CHAPTER XLVI. HEALED.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 228, 12 November 1887, Page 10

CHAPTER XLVI. HEALED.

Love was to her impassioned soul, Not as with others, a more part Of its existence, but the whole — Tjo very life-breath other lroart. Mooke. As soon as her fierce tormentor had departed and loft her alone, tihe firmness which Gertrude had kept up so long, at such a cost to her nervous system, suddenlybroke down, and she bowed her face upon her hands and wept bitterly. While weeping, she examined her heart without mercy. Had she beezi too hasty in accepting (,he mariia^e offer of Gerald Fitzgerald ? "Was she sellifeh in resolving to hold her position as his wife ? Would her persistence in doing so really destroy his happiness and ruin his prospects ? Would lie really come j to hate and scorn her as-an ignominious obstacle to his happiness and prosperity ? To all these questions she could answer nothing — she could only weep. Gerakline had utterly confuFcd and bewildered her mind upon all these points.But had he gone and left her for ever, without a word of adieu or explanation, as Geraldine had assured hor ? No, sho felt certain that h& had not. Whatever might be the oaueo of his mysterious absence and strange conduct, it could be nothing that could reflect upon his honor. He would return to her in good time, whether her society afforded him happiness or gave him misery. Did she regret her strange marriage with Gerald Fitzgerald ? No, no, no ! Come what might in the future, she felt sure that she never could regret the act that made Her his wife. Would she be willing to leave him ? Never ! For though she would consent to do so if he wished it, and in loyal obedience to his will, sho ooultl never be willing to leave him. Life wibii her worshipped husband, under any, cii;eamsfcanees, would be the happiest iifo she could lead. If she might only be paauaitted to live with him, see him, hoar him., even though she knew herself to be unlc^ed, she would be far happier than slie had ever been before he married her, or caukl ever be should he send her from him. VSpon these questions she could have no doubt. Besides, " a still,. w*aall voice" from the depths of her syiiCfi- made itself heard through all the Wi'janoil of her bosom, whispering that tfiis- man who had taken her to wife, and: v^liom she laved with all her being, was- incited and in truth her husband foy time- and for eternity, and that some day, he> would know her and love her perfectly. With these -whimperings La the spirit, the heavy storm o& tiouble in her bosom subsided, how uaai&s ceased,, her sobs became softer. While she> aa.fc thus sbo felt a pair oS; caressing bands, laid around her bowel \ shoulders. She looka'ilnpin surprise, and saw Gerolfii ITitzgerald. sbauxding beside her, bending aver her. "Why,, wtiat is the matter, my papr, little gsji!?' You hiwa been crying,.' he. said, ii\'Oig&ntle tone. " Oh,, herald ! Ob, Gerald !" she- s^id;, with a little sob. " WJiiyoyhab is the matter?" he inquired,, seating iiiimself beside her and tal4ttg, ho<r hand,. J&&. kindness made hor weep ag>u}i. '"•ls- it because you have been lsft ufoae heiis f he asked,. '■<• Oli, no, noi! not that," sh>s answered, ctajing her toars, and trying tp corapose " No, of course ; for you mist have got my note of explanation." " I got no note or messr*ge k but- I knew you must have been called away suddenty, and that you would return as soon as you could. And I was not afwd> for I knew I should be safe in any pia.ee- where you had left sne," she answered, smiling through her tears, for his kindness made her very nappy. " You dear, trusting child ! How different from — but no m.attor. You did not get my note of explanation, you say, Gertrude V It musfchavebeenfromgrosT negloet on the part of the- people downstairs. I roust see to them. You were nob frightened or distressed at being loft alone through the night, you tell me. What, then* was it that grieved you, my child ?" ho. inquired, tenderly smoothing her dark h{\iy away from her forehead. " Oh, Gerald, Miss Fitzgerald was hare this morning," she whispered. ' " Geraldine ! Good Heaven !" Gertrude shuddered, as much at his look as at her own recollections. 1 ' Why did she come ? What did she want ? What did she say ?" Now Gertrude did not moan to accuse Miss Fitzgerald, nor to "make mischief between Gerald and his cousin ; but it never entered her loyal heart to keep a secret from, the husband she loved so truly. "What did she say?" repeated Colonel Fitzgerald, shortly. "Oh, Gerald, first of all she told me that you had left me for ever ; that I should never see you again." " You did not believe that ?" " Oh, no, not for an instant." "How could she ha\*o stooped to such a base falsehood? Sho must have been insane." " I do not think she meant to tell a falsehood. Ido nob think she would do that," said Gertrude, generously. " What do you mean, child, by such strange talk?" demanded Colonel Fitzgerald. ' • I mean that she intended to make her words true. She intended that I should never see you again." "By what method did she expect to bring that to pass, 1 wender ? Tell me, if you know, child. And don't look so distressed. " ''She told me, in effect, that you had married me during a transient fit of madness ; that you bitterly repented the marriage ; that it was considered a sacrilegious union ; that it would ruin your happiness and blast your prospects ; that if I lovod you, and cared for your honour and welfare, I ought to steal away and hide myself where you could never find me, so that, after a proper time, you might procure a legal dissolution of what she called your unholy bonds. She said it I did not do so you would grow to loathe and despiso me as an obstacle in your path of life." "And did you believe all "thai) to bo true ?" " I did not know. I was so confused and distressed that I could not think. It was all I could do to keep from crying," sighed Gertrude. " How did you answer her 2" " I said, of course, that I could not for a moment think of such an act as to leave

