CHAPTER XLIX.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 293, 25 August 1888, Page 4

CHAPTER XLIX.

T. \PY I'KARL HAS AN ADVENTURK. Lady Nuvilu: was slightly indisposed, find the earl had gone to Lancashhe, in regard to business matters, lie said ; but for no oilier reason, as his sister very well knew, but to visit the Lancaster Moor ' Asylum, and make arrangements to carry out his intentions ; which, no doubt, was the solo cause of her ladyship's indisposition ; for she locked herself in her chamber, and spent the forenoon pacing up and down like an enraged tigress, wishing sincerely that she had the power to consign her brother to the tender mercies of a madhouse, as she had done his w ife. Meanwhile the countess took a fancy to drive to the ruins of an old castle somewhere amid the highlands, and near which was a noted cavern. So the pony-phaeton was brought out, and a basket of sandwiches and two or three bottles of champagne packed under the seat, and Lady Marguerite and Sii Bayard summoned to accompany her. Lady Marguerite was not at all averse to going, and tne baronet would have followed anywhere in the wake of the countess ; her gold attracted him as a magnet attracts steel. The day was fine in the forenoon, and their drive was quite pleasant, and they found the old ruins grand and picturesque beyond aP description. The countess, who was quite a traveller in her way, was especially delighted. ' What a charming old place !' she cried, as they sat in a dim old chapel, with fretted ceiling and stained windows, sipping their champagne ; ' and since I come to remember it, you used to be an artist, Sir Bayard," she added, turning upon the baronet; ' how is it we see none of your work now ?' The baronet blushed like a girl, and stammered in dire confusion. ' Pshaw !' ejaculated the countess ; ' what are you blushing about ? I detest bashful men ; if you have a talent for anything 'tis nothing to be ashamed of.' Sir Bayai'd managed to get his voice, but it quaked dreadfully. He did — well — he used to sketch a long while ago — when he was travelling — but — 'No buts about it,' said the dowager. * You're not so clever that you need to drop your accomplishments — I'd like to have a sketch of these ruins — so do you purchase materials in Perth, and we'll drive over again in a few days, and you shall make a sketch for me.' The baronet bowed in silence, but his face looked like the face of a condemned c-.iminal. The countess stared in amazerrent. ' What 7t the matter ?' she cried ; ' one minute you're as red as a rose, and the next as white as a ghost. Are you ill ?" Sir Bayard was not quite well ; he had been troubled with dizziness for a day or two. He would walk about a little : it would soon wear off. Accordingly, he htiolled off in one direction, and Lady Marguerite, watching her opportunity, disappeared in another ; the countess remaining iv the chapel, to rest herself and finish her champagne. ' How the poor girl does dete&t him !' hhe murmured ; ' and I don"t wonder at it much. Bayard Brompton's a queer fellow some way — he"s got a secret that troubles him. I wonder what it is? But no matter,' she added, turning back to her champagne, ' he's one of my own race, and she shall marry him — it may be the means ot saving him from disgrace and ruin.' Meanwhile, Lady Marguerite made her way through the mouldering halls of the old castle, and out into the warm, summer air. The clouds were gathering in the west, but the sun still shone, and the breeze was s-weet and fresh. She strolled down the ruined avenue, beneath the whispering lir branches, and out into the green, open park. The prospect aiound her was indescribably giand and beautiful. On one hand towered the bold, bleak valleys, and now and then the glittering gleam of some mountain lake, and far below flashed the spires of Perth and distant Dundee. There was a fallen statue near at hand, a marble Apollo, half imbedded in the rank glass, his lyre broken, and all his godlike heauty falling to decay. Lady Pearl seated herself upon this fallen god, and leaning her lovely brow on her hand, gazed out upon the glorious summer scenes with sad, sad eyes. So young, and vet so utterly mi&erable ! The very .sunlight seemed to fall upon her bowed head, with its crow n of silken gold, in pitying tenderness. She was thinking of the baronet, the man who was to be her husband, wondering why it was ihat his very presence inspired her with such disgust and aversion. She could not bear to be m the same room with him, and yet in three shoit months she would be his wife ! ' I cannot,' she murmured, the silent tears falling over her cheeks. • Surely God w r ill let me die and escape it. Poor papa, I would give my lite to please and comfort him, but I never can be that man's wife.' And then her fancy, by a sudden and capricious transition, recalled another face, a handsome, manly face, lit by bright brown eye?. Poor little Pearl sighed, and a vivid red flushed her waxen cheeks. She was an earl's daughter, yet she was quite as full of idle fancies, and silly, erhlish dreams, as the humblest peasant girl upon her father's domains. She sat there in the old park, on the fallen statue of Apollo, dreaming in the bright summer sunshine, and always in her dreaming those bright brown eyes were present. Foolish, foolish little Pearl ! The sound of an approaching footstep startled her, and she sprang up, in haste to fly back and escape an interview with Sir Bayard; but she met face to face, not Sir Bayard, but Captain Fossbrooke. He bowed with courtly grace, that pleasant smile of hip making his brown eyes irresistible. Lady Marguerite flushed like a rose in her embarrassment. 'I beg your pardon, Lady Marguerite,' said the captain, ' but you were just what I needed to make my sketch perfect ' — he pointed toward his portfolio and drawing materials, which lay a few teet distant — ' and my patron sai.it sent you to sit on the fallen Apollo. Will you look at my sketch ?' Lady Marguerite followed him, and he laid before her, with pardonable pride, a masterly sketch of the hoary old ruins, and of the green park, with herself seated on the fallen marble, and the bald peaks, and the rolling highlands in the distance. ' Why, what an artist you are, Captain Fossbrooke,' she said, simply. ' I never saw anything so perfect. How it would delight the counte-s. 5 'Do you think so? Then the countess must see ifc,' smiled the captain. He took up his portfolio, and they walked on side by side.

