CHAPTER V.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 277, 30 June 1888, Page 4

CHAPTER Y.

TUX IUIITU-MAKK. Om morning when the winter fogs hung 1 dark and dense over the Scottish hills that surrounded Strathspey Towers, there wa s another clash of joyous bells echoed and repeated trom every belfiy for miles around, not this time rejoicing for a birth, but ior a lite that was spared. The Countess ot Strathspey would live ! Foi weeks attei that morning when they tilled her chill -vein;? with Judith's warm blood, she lay in a death-like stupor ; for weekj? they looked for her death day by da), hoiu by hour. Yet, after all, she lived. Slowly enough she rallied; her feet had touched, as it were, the chill u-.iteis of the dark river, her soul had wellnii>h pa&sod the mystic confines that separ ate Us trom the land ot sphits ; ami she came back to life, w ith a iceble, creeping step. But the danger war* past : rflic woukl live '. The bells clashed in gladness, and the jojhil news tlcw trom hp to lip, till the county for miles mound was in a tumult of rejoicing. For the countess \wib beloved by her paiishioneis, from the olctost dame in the chimney corner to the little whitehaired children that played upon the sands. ' I tell you, Strathspey,' said l>octor Renfrew, when he had impaited the good news to the earl, ' you ye need to be grateful. 1 in an old man. and I've seen some extreme cases, but 1 never dvl see anyone recover after being so near death us your wife was. But she s safe now , yet not stiong ; and 1 would ad\i»e )<m to take her back to Aukland Oaks, or even to Fiance or Italy, toi the winter. These northern winds aie too keen tor her tlun blood." ' And resign all hope of recovering my boj ?' asked the earl. ' Certainly not. You can push the search just as well in one place as the orher. But, to be frank with you, Angus, I'm afraid you'll never hear from him. For one thing, I don't think the child could sun he — snatched away, as it was, only an hour or so after his birth. I don't wish to disheaiten you. but I'm afraid the case is hopele.-s. ' The earl sat silent, hi? hands locked tightly, his face white and ligid. "'Cood Heaven, Renfrew '.' he burst out, at last. '\s ho could have done it ? I've nicked my brains trying to make it out. I\e not an enemy in the world that T know of ; and my successor, if 1 die without an heir, is Sir Rudolph Charming, and he ha--been tia\ellimr in the East for years ; and, if he were heie, 'twould lie all the same. Who, then, is this mysterious enemy ?' j The old surgeon shook his head. j " Tiv folly to ask me, Stiathspey." he replied, ' when the sleuth-hounds of Scotland Yard can't get on the scent. 'Tis an awful mystery ! It may be cleared up one day, but the best thing you can do is to try and ioiget it, and be grateful for what you've got — jour wife and the baby girl. She's a bonnie little bairn.' 'I am grateful,' replied the earl. 'No man could be moie grateful. But I can't foiget it. That awful prediction haunts me day and night. Jam always thinking that my child was stolen that ho may be leaied up in eU2h a manner that it will pio\e tine. ' ' What will prove true ''.' ' That prediction— that horrible ' ' Oh, nonsense ! 1 gave you credit, Antjut, ioi having bettei sen--e. Don't talk about that tnckery,' -aid the doctor. ' Bui I can't help it," leplied the earl. 1 It haunt> me ecernally, sleeping or walking. 1 believe it w ill diive me mad in the end. ' ' Then yon 11 deserve to go mad '' ictoited the blunt old Neotchman. ' I'eihap-s so,' replied Lord Strathspey. At the -arne houi, Lady Strathspey Kit piopped up amid her pillows-, and beside her was Judith, with the little gul-babt upon hot knees, hi nee her convalescence, oi lathui since she had been pionounced out ot danger, the counters had licaid the stoi> ot Judith h generous ndehty, and how it was to her strong blood she owed her life; and she felt so grateful to the giil, an'l conceived such an a flection lor her, that she retused to ha\e any other attendant in her chamber. So Judith was installed as lad) h maul and muse combined in one, and ior houis she sat by her mistress, with the child on her lap. It was a bright, thiiving litlle tl.ing, and the poor mother's heart clung to it with a love that amounted to idolatry. ' But it it weie only a boy !' she sighed, with the tears filling' her handsome eyes ; ' not that I care, Judith, but tor my loid's sdke — he did so de-aiie an heir, and his disappointment is very bitter. Ah, Judith, it is teinble to think oi— the tate ot iry poor babe — snatched from me before I ever looked upon its little face ! If it had died [ could have borne it with resignation, but to ha\e it torn from me in .such an awful way, and never to know whether it is alive or dead, 'tis moie than I can bear.' 'There, now, my dear lady, you really must not excite yourself,' cried Judith, in alarm. ' You aic .so weak yet there's no telling what the consequence might be. I know how bad it is, but look at your pretty little gnl heve, and ioi her sake and poor masters sake, tlon't hot so, and throw yoiuseJf back." Thus appealed to, the countess iaieed hoi head and wiped the streaming tcais fiom her cheeks. ' 1 try to bear it as well as I can, Judith,' she said ; ' but you don't know how hard it is. Give me the babe for jubt a little while, won't you ?' Judith glanced with alarm at the lady's flushed cheeks, but she could not find il in her heart to deny her. She put the babe into her arms. ' Oh, my darling ! my darling !' murmured the countess, covering the little dimpled face with kisses. ' Ah, Judith, shouldn't 1 have been a proud and happy mother if I could have kept them both ?' 'You would, indeed, my lady,' answered the girl ; ' but trouble and disappointment fall to everyone's lot, the highest and the lowest. 1 trust the child is better off.' ' Better off ! What do you mean, Judith?' ( Why, my lady,' hesitated Judith, 'it's only natural to suppose the child died — it was so young, and the night was so stormy.' The countess meditated for a few minutes, stroking the baby-girl's velvet cheek with her thin, white lingers. ' If I were sure he died,' .she said, at last, ' I could feel resigned in time— l should know my baby was in the fold of the merciful Father ; but I have a feeling thai he Hoes - that he m alive to-day — and I am sure that it is so, Judith. ' ' In that case, my lady, you possibly may j recover him some day. ' ' But how hhould I know,' returned the countess, quickly, 'whether he were my true child or not ?' 4 / should know,' replied Judith, quietly.

