CHAPTER LXXIX. HOW GERTRUDE MEETS GERALD. THE MYSTERY OF HAD DON'S FERRY.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 250, 28 March 1888, Page 8

CHAPTER LXXIX. HOW GERTRUDE MEETS GERALD.

THE MYSTERY OF HAD DON'S FERRY.

By LC. I). E. K. Soi'TinvoiiTH

Brought from ilia ckiuvli, across tho threshold led. Ami every tear Insert off as soon as shed. Hi-, house she o'UcjjchJ. there to be a Hp-hl. Shining within when all without is night; A Ruaydian au(.',el o'er lus lifts presiding. .Doubling his piwa-uno-j. and his euros dividing. Kogeus. It was rat hoi late in the morning when Gei truck* hhm'.j The -un was glimtneiing thiough tli o tlue'c leaves of the ivy that screened the ev<t window*?. The lire was burning biighlly in tho open fire-plnco, seeming to have been just replenished. Kre&h watei and clean towels were placed upon the waslfUa-ud. And lastly, a change «! clothing, taken tiomthe store Gertrude had left behind her when she lirst went {•way from the fen\, hung oxer the back of u chair. By all t!ii.'> tho litcie lady knew how long and deeply sho mu«l h.i\e slept, since okl J ?ssio had had time to make all these preparations foi hei comfort, and to do it without disiurbuiy li°r. And now aj^am came the strange feeling (hat the p-ist c- j.'cuence of years was a dream of tho night, from which she had awakened tn hud hcrselt, a& usual, in her own peaceful bed -chamber. Again invisible to\e seemed to sui round her and sh^d its peace upon her, toning down the almo*-G painful excitement with which she lemouiberod that this was the diy of dajs upjn which she wag absolutely ceitaiu to meet her husband. She lose awl make her simple toilet, offered up hei moininsr thanksgivings and prayers, and then w ent down sbairs to the old familiar sitting- room, where she found a cheerful wood-h'ro burning on the hearth, and Jess engaged laying the cloth for breakfast. " Why, loi', honoj ! la you up?" inquired tint good woman in surprise. " Yes, Je«K, f. pliould think so. It is ialo. Why didn't you call me V" " Time enough, honey. 1 should a called you »n about an hour from dis, dough." '•Bub about Oolm Brooks. Hasn't he called the boat yot'." "Oh, that's all right, honey, as good luck would have it. You see, airly dis tuorning come down Black Bob from Hill Tcp Hall, going on an errand to Wildeville ior hi;> mis', es* — Miss Maxima Rowley, you know, honey, and he wanted to cross de jibcr. So I tell him to take de boat and icw hisse'f ncio<*» aud den tie do boat and leibe it deie foi John Brooks, which he did, hnney, and me nuff, presently down come John liiooks and get the boat and come ober ! Wasn't dat lucky ? ' <% Yes. indeed ! Where is John ? I want to send him to the rectory to borrow the gig. you know " '• Ble^s you, clii'e. I done started him off in de rectory t'reo hours ago. It is mos 1 time for him to be back. Lor,' honoy, ef yer iiad so in df*f> feller's face when I tell him yer corny back safe and sound, and was asleep upst-ui •> But I started him off immediate foi de ffig.'' *■ Oh, Jew, you acted so wisely ! I am so thankful to you !" said Gertrude, eagerly. While they hid been talking Jess had been running in and out from the aitting100m to tho kitchen bringing the breakfast fiom the lite, and arranging it upon the j t-.We. "Come, honey, here you is ! You ain't had no better bical.fa 1 ?' dan dat since you bin hway, no mallei where you*.** been '. — coffee, ci iam, light rolls, rice cakes, fresh butter, Wilde River tiout, partridge, and my own wnshroom ketchup, and currant jelly — in uk !" i '• No, Jc^- I have not had a better breakfast than thi^ .-since I have been away,'" replied Gertrude, as she seated herself at the nealh -laid table, wishing for the capacity to do justice to old Joss's culinary ait. But, in Uuth, her eager impatience to moot her hu-ibfttid had deprived her of all j np])etite, and she made but a slight breakfn^t, aud thei* apologised to Jess, telling her i\ nkly the ti oe lea.-on. (< Xo wonder, chile, no wonder," said J . ->, suddenly giouitig very grave and f-yirowful. " }\o\\ hit down here, honey, in dis oie arm-clu. ir ol» yer grandfader's an' I'/' 1 take the iibo-i L> to sit down by you a lil/'j whil" I). 