your protection without your knowledge and consent." " What said she to that-?" " She lost patience — '-' 11 No, my dear, she did .not. She, never had the least patience to Jose !" exclaimed Fitzgerald. "Well, then, she showed impatiereee v but still urged me to follow her counsel." "And then?" " Finally I told her that I would refer the whole matter to my husbandy and beruled by his will. ' "Hal 'ha ! ha!" laughed Gerald.Fitzgerald. Gertrude gazed at him in bewilderment. That this grave and stately man shouid: break into such mirth at such a time was incomprehensible to her. Besides, she had never heard him laugh before; He took her little hand and kissed.it,. saying : 11 My sweet little girl, I had no idea ihat you were so wibe." " Was it wise ? I thought I was only ,d«tiful," murmured Gertrude " Why, little one, if instead of being ,fche .simple, innocent child that you are, .youhad been the deepest diplomat that ever confounded the councils of a nation, .you. could not have answered Mies Fitzgerald better. What nett.?" "She was very angry, and she hurried away, saying that she would find some means to break this unholy marriage." "She is mad, Gertrude, simply mad. Well, she went away. And as soan,ftssh'ewas gone, you indulged in what, woraee. call 1 . ' a good cry.' " " Yes, Gerald, 1 could not help it." " But you should not have cried after that last stroke of jours. You unhorsed your antagonist by that, and came off victor. Now, Gertrude, you have only given me the ' heads ' of your interview with Miss- Fitzgerald. 1 want you to begin and giye me a regular circumstantial detail of aU she -said j and did from the moment of her -en-trance ] into this room .until the moment of.hex-dep-arture fiom "u. I have a particular rwason for wishing tojknow."' Gertrude g^ve him the story aa, he -asked for ii. Ho sat in 4*ep thought for a "■vhile, and,, then, nodd ; »q grimly several, .times,- he .said : " She reft,«red to my manner, -during^ our journey toira&hor in the stage coach ?" "Yes." " That "v,£s the most diplonatic thing shecould have .-clone ; for I fear that. I behaved', like a bc&if- on that occasion, my little • True." m< Oh, 21% no, you were only though;fcfftl; and abstracted. I know fih^now, .Gep&ld,, though Tflid not know it tbeu*" ' " Ah, r «y child, it was a trying position to hold ..for two clays ard nights continuously»'j'&ighed Fitzgerald.*. " Oh, .indeed, I know *V' assented Gertrude. " Y?»>, wretch that I was, I musWhave wounded you, my little dove," muttered Geixud Fitzgerald to hi *?olf,' G n'fcwide did not catoh his self ;aso.using; wQi-l^.orsho would surely have set, them.! aUd#» Silence fell upon tr- a, -pair fora few, mo>~ r»c;ils. It was'brok'ji hy the soft voice of: <Jc^tr,u4le. '* Gerald, I must f :^-so,m.ethi T 3&/' •« A Veil, dear?" ' ( " Ob, Gerald ! iP it be indeod true what 3-anr cousin said — : \o\\v marriage, is heltiito ;1 ■$ sacrilegious — if 1, -am to bo an obstacle 'to.yimr happiness , and prosperity— if you v\\i&h me to depaifc, Gerald — .send me as^ay. I/dM willing to g"O," she said with an sffort to be firm ; butlsQ could hcavi the-l)s/Jf-sup-psessed sob in 1- 3 r voice. He put his 3^m around her w-s&i> and d.'Cff her heaul upon hi 1 ?. bqso»>, '«i»ile he questioned he_v. "Arc you sorry you mairied, sss, Gertrude ?" "Oh, no. HjO, no! 1 am, gla^H S I have been so ha> py, even i».rihi.s littfta wliile. I, will ahvaji. have i* to remsiuber," sh^ earnestly replied. " Then 'A'vhy do ye«. wish to leave me ?" "Oh? I do not.* I do uob ! I do nt&b, unless yau.vmnt nvj to go. I only tiling of yov, Geiald, I kuow it would be so wvong for a lit'-de. thing Jike I asa to spoil W.-& life of a m^jfl.like j'oa. So> if you wish me to depart, I am •« idling to go." ' ' JN'^ poor obiM, where could you go ? Wha\ would he your fate — your foture ?" "Oh !I da tijot know. That is nothing now;. I couM think of that afterwards. I only want to see your life go on happily, piosperouslyj, gloriously to its earthly > e^l." " And fcLen Gertrude— you ?" "I? Well, perhaps up there, in that 1 higher life—" "My little angel," he said, tenderly taking her delicate face between Ids hands, and gazing wistfully into her soft brown eyes, "I am all unworthy of your pure dovotion ; but lam not so evil as to take you at your word. Nor shall you again be tortured as you have been this morning. I will protect you from a repetition of that assault, as well as from all other injuries. You are my honoured wife, and nothing but death shall part up." Her face changed and grew radiant through her tears," glorious as a sunburst through showers. He stooped and kissed that hoautifnl and beaming face, gazed on it with a smile for an instant, and then drew her close to his heart. "Ah! now I think — " murmured Gertrude, in low music, " What do you think, darling ?" "I think—oh ! indeed I do !— that some clay you will really know me, and love me. lam so young now, and so little. lam not what I shall grow to be by your side. Whon I shall be, yo\i will love me," she murmured, blushing intensely at her own word 3. "I love you vow, my little angel ! How can I help it ? 1 love you now !" [To be continued,)