THE MYSTERY OF HADDON'S FERRY.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 223, 8 October 1887, Page 6

THE MYSTERY OF HADDON'S FERRY.

By E. D. E. N. Southworth.

CHAPTER XXXVII. THE 11 EJECTED IJKIDE. Tt is not so ; them hast misspoke, misheard ; It o.uniot be; thoxi dost but sfty 'tis so; 1 trutA I may not trust thee ; for thy word Is but thu vain breath of a common man ; I have Ins own o«ith to the contrary. SHAKSPi:UE. Ox that- fatal wedding-morning Geraldine Fit/get aid paced up and down the floor of her chain I. er at Greenwood, with tlie fierce restlessness of a caged tigress. On 1 he bed lay spread out the handsome suit- ot silver-grey Irish poplin, trimmed with \flvetof the same hue in which she was to commence her wedding tour. Aiour.d the loom stood several large ti links conta'ning her cobtly wardrobe, all looked and st/apped for transportation. Standing and waiting lesrectively within the shade of the window cur.ains wa-. Desm'c, the Fiench dressing-maid of the young lady. rio&ently the heiress paused in her impatient v\alk and demanded : " What is the hour?" 4 'The clock has struck ten, Mademoiselle," answeicd the maid. "lt.i& time my messenger hadreturned from the Summit. Go downstairs and inquiieif he ha*> arrived. ' " Yes, Mademoiselle." When the girl had le f t the room Geraldine resumed her restless pace up and down the floor until she was interrupted by tho maid's ret inn. " Well ?" she exclaimed, pausing in her walk. " Goliath has not yet arrived, Mademoiselle,'' respectfully answered the girl. " Who is down stairs, do you know ?" l(1 it-, MMemoiselle, Monsieur le Cure is arrived." "Tne priest':" "\e», Mademoiselle." " rather Dubarry here already, and — my mo» en^er not returned ! Oh ! What if he .-hould not in\d Colonel Fu;'ge.ald? Or should find him obdurate to my appeal V mutteied Gerald ine to heise* f — "but no, no; Uerald nev ■ va^ so, reve could be so ! He will o 'a I'y receive my rne^a^e, ea^eil> hasten to be leconei'cd with n)e ' — De.iu'e !" " Mademoiselle !" "Who irt dow.ista's besides Father Dubai ry?" " Madame Mat/emo is there." "M s 3 Max-ra Rowley?" " Yes ; Mademoit-e 1 c; also petite demoisel'e JJoiacie. " "lluiatia ! Anyone else V" "Ison, Mademoiselle."' ■"'lhe people horn the i*ectory have not come ' ' " Xon, Mademoiselle. W'U not Madc-moi-ille now make her toi'et ? It id past ten,*' suggested the maid. <- Nj, Lheie is. time enough yet. The houi fur tho ceremony is rxed for o.e o'clock If / must wait for the biidegioom, tiny shall wait for tho bride," she mustered to hci^elf, as she lesumed her ie.stles>s wa'k up and down the iloor, but pacing now with <4ow and drawing bteps. An hour passed slowly on. The clock hands pointed at half-past eleven. "IX-sinSe !" " Mademoiselle!" '•(lo down once moie and inquire if Gohalh has relurir cl from the Summit." Tlie gnl cuitsied and left the loom. Geraldine, w eaiied with her le \? ess walk, thiew hei.-elf, exhausted, into an aiaichah. to await the resulo. A lew moments pci--ud, and Define re entered the rooir. "Has the man returned?' eageily demanded Miss Fitzgerald. <l >'on, MadeinoreUe." Geraldine sank back in her chair, and coveicd her face with her hands, for she felt herself paling and fainting under this hearb-s>ickening suspense. In a few minutas, however, she rallied her eneigKin, and forced heuself to inquire : "Is there any new arrival whatever? Anyone else downstairs, ex'cejit the prie-t and the two lady visitors?" '• Aoa, dear Mademoiselle; but be tianqiul. Tho expected guests may yet render them-°lve& in good time," »aid the maid soothingly. " There are no more guests expected exec'itt the tlnee fioin the rectory. The ceiemony, as you must be aware, Desiree, U out of respect to the memory of the late Mr Fitzgerald, for whom we are still in our iir.st mourning, to be celebrated only in the presence ot our nearest family connections. Theie will really be not more thnn live or six witnesses of the marriage." '• Yes, Mademoiselle." Another hour crept slowly away. The untiring hands of the clock pointed to half-past twelve. Geraldine & tar ted up wildly from her chair, exclaiming : •' ])esiri'e, go directly down stairs and see it that man has returned. He ought to have got hack hours ago. And here ! If he has returned, bring him up to me immediately. If he ha-5 not, leave word with the sen ants downstaiis to send him upas soon as he arrives." The French girl flew out of the room to cany her message. Geialdine started up from her seat and went to one window alter another, looking out upon every approach to the house. Then phe re-commenced her restless, impatient traversing of the room. "Oh, Heaven ! oh, Heaven!" she cried, .suddenly and wildly throwing her hands together. "It, after all, Gerald should refuse to receive my letter ! — but no ! no ! he could not bo .