CHAPTER XXIX. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 318, 21 November 1888, Page 6

CHAPTER XXIX. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

The sun had long since gone down, and darkness was rapidly settling over the country, as Geoffrey pursued his way, grateful indeed that he had such good news to, take back to Jack, but well-nigh discouraged on his own account. It had been agreed that he should learn all he could about Henley's old home, and where Margery was buried, and that Jack should himself revisit the place after nightfall, upon his return, since he did not dare to make his appearance thei'e by daylight. The road to the town lay through a heavy growth of timber, and, as Geoffrey came into it, the darkness was so intensified that at first he could hardly distinguish the way, when, suddenly, his horse gave a startled snort and shied one side, nearly throwing his rider from the saddle. 'Gently, gently, sir,' he said, reassuringly, as he quickly recovered himself. • What is the trouble, my boy ?' He glanced searchingly about him, and saw a muffled figure sitting upon a rock under the shadow of a great tree. Geoffrey's hand instinctively caught the handle of the revolver that he always carried when travelling, and then rode directly up to the figure. 'Who are you f he demanded, 'and why are you sitting alone here in the darkness ?' 'Do not fear, sir,' responded a quiet honest voice. 'I am only a woman on my way home from town, and sat down here to rest for a moment.' 1 1 beg your pardon, madam, for accosting you as I did,' Geoffrey returned, apolo getically, ' but I confess I was startled, as well as my horse, for a moment. Are you not afraid to be tiavelling this lonely way at this time of the evening V ' ' No, sir, I am not afraid. *I know every step of the road, but I am not &o young as I was once, and it tires me to walk,' the woman replied with a weary note in her • yoice, accompanied by a heavy sigh. frECave you far to go?' the young man askfed; • 'No, only the second hou?e from here — to Farmer Bruces ' 'Ah ! You are going to Mr Bruce's. I have just come from there. I will turn about and see you safely to the house ; or, if you could manage to sit on a man's saddle, you shall ride, and I will lead my horse,' Geoffrey said, kindly ; for now that he had been accustomed to the dim light he could, discern that the woman looked worn and w,eary, .and his sympathies were enlisted,for her. "'No, no; thank you, sir, I will not trouble you,' the woman returned. ' But tell me,' she continued, rising and coming towards his side, 'is Farmer Bruce still. alive ? Is the family well ?' Something in her anxious tone and her agitated manner, as well as these questions, sent a sudden thrill through the young man's heart. Ho betit and looked searchingly into her face, which was upraised to hi&. . ',Yes, Farmer Bruce is living. You said you were on your way home. Do you belong to the family V she asked. , 'No — I— J used to live near them ; I have come for a visit,' was the confused reply. "Geoffrey bent still nearei to her, when the woman suddenly uttered a startled cry, and laid her hand upon his arm. •Oh, sir! Who are you?' she cried. * I am sure you must be Master Geoffrey. 'You are so like your father. I should know you anywhere, and I never could forget the boy I loved. You are Geoffrey, a,ren',t ypu ? and don't you remember — Mar ; ' She .ended with a sob, and her bold tightened on his arm as if she feared to lose him. . Geoffrey had half-suspeoted her identity when ißhe, had, inquired so eagerly about

Farmer Bruce, but it was a shock to him, nevertheless, to find his suspicions thus verified, and he felt that, if ho should never learn anything move, definite regarding his father, he should feel more than repaid for his journey hither just "to have found Jack and Margery, seen them restored to each other, and the shadow re moved from their lives. He seized the trembling hand that lay upon his arm, and shook it heartily. ' Yes, Bawi Geoffrey, and I do remember Margery,' he said, in a glad, earnest tone. The poor, long - suffering, wandering creature dropped her head against his horse's neck, and burst into a passion of tears. 'Heaven bless you, Master Geoffrey, for owning it at last — my heart's been well,nigh crushed since you denied it, and ran away from me in New York,' she said, brokenly between her sobs. ' Denied it, and ran away from you in New York !' repealed the young man, astonished. ' Yes, sir ; sure you haven't forgotten that day, when you bought the roses of me, ;and I asked* you if you wasn't Geoffrey Dale ? You told me no — your name was Everet, and you didn't know anything about Jack, nor about any of the other , things I talked of." A light broke upon Geoffrey's mind. She had seen Everet Mapleson, and made a very natural mistake ; she had believed him to be the child she had loved and cavfed for, arid it was no wonder she was pained by his refusal to recognise her. ' I never bought 'any I'oses of you in New York, Margory/ he said, kindly. ' I have never seen you until now since I was a small boy of five years.' The woman looked up ab him amazed. Geoffrey smiled frankly into her upturned face. ' The young man \t horn you met was a Mr Everet Mapleson — we were in college together, and we look so much alike that we are often mistaken for each other,' he explained. 