CHAPTER L.

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

CHAPTER L.

XKW VRIKXD^. Ox and on they went, the horses making great flying leaps, and diagging- the carriage after them, o\er ruts and 100k 1 -, and prostrate trees, the thunder rattling oveihead, the blazing lightning revealing the sombre woods and distant mountain peaks. The poor dowager, humble and quiet enough in her peril and fear, crouched down upon, the floor of her carriage, and burying her face in the cushions?, prayed for help. Marguerite sat erect, calm and quiet, showing no sign of w hat she felt, save in the deadly pallor ot her face. Sir Bayard had been watching for a chance to rein in the lunaway horses, but rinding that such an attemptwould be worse than madness, he returned to his seat. By the incessant glare of the lightning he could see that they were nearing a dismal mountain gorge, and the horses were increasing rather than diminishing their speed. He turned toward Lady Marguerite with an anxious face. ' Lady Marguerite,' he said, putting out his arm to support her, ' try to be calm ; we are nearing a dangerous decli\ity : allow me fco support you — the shock will be terrible.' But even in that moment of supicmc danger she turned from him, her face white and cold, her blue eyes glittering. 'I do not need you, Sir Bayard,' she replied, haughtily, 'and the countess docs.' He had no time for remonstrance, for the horses went over with one flying bound, and the carriage followed with an awful crash ; and then the countess uttered a thrilling cry, and, with the sound in her ears, Marguerite felt herself going down, down, thousands of fathoms deep,it seemed, and then all was utter darkness. Lady Marguerite awoke to consciousness in the dim twilight of a pleasant little chamber, a sweet, fresh bree/e blowing through the open window and cooling 1 her feveied checks, and a soft hand smoothing back her hair with soothing, dainty touches. Her temples throbbed painfully, and she felt very weak and languid after her di eadful fright, and the dainty touches ueie so soothing that she closed her eyes again, ;md lay for several moments in halt unconscious enjoyment. But curiosity began to assert itself, and she opened them attain : and this time sho saw the face of a young girl bending over her — a rare and lovely face, as fair and pure as a pearl. She smiled involuntarily, and the pretty, 10-y lips above her smiled back in response. ' Papa,' called a voice, as sweet as the note of a thiush, 'she's awoke. Come in, please !' And the next instant the pearl fair face vanished, and a rough, bearded one looked down in it^ place. Lady Margueiitc .struggled up to a sitting posture, but the enort made hci faint and diz/y. • Where am 1?' she asked, gazing about her with bewildered eyes. The young maiden with the pearl-fair face advanced to her side. ' You are at my aunt's — Mrs Keith ; and this is Doctor Renfrew, who lives just below Strathspey Towers, and I am Maggie, his daughter,' she said, sweetly. ' And you had a pretty rough shaking up last night,' put in the old doctor; ' so lie down and keep quiet. Maggie will bring you some breakfast presently.' The terrible dangers of the pa.st night came back with awful distiuctnc&s to Lady Marguerite's memory. 'And the countess?-' she asked, growing pale — ' what of her ?' ' Nothing, only she's half dead from the fright, and she's got a little twist in her ankle — nothing serious,' replied the doctoi. ' And the gentleman, Sir Bayard Brompton ?' added Maggie, considerately. Marguerite lay back upon her pillows, with a siffh of relief. They had passed through the awful danger comparatively unhurt. Presently she asked another question. ' Who found us ? How did we get here ?' ' Captain Fossbrooke found you,' replied Maggie. 'He saw you at the old castle, I think, and seeing that a storm was coming, hurried after you to bring you here till it was over. But you had left tho cave when he reached it, and he did not come up with you till after the horses had run down the gorge. He found the carriage smashed, and Sir Bayard standing in despair over the co»ntess and yourself, believing 1 you both to be dead. But the captain knew better, po he got help and brought you here. And now,' she added, smiling biightly, ' you know everything, and you must lie quite still, till I run down to tho kitchen and fetch your breakfast.' Lady Marguerite obeyed, and in ten minutes Maggie was back again, with a ! tempting little meal on an old-fashioned silver tray, and with it a small bunch of i roses and English violets. 'Captain Fossbrooke &ent these,' she ' said, as she put the flowers in Pearl's ! hands, ' with his compliments, and he '• would like to come in and inquire how you are, 'but papa won't let him. Papa's awful cross about his patients.' Lady Marguorite did nob anewor ; she averted her face to hide the burning Hush \ that suffused it.