' You ? Why, how should you know, Judith, if the child had grown and changed. V •The little boy had a m ft? •£, my lady — a very peculiar mark, too.' • .Judith ! And you have not told me bofore?' \1 have been forbidden to speak with you on the subject, my lady, and Doctor Renfrew would be very angry i*,,he knew you were talking now.' 1 It is no worse to talk of a thing 1 than to brood over it continually, Judith. Tell me what the mark was V ' A scarlet cross, very h'ne and slender, on the right arm, between the shoulder and elbow, f saw it when 1 was drossing the child, and 1 don't think the doctor or Mother (loodwin noticed it.' * You are certain about it, Judith ?' ' I am, mv lady. I noticed the mark particularly, and thought at the time that by no chance could the child be mistaken for another. 1 havo thought of it a great deal->inco the babe was carried oil', and yet, homchow, I did not like to speak of it.' ' How strange !' ejaculated Lady Strathspey. 'It is the hand of Providence, .Judith. The child bears tho Strathspey Hrfch-uuirk--the mark of the scarlet cross. ITor ye-ir* centuries, I may say — it ha* appeared every now and then, and alu ays on a male child. It was but yesterday that Lord Strathspey spoke of it, when we >Lolc a short inter\iew while Doctor Rc-nhew was away, tic said how fortunate it would have been il the Strathspey mark had appea led upon the body of our babe. Like myself, lie is impressed that the boy ib alive. All, Heaven be praised i we may rind him, Judith — we may find him !' ' Hca\on grant it, my lady !'