->o unfoi giving ! He knows me too well. He knows that I love him in spile of all. He knows that it is from the very excels of my love for him that I cannoc endure to see him interested in any other woman ; that it madden? me to see him absorbed in any othev woman's conversation even for an hour. Gerald knows this, and he'll forgive my wicked words, for the great love I bear him. And he knows thai I never try his love in the manner that he tries mine. I never, never sit by the hour talking poetry, music or iiie!aphy&ica with any other man— never. 1 never even care to look at any other man than Gerald. Why should ho wish to talk by the hour with any other woman, when he s>ees that it drives mo mad for him to do so, and all from my great love for him ? Oh, no, no, no ! Gerald will not be obdurate. He will forgive me— he will be glad to i'oigive ! Oh ! I know that even now he must bo hurrying to meet inc. And yet, if it should not be bo— oh ! I cannot bear the thought ! If he should send back my letter unread ! But I would not live under such an affliction — not while

any means remain untried tor a reconciliation. If ho Hlu-nsM send back ifly letter unread, I will orderly carriage aftd drive to the Summit House' *ad go straight into his presence. He may rwwfr n*y «»wad letter, by forbearing to read ft, but-bo cannot resist me. And why should I not goto him, if he will no* come to me? Ho is my betrothed husband SJnee our childhood. He is my very own,, and lam his. I drove him away from me,, m my jealous fury. It is for me to bring him back, at any price to my woman b pride. Come, then, I shall not despair, even though he should send my letter back unread, L will go to him in person. My own ! my own ! my own ! I must not, cannot, will not let you go !" she muttered, m linpas- ! sioned earnestness, as she once more threw hersolf into the aim-chair. The door opened, and Desirde re-entered the room. "The messenger! Has he returned?" i Geraldine breathlessly demanded. ; "Ah, non. Mademoiselle. He is a wretch, | this messenger," replied tho French maid, with a sigh. Geraldine fell back, half fainting, in her chair. There came a rap al> the door. " That is he ! ' bhc eagerly e:. claimed. Pe» ; reo opened the door. Mis 3 Sue Greenleaf entered tho room. "Oh, Ttfi-ss Sue!" impulsively exclaimed Gcraldino, mi a tone of disappointment and injuiy. " My dear ! not dressed ) r eb ! It is nearly one o'clock ! Father Dub.i / has been here since ton. Do huivy and got re^dy !" mged Miss G.ee^lc.r. " Are yoa reaUy waiting Tor mo ?" inquired Geraldine, but only by way of Miyiivj something to cover her eonfi-juon. " \\ uy, we n'-e not e::act'y wai.iw 1 fo.you. The party Loin the rectory have not come yet, nor have tae most important persons or all — Co'onel FLzgeui'd and his groomsman — arrived; but you should be le.cdy to com:; down, my deal, the moment they do. You aro to leave by three o'clock, if you "wj«,h to ealch the five o'clock coach at Wi'dewUn. Come let me help you to div \" "No, thanks, dear Miss Greenleaf. Pnxy go and entertain good Father Dubai-./. Dcs : te en dies mo ?u ten minutes," answeied ( eraldine. " Very we 11 ., my dear ; just as you pease. l\ay do nou belong," Ui^ed Miss Greenleaf, as, wiJi her face he'd up, and her stately foun erect, she passed out of tho room. ! "Thank Heaven, she knows nothing, guesses notlrng of this last quarrel between i Fit//>eraM and^myse' ". I wonder i i M ; ss Doy 'or anyone e'so suspects it? I hope not !" sighed (.'eraldine. " Mademo^eUo, shall I now have the honour to d^ess \ou ?" inquired