• I did not di*eam of such a pleasure as mooting your ladyship,' he said. ' When I came out to sketch this morning I thought you were at the Towers.' Lady Marguerite blushed vividly benoath his admiring glances. ' We came across over a week ago,' she replied. 'We are staying at Ravenswold, an old highland country-house belonging to tho countess. ' • Ah, T understand ! How long shall you remain ?' 1 Until the last of September, I think.' ♦That's pleasant,' cried the captain; ' I'm here myself for tho summer. I'vo abandoned the sword, for the hot weather at least.' They had reached tho ruins by this time, and as they turned into the grand vestibule, clambering over heaps of lubbish, they came upon Sir Bayard, wholly recovered from his dizziness it appeared, and coming in search of Lady Marguerite. If a ghost from one of the mouldering tombs below the chapel had confronted him, he could not have looked more startled than he did at the sight of the captain. He stood like a statue, his face growing livid, his eyes wide and staling. ' How are you today, Sir Bayard ?' said the captain, extending his hand with frank cordiality. The baronet gave him the tips of his fingers, a scowling frow contracting his brows. The next instant he offered his arm to Lady Marguerite, and led her away — the countess was awaiting her he said. Nothing dashed by his evident dislike and illhumour, the captain followed them into the grand gloom of the old chapel, where the countess still sat. She looked up in unutterable surprise at his sudden appearance. 'Why, bless my soul,' she exclaimed, regarding him over her goggles, ' who is it? Why, 'tis Fossbrooke— Captain Fossbrooke |! The captain bowed profoundly, and expressed himself highly flattered to know that her ladyship remembered him. He was making a sketching tour through the Highlands. ' Why, I thought you were a soldier,' interrupted the dowager, spitefully. ' So I am, and begging your ladyship's pardon, an artist, too, in my way. Would you do my poor sketch the honour to look at it ?' 'Do look at it, please,' whispered Marguerite, her radiant face all smiles and blushes ; ' you will be so pleased, I know !' The artist drew the sketch from his portfolio, and laid it before her ; and the dowager condescended to examine it. Her eyes brightened beneath her goggles as she looked. Why, young man,' she cried at last, ' this thing is worthy of a place in my gallery at Mortlake ! I never saw a finer landscape ! Do you care to sell it ?' 'It isn't finished yet,' replied Captain Fo?&brooke, flushing with gratification ; ' it will make a finer appearance by far when it is complete.' ' Well, complete it, then and I'll give you a good price for it. What do you want? Will three hundred pounds do ?' ' That would be a very generous remuneration,' replied the captain, ' but if your ladyship would accept-—' But she cut him short with a gesture. ' I never accept anything,' she said. ' I've money enough to pay for all I want. Mind, the picture's mine as soon as it is done. Why can't you do something like that, Brompton V she continued, turning to the baionet. 'What has become of all your talent ?' Sir Bayard did not leply, but the captain did. 'Oh, yes,' he put in, pleasantly, 'Sir Bayard does dabble in colours, too. I remember now, my friend, Colonel Ri< Innond Brooke, used to speak ot Sir Bayard as an artist !' The baronet's face began to lose its colour and his eyes to wander restlessly beneath the captain's steady gaze, and he stammeied wretchedly in hio attempts to reply. ' If he'd spoken of him as a fool, he'd have been nearer the truth, I think,' muttered the dowager, under her breath ; then aloud, ' Here, Marguerite, give the captain a sandwich and a bottle of champagne,' t-he said, ' and then we'll gather up and get ready for starting.' Margueiite obeyed with blushing eagerne&s, and while the captain, sitting down beside the countess, uncorked his champagne and ate hit sandwich, talking all the while with that nameless case and grace that characterised all hie movements the , baionet, uttcily unable to control his blanching cheeks and shaking knees, availed himself of the ptetext of seeing tint the carriage was ready, and made his escape. ' With your ladyship's kind permission,' ventured the artist, after he had placed the ladies in the cairiagc, standing in the noonday sunlight, his handsome face and biightbiown eyes all aglow with life and genial humour, ' I'll call at Ravenswold in a day or t« o c'uid bring the sketch V' And the countess nodded in her grim, abiuptway; and mentally anathematised herself the moment after when her sharp eyes caught sight of Marguerite's vivid blushes and lingering glances a& the carriage rattled away. 