CHAPTER XXXV.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 287, 4 August 1888, Page 6

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE DOCTOR'S DAUUIITKK. Doctor Rcnkkkw was fretting to be an old man. lie had given up his practice almost entirely, and safe through tho pleasant spring afternoons on tho sunny grass-plot in front of his door, lookinir out upon the bold, bleak cliils beyond the Scottish bolder. lli.sgood wife had long ago gone to her last rest, and -Maggie, his only child, was the old man's sol » comfort and companion. And a rare damsel she was, inheriting 1 all her father s shrewd and practical intellect, and her mother's fair and feminine beauty. She was the prettiest la.ss in Northumbeiland, with her peail-lair face and goldenbrown hair, and she was also the most accomplished scholar and the most skilful housekeeper. In the early years of his married life Doctor Renlrew had deplored his want of a son, but as Maggie grew into womanhood, the regiet lott him. Sho seemed to be son and daughter combined. She could harness his pony, and compound a dose ot medicine, and write out a difficult (iioek 01 Latin exercise with the same graceful ease that she exhibited in making a cup of tea 01 .singing a charming billad. She was the most skilful housekeepei , the mo.->t perfect dancer, the most experienced nurse on the whole border; and at the .same time she was the prettiest, most innocent, and unaffected, child in the wide woild. If e\er man was pi oud of a child, the old doctor was pioud of Maggie. He lived in the sunlight of her presence, and thought the king on his thione not half good enough to be her hucband. But Maggie had no thought of a husband; she was devoted bo her father, and tendei ly attached to her old home, and thoroughly contented and happy in the care of her innocent giilish heait. The pleasant years drifted quietly along, deepening the glow on Maggie's* round cheekb, and the womanly light in her pretty eyes, and bringing the old doctor farther and tai thei down the declining hill of life. He was an eminently happy man, with but one single distuibing element in his peaceful old age. And that was, and had been for twenty long years, his regret for the unaccountable disappeaiance of the Countess of Strathspey, and his anxiety in regard to her last charge and request. In the little spare chamber adjoining Maggie's bedtoom, under strong locks and bt'us, were the jewel." and other valuables that the unfortuna'c woman had left in his handa for her son, tho son she so fondly believed would one day be restored to hio rights. Immediately after her mysterious disappearance, Judith Ford had contuved to deposit them in Dr Renfrew's hands, in obedience to her lady s last leque&t ; jewels and antique vases, and gold and silver, making quite a little dowry ; and sacredly pieser\ed with the rest the little baby slip and quilted flannel cloak which littlo Romulus wore when the old Switzer shephci ' found him. But of little Romulus himself, since that summer day when he was cauyht up and spinted away in the Tyiol valley, no tidings had been heard. Doctor Renfrew was the last man in the world to make a pi'omise and fail in its pci formance. He piomised Lady Strathspey when, warned by a strange and prophetic presentiment, she entreated him to n\id her son and look to his inteicsts, thifc he would, and most faithfully had he endeavoured to do so. Once every summer since the disappearance of the counters, the old doctor and Maggie had journeyed down to the Alpine valley, and made the old couple a vi-nt, hoping t s at they might have gained some clue to the fate of the bo\, , but all in \ain ; inquiry, investigation, the ofler of large icwiiuls brought no tidings, and tho little foundling of the mountains and hi.s unfortunate mothei both seemed to be as effectually lost a- if they bad been .-pit it eel away to sonic othci planet. The old shcpheid of the Tyiol and his wife mom ned oxer the loss ot their fa\otiriic, as Jacob mourned when he saw the many-coloured c oat ot his favourite .ion, all stuiued with blood : and the nummch bloomed and faded, and winter piled its snow upon the Alpine peak-, but never a word was heard ot little Komulus. Doctot Renfrew g'»vo up the ecaieh. 4 The boy is dead, and so is the poor count es?,' lie said to Maggie, upon the occasion of their last journey. ' I've done all that man can do, and now 1 mustghe up tho scai eh. I aiii getting to bean oI<J man, and there's no use in pursuing a shadow any longer. I d< n't know what we shall do about tho jewels and things, unless we Mirrcidcr them to Lord Strathspey. They tell me his lawyei.