the Fiench maid. « Xo — but— yes !"' answered Gcui'dino ("I will be ready to go down, in case he should come, ivs of comse he icill come, in spite o' appeaumce-, ; or, if by po-^ibi'ity he should not come, but should send my letter back, unread, the same dress will do To.' me to wear in driving ove" to tho Summit Manor to see him ; for lam resolved to see him, to be reconciled to him at nny cost to my piide,") she mentally added. " Will Madcino'scllep^ase to occupy her dressing-chair?"' inquned Dcshxe, as she placed a low scit in n % ont ol tho toilet t ble. Geraldine silently arose and took the place. " How will Mademoiselle p'saso to have her beautiful bljc'v hair dressed tins morning ? ' i'lquhed the maid. " In clo 3 bands and plaits, to accommodate my t;ave Tl ipg hat," replied Geialuine, fo<cing hey by an cflort to take an inte^ct ii there details. The ski 1 ful fingers of tho French maid soon arra ig~'l the magnificent black tresses of the beauty in those simple braids so Locomin^ to her classic he~d and face. And nexo she clothed her in tho simple but elegant silve'-grey travelling dress, and she was about to add the delicately embroidered linen cuffs and col'ar to the suit, when they were iulerrupicd by another rap at the door. " That i* my messenger at last. Let him come in ab once," cried Geraldine, as her face puled and flushed ii ¥ i rapid succession. Desirto wet and opened the door. HeuLy, M : *s Greenleafs waiting-maid, stood without. " Wl>a u is tliis you want?" tartly inquired Deshve. "Pease, Mi c s Daisy Ray, Uncle Goliath have come back and wants to see Mks Fi./'jcrnV, if sLe has done dres»i lg and wilflel 1^ ; n come in," said the HUle wait-ing-mait 1 . " Did I not send down orders that he shou'd come up 10 me immediately upon 1-is imhal? B ''iy hiiu up here di eetly !" exc'niiu^d ( 'eia'c.ine. Then suddenly pacing he.- hand ove.- her hecrt, blie gasped in a iow voice : "Stop— stop! Is he— Jid he re tin n alone ? ' " Oh ! yei, Miss, sure ; and he have fetch a big letter for you," replied tho litJe g) 1. "A ''eLcev ! Tell him to bring it up to me immediately !" exclaimed Cc aMine. Tug lioJo girl withdrew, and tne French maid c^sed t.ie door. " Desirdc ! Q^ick ! Mix a little lavender and ammonia with watc% and bring it to mo ! Quick !" cried GeiaMino, growing very pae, and sin' ing back in her chair ; for the intense stiain upon her nervous system In t' is crisis of suspense was more than sne could bear. Tho nimble fingers of the Fiench girl soon prepared the mixture, and brought it to her mistiess. Geraldine drank it in haste, and had but just returned the glass, empty, to the maid, when another knock at tho door announced the arrival of the me r i3eng3r. Desire opened it, and Goliath walked into thei oom, bringing in his hand a large, white envelope. "It is not my letter, thank Heaven ! Mine was a rose-coloured one. No, he has not returned my letter unread ! Oh, blessing on his great heart ! Let me see what he has wiitten to me !" she- murmuied to herself, as the received the letter from tho hand of the messenger. " You may go now, Goliath. DesirtSo, my good girl, leave me for a few moments. I will ring when I require you," she said to her attendant. The man and woman immediately withdrew, leaving the young lady alone. " I do not wish them to watch me while I read this dear letter. Ah ! what a thick package it is ! What a long letter he must nave written, blessings on his noble soul ! He i 3 too great to be unforgiving. What a long letter ! That is what kept my messenger waiting so many hours. But I wonder why Fitzgerald did not come at once, instead of writing? Perhaps, after all, he has written this letter only to lecture me. Never mind ! He has not sent mine back unread. That is a good sign. And now even if he has put himself upon his dignity, and keeps me to my word — my cruel woid of banishment — / will not be bound by that. I will go to him ! I, who banished him, will go to bring him back 1" These thoughts passed swiftly through her mind, even during the few seconds it took her to break the seal of tho envelope and withdraw the letter, or rather the letters— for her own rose-coloured missive

