CHAPTER XIX. EVERT MAPLESON RETURNS TO VUE DE LEAU.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 308, 17 October 1888, Page 6

CHAPTER XIX. EVERT MAPLESON RETURNS TO VUE DE LEAU.

Everet Mapleson conducted his mother to Sheffield Hall, thence to the Divinity Colleges, the Marquand Chapol and Library and finally to the Peabody Museum. In this latter place they lingered for some . time, examining various objects of interest, Mre Mapleson appearing to be greatly attracted by the valuable collection of curiosities on'exhibition there. While they wero standing before a cabinet* of curious stones, one of Everet's classmates came to him and drew him aside for a moment of conversation. He then turned to his mother and excused himself, saying that he was wanted elsewhere upon a matter of class business, but would shortly return to her. ' Very well, 5 she i*eplied. ' I will look ' about by myself until you come back, and you will find me he» - e.' She wandered leisurely from case to case, looking over th< ir contents, until sudde >ly hei' attention was attracted by a peculiarly .pleasant voice, and, glancing up, she saw her son's ' double 3 standing near her, with ,a beautiful girl leaning upon his arm. She knew that it was Geoffrey Huntress from some trifling difference in his dress, although, even to her keen mother's eye, it was almost impossible to otherwise distinguish him from her son. But after a passing glance at him, her attention was riveted upon the exquisitely beautiful girl at his side, whose face was all aglow with health and happiness. • They are lover 3,' Mrs Mapleson said to herself, as she saw how oblivious they were of all save each other. - 1 wonder \> ho the young girl is? How graceful she is in every movement ! how animated ! and I have rarely seen such a lovely complexion, or such beautiful, expressive eyes !' She stood beside one of the c^ibinets, partially shielded by it, and watched the young couple all the time they remained in the room, and would gladly have followed them as they passed on to another, so interested did she become in them, if she had not promised that she would remain where she was until Evei'et returned. When at length he did come back to her his face was pale and lowering. He had passed Gladys and Geoffrey on his way, and the sight of them together had wrought him up to the highest pitch of passion and suffering. c What is the matter, Eveiet ?' his mother asked. ' Are you in any trouble ?' ' No,' he answered, briefly, and then added : * Have you seen enough here ?' 'Yes ; I have been ready to go for some time ; I have only been waiting for you. I have been quito interested in a young couple who have just gone out — your 'double,' as you call him, and a lovely young girl. Perhaps you met them ?' 'Yes, I passed them as I came in.' £ Who is she ?' ' She is the daughter of the man who jrlopcod him; her name is Gladys Hunti e?s. ' 'Gladys? What an appropriate name! Shs is a veritable sunbeam. Do you know her V ' Yd. ; I have met her a great many times in New York society,' the young man returned, but with a face so pale and pained that, his mothe. could not fail to notice it. ' Everet;, I believe that you have fallen in love with her yourself !' she said, in a startled tone. • It would not be a very difficult thing for any man to do, would it?" he asked, trying to smile, yet with a liug of pain in his voice. ' Is the family a good one ?' ' They stand well ; they are received in T.he best society in New York, and I have been tr«ld that Mr Huntress is a wealthy iii.m.' ' Well, he has a charming daughter, any way. I'd like you ro win a pretty girl like that for a wife, Eveiet,' said Mrs Mapleson, wistfully. ' I assure you it. would give me a great deal of pleasure to gratify you, ma tht.re,' he responded, his lips curling with a bitter smile, as he thought) of how he had tried and tailed ; then he abruptly changed the subject : 'But time is flying, and if we are to b* in New York to-night, we must be thinking about trains, whilo I have some packing to attend to yet.' Mrs Mapleson signified her readiness to go, and they passed out of the museum and repaired to Everet's rooms. That evening they were en route to the great metropolis, from whence they sailed to Newport. Mrs Mapleton had arranged to ppend the greater portion of the season at this ia.*hionable resoit, where she expected to meet some friends, who were also coming from the South. But Everet had othjr plans for him self. He attended his mother to Newport, saw her comfortably and pleasantly f-ettled there, and then infoimed hei that he wa« going home to Virginia. She was amazed at this information, and protested indignantly against his departure. ' Why, I am a total stranger here, Everet,' she said, * and it is too bad of you to desert me in this unceremonious fashion. ' ' But the Ainslies and Worthingtons will be here in a day or two. and then you will have plenty or company,' he told her. ' But I want you for an escort. I do not li':e to be left alone.' ' Then I'll try and persuade father to come on, if he is at home when I reach Vue de l'Eau,' E\eret returned, but without relentinsr i" the least from his purpose. 'But what is your object? It seem* inexplicable to me. I supposed, of cour&e. you were going to remain with me,' his mother said, searching his face cuiiou&ly, and with some anxiety as well. ' I have an object, but ' 'But you do not wish to tell me what it is,' she interposed. ' Everet, you shall ! 1 suspect it is some love aflair.' He coloured crimson, and then was enlaged at himself for doing so. • Well, and what if it is ?' he demanded, somewhat defiantly. ' Who is there at home in whom you ate so deeply interested ?' 'No one ; I am going to trace out that Annie Dale's history, if you must know. I believe that Geoftrey Dale Huntress is in some way connected with her, and,' he burst out excitcdlv, ' I am f/oinr/ to know!' 1 Nonsen&e ! What good will it do you ? „ Everer.,' she adderj, as a sudden thought came to her, ' you are in love with that girl, Gladys Huntress, and you are jealous of - him. 7 % -Well?' ' You have conceived the idea that Annie Dale disappeared because of some wrong Jthab she had done, and that this Geoffrey %'Huntress may be her child, and not of * Honourable birth. You believe, if you can prove this, that Miss Huntress will, never.