1 iueakfas' table can wait ioi once, ft* 1 J ha > f^ot somefin to tell you, .'in' t tniis 1 . it o\ei 'fore John Brooks ct'ine-i back vid de gig.*' "C'oiald ! <»eiald ' But you told me he w-'s well '"' ga^pod (lertiude, sinking into ih»' arm-chaii '■ Yes, honey ; he be well, only sorrowful, as t said." ' lin- an 1 , ini-ror(.une--Oh, Je^s ! speak ! .sp ak "' "No, hon^y, nomisfortins' — leastways, no iri-tor^in' whit your oomin' in time won' \cntand make r dl ri^ht." Gcrtiude lifted her head and looked in i.h" face of the old woman standing betore It v '■ 'No mi.- foi {-me but what my coming in time will not/ p> o\ ent ':' Oh! 1 know now w"i it it is ! 1 almost feared it ! My husb;iid, tinnkiiig me dead — h about to marry ttiany—" Ileie her voioo broUc down, her head fell up n liei oncii h i-Kf 1 -, and she sobbed aloud. '' Xow, hoivy vlon't. don t, don't take on f.o ' ■Member'] warned you las' night, no matter what you might hear, not to doubt -V] asc Geraid'H to\e. 'Cause he love \ou, ]*>ney — he do, indeed !" pleaded the okl in :^e, laying het motherly hands carpssi"gly on tli^ bo«ed and grieved young lif >d. '■ I know ie, Je--. I never could doubt b 4^ lo^ >\ But oh! lie love^ me as one ]»•' =(>d away fiom the earth ; ana he is about to man-; another ' My own husband ! my own husband ! foi whom I would have dicl \" ifur voice again broke down in sobs, and Ik i fiamo .shook with emotion as a reed in a hi' 1111, "Now don't, honey— ion't! You has coinc in good time to 'vent it all, and to t.'i.iw confusion oil de face of an artful "ouian as has worked on de feelings of an noble ge'man, till she's 'duced him to 'gage his-elf to mairy her. All her fau't, honey. 'Tended to g» into a 'sumption, and all 1/h it ; and mufcertil t'riendb — meddlesome idiwuts, what ought to be locked up in a f»ano 'sylum— a dinging ib into his head all de limeas she was a dyin' for him ! Now what could a ge'man do when a young 'owan heave herse'f light at his head dat way, do-igh his own heart ain't in it ?" Gertrude made no reply. She was still weeping bitlorly. "No, honey, hi? heart ain't in it. His heart's true to you, hone}', t'roughall. You see 1 must *fend Marae Gerald when he ain't here ho speak for hisse'f." "Oh, Jesu, he does nob need any defence, I h>wi'> that he is the soul of truth and honour. No one could ever doubt that. But— but—the very thought of his marrying another !" Again she broke down in wild weepinfe. j "X tell you, Uonoy, if you'd aeon howl

j gashly palo ho was whon ho como over here las' Friday, de fus', you'd know how it was. 1b was her fau'fc. She was 'terminod to havo him. What do old raying say ? •Et ! a 'oman will, sho won't, You may clcpond on 't : Aiul at sho won't, she will, Aud doro's an ond on't.' Heap o' sense in dese 010 sayings?, honey, and de longer ycr lib do moro you'll tine it so. Jhas." Gerfciude did not answer. She >\ as sobbing as if her heart would break. Poor tle^s continued her efforts to soothe and comfort the stricken young creature, and wa«s partly successful. Whon Gertrude's stoun of emotion hat somewhat subsided, she dried her toars, and, with a deep drawn breath, turned to her old nurse and aaked : " Did Colonel I'it/geiald come from Wendo\cr to be married, Jess V" " Ve>->, honey ; and he looked as if he had come to bo cxoicootod. lint he ain't mai ried yit, hone) . I'd take my afcerdax id todat."* " Ho« soon was it to be, Jess?" " Well, honey, I don't dezactlv know," answered -less. (" Dab ain't no false, tor I dunno de /act hour,") she mentally added. The ««ound of wheels was heard, and Je»s took advanta^a of the circumstance to make her escape from further troublesome questionings by running to the door. " Hero come de <>ig now," she exclaimed ; " and tliank de dear Lord, here come Dr. Goodwin hisse'f, along o' John Brooks, to take all de heavy 'sponsibility olTcn my poor ole shoulders." " Dr. ( '.ood win !" cried Gortrude, starling up. " Oh, that is very, very kind." [n another moment the venerable rector of lied Saudstone Church rushed into the room in an unusual state of excitement, and, seeing Gertrude, without a word of ordinal y fjreetin", which, under the circumstances of her return, teemed very strange, \ehementty exclaimed : "Get on your bonnet and cloak at once, my child. \Ve have not a moment to lose in ceremony Jess, get them