'When did the captain come?' she asked, after a pause. ' Captain Fossbi'ooke ? Oh, he boards here, you know. Aunt Keith always takes boardore in summer, and the captain's boon here a week or two. He's on a sketching tour, and he draws beautifully. Come now, let me assist you to rise ; there, the pillow will support you, and you .can eat your breakfast nicely, while I run and speak to the countess.' 'Toll her I'm very glad she's not soriously injured,' said Marguerite; 'and — and — you may,' she stammered, her cheeks glowing like peonies, ' yon may say to Captain Fossbrooke that 1 am very much obliged to him for the flowers.' 1 Very woll ;' and away went Maggie, trilling a little Highland melody. And Lady Marguerite trifled with her tempting breakfast for a minute or two, and then lay down, burying her face amid her pillows, with a sharp, aching pain at her heart. That afternoon the earl, who had returned fiom Lancashire, drovo over with Lady Neville and Judith, Lady Marguerite's maid ; and for the first time in halt a seo'e of yeyr:s, lie met with Doctor Kcnfrew. The old Scotchman stood stubbornly, his keon groy eyes looking straight before him, as the peer advanced determined if there was any salutation between them that he would not be the hr.st to spear. The earl did not hesitate, however ; he came up, with extended hand. ' How are you, doctor / he said, a wan smile lighting his worn, white face ; ' you and I parted a little at odds, if 1 remember rightly. Ai c you friendly enough to forget and forgive ?' ' I am friendly enough to forgive you,' xeplicd the doctor, ' but forgetting is another thing -I can't do that, Lord Strathspey !" The earl winced, and hesitated an instant bcfoic he .spoke again. ' Ko, you can't foiget !' he said at last, an unutleiablo despair in his voice and face, ' and I won't ask it ! but, doctor,' he added, with a sudden passion. ' you were my best and carlict fiiond, and I don't like you to think me an unprincipled villain. Doctor, in all the wide earth, there is no wretch t>o utterly lost and accursed as I am.' The old man put out his hand and clasped the carl's in n hearty grasp. 'My poor Angus,' he said, 'I knew it would come to this— and now it is too late '' ' Too late '' echoed the carl, ' too late ! She's chad — I stood by her grave yesterday ! She lies in the common Potter's Field on Lancastor Moor !' There was a something inexpressibly thrilling in the man's utter despair. The doctor drew his hands across his eyes. ' And she loved you so, Angus,' he said ; ' poor thing. I shall never forget her last words to me — ' tell my husband that 1 love him, and forgive him -' ' Don't !' cried the carl, putting his hand to his heart, ' I cannot bear it ! Great Heaven, doctor, remorse is a teuiblc thing ! I w ish I could die ! If it were not such a cowardly thinsc to do, I'd soon end all this !' ' You will do better to live, and clear your wife's slandered name ; t \ou are not ready to close your accounts yet.' • True enough ! But I cannot banish her lace one instant — sleeping or waking, it is before my eyes ; her white, hopeless face looking through the bars of a madI house. T shall go mad myself soon ! But that was not my work, doctor.' ' What 7 consigning your wife to a mad-hou.-c ?' ' Yes ! Sir Marshall Neville and his wife did it, and without my knowledge, while I was abroad.' ' But you didn't try to undo it, while there was time," said the doctor, mercilessly. ' Ko, because I doubted her fidelity.' 'And what has changed your mind, Lord Strathspey ? The old man's wrath was rising again, but the earl did not resent it ; he answered, meekly : ' I cannot tell — 1 do not believe the young man who bears my name ie my son, for one thing.' ' It's a marvel to me that you did not find that out long ago,' returned the doctor. ' A mother's instincts are always true — the boy in the Tyrol wa? youis, and your wife knew it ; but, womanlike, she lo\ed you so tenderly that she kept all her hopes and fears to herself, and tried to <*et at the bottom of the mj story bofoie she distmbed your mind.' 'ThcicV where the trouble began— it she had only tiusted me at first, and had no scciets from me — I thought the child was hers — horn before our marriage' The doctor uttered an exclamation of disgust 'Just like a jealous fool 1 ' he exclaimed. ' Couldn't the child's age determine that v ' ' I took no thought of its age,' replied the eail, humbly. 'No, you didn't,' stormed the old man, 'you just pimped at conclusions, to suit your jealou 5 - faney — you should have gone to a nmd-houpe, not your poor wife, the truest and fondest wife in England.' The eail stood silent in the summer twilight, his face ghastly in the gloom. ' Yes,' he said, slowly, at last, his voico broken and unmitural, ' I believe it all now, and I would give my soul's eternal welfare to ret-all the past — but it is too late, too late !'