fell odtftipon lter lap. She chang«# <sok>«r again ami- trembled, OB<she asked ii<#s»lf ; " Why does he-sand back my lettetaf-teir reading it ?'* Breathles&ly she' unfolded his note toy learn the reason.- Tho second line o( tbafo stern missive told- hfer. •' I cannot « onrply with your request that I should come to yctt.-; nor, wevo it mmy power, do I think it ware well or wise for me t» do so." Her eyes were blwifted »s she tried to ra'ui what followed, until she 1 came to these fatal words : " I havo within this hota* raised an impassable 1 barrier between you and myself, I havo united | myself in marriage to G-erHm'de Haddon, to whom, Heaven helping me,. I mean to inuke a Juithful husband." Geraldine read no furthei) \, font she passed her hand over and over hevdaaed eyes, as if | to clear their vision, and then read and reread what seemed to hcv a sentence of death. Meanwhile she gradually grew deadly, J ghastly pale ; every shade of- living colour ebbed away from brow and cheeks and lips, | leaving her face liken mask of death. "Oil, cruel ! cruel ! cruel ! <wu«l !" she muttered low—" cruel a-j dea*U and the grave ! — and cruel to himself as to me \" Yet not all at once could she feel the full force of the blow that had desolated her life. ! Not all at once could her ardent lovo turn to the cold and bluter and deadly hai.'ed it was destined to become. "I knew — I knew," she continued — "I knew that if he suffered the devil to. take possession of him, that devil woi^d drive him to such extremities as I could never leach. He has ma-ried in haste and in wrath to be revenged upon me. Bub,, oh 1 when he shall come to his right sense", how he will turn upon himself ! — how he- will hate and scorn him&elf for whaO he has done ! — how he will loathe and abhoi' the girl who took advantage 1 of his transient madness to accept his reckless otter and become bis wife, binding himself in dofcested bonds for the whole ot his life ! 1 would not for a kingdom be in Gertrude Hadcion's place when Ueiald Fitzgerald comes to his seii.es. For it is / whom he loveo, in spite of all '.—/from whom ho has divided himself for ever by his marriage with an unloved biide! Gerald manied to another! my GeraM the husband of another woman ! Ch, no, no, no, ie c-~>nou be — cannoo be ! This surely is some nightmare dream. Let mo wa'tO myself !" sue cried, starting up and pinching her own arms sharply. " On, Heaven, it is no dream ! Gerald is married. — yny Gerald married, and not to me ! He had no right — ho had no right — he had no right to inflict this woe on me and on hi'iivself. Stop ! It is not so — it cannot be so. How coaKl it, when be loves me? I mvi have read his letter wrong- Let me looicat it a^ain !" she cried, wildly, incoherently, as s ] \e snatched up the letter, which had fallen from her hands- to the floor, and, wich. fixed and sl-aring eyes,, tried to read and understand it. But hey sight was blurred y her mi.^d was confused; she could not see the letters ; nor, if she- could have ceen them, could she have comprehended their purport. She felt her reason reeling on its thi one, " I shall go mad or die !" she gasped ; as she seized both letters, wLn v ci • envelopes, and ciushed them up in he. 1 hands — "I shall go mad or die; but I must not le^ve t.>e c papers he c, to b& found and re.ul and remembered and quoted to my shame," she muttered. And &he took them to the empty fireplace, lighted a match,, f>et them on f 'c, threw them down on the hearth, and watched them until they were Lamed to ajhes. " There !" she said, with, dark t iunap-h. " I may die or go mad, but no human being shaU ever know that, after I had driven Gerald Fioz^evald away, I humbled mytelf to him, only to be rejected and cas^of}'! Ye, 1 may die, or I may go mad, but so sarely as I shall live and retain my senses, so sui ely shall I live and labour for one fell purpose — to humble Gerald Fib. Gerald to tho dust, as he has humbled me — me 1" she c ied, with a sudden flach of her black eyes, and a fierce so^mp of her foot. She stood gczing on the carpet for a few moments, and then, with a grim nod, she muttered : "It is whispered — though these whisperings were quickly repressed — that on the nic^ht when