was thinking of that poor little meek orphan, and wondering what her future was- to be, for it v* whispered that old Gabriel Haddon has left a daughter of his own, who, if she should bo found, would inherit the property, and thus leave this poor, little, dove-eyed child as bereft of home and mean 5 ? as she is of kindred and friends." " Oh, I have no doubt you would be delighted to piovidc for such a dove-eyed darling." "Geraldine !" "Make her your housekeeper — or something." " Miss Fitzgerald ! ' exclaimed the lover, in rising wrath. " Is she not your 'own dear Gertrude,' 'dearest Gertrude,' 'meek child,' 'doveeyed girl ?' and the Lord knows what else ?" snarled the j'ouug tigress, all her boauty distorted by rage, a? she sprang to her feet and began talking the floor with rapid strides. "What a tempest in a tea-pot!" cried Gerald Fitzgerald, a sense of humour mingling with and modifying his just indignation. " What a tornado ! It seems, then, that I am to have no freedom at all ! I may not e\ en feel or express any pity for a poor orphan child — " "Colonel Fitzgerald, this is trifling!" exclaimed Geraldine, pausing in her rapid walk, and standing beforo him "u itli heaving bosom, flushed facet and flushed eyes "Understand me, once for all! I will share no man's love with any other woman living ! I certainly will not degrade myself by shaiing yours with a low-lived forrygirl! Who is this Gertrude Haddon ? Who knows anything about her except that she was an abandoned foundling, an infamous child — " "Infamous child! Oh. Geraldine, what profanation of words ! How can a child be infamous V" said Gerald Fitzgerald, in a tone of rebuke at once sad and tender, "The child of infamous parents, fchen ! That is nil that is known of this ferry-girl, who was found and brought up by Gabriel Haddon. And now hear me. Gerald Fitzgerald ! I say I will not share your heart, or oven your attentions, with this low-born giil!" "Geraldine? I command you to be silent !" said Fitzgerald, in a dee]), stern voice, as he pointed fco the open door. She followed the direction of hisfinger with her eyes, and was mute. For there, within the open door, stood Gertrude Haddon, white and still as a marble statue, showing in the meek despair of her face that every cruel, scornful word launched by Miss Fitzgerald had stabbed her gentle heart and transfixed her thero without the power of moving, to advance or to retreat. Colonel Fitzgerald arose and stepped quickly across tho room, took her arm gently, and led her away, saying kindly as he did so : "Como to Miss Greenleaf, my child. I suppose we shall find her in the ' sisters' parlour.'" " Oh ! Colonel Fitzgerald, I did not know, indeed I did not know." " Did not know what, my dear ?" " That you and Miss Fitzgerald were in the drawing-room. I went there to get a book for Miss Sue — the second volume of a book she is reading. And, oh ! I never thought—"

" Never thought what, my child ? Compose yourself, my clear." "That I was a trouble to Miss Fitzgerald. But I will go away — indeed, I will go away and give no more trouble." "Where would you go, my little Gertrude?" inquired Fitzgerald, led by hia loving kindness into more tenderness of manner towards her than he wished to display, as he opened the door of the sisters' parlour and took her in. The room was vacant ; but the tall figure of Miss Greenleaf was plainly scon through tho open window, walking on the lawn. "Where would you go if you were to leave this place, my child ?" he repeated kindly. "Oh, I would go to my own old ferry home, where old John and Jeas, who love me, wowld take care of me, where I would return to my own old ferry life, and be useful inbtsad of being troublesome to people," anfewoved Gertrude, as she dropped trembling into a large arm-chair, and sank back, pale and weary-looking. "•The feiry-house is no proper homo for a young, unprotected girl. lam sure your guardiau would not permit it. Who is your guardian by the way V" " Dr. Goodwin is one, Mr Royal Green leaf is the other. I could also go to Dr. Goad win." "Heis a childless widower. There is no lady at the head of his establishment. It woald not do. " " Then I will ask Miss Sue Gi'eenleaf where I may go. I will go wherever my elders tell me." "But why should you go at all. my child ? Why should you leave the home assigned you by your guardian ?" "Oh, because I must — I must — indeed! must, Colonel Fitzgerald. But I will ask Miss Sue Greenleaf where I can go." "Do .so, my dear child. I think she will decide that you shall go nowhere, that you must stay here under her excellent protection. But here comes Miss Greenleaf to answer ior herself," said Colonel Fitzgerald, as he saw Miss Sue, with a laige spray of moss-roses in her hand, re-enter the house. The next minute she came into the room. " Oh, you are heie, Colonel ! Sit down. Gertrude, my dear, did you bring the book I dent you for ?" said Miss Sue, as she "went up to the mantel-piece and added her mo?s-ros-os to the fresh bouquet in the va&e. "No, Miss Sue,— l—" began the girl, but being unable to explain why .she had not brought it, she stopped in the middle of the sentence. " Allow me to fetch it, madam," said Colonel Fitzgerald, politely. "Thanks. It is the second volume of. 