for your young mistress instantly, and move quicker than you e\ei did if your life before." Old Jf-», propelled by the speaker's impetuosity, shot off in search of the required articles, and soon leturned with Geitrude's? cealskin sacque and hat, and her veil and gloves. The little lady, moved by the same unexplainable excitement on the part of the grave old minister, hastily put them all on and then gave him her hand. He lmrried her out of the house and put her into the carriage, for he had brought his brougham instead of his gig. ''Now, Boykins, drhe as for life to St. Patrick's Chapel. Don't spare horso-He?h. We must £et there before twelve o'clock if it kill the horse," he exclaimed to his old coachman, as he took his seat beside Gertiude. Boykins cracked his whip and started his horse at a break-neck speed, which caused that clerical animal to lay back his ears and pop out lm eyes in astonishment afc this unieemly departure from the grave old parson's usually sober pace. Up to this time not a word had been uttered by Gertrude. She had been caught up and cairied awaj as by a whirlwind. Now, however, as soon as sho could | recover her breath and her faculties, she [ said : •' Dour Dr. Goodwin, I am so glad to see you. It was ver) kind in you to come to me. I thank you with all my heart." j "I am only doing my bounden duty by you and others, my dear," briefly responded the rector. "But. please. Dr. Goodwin, why are we going to St. Patrick's Church, rather than to the Summit?' 1 " To prevent a profanation of the Lord's altar and the marriage i ites.'' Gertrude understood him, ar.d sank back in her seat, murmuring 1 : 11 So soon ! to da> • Oh, Gerald !" " But, my dear child, we have no time to talk now. Bovkins !— faster !" said the rector, impatient!}. And indeed, after this, there was no chance to converse ; for at the speed at which the\ were going, the little carriage rattled so ruggedly ovei the rocky road leading up the liver that words would have been drowned in the noise of the wheels. Gertrude leaned back in her seat, white as death, faint to the verge of s\\ ooning, yet trying earne-tl} to keep up her courage and strength, by saying to her»elf : " Gerald love.- me. I know he will be rejoiced to <-cc me. And, though there must be surprise and confusion if we interrupt the marriage at the altar, yet no one need be humiliated, not e\ en the expectant bride ; for no one will be to blame, not even Miss Fitzgerald, ior, believing Gerald to be a widower, who was once her own betrothed, it was natural enough that she should wish to marry him. She is not to be held responsible. All honest people must understand this is a mistake, providentially pre vented from being a fatal one by my timely return." While Gertrude wa« mentallysaying these things to hei-^elf the carnage turned to the left, and leaving the rher bank, entered a forest road that soon led them to a glado, in the mid°t of w Inch stood the old colonial church of St. Patrick's, with its dark red walls half covered with isy, and its gilded cros 5 at the top of its steeple glittering in the beams of the vertical sun. It was a busy scene. The glade was half filled with oauiageo and hor>es of every description, uud giooms and coachmen of every size and every shade of colour. Nearest iheehuich door waited the handsome tra\ oiling carriage of Colonel Fitz gerald, -drawn by u fine pair of bay horses. On the boy sat his old coachman, Hannibal, and loitering near was his young groom, Jubal. Gertrude had nover seen this superb equipage before, bub she recognised it, nob only by the crash of the Fitzgerald? painted cm its panels, bub by bhe servants in attendance upon il. This carriage was evidently waiting for the bride-elect and the bridegroom-expec-tant, for Gerald ine and Gerald Fitzgerald, to take them fco the bridal banquet, or on their wedding tour. Gertrude drew her veil over her face, lest anyone should recognise her prematurely, and create an excitement. , "That is right, my dear. We do not wish to make a scene. We must create a confusion, of course, but we must do it as quietly A3 possible," .said Dr. Goodwin as he signed to his coachman to draw up the carriage under a certain tree, and then alighted and handed Gertrude out. " You are trembling excessively, my poor child," said the old man, as he drew her arm within his own ; "bub brace up. You have vight on your side." And with that he led her into bhe church. They were stopped in fche vestibule by ono of the ushers, who inquired. " Have you a card, siv," And adding : "No one can be admitted to these ceremonies without such a passport." "I have tny passport On my arm, sir." replied the old rector, as, with grave dignity, he put aBido the usher, and led his companion into the church. The interior 'of tbe building was crowded with a brilliant wedding company, all in :