old Mr FitzgeraUl so suddenly died Mag Magdata had told him some terrible tecret, wliich struck him dead as by a thunderbolt. I will dLcover frHs secret at any cost. I will give it to the winds at any risk. I will pull Gerald FitzgeraM to disgrace and ruin, eve"i though I should fall with him !" Sbe suddenly threw her hands to ler head, paled, flushed, reeled, recovered herself, and said : "But now — while I ean — I must givesome explanation to Miss Greenleaf." &he staggered back to her cliair aid diopped into it, stretched "her hand to the bell-rope and gave it a sudden pull. Dessirue answered the summons by entering the room. "My dear Mademoiselle, are you ill?*' cried the girl in terror, as she beheld tho ghasJy pallor of her mistress's face. " Go— and tell — Miss Greenleaf — that I wish to see her — immediately," panted Geraldine, with fait failing breath. Desiree flew out of the room and down the stairs in search of Miss Sue Creenleaf, whom she found in the- dining-room, putting a few finishing touches to the arrangement of the small wedding breakfasttable. Desiree, in an excited manner, began to say : " O, Madame ! Mademoiselle Fcezege.-io is vera ill." Luc Miss Greenleaf cut her short by asking : " Did your young lady send for me ?" "Yes, madame. Certainment." " Let us go to her, then," said Miss Greenleaf, leaving the dining-room and hastening to the chamber occupied by Geraldine. She found Miss Fitzgerald seated in her chair, looking more like a corpse than a living woman. " Geraldine ! Gcraldino ! My dear girl, what is the matter with you ?" anxiously inquired Miss Greenleaf, hastening up to the chair and taking the cold hand of the sufferer. " Miss Sue," began Geraldine, in a voice she fruitlessly endeavoured to render calm and collected, "I might just as well tell you the truth — and, indeed, it mw seems necessary to dp so." She paused, pressed her hand upon her chest, and struggled for breath. Mademoiselle Desiree took a cut glass vinaigrette from the dressing-table and placed it in her hands. Geraldine mechanically inhaled ib, then let the vial fall un heeded to her, and strove to continue. "I have quarrelled with Gerald," she panted. "Last night I took just offence at his excessive attentions to *Horatia Rowley, and to his neglect of myself. And — I broke with him — bade him to leave me — for ever? — bade him never — dare — to oome into my presence again — " Here her head sank upon her breast, and she paused so long that Miss Sue took her hand and said with gentle sympathy: " I am very sorry, Geraldine ; but do not take it to heart, my dear. All will come right. It is a little awkward to have had a misunderstanding with Gerald just at this time ; but that is all. And fortunately

there axe aw stranger girtirff in the house. This has happened botore, and the quarrel has always* bee» made up, as it will be again. Ontylet this be a warning to yo v , sny dear, never more to indulge in »uch tempers whicb— " Peace ! peace I peace ! cried Geraldine, wildly snatching her hands front the lady's eieop — " Oh, peace ! Ido not krsow what lam saying ! B©' has taken me at my wmd ! He has gonxet away, never to return. Tfttetf© will be no -wedding to-day. There nerev will be any wedding— any wedding. Oh 1 1 mean —there has be«n a wedding — that h to say ! o^,. what am I talking about?' • Here*ihe unhappy girl piafc her hand to her heas and gazed witlh* a bewildered and piteous ftxpression into the kind and sympathising face of Miss Sue. " Geraldine, my deaT child,, you are not well. Let me help you- to bed r " said Miss Sue, as she gently took Site' sufferer's hand to lift her ujk. But Geraldine threw off. the krad hand, exclaiming : "No, no, no»!— not untiK D have burned the letters ! — n«?>t until 1 have buitnssd the letters ! I maj lose my lifa-or reasnß, but I will not lose my dignity!! No Hsuraan being shall ever know — shaPlt ever, ©yer — Oh 1 I tell you II must burn tihe letters !" she cried, startinerup with crimson faeeand flaming eyes, and rushing across the vavm ; but betore she had run half a dozen steps, she threw up her arms and fell heavily,, izee downward, to the floor. Miss Greenleaf and Desiree hastened! to raise her up.