-> ha\c laid claim to Aukland Oaks, and that bit of property in France, long ago : and I suppose he might as well have all.' But piefcty Maggie shook her head. 1 No, father, we've no light Lo do that. Lady Stiathspey lett tho^e thine** in your hands for her son, and until her son is found, it is our duty to keep them.' ' But her son will never be found, Mag trie.' 'There's no lei. ing, father dear, what may happen — the Door countess herself may turn up one of these day?. At any rate, vve'll not surrender her jewels yet.' The doctor yieldud, as he did in all thing*, to Maggie'.s vigorous young will; and the quainC old jewels and massive plafe icmaincd in their hiding-plnoe in the little &paie bed-chamber. But Dr. Renfrew abandoned tho search, and looked upon the whole thing at boing utterly hopeless, It ay -steward the close of a May afternoon that the doct r and Maggie, sitting in their southo n parlour, through whose open windows the breeze cume cool and frosh from the Scottish lulls, wcie surprised by a visitf ram Judith Ford. 'Why, Judith, my la<*s,' cried the old man, throwing aside his book, and extending his hand, 'I'm more than triad to see you— and looking as blithe and buxom as ever. Sit down, my girl, and tell u& where in the world you've been hiding yourself these last two or three years.' Judith sat down in the chair that Maggie offered her. "Tis rather a hard matter to tell, doctor,' she replied ; 'I've been in so many places. I've been like Noah's dove, travelling to and fro upon the face of the earth." 1 Poor thing !' sighed tho doctor, ' and all to no purpose ?' 'As yet all to no purpose, doctor,' she replied. - ' And it will never be any better, Judith ; you'll never find your mistress ; she's doad and gone long ago, poor young thing !' Judith'B brown eyes looked solemnly

through the window towards the far-off outline of tho Scottish hills, full of sad determination. | - ' Peuhaps not,' she replied ; * but I shall never give up the search. It may be hopeloss, as you say, but I've nothing else to live for now, and one had better pursue a hopeless search than be idle.' ' True enough, my poor Judith,' said tho old man, pityingly; 'and where are you I living 1 now ? At your old place with the Duchess of Caernothan ?' 'No, sir, I am whoro I havo been toying to get for the Jast live years, in Lady Neville's family. I am Lady Marguerite Strathspey's maid.' •Indeed! And what kind ot a personage may her young ladyship bo 7 '' Her mother over again ! They are all over at Strathspey Towers now.' •At Strathspey Towers? You don't tell me Judith?' ! 'Yes, .si i. Lord Strathspey and his son and daughter, and Sir Mar-hall Neville and his family, and a gay crowd from London. VVe came down on Wednesday, and this is the first chance I ha\e had to get to see you.' 4 Ilowdoos Strathspey look?' asked the doctor. 4 He hasn't changed at all, but he's very silent and moody, almost ill-tempered at times, and thoroughly miserable ; one can pee that at a glance.' 'As he ought to be,' returned the doctor, with rising indignation ; ' the black-hearted scoundrel ! I've seen the day that I loved him liko a son, and I would not e peak to him in the open street to-day.' 'I'm soiry for Lord Strathspey,' spoke Maggie, looking up fiom her needle wot k. ! 'So am I,' echoed Judith. ' Sorry for him because he broke his wife's heart, and then connived at her murder?' stoimed the doctor. ' Why, Maggie, I'm ashamed of you.' 'I am sure ho had no hand in her disappearance,' said Judith ; ' I have found out some little in regard to her fate, doctor i — she was carried oft to a madhouse.' j ' Just what I have always supposed ; and whose work was it, if it wasn t her husband's ?' ' Lady Neville's and Sir Marshall's. Tarn sure the earl had no hand in it, he's very bitter against her.' ' The jealous idiot !' continued the old Sco'chman ; 'he ought to suffer, and he will. I've never met him but once sinco he pared fiom his wife, and I don't care to meet him again. Our interview was anything but pleasant; I let him have my mind pretty freely, and left him in a delightful lace. They tell me be goes into esocioty again ; I wonder if lie won't be taking another wife before long V 'I think not,' Judith replied ; 'he loved his countess too much, and mourn.s her loss too deeply for thai. 4 Fiddlesticks ! Pretty way he took to show his love, now didn't he ?' 