vi ted guests. Evory seat was filled, bub fortunately tho aisles were all kept clour by the vigilance of tho ushors, and afforded an unobstructed view of tho altar, which was decorated profusely with flowers and illuniated brilliantly with wax candle*. Yet no priest or other servant of the altar appeared ; no bride or bridegroom was visible. 41 Good Heaven ! Are we too late, then, to stop the ceremony ?" thought tho woi thy rector to himself, a& he paused in dismay, with Gertrude on his arm. Then, unable to bear tho a^ony of suspenso for an instant, he stooped and whispered to a gentleman seated in a pew at his right : 44 Vray, sir, is the marriage ceremony over yet V" 14 No, sir; it has nob commenced. The bridegioom has just conic. They are waiting for the biide, I believe. >She ia e\))ectcrl c\ cry instant.'' 41 Oh, tl.ank you for tho information. Where, then, hi tho bridogroom V" 44 Ho passed up the main aisle here about ten minutes ago. Ido not .see him now. Hut I suppose ho is up near tho altar somewhere." "Thank Heaven, we aro yet in time,'' fervently said Dr. Goodwin to himself, as he drew the trembling hani of his young companion more firmly under his arm, and led lier up the middle aisle, between the crowded pews. Glancing right and left, he iccogni:-ed many friends and acquaintances, and several members of his own congregation all of whom bowed to him, wondering what closely-veiled young lady was she 'vhom he supported (iertiude, in her dark brown cashmere suit, sealskin jacket and hat, and close brown veil, passed unrecognised by any. On reaching the space in front of the sacred chancel, Dr. Goodwin glanced right and left in search of the bridegroom "expectant/ and his paity. He s>aw them standing together oi< the right of the middle aisle— Gerald Fitzgerald and two young officers of his regiment acting as groomsmen. i Fit/.gei aid wore the uniform of a colonel of cavalry, which sot off his stately form and noble face to the greatest advantage ; but his face was pale, thin and haggard, as with great bodily and mentalnuftering.and, in contrast to his jet black hair and full black beard, looked almost ghastly. His young attendants woie tho uniforms | of lieutenants of cavalry, and looked well. On the instant of catching sight of this party Dr. Goodwin had adroitly turned his young protegee to the left before Fitzgerald could see him, and before Gertrude, through her thick veil, and in the dav(obscure of (ho old church, could catch even - a glimpse of her husband. On the left of the chancel there was a little white door that led into the priest s robing room. To this door Dr. Goodwin led Gertrude, and feeling that the intrusion was quite justified by the circumstance, he knocked, and then entered the room. It was occupied by two persons — the bisoph of the diocese, who had come to St. Patrick's for the express purpose of perfecting this ceremony, and Father Dubarry, the regular pastor of the parish. The bis-hop was- already arrayed in his magniiicent robes, and looked up in some surprise at the entrance of the strangers : but Father Dubarry, who had not yet assumed his own, and still wore only the long, closefitting black frock coat of his order, came forward courteously to welcome Dr. Goodwin, whom he was in the frequent habit of meeting amieabh/ at the house of their mutual friends. Dr. Goodwin bowed to the two priests, and began to say : 44 1 fear, sirs, that my entrance here at this moment must seem an unwarrantable intrusion, but — " " No, no," interrupted the amiable Father Dubarry. "Certainly not, if you have business with us, Dr. Goodwin — " *' My justification is here,'' continued the rector, raising the veil of the lady on hi-> arm and handing her forward, so that she stood immediately in front of the pastor of St. Patrick's. As if he had suddenly been struck in the face, Father Dubarry reeled backwards until he leached the wall, where he btopped and stood aghast, with his eyes fixed wildly on the face of Gertrude. The bishop stared from one to the other of the three persons, as if demanding an evplanation of this strange scene. 