CHAPTER VII

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

CHAPTER VII

AT Till. (*ll \TLAI\ Tin. winter was well o\ov, yet Lord Strathspey ami family lingered down in Provence. The countesi had not regained her strength as was expected, <\nd Doctor Renfrew had been forced to eu>*s the ohannol on several occasions, iov Lady Stiathspey had faith in the blunt old Scotchman, and insisted that he should come. There was talk of piolonged travel --a summer in Switzerland, and the following whiter m Rome, but no thought of returning to the Towers. And despite the expressed conviction and presentiments ot the countess, her atton- ! dan I — or companion rather, for Judith was such a bright, capable girl, so genteel and sprightly, that it was impossible to regard her in the light of a .sonant — no tidings ! had come of the stolen babe. The police had worked to their utmost, «md once or twice they were sire they had struck the tiail ; but "the hae and cry .soon .subsided, and it all amounted to nothing. Not the slightest clue could be obtained. It preyed upon the mind of the counter, and caused her ill health and low spirits. As the days wore mi and no news came, her hope and' strength alike failed her ; her cheeks grew thin and white, the sweet blue eyes inexpressibly sad. Lord Strathspey forgot his anxiety and disappointment in regard to his child in his fear for the wife lie loved so well. He forbade the subject mentioned in her presence. The child was dead, of course, he said, and they must try to iorget all about it. He threw opeu the chateau, and filled it with gay company from London and Paris, He gave dinners and balls, and did everything that could possibly amuse his wife and divert her mind from the one thing over which it continually brooded. But his efforts failed, for when the winter was over, and the balmy spring winds began to blow, and the sunlight lay warm and bright, in the valleys of the Rhone, instead of being lestored to health, Lady Strathspey lay upon her couch one-half the day, weak, and listless, and languid. But little Marguerite, or Lady Pearl, as every one called he* 1 , grew and thrived in the most marvellous manner ; and was the prettiest and the sprightliest babe that ever existed. For mother idolised her. and so did her father, yet the very sight of her made him sad. His child, yet she could not inherit his vast wealth, or bear his noble name ! It must ass into other hands, and the name o trathspey must die and be forgotten. One morning toward the latter part of May , J udith was surprised by being summoned to her lady's chamber at an unusually early hour. ' The countess was not ad-

I customed to rise early, and the sun was only fairly up. Judith hurried fco obey the call, trembling with fear lest her mistress should be ill. She found her sitting up in bed, robed in her dainty night garments, her golden hair streaming round her like a bright cloud, her blue oyes wide with excitement. ' Oh, Judith !' she cried, the instant the girl had entered; 'oh, Judith, Judith, I have dreamed the very barae thing 1' ' Dreamed the same thing '! I don't understand you, my lady !' ' Why, the same dream that you dreamed, Judith !' cried the countess, tiembling like a leaf with excitement. ' Over and over again I havo dreamed it through the livelong night. I was away up amid the mountain peaks, and thore, in the green valley between, was the little farm-house, and the old wife within, her table spread out and laid with pewter platters that shone like silver. I can see it all, even now, Judith, as plainly as 1 sec you,' 'And what else, my lady?' said Judith, eagerly. ' Why, the self-same thing— the old man fietting over the loss of his goat, and then we went in search of her, and away up on the .summit of a bald clid" we found her, with the little baby cuddled up between her feet, [caught it up, and, Judith, it was my own baby — my little lost baby— and 1 knew it in an instant, and caught it up with a cry of joy, and that awoke me, -Judith, why havo f had this dream V What does it mean ?' 1 It must mean I hat the child is there, my lady,' replied Judith, solemnly. 'It is very strange we should both dream the same thing.' ' Too strange, Judith, not to havo some important signilicancc. My child must be there, and we must go and find him.' ' Hub whore arc we to go, my lady ? Did you dream where the place is to bo found V The counter looked snrely puzzled. ' Why, no,' the said ; ' 1 did not think of that. Did you dream where it was ?' ' No, my lady I only know it is a valley between two mountains, with a lake or pond out in tho foreground.' 1 Well, we must try and iind out some- I how,' said the countess, as she gathered up her golden tresses and prepared tp arise ; toi 1 shall go there if it bakes me my lifetime. ] am sure that my child i.-> there ; and this dream has been tent us by Heaven It could not be otherwise, Judith. Oh, you can't think how vivid, how .strangely litelike and real it all was- !' ' Yes, my lady : J know just how it was with mo, and I have believed ever since that the baby was there.' ' And I dreamed the same thing .so often — a do/en times at least through the nighb. I would awake, and start up, and assure my-elf that it was only a dream, but the moment I closed my eyes, theie it was again — the little farm-house, the old couple, j and the bald mountain dill, and the milchI goat, with my little babe between her feet. I can even remember, it was so vivid, that when T kissed his little mouth, in my ! lapture, it was warm and wel with the milk he had ju<t sucked. Oh, my darling, my lost baby !' Hhe buried her face in her hands and burst into hysterical sobbing. 1 And when I tolfl Lord Strathspey, she continued, in a tone of reproach, 'he seemed to make light of it, and said it was merely a reproduction oi your dream in my mind, because I had thought so much of it ; and he felt sure it would amount bo nothing.' ' His lordship has been disappointed so often, ho is getting hopeles-,' said Judith, soothingly, as she gathered up the gleaming, golden hair that streamed around the countess's shoulders; 'and men, you know, my lady, are never ciedulous about dreams and such things as women arc. Bub don't you fret — it will all come out right in the end. We shall be travelling this summer, and who knows but we may chance upon tho&pot ! If Heaven h;>? sent us the dream, we may trust to Pro\idcncc to guide us to the light place. ' Oh, you dear, comforting soul !' cried the countess, throwing her arms impulsively about the givl'n nceL '\\ hat should \ do without you' I really think you arc one of the tuiost hiends 1 hasc in the u orld !' ' Indeed, my lady,' replied the girl, with emotion, ' there's nothing I would not be willing to do foi you !' ' I believe you, my good Judith,' replied the countess ; and I shall rely on you to help me unravel the terrible mystery. Judith,' she added, ' have you never wondered « hat secret enemy lias done us this cruel wrong "' In Heaven's name, Judith, who in all the woilcl can bear such malice against me or my husband?' The girl Hushed .slightly, and averted her eyes. ' Time will bring it .-ill to light, my lady,' she answered, evasively. 'Meanwhile, all you can do is to wait and trust in Heaven.' k But I cannot wait. I must work— l must lind my child. The heir to Strathspey Towers mint be found !'