'He was insane with jealousy, father,'interposed Maggie ; ' and you cannot but admit that appeal ances were strongly against the countess. It was a rash step, that secret journey of hers down to the Tyrol, undei tre care of her old lover, too.' 'No matter ; her husband should have tr u.°fccd her, and listened to her explanation. No man should daie to doubt his wife's fidelity, under any ciicumstances, a bit sooner than he'd presume to murder her.' 4 But all men aie not .so chivalrous as you me, father,' said Maggie; 'and I think the poor earl is greatly to be pitied. What a romance it would be if the countess were to come back, and a reconciliation take place ! Dear me, I wish she would ! Judith, do you really believe she's dead?' ' They say she is, Miss Maggie. I heard Lady Neville and the earl talking about it a few days ago. I wasn't eavesdropping", but I was in the library window, wiping off the alass, and they came in and began to talk before I could get out ; and when I heard my poor lady's name called I remained behind the curtain and listened.' ' Doing evil that good may abound !' laughed the doctor. ' I'd do worse than that, sir, to find my deor lady,' replied Judith, promptly, ' and think it no wrong, either. Yes, I stood still and listened, and Lady Neville said : • ' Well, the poor creature is dead now, and I am glad of it, and you ought to be glad too, Angus, for the sake of your childien. When Marguerite is married, and takes her place in society as the Countess of Mortlake, it would be unpleasant, to say the leas I, for her to tind out that bor her mother was a poor, depraved creature shut up in a madhouse !' ' ' Hush !' said the earl beU\ cen his teeth, ' no matter what I think of her myself, no one else "hall -peak ill of her, not even you, Camilla ! And I wish to Heaven you had not meddled in the matter at al! ! I shall never cea^e to regret the step you took — it will haunt mo till the day I die ; the thought that the died in a mad-house, no matter how weak and erring she was !' ' ' Why, Ancrus' continued Lady Neville, 'how ungrateful and inconsiderate you are ! Could we have had her down at Aukland Oaks, carrying on her shameful proceedings under tho very eyes of your child ten? She would ha\e brought suit long ago to rof-toie her son. as she called the boy in Tyrol, to his rights, if we had not meddled. Iluw would that have looked?' ' The earl burst into a laugh, the bittorest most miserable laugh I ever heard. 4 ' How does it look as it i 4?i 4 ? ?' he went on. ' See what a scapcgallows my only son i« ! A line fellow to inheiit tho Strathspey title duly !' ' ' Hush, he will outgtow his errors, if you will only be patient, Angus,' said Lady Neville. ' ' Never,' he cried : ' What's bred in the bone l emainp there. That boy will squander my money, and bring reproach and disgrace upon my name ; and i half wieh that I had hearkened to my poor wife's vagaries ! Camilla ' he added, lowering his voice almoht to a whisper, ' do you know that I have been hunted of late with an idea that possibly she may have been right, and all the rest of us wrong?' ''Heavens! Lord Strathspey,' cried his sister, ' are you losing your senses too ?' ' ' I believe lam,' he replied ; ' and the sooner they are quitcgone the better ! Ifever the cui&o of Heaven rested on mortal man it rests on me !" Dr, Renfrew broke into a laugh. 'Glad of it,' ho said, 'glad of it — it is coming home to him ! He'll begin to know now what hi& poor wife felt, when IO robbed her of her good name, and drove her from her home, and at last fhut her up in a madhouse to dio of a broken heai t. I told him how it would be, but he laughed at and scorned me ; I told him how cruel his re morse would be ! And it has come upon him. Ah, 'twill bite like a serpent and sting like an adder, and I shall ne\er pity him.' ' I pity him very much,' said .Judith, quiotly. 'But how comes it, Judith, that you are living in the earl's family ?' the doctor asked. ' Doesn't he rocognise you ?' Judith laughed. ' Wait one moment, doctor,' she said, as she stepped outside the door, 'and you shall see. ' Almost immediately she returned, not Judith Ford, with her round cheeks, and bright brown braids, but a prim English lady's maid, wearing a frilled musUn cap, with bands of pale flaxen hair lying .low over her forehead.