41 Fi'zgerald'fclost wife!" faintly muttered the piiest, without changing his position or withdi awing his eyes from their fixed gaze upon Gertrude's face. " Fitzgerald's wife, who was never losU but was rescued from the sea and taken all round the world by the ship that saved her. and has only just returned in time to prevent a sacrilege,"' replied Dr. Goodwin, who then led his agitated companion to a short sofa that stood in the room, and placed her on it. 44 Saints in heaven ! then tin's marriage will ha\ c to be stopped !" exclaimed Father Dubarry, beginning to find his \oioe. " Of course it will," coolly assented Dr. Goodwin. 44 What is all this about?" inquired the bishop, no longer able to control his impatience. Dr. Goodwin and Father Dubarry, both I speaking together, quickly explained. Just at that moment some little stir was heard in the church without. The organ struck np tho grand wedding march of MendeNsohn. "That means that the bride-elect and her attendants aie entering the church. Oh ! what is to be done ' to prevent a confusion '!'' helplessly inquired Father Dubarry. 44 L'ermit me to suggest," said the bishop, who was now the only cool member of the party. "Let the pastor of this parish go ont at once to meet the bride ; tell her that something has occurred which ehall bo explained to her ; then toko her out to her carriage and break the now» as tenderly a-> possible. Let Dr. Goodwin go out and whisper to Colonel Fitzgerald that he is wanted in here. And in the meanwhile [ will go out and announce from the chancel that an unforeseen event has arrested the wedding ceremonies, and then give the I benediction and dismiss the congregation. Tims all unsoemly disturbance in the House of the Lord will be prevented. The congregation, however disappointed and perplexed they may be, will retire quietly. Colonel Fitzgerald will meet his new-found wife in' this room, and after tho crowd shall have dispersed, will take her home. The community will soon have their curiosity satisfied by learning the real state of affairs." The plan proposed by the bishop wa> at once approved and adopted. Father Dubarry first left tho vestry, to go and meet the bridal procession. As he passed out, Dr. Goodwin, through the open door, had a full view of tho advancing b.rido-elect and her attendant 5 .. , Geraldine Fitzgerald camefirsfc, leaning on tho arm of her guardian, Royal Greenlcuf, who wus to enact the rnle of 44 father' in [ this pageant, and to give tho bride away. | Gerakline Avas magnificently arrayod in a bridal dress of whit© Genoose Velvet, trained, trimmed with pwan's down, and open over a skirt of rich white satin, with deep point lace flounces. A wreath of orange blossoms qrowned her raven-black hair, and a veil of cardinal point' laoe fell from her head and over her whole costume, like a fine mist. , > , ,

Loaning on the arm of her escort, followed by her train of white-tobed bridesmaids, and heralded by mu-ie, «he advanced up iho middlo aisle v/ich a hauehty air, her very step seeming to spurn tho iloor. "Ah, proud beauty! The hour oE your humiliation is at hand !" thought Lho rector, ns ho saw Father Dubarry meet her and whisper a few oarneao wouls m her ear, and noted her look of haughty astonishment as lie absolutely turned the bridal procession about and inarched them out of the church — followod by the wondering eyes of the congregation. Some mc^enger sent to tho organist at tlii^ moment .stopped the music. This was a signal for Dr, Goodwin's entrance upon tho scene. Stooping to (ler- ! trade, he whispered : ' "Be calm and firm, my child. All will be done in good onlci and all will be well." Then he passed out of tho vestry into the church and stepped silently to the .spot w here Gerald Fitzgciald .