'St. Konan's Well.' You will find it, if you ■ will be so good, on the stand in the bay. window," said Miss Sue, blandly. Fitzgerald bowed, and left the parlour. When he re-entered the diawing-roomj, he found his indignant biide-elect st^U walking rapidly up and down the floor. " I have been waiting for you, Colonel' Fitygerald. I have something to say, tQ; you,'' nho muttered, without looking at, him or pausing in her walk. " Ono moment, Gerald ine, and I > T \\\ be at your orders," he replied, not unkindly, as he crossed the room, took the book jrom. the stand, and went out. He carried at" mi to the sisters' parlour, placed it ift< the hands of Miss Sue with a bow, and l^uiu'ied 1 back to the drawing-room. " Now, my dear Geraldinc, I am ,0,1? your.•service. Will you not be seated T" heinquhud, drawing a largo lesting-ehair tow aids her, "No: I will neither sib nor stand^slio answeicd, continuing her walk. He sighed, stood on the hsaalil 1 ),. and rested Jus elbo.v on the mantelrslte-lf,. and waited for her to speak. " I told you, Colonel Fitzgei^^iLd,,'" began Geialdino, still walking rapidly up and down the room - "I told you,ijh.at I would not share the heart of any lj> i»g»- man with any living woman. I told you! that I would not share your attentions W\iUi a low-born ferry-girl. It re\ olt« me to be obliged to sit in the same room with her,, at the same table as her ; butlarain my guardian's house, and must submit to his old-maid sister's whims -or, rather, I have had to Jo so ; but I w ill do so no longer I tell you farther, Colonel Fitzgerald, that you must cease to pay any attentions whatever to the ferry - gill." " I have never paid; Miss Haddon any attention except such i»s it is the bounden duty of any gentleman to pay any lady A\ho happens' to be in his company," said Gerald Fitzgerald, quietly. " ' Miss Haddon ' and ''lady !' I declare, Colonel Fitzgerald, you seem to have very rude ideas of what constitutes a lady. But I suppo.se the many years you have spent in the frontier forts and in the company of savages and backwoodsmen have demoralised your sense of propriety to some extent," sneered Geraldine, still walking. He waited quietly to hear what more she had to say. Soon she continued : " You must cease your attentions to the feny-giil, at once. I will not endure fco have them go on." "Anything else, Geraldinc?" ho inquire 1, very calmly. " Yes, sir ! You mu't go to Koyal Greenleaf, and say to him that this low protisg£e of his mad sister — this low-bom ferry-girl — must be sent away from the house. Sent away immediately. She can be pioviclcd for somew^ro else. /am Willing to provide f. ' " . ucaturo ; but she must "be sent awaj ..o once. 1 will not endure her presence in the house for another day !" "Is that all you require of me, Geral dine ?"' he asked in a low voice. "Yes; it is all, for the present," she answered, throwing herself into a chair at la.sb, and looking at him. Ho stood with his elbow resting on the mantel-piece, with his eyes fixed upon the floor. He stood, pale, still, and mute, until she spoke again. "Do you intend to do my bidding, Colonel Fitzgerald ?"' she haughtily demanded. "Assuredly J. do not," he answered, emphatically. " You do not !" she exclaimed, in indig mint amazement. "I do not. If I were to do that which you require of me, Geraldine, I should stand for ever dishonored and accursed in my own - eyes. If any other man were lo offer such an affront to Gertrude Haddon, even at your bidding, Geraldine, and Royal Green- ! leaf did not thrash him within an inch of his life, 7 should call them both to a severe account." " You are the champion of this ferry-girl, I see," sneered Geraldine. "She does not need a champion. If .she did, every ti ue man would be at her service." " You defy me, sir !" exclaimed Geraldine, with flashing eyes. " I defy no woman, least of all would I defy her I love." " You are at issue with me, then. It is the same thing. " "I am at issue with you on this point only, my dear Geraldino.'' "Do not call me ' dear !' lam not dear to you ! You never loved me ! never cared for me ! I might have known it ! Indeed, of late years Ihavoknowni t,"she cried,startting up and beginning to walk rapidly to and fro. " Geraldino ! for Heaven's sake, be calm. I do love you — utterly and — fatally — I somotimes think. You know I love you. You believe it in your Wetter moods," said Fitzgerald, earnestly.