'Ah ! dearie, my heart is lighter now you've told me this. Marpeiy' said, with a long-drawn sigh. '1 was cruelly hurt when I thought you wouldn't own me, and I was so sure, too, that you could tell me j something about Jack — can't you tell me where he i-« ? Where, where have i/ou been j all these years, Master Geoffrey'/ Ah, I j feared that cruel blow that Jack gave you had killed you and I'd never see you ag.'iin ; but, poor man ! }>ed never have lifted his hand against you if he'd been himself. Hea\en pity him, whe ever he is, if he's living ab all.' \ He dismounted from hid hoi-e, and Lik- . ing her by the arm, &aid, gently : , ' Come back to the rock, Margery, \\ lieu* j you were sitting, and I will tell you all you wish co know. It is a long story, and you will be weary with standing.' She looked up aopealingly. ' One word. Master Geoffrey. Jack ' Her trembling lips reiused to utter another word, and the young man thought he might as well tell her at once abouc her husband and set her hearb ab rest. 'Jack is living and well* and — within a mile of you at this very moment,' he said, in a cheerful tone. ' Oh, dearie, ! Heaven rewaid you for those blessed words,' Maigerv murmuted; then her head sank upon her breast, and, tottering, weakly forwaid, she dropped upon the rock where Geoffrey had first seen her, and fell to sobbing like a tired child. Geoffrey waited until she had * grown somewhat calmer, and then told her, as briefly as he could, something of hi-> own and Jack's histoiy during the la&t eighteen years. She never interrupted him during the icoitnl, but seemed to drink in e\ery word, as one perishing from thirst would diink in pure, life-giving water. When ab last he had told her all she lifted her face, and, while she \\iped tho streaming tears from her eyes, *he exclaimed : ' Ah ! Mastei GeoOrey, I feel almost us if I was drawing nigh to heaven, atter all the waiting, the wandering, the loneliness and misery, to tinri my Jack again, nnH know that he has been true to his love for me all the time. Poor fellow ! his fate has been harder than mine, after all, foi he's had to enrry a burden of guilt with him ; but i^ it all over now, thank Hea\en ! You will take me s;raight to him?' she concluded, eagerly. 'Of conr-e I wili,' Gooilrey leplied, heartily, • he is waiting it t,he public-house in town lor me — waiting for me to come and tell him about his old home, from which he fled so many \ear» vgo, and about -a certain grave, which ho luih imagined h»s> lain lonely and neglected all that time, and which he '.va= to go to visif under cover of darkne&s, upon my return.' 'Poor man ! poor m-in !' cobbed Maigery, all unmindful of her own long suffering, in her sympathy tor her ci ring husband, ' but, praise the Lord, theie's, no giave lor him to weep over, and thai he can walk the earth once more and fear no man.' She arose and drew her cloak about her preparatory to going back to tne town with her companion. Geoffrey insisted that she should ride, while he walked beside her and guided the horse. He saw that she was very weary, us v. ell as weak, from her recent agitation, and not fit to walk the long din ance. She demurred at first, but he would listen to no objections, and *he permitted him to put her into the saddle, and then they started on th"ir way, Geoffrey questioned her about her life during the past eighteen years, and ho marvelled, as he listened to her otory, at the woman's unwavennrc devotion and Jove for the man whose hand had «o nearly deprived her of life. She told him, as Mr Bruce had already done, tbab, as soon as she was able, she had sold off all her household goods and the farm stock, and realised over a thousand dollars. She deposited all but enough for immediate needs in a bank of San Francisco, where she already had some money laid by, and instructed' a lawyer t ere to use it as a reward for the discovery of her husband. She then began her own toilsome pilgrimage to search ior him herself. She royed from one large city to another, stopping some time in. .each, now taking in washing and ironing to support herself and earn money to continue her search in the next place wheie sho should go ; going out as a, servant in other places, or selling flowers or confectionery upon the corners of the streets for the- same purpose, while she eagerly scanned every face she saw in the hope of somewhern and sometime coming across either Jack or the boy : she' had never believed, as others did, that the latter was dead. She felt sure that Jack must have discovered some sign of life about him, and had taken him away with the hope of having him restored. In this way she had visited almost every large city in the United States. She had been in different mining districts also, thinking that perhaps her husband might have gone back to his old business, hoping thus to hide himself more securely. She had even been in Canada and other British provinces, but had nevei met with the least encouragement in her search, until that day when she had ?een Everet Mapleson in New York and believed him to be Geoffrey. j Her disappointment and grief,, at bis perI sistent denial of all knowledge of her, had ' actually prostrated her for the' first time