1 marry him, and you will then be able to win her.' Mrs Mapleson had said this looking straight into her son's eye, and seeming to rt ad his soul like an open book. 1 Mother, your penetration is something remarkable. I could almost believe you to be a mind-reader,' he replied, dropping; his eyes half guiltily. Then, after a momont of thought, he continued, excitedly : 'Yes, I may as woll confess it— l am madly in lovo with Gladys Huntress, and have been for more than a year. I have vowed that I will win her if it can be accomplished, even though I know she loves this ie'low, who has been nothing but a stumbling-block in my path since the clay I iirst mot him. lam going to Richmond, as you surmise, lo trace Annie Dale's hibfcory from the time of her disappearance, and I believe i shall discover that this Geoffrey Dale is her son. If he is a child of shame, 1 do not believo that Gladys Huntress will many him, and I may yet be happy.' Mrs Mapleson looked deeply troubled over this confession. ' Everet,' she said, gravely, *I am afraid that you are building upon a false foundation, and your hopes will come to naught. If this girl truly loves that young man, and he is worthy of her, she will marry him, or I am very much mistaken in my estimate of her.' Everet Mapleson's brow dai'kened. 'I am going h mo, anyhow,' he said, doggedly. 'Ib will be a wild-goose -chase, I warn you,' retorted his mother. ' I cannot belp it I shall go mad if I sit idly down, and Gladys is lost to me for ever,' he retorted, with quivering lips. Mrs Mapleson seemed very unhappy. She loved her son as she loved no one else in the world, and she could not bear to think that he had learned to love unwisely, and was lisking his future happiness in pursuit of an igniifatuus. She did not believe he would ever win Gladys Huntress. The young girl's face had haunted her ever since she had seen her with her lover, in the museum at Yalo, and she knew, by the way she had looked up into Geoffrey's eyes, that she loved him with her whole soul, and that no dishonour, save that of his own making, would ever alienate her from him. ' Oh, Everet, pray give up this foolish infatuation,' she pleaded, laying her hand beseeching^ on his arm. ' Foolish infatuation, indeed !' he retorted, with an angry flush. ' What can you know about it— you who never knew what it was to love a man as I love this peerless girl ?' Mrs Mapleson crimsoned to her brow, then grew white as the snowy lace about her nock ; her lips quivered painfully, and hot tears rushed to her c3 r es. 'Are you not somewhat ha-sh in your judgment of me, Everet? Surely, whatever else you may say of me, you cannot accuse me ot lacking in affection for my son,' she said, sa^ly, and tremulously. 'Forgive me, mother,' he pleaded, con-science-smitten, ' but, indeed, it nearly drives me distracted to think that I may not be able to win Gladys; while he, that beggar without even name, has won her without an effort. 5 ' //as' won ? Then they are engaged ?' ' What folly, Everefc ? I would respect myself too much to ciy after a ghl who was pledge^,' sai d Mrs Mapleson, scornfully, and with flashing eyes. His face flamed angrily. ' I tell you. you cannot understand !' he cried. 'At all events, whether I win or not, I will do my utmost to separate them. I d^te^t hm so thoroughly. I will never allow him to triumph, where I have failed. 3 JEle strode from the room with these words and that night he left Newport for Vue de l'Eau, where he arrived three days latei , and found his father at home keeping bachelor's hall in line style, with half a do/cen servants to attend him. Colonel Mapleson greeted his son with a heartiness which testified to the deep affection which he boie him, though he expressed some surprise than he should have leturnerl at that season, when he mitjht haveenjojed the cool breezes of Newport, and had his pick of the fashionable belles who thronged the place. ' I have not been at home for a long time, you know,' Eveiefc responded, careles-h, • and bomehow 1 had a peculiar longing to get back to the old place. Moi-her rebelled at being I- ft, but I promised to send yon on to take my place.' Colonel Mapleson shrugged his shoulders. He was not particularly fond ct gay society, and was never anxious to dance at tendance upon his fashionable wife, although he was proud of her beauty, and the admiiation and attention she received wherever she went. ' I have not been in Newport for a good many years,' he remarked, a? Le passed his coffee-cup to be filled for the third time ; for they were at breakfast. •Surely you would enjoy the trip then,' Everet replied. ' Newport has changed greatly ; it has become literally an island of nalaces. You ought to run up there for a little change during mother's stay.' • Well, I'll think about it ; bub yon will be lonely if I run off just as you have come home.' ' Never mind me ; mother needs and wants you, and I have been in so much excitement of late that I shall be glad to be quiet for awhile,' the young man remarked, carelessly. This was such a strange desire on the part of one who had been accustomed to frequent all the gay resorts during the summer holiday?, while, too, he was looking far from well or happy, that Colonel Mapleson snot a searching glance into his son's face, and b"gan to suspeel that he had been disappointed in some affair of the heart, ana had come home to conceal it. ' That is a new freak, isn't it? 1 he asked, quietly. * You can call it so if you like ; but I \ have been working pretty hard this last year, and am tired. Besides, I have not had a really good chance to fish, hunt, t and ride since I entered Yale, and I mean to improve my opportunity now to my heart's content. By the way,' he continued, etter a slight pause, ' isn't there a place called the ' Hermitage ' somewhere in this vicinity, where a relative of ours, who was a sort of recluse, used to live ? In some of my roamings I may like to visit it.' 