chapter xxxvnr. Gertrude's honeymoon. For myself alone- I I would not bo ambitious in my wish) ! To wish myaolf much better; yet for you 1 ,. And only to stand hi<?h in your account, I would h\ virtues, beauties, riches, friendte r Exceed account, but the whole sum of ''mo Is some of nothing; which to torm, in>sllort. Is an unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpmctfitt'd!; Happy in tMs. she ia not yet so old j But sho may learn : haupier than this^ She is not bred so dull but she can learn>;Happiest of all is that her cento spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed', As from her lord, her governor, her king.. The carriage containing the newly-inarmd. '■ pair rolled slowly down the steep mountLin road leading from the Old Red SandstoneChurch to the River Turnpike. For the first few minutes the occupanfts sat in perfect silence. Gerald Fitzgera'd was vainly trying: toconvince himself that he had acted well and wisely in breaking with tho brilliaafr leopaidess to whom he had been so long: betrothed, but whose caresses were almost as fatal a3 her claws, and with whom he could never have hoped to live in peaoe or honour ; tl at he had do^e better and more wisely sLill by promptly raising an inir , passab'e banier between himself and (j era 'dine, in securing ad his wife the lovely child-woman beoide him. But, ah ! i-i spite of all hh reasoning, liis wounded heart sail ached on and on ; for lie . fetHl passionately loved the beautiful fury who was the bane of his life ; and, now, & ir »ce the receipt of her letter and the sending of his own, a strong re-action had Lot i% and he bi'ulerly regretted the rash and reckless manage into which he had rushed, noono >n love and not in prudence, but in wrath and in desperation ! — the fatal mairiage to be for ever repented, since it would forever separate him from her, who, for good &r for evil, he must for ever worship ! Bub though now his soul was filled with despair, he preserved an outwardly calm and cheerful aspect, for he posse«sed grcab powers of self-control. He resolved that, from no act, word, or look of his, should fie gentle girl beside him, who had so unconditionally ghon her whole life to him, ever know, o*.* even suspect, how muoh worse than vain he felt her sacrifice to be. He could not bring himself to talk to her just yet. but he smiled on her from timo to time, with much tenderness. And Gertrude ? i At this moment she wa3 happy. The s : mple maiden better understood her aob than the wise man understood either hers or his own. She loved without se^f-love. Sho loved her husband with all her heart, soul;, and spirit, purely and simply, without one thought of how much love, or good,, or happi less, she was to get in exchange for the gift of her whole self. He had asked her to be his wife, and' she had consented. Ye 3 ; more! He had xiritted her to be bis wife, and she bad obeyed'lrhn. She was his wife ; she belonged to him now and for evermore ! She was sitting by his side ; that was enough ! Oh, yes, quiteenough happiness for the present ; and as for the future, she took no thought of ifc — the future was the Lord's alono. Her face was always lovely in its serene meekness ; but now it seemed transfigured to a cam, divine beauty, that touched even the embittered sp'rio besie'e her. He smi.ed'on her, not with love, certainly, sti'l k:S wiJi pasfeion, but wiuh an, in£uite tende' .iess, as ho took her liuu'e hand' h\> his and gently inquired : "Geitrude, are you quite sure you, are happy v ith me ?" " Yes, sir ; ve-y sure, if only I may help to make you happy ; and, oh, iudeed, / think it is in me to -so," she murmured, ov nestly, as she p"ese3d boJi hands to he true hea b, and then blushed softly at her own vehemence. " You do nob fear to trust your future with me?'' he inquired, almost compassionatsly, as ho looked down in her face. " You are sure you do not fear to trust yourself v» Ith me ?" " Oh, no, no, no, sir ! Indeed, Ido not !" she answered, fervently, shaking her head and ra'Yng her eyes to his wiih. a timid yet beaming smile. "Child, dear child, you look as though you had taken a spi lng into the light, instead of 'a leap in the dark!'" he exclaimed, in wondering y ity. "Oh, sir, it is — it is for me a passing into the light !