'A pietty mess I've made of it/ she .soliloquised, ' giving him. an excuse to come — and the girl is head-over-heels in love with him already.' They drove a mile or two farther down amid the highlands to see the cavern, which was a weird and wonderful snbtetrancan abode, running tor miles beneath the base of a rocky cliff, roofed with glittering stalactites, and floored with mosaic like excrescences that gleamed and flashed in tho light of their torches like precious stones The countess and Maigneritc were can ied away with delight and admiration, and lingered long after Sir Bayard warned them that the weather had changed and the day was far advanced. There were so many wonders to admire, so many new sights at every step, that they lingered in blissful forgetfulness. The voice of their coachman aroused them from their dream. 'I beg your ladyship's pardon,' he said, addressing the countess ; ' but there be every sign as warns- ye when a storm's a brewin', and I thought it best to fasten the 'osset, and come down an' tell ye.' And .at the same moment, as it in confirmation of his words, a roll of thunder awoke a thousand reverberating echoes around them. Marguerite grew pale with alarm, and tho countess went stumping oil toward the entrance at a furious rate. ' You villain !' she cried, with her characteristic unreason, as another peal seemed to shake the foundation of the mountain ; ' why didn't you come and tell me before ? What made you wait till the last moment ?' ' I beg your grace's pardon,' implored the driver ; 'but Sir Bayard was up a minnit or so ago. ' 'Hush with your clatter, will you ? If I'm caught in the storm it shall cost you your place, that's all. Here, Brompton, don't stand there like a gaping idiot. Can't you help me to get out ?' Sir Bayard flew to her assistance, bowing like a mandarin, while Marguerite, glad to escape his attentions, accepted the assistance of the guide. The storm was certain!} brewing, and that wi^h frightful rapidity, when they gained the outside world again. The west ' was one great mass of boiling black,, edged

with brassy yellow whero the lurid sun was going down j and the thunder bellowed in the great distance like the guns in a great battle. • I think wo had better return to the cavo till the storm isover,' suggested the baronet, as ho surveyed the ominous sky. ' You do ?' snarled the dowager, as she hobbled on toward tho carriage ; ' then tako shelter in it. If you want to be buried in that pit o5o 5 fire and brimstone in a thunderstorm 'tis more than I do. Here, Marguorite, be quick, and now, sir' — addressing tho driver— ' drive for your life; if you don't yet back to tho old castle before the storm breaks I'll clip your oars. ' Sir Bayard sprang to his sent without another word, and the coachman, mounting his box, lashed the horses like a madman. But tho highland rOcids woro rough and bad, and in tho gloom of the waning atternoon it was a matter of e:\ceeding difficulty Ito distinguish one road from another. Tho poor fellow had not driven half a milo before ho was utterly bewildered. But he kept on, the fiery animals at their bebt speed, and growing wilder with the blaze of tho lightning in their eyes. ' Are wo in sight of tho castle ?' demanded the countess, shuddering at every fresh peal. 4 Not yet, your ladyship,' leplied the bewildered coachman, urging his steeds into a lonely lane, which ran through the heart of a forest of firs. Sir Bayard opened the carriage door and looked out, as the darkness began to closo around them. ' We are on the wrong road !' he cried out. 4 The man has lost his way !' The countess uttered a cry of rage and execration, but an awful shock, as if heaven and earth were coming together, and at the same instant a blinding flash, silenced hor. The very air was charged with sulphurous gas, and the affrighted horses, maddened beyond all control, shot off at a bi oak-neck pace. The baronet put out his head to call to the driver, and, to his utter consternation, saw that tho box was empty. The diiver was gone.