-.tood attended by hi& groomsmen. "Good morning, Colonel,'' he said, in a very low tone. • "Good morning, .sir," ie=-ponded Fitzgerald, in the same subdued key. " (Jan you tell what i«* the cau^o of this very irregular proceeding? Why has Father Dubarry withdrawn Mi&<- Fitzgerald from the church V" "Come with me and I will explain, Colonel," whispered Dr. Goodwin, biking his arm and leading him quietly across to the opposite coiner of the chancel, near the door of the estry, watched by the eyes? of all the company, everyone ot whom was silently wondering what hi the uoild was the matter. "Colonel Fitzgerald," began the rector, in a low voice, though they were now out of the hearing of other.-, "we were obliged to stop the proceedings, and do it as quietly and decently as circumstance^ would permit " "But why? What ha- happened? A death ?" inquired the surprised and perplexed hearer. "No. Now, Colonel Fitzgerald, summon your self-control. You have a great deal, and you will need it all. And don't exclaim; don't do anything to draw attention." " Speak out, sir, in the uame of Heaven ! Tell me your worst news at once," breathed Fitzgerald, with suppressed \ehemence, " There is no bad news. I am sure that you will hail it as the best new* you could hear in this world, coming even as it does now to bieak up the 'goodly company.' " "Well?"' "Gerald, give me your hand.*' And he took it and held it firmly. "Gerald, don't cry out. The news is of your wife." " Gertrude ! Great Hoaven !" uttered Fitzgerald, under his breath, while every vestige of colour fled from his face, and his dark eyes dilated and started as they stared at the speaker. Sudden hope rising out of dull despair is so like terror in its manifestations, while there is still uncertainty in it, because it is largely mixed with terror, i lest the good news should prove false. " There ia reason to believe that she Uv3s," whispered Dr. Goodwin. " Gertrude lives! Oh, man! do you know what you say ? I saw — her wretch that i was— l saw her go down beneath the waves ! And Geraldioe saw her — saw that— her head had been crushed by a chance blow from the tossing plank ! Oh, Heaven !" And here Fitzgerald moaned and covered his face with his hands. ' Mins Fitzgerald <<ay: nothing of the .son'," said the rector, in a low, stern voice. "Your wife was rescued, uninjured, the moment after you saw her sink. She has been carried nearly all around the world by the ship that saved her — " "Stop! — for Heaven'?- sake, stop, and tell me one thing before you go farther," muttered Fitzgc i aid, in extreme agitation. " Do you know this to be true .■"' " I know it to be true, but I do not yet know the details. I know that she was alive and in Sati Francisco five months ago ; and I have every reason to believe that she is alive and well at this, moment. But sit dow n and compose yourself for two minutes. Hero is the bU-hop,'' said Dr. Goodwin, as he seated himselt on a corner bench and drew Fitzgerald down to his side. The bishop entered the chancel and spread out his hands. The congregation, whofc-e curiosity and impatience had bioken out into a low buzz ot \ oices, became suddenly silent and expectant. " My friends," said the bishop, " I have to announce to you that an unlooked-for event — not of a calamitous nature, however — has made it necessary to arrest these wedding ceremonies that \ou came here to witness. And I have to ask \ou, after the benediction, to withdraw quietly to your own homes, where in due time you will hear more.' And again the bishop spread hU hands, and, when the people bowed their headb, gave them his benediction. They then began to leave the church, all the moie willingly that they could discuss the mystery more freely on the outside. Gerald Fitzgerald turned in fierce impatience to his companion. *' You said n\\ wife was alive and well tive months ago. Where is she now V In the name of mercy, speak !'' "Fitzgerald, she is not far off. .She is here, waiting for you, and terribly afraid, poor child, that her coming at such an inopportune moment should have annoyed and disturbed you so a« to spoil all the pleasure 3 r ou would otherwise have in lecei\ ing her." " Where i<« she V Where ? Let me go to her at once.' 1 "Do you .see that door in the corner? You know it leads into the robing-room. She is there alone. Go to her."