during all her tireless search, and.she had not been able to leave her bed for several weeks, which accounts for- -young Mapleson?s inability to find her. 1 At length, during: the fciflt few months, she had relinquished all hope ; but an insatiable longing seized her to visit hor old , home once more, and the • kind family who I had befriended her in theihour 'of her sore need. After that, she meant to draw her money from the bank in San Franpisco, and with it purchase a right in some home for the aged, where she could 'peacefully spend the remainder of hei life. The woman was notold,tbeingol>ly about forty-live years of age,>but her sorrow tuid the laborious oxietence she had led had aged her far more than even another decade could 'have done. She could tell Geoffrey nothing move regarding the identity of his father than he 1 already knew. She had never known any other address than the one of which Mr Bruce had spoken. He had told her to send a letter to " Lock Box 43, Santa Fe,' if anything should ever happen to his boy and she wished to summon him. ButA ! she had gone away without communicating with him ; she had been eager to get away before he could come again, tor she had not courage to meet him and tell him the dreadful story about his child, which she alone knew. ' Margery,' Geoffrey said gravely, after she had concluded her account, 4 have you never thought that fiere was something very .strango in the fact that my father should have been so reserved about himself, and kept his only child so remote and con 1 cealed from all his friends ?' ' Yes, Master Geoffrey, it did strike mo as queer, at times ; but 1 reasoned that pei haps he hadn't any very near friends, for he talked of putting you to some school as soon as you were old enough to go away from me.' ' Do you think that everything was all right between him and my mother ?' 'How right, s»ir 9> the woman asked, with surprise. ' Do you think that they woro legally man'ied ? DH you never see or hear anything while you lived with them, to make you suspoct that thoy might not be man and wife ? It is a hard question for a son to a^k, but Ihe pececy with which my tafchei has seemed to hedge himself about, has led me to fear that there was home giave ie:ipon why he could not, or would not, have mo with him and openly recognise me. Why was he unwilling to havo you use his name if you had occasion to write to him, but instead gave you a blind address, which no one could recognise, and to which, doubtless, he alone had the key V "Uooil Loid, .Uasl or Gooffrey, never havo any such thoughts entei'ed my head be fore !' JNJargery exclaimed, in a tone of startled amazement. ' I never saw a man fonder of his wife than Captain Bale was of your mother ; and he had reason to be fond of her, too, for she worshipped the very air he breathed, and was always so sweet and merry thao a man would have been a brute not to have loved h6r. But ' ' Well ?' queried Geoffrey, eagerly, the hot blood surging to his brow, with a feel ' ing of dread, as she stopped, a note of sudden conviction in her tone. " Well, I do remember, once, that she did not seem quite happy, but I have never given it a second thought until now, 1 Margery said, i eflectively. ' Tell me about it,' the young man comni mrie 1, briefly. ' Th r -y had been out f^r a walk one night i after tea, and it \uib quite dark when they returned. They stopped a moment on the fetepb, before coming in, and i was at au open window upstairs just above them. Your mother had been crying — 1 could tell «by the &ound of her voice — and all al once t-he turned and threw her ai ms around the captain's neck and sobbed . • Oh, Will, / wish you would, for my sake at..l —for oui baby\ &ake.' ' I v ill, my darling,' the captain bold her, ' it shall be done just ub soon as I can turn mysel', but it would ruin me to do it now. 11 aye patience, my pet, and it will be all light in a few months more, at the fill thost. ' ' Sh'i didn't say another word, only uttered a, tired kind ol sigh, kissed him softly, and then ihe}' went in. But 1 never thought much abou,t it afterward. 1 didn't Uno -• bub what «iio Had been coaxing him to Vave the mines and go back where they cainu from, for I'm suie it couldn't have becti nice for her to live there where there wabii t hardly another woman tit to associate with hei,' Margery concluded, thoughtfully. BuLGeoine} believed his gentle mother had been asking tor something far more important fc'mn a change of residence ; that would havo been of comparatively little consequence to ner. loving hia lather as she did. He imagined that oho had been pleading to be recognised a.-. Captain Dale's lawful wife, po that her eh 'ld might have honourable b ith. ]fe bighed heavily, ior Hie favtluu he went in hih search the darker and moie perplexing giew the way