" I say you never loved me. I was never the first object in your life, as you have been always in mine. I have always had to be sacrificed to some fanatic sense of duty, some Quixotic point of honour ; and now, now it> is your degrading patronage of a miserable ferry-girl !" "Geraldine! Geraldine! you bitterly and cruelly wrong both that innocent child and myself. When you come to your right senses you will know that you do." "What! Do you think I can be deceived in face of all 1 ha\c seen and heard ?" demanded the young fury, lashing herself into fien/y, and betiayiug the hidden causes of her jealousy. "Do yon think lam blind, deaf or idiotic ? I luai d, Colonel Fitzgerald, on the very first evening- ot your arrival at this house, how you devoted youiself to that gill. You were told that I was confined to my room by sickness -. so you consoled yourself with the ferry-girl. Oh ! that 1 should live to know it ! That is what I heaid." " Geraldine, I demand your authority for that story." "Patricia." " That little, mischievous, jesting, liicky elf ! I wonder, Geialdine, you could have given a moment's serious attention to am - thing of that sort coming iiom such a fantastic cieaturo." " If I had given serious attention to it at the time, 1 assure you I .should notha\e acooided to you the interview that subsequently took place between us in the hbiary,'' said Gotaldine, haughtily. " And yet, when I recall that night, lam persuaded that the lepoit you had hoard of me, however little attention you may have bestowed upon it, niu^t have influenced jour conduct dming that painful inter - \iew,"' said Colonel Fitzgeiald, gra\ ely. "It may indeed have done so, and jus-ti-lied me in anything I might have said or dojJC there. At all events. Colonel Fitzall that I ha\e >i>n to-day has' cortuboiatcdall that I lunul that night. I saw the piess-uie of 'he hand with which you iholped that girl into the cairiage when wo were leaving the Summit. I muf the imanuei in which you took your scat by her wde". I wur the way in .vhich you looked at her. jSIy thick black veil was down, and perhaps .you thought I could not see. Bur iemeirib.Gr, / could *cc you, though you couJd not bee my face. Yes, I >.«/;- yoni gMJS and youi smiles ye°, and hei dotyn-ca^t-eyes, and blushing cheeks, and conscious looks. Oh, it Vx^ as plain as daylight. }\ou thought because my face was closely veikd and Mis^Gieenleaf&attention was abw>i bud 'by her book, that your quiet flirtation »jth the feny-giil could go on right before aur laces w ithout being percei\ed. You v oie mistaken, Colonel Fitzgerald. 1 AjL\s Ua'U. And what I with my eyes to-day confiims all that I heaid from Patricia that .night. Did you happen to suppose, Colonel Fitzgerald, that your accidental u-u of ihn-t. girl'^ name in-tead of mine, unconnected wilh wliat liad gone before could have given ix.<z ottence ? No —no moie than if with a blip of the tongue you had called me j:\itjieia. And now the crowning insult. When I demand that you bieak with tin > girl, and ha\e her sent fiom the house, you refuse to do it. Guald Fitzgerald, I will not take you at your iiist rash woid of denial. 1 wiH gi^e you another chance, for — I love you. I appeal to you for your love to me— if imteod you have any. Gerald, if you love me, bieak with that girl, and insist upon he* being sent away horn the house." "Geraldine, you know that I love you! feat I cannot do what yon icquirc of me. If I could do such a thing, I repeat it, I should stand for c\er dishonouied and m;-cuii-ed in my own ey es," he leplied, h'imly ami sadly. "You mrfr loAcd me And I—fool!I — fool! fool 1 tool! and tin ice sodden fool that I ha\e Lcxm tvir to ha\e believed it! Our betiothal was a laice ! Wor-c than a farce, it was a crime — the crime oi a foolish old man and an ambitious young one ! who conspired to depihe a poor little five-year-old baby of hei libel ty and her land at once, and to bind her to a cold-hearted traitor, who has ghen hei indifterencc for her lo\c, and tieachery for her tiust !" "Geraldine! Gcialdine ! for Heaven's sake have a caie !" evelaimed Colonel Fitzgeiald, almost diiven, at last, from his selfcommand. " For what should I have a caie ? I care for nothing, Colonel Fit/gerald !" she cried, beside herself with jealous rage. "Heie! take your betiothal ring! And ife\crl permit you to put it on my finger again, may Geraldine Fitzgerald stand ' dishonoured and accursed ' not only in her 'own eyes,' but in the eyes of all the world !" And with this terrible imprecation upon her own mad head, she tore her ring fiom her finger and hurled it with violence to the feet of her lover. {To be Continued.)