*' she murmured ; and then again blushed and cast down hor eyes in a sudden shame at her own earnest truthfulness. "Gertrude," ho inquired, very gently, "will you promise me one thing ?" '* Yes, sir. I will promise you anything," dhe answered promptly. " Well, then, promise me this : that from this time forward, whatever wish may arise in your mind, however extravagant it may seem to you, you will, without hesitation, at once express it to me, so that I may gratify it. Will you do so, Gertrude?" " Oh, Colonel Fitzgerald !" " Will you do so, Gertrude ?" "Yes, sir, certainly, since you desire "That is right. Listen now. if ever you wish to go to any part of the world, no matter how far off, you will tell me, so that I may take you there." • ' Oh, Colonel Fitzgerald !" "You have promised, Gertrude. Will you keep your promise ?" "Yes sir, I will." " And in the cities through which we are about to pass, if you should see anything you wish to possess, you must let me know immediately, that I may procure it for you." "Oh, sir— " «' I have your word, Gertrude. Will you keep your word ?"

" Yes, sir, certainly I mW ♦Very well. I shall ende^our to anfclbK p.<& your- wishes, my dear cliUtf,>but lines' , haying- had sixers, I am a novtee in-the-'ex"-pentttfee of yowng women's tastes;' so ydtf I will have to teach me. When* we reach' Washington,, my dear child, I rfJall' &k& measms£Ka make auch settlement*^ sbal£ render jWu independent in a financial point of view. That, itotted, will be bufc simple 1 justice." "You cMfsf'so very, very good tfrihe,^ Colonel Fitzgerald, that— l do not know what to say; but, oh, I hope, I do ftepe-' that the Lord will enable me to merit som©' of all this goodness," eaid Gertrude eawi--estly. " Sweet girl, I'-k-now ofte thing, and tha<£ is, that all I cars over do s®r you will neves' be enough," answered Gerald Fitzgerald,, with a deep sigh. (," No, all I can do for her can never he- enough,, since I cannot love her as she deserves to be loved — since I cannot chftoss but love another — the woman I have oust' off.") The carriage hack noAr- descended from the mountain road flpon th& smooth river turnpike, which rc*i along- under tH shadow of Wild Cat Cliffs-on t&e right, and with the shore of the Wilde Kiver on the left. As they bowled alonjj; this pleasant road they came in sight of the* magnificent old Summit Manor House, perched upon the top of the cliff, its dark j&i walU flowing in the gorgeous sunlight. Gerald. Fitzgerald called Gertrude's attention to it. " There is our futiu-e home, my little Lady of the Manor. Whafc*k> you think of it ?" " It is a palace very grand' and beautiful in itself, much grander and.£&ora.beautiful in its position," answetod Gertrude, gazing at it with admiring eyes. " Well appreciated, my little lady," he said with a smile. Meanwhile the carriage passed- on, leaving the Manor House far behind. " We shall soon come in sigb-t of Haddon's Ferry, my dear Gertrude*, ttltere, of course, wo shall have to cross the river. We must stop at the houses far a. few moments, however, to water the hon.es. This will give you an opportunity, to take leave of your old home and old servants, as you would like to do, I presume, uty. tsiiild," said Geiald Fitzgerald, kindly. "Oh, thanks. Yes, indeed, I should, Colonel Fitzgerald," she eagerly exsiaimed. "Then we will certainly stop th-ere — Mrs Fitzgerald." She looked up suddenly in droll astonishment and anxiety, as fearing lest io-some way she had already displeased her- newrnado husband. But she saw on his face an expression of comic solemnity, whiok she in her turn met with a smile. "Mr dear little bride," he said, " can you not teach those meek, sweet ligs of yours to call your husband by his given name? I call you Gertiude always wnen I name you. Can you not call- me Gerald ? To all the work 1 I may be Colonel Fitzgerald, but to my little wiie I must be Gerald. Do you understand, little one-2" " Yes, sir." "No, not 'sir;' Gerald. Come, novelet me hear you say Gerald." "Yes, sir-Gerald." "Ko, no, no, no ! What a stupid little pupil you are, to be sure ! Gerald ; not ' Sir ' Gerald. lam not a baronet, nor even a knight, therefore not ' Sir ' Anybody.. I am simply a gentleman, and ro youl.am. Gerald. Come, try again, my child." "Yes, Gerald," she mummied, softly, slowly, shyly, and then her meek face suddenly brightened with innocent delight,, like that of a child who has succeeded in repeating a pleasant lesson. " Geiald. That is right. I i.ever thought the old historic name half so musical before. I must press the sweet lips that uttered it," he mm mured, as he gazed down on her lovely, beaming face, and stooped and gave bis first voluntary kiss. Apparently it was not so distasteful a duty, after all, for he suddenly passed his arm around her waist, drew her to his bosom, and repeated the experiment many times. And Gertrude was made happy in the belief that he truly lo\ ed her. In a few minutes they came in sight* of the ferry, with its old-fashioned double stone house standing back against the cliff, its old, overgrown and intei tangled garden, running down to the beach, its two boathouses each side of the little pier, and: its ileet of boats ready for service. As they drew up to the gate they caught sight of Aunt Jess sitting on the sill of 1 the door, with her well-vorn hymn-book on her knees (probably upside down), singing a revival hymn not to be found in that or in.any other volume : " I lef i»v sins in de ■« ilderness ! In dc wilderness ! In de wilderness ! I lef my sins in dc wilderness ! 'Glory hallelujah !" Raising her eyes she caughfc sight of the carriage and its occupants, started to her feet, and dropped her hymn-book, exclaimed : " Well, I clar' to man ! ef howe don't, come de bride and groom, Marse Colonel and Miss Geraldine, in de common Wildevillyun hack, widouten no outriders ! Nebber heerd of such a fing in all! de days ob my life. But ' dem as libs de most sees de longest,' as de 010 sayin' says. Heap o* sense in dem dere 010 ■= ■ m s.' So muttering &hr M.>uped and. picked up> her hymn book and hurried around to thealley leading to the back yard,, shouting: "John! John! John! Here s de weddin'ers we been 'spectin' comin' to cross do. ferry ! " Meanwhile the carriage drew up to the. garden gate, and the coachman got down and opened the door. Colonel Fitzgerald alighted and handed Gertrude out, drew heraHin within his own» and led her through the rustic ga,te aad up the garden walk to the £erry- house.. The front door was ajar, and they entered without knocking, aud met Aunt Jess,, who had at the same mosnent come in. at the back door. "Well, aunty, how do you. do?" said Colonel Fitzgerald,, taking her dark hand cordially. " I have brought your young mi&tiess to bid you good-byo before she leaves the neighbourhood. Yoa must give her your best wishes. She will need them, poor child, for she is now my wife.'* During this salutation Jos3 stood aghasfc in pure amazement, her eyebrows going up and her chin going down. But when Colonel Fitzgerald ceased to speak, she found her voice, and exclaimed : My-y-y— eyes !" "Come, old nurse, will you not wish us joy ?" inquired Colonel Fitzgerald, smiling at her grotesque astonishment. " Well, ' wonders we'll never see !' as de old sayin' says. Heap o' sense in dein 010 sayin's," cried Jess, still staling. " Come, Gertrude, love, let me take you into your own old parlour and find a seats, We must leave our old nurse here to recover her wits at her leisure," said Gerald Fitz-. Gerald, as he turned to the door of the sitting' room. " Stop, honey ; I's 'covered of my wits as fast as I can," exclaimed old Jess, hurrying past them and opening the door, with all tho politeness consistent with her intense amazement.. Gerald Fitzgerald led his bride into the room, and placed her in an easy chair.

[To be continued.)