'Yes; Robert Dale, a distant cousin, built it and lived there for years. I suppose your mother has been telling you about him ; she always invested him with a great deal of romance,' his father replied, with a slight smile of amusement. 'He was a queer old codger, too, and lived a regular hermit's life for nearly a quarter of a century. The house is still standing, about ten mi'es from here, in a lonely spot surrounded by a dense growth of pines. He kept one servant — Uncle Jake, he was called— who was housekeeper and steward all in one— cooking, washing and ironing, tfikincr care of their one horne and cow, and the chickens. He also attended to all the marketing and errands, and his master vas rarely seen.' 'How did Mr Dale occupy his time?' Everet inquired. ' With reading and writing. He had a ' choice library, the only luxury of which no

wa9 guilty ; and he left piles of manuscripts some of which were quite valuable, treating chiefly upon geology and ornithology. He had always been a groat student ] of those subjects.' ' What becamo of his library and manuscripts ?' j ' One of the trustees of Richmond College claimed that they had been promised to that institution, and although thero was no writing of any kind found after his death to verity that claim, the books and papers were all made over to the college' ' What of his servant, Uncle Jake ?' 'He died only a few months after his master. Ho lived on at the Hermitage in the same way, refusing to leave the place, and was found dead in his bed one day, by some sportsmen who stopped there to fill their canteens with water. He was buried there in the woods, the house was shut up, and has remained so ever since.' ' Thi« Koberb Dale was a relative of yours, wasn't he, father ?' ' Well, yes, 1 suppose he was, though the relationship is vei : y distant. He was own, cousin to my Uncle Jabez, who was my father's half brother, if you can make that out,' said Colonel Mapleson, laughing. ' Humph ! There was another family of Dales, who lived somewhere in this region, if I remember right, that is I remember hearing something about them,' liiveret remarked, after another pause. Colonel Mapleson bent a look of questioning sui prise on his son. 'It appears tome that you manifest an unusual interest in the Dales this morning,' Colonel Mapleson said : ' what has roused it? I did not suppose you were evon aware of their existence. ' ' Mother related something of their history to mo. But you have not answered my question.' ' Yes, there was another family of Dales ; at least, there was a widow and her daughter, who lhed in a cottage not far from Vue de l'Eau, a good many years aero. They came here in a very destitute condition, after Mr Henry Dale's death, and supported themselves by teaching and sewingr. ' ' And yet this old hermit, "Robert Dale, had plenty, and l'.t them toil tor the necessaries of life,' said Everet, indignantly. ' Thoy were his own brother's wife and child, too ; but ' began Colonel Mapleson, mufcedly, while he seemed to bo butied with some memoiy 01 the past, ' Well, mother told mo they were bitter enemies. What was the cause of it ?' asked the young man, eageily. 'Robert and Henry Dale both loved the same woman when they weie younjj men. Henry won her, and Robert hated him ever afterwards ; that is the secret of his loading such a singular life, 1 suppose,' explained his father. E\erot flushed. He was thinking of two other young m n w ho loved the same woman, one « f whom hated the other for having won, where he had tailed. 'What became of ihe two women?' he asked, wishing to hear his fathei's \eision ot Anrie Dale's disappearance. ' Mrs Dale died many years ago, and the daughter, I believe, went somewhere to be a governess. But, Gracious! E\eiet, it is nearly ten o'clock !' suddenly interjected Colonel Mapleson, looking at hU watch in surprise, ' and I promised to meet Major Winterton in town, at a quarter before eleven, to look ab his sorrel mare. I am balking of buying her for a saddlo horte I must be of! at once. Will jou come with me?' ' Thanks, no. I think I will lounge about home for to-day,' the young man replied, but feeling somewhat disappointed at having their conversation so abruptly terminated. Colonel Mapleson bade his H»n goodmorning, and hurried from the room to order his horse, while Everet bat musing upon what he had learned, and wondering what his r ext step would be to ascertain what Annie Dale's fate had been, alter to Ri hmond to seek her foitune.