The old man stared, and Maggie broke into a gay laugh. ' Your propex 1 place is tho stage,' she cried ; ' only look, papa. Would you ever have "suspected f ' She's a cute dampcl,' said the doctoi', 'as demure and modest as she seems ; so thau's the way you've managed, is it V 'Yes, sir,' Judith replied; 'and I have succeeded beyond my expectations. The j earl is too much preoccupied to notice me, and I pass muster with Lady Neville. I am in a tremor every time I fall in with the Dundas nuree — she's maid to Lady Drummond now — for fear her sharp eyes will ferret me out. But I have accomplished my object, and shall leave them all very poon and that brings me to the object of my vi&it. I want to ask your advice, doctor.' '• Well, what is it ? Are you going to take a husband ?' Judith's face grew unutterably sad, as she replied : 1 No, doctor, I shall never do that now ; I am going to search lor my poor lady, and I want you to tell me where you think they cprried her- to what mad-hou<-e ?' * A hard question, my girl ; there are .so many in England ; but in all probability they sent her as tar away as possible. Let's see,' he continued, thoughtfully. ' There s Mount Hope in Yorkshire, and Castle Kay somewhere in the neighbourhood of Land's End, both noted private establishments ; but, child, 'twould be like searching for a needle in a haystack, and I suppose what Lady Neville said is true— the poor creature is dead of her griefs long ago. 1 * I &hall try to find her,' f>aid Judith, quietly. ' 1 shall never give up till I know for myself how and where she died. 1 have money, fortunately, and 1 shall sec out at once. My only regret is leaving Lady Marguerite, and she- is to be manied in the spring;.' 4 Married !' echoed the doctor ; ' that bit of a child ?' ' Why, father,' said Maggie, ' 'twas in the ' Times,' you know. Didn't I tell you ? The Countess of JMortlake has made her her heir, and she's to marry Sir Bayard Brompton.' 4 No, you didn't tell me. Why, I know Brompton. He was up here a few summers ago on a sketching tour — a fine, lazy, I handsome fellow, with no talent for anything but painting. Well, he'll make her a good husband.' ' T)o you think he's a good man, doctor ?' asked Judith. f Yes, an excellent fellow. I should judge. Why do you ask v> ' Because I don't like him,' said the girl. 'I haven't seen much of him, but I take him to be a hard, grasping, cruel man.' * Oh, nonsense ! Why, Brompton's the most generous, extravagant good-hearted fellow alive. I'm afraid, Judith, you are giving way to your prejudices.' But Judith shook her head. 'No, sir. You're the best judge, of couise, but I Can't like Sir Bayaid, and I'm sorry to my hcarb that Lady Pearl is to marry him, and she'll be sorry, too. But 1 can't see any good I could do by staying with her, for Lady Neville's bent on making her marry him, and at the earliest hoin. So I blank I shall give my lady warning to-nijiht, and set out on Monday ; for, if the Countess of Strathspey lives, I'll find her, and if she's dead, I'll find her grave. And now I must run back again— it will soon be time for the first bell, and Lady Margueiite will need me.' ' She'll do what she purposes,' mu&ed the doctor, as Judith tripped across the lawn ; 1 her eyes are not steady and clear for nothing — she'ss a smart girl.' ' What a pity her lover was lost at sea ! sighed Maggie. 'It always pains me to sec that mournful look on her face. Poor Judith !'