CHAPTER XXII. WHITHER ?

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 319, 24 November 1888, Page 3

CHAPTER XXII. WHITHER ?

The October night sky was bright with stars, which gleamed through tho clear frosty atmosphere with strange and glowingbrilliance. There was no moon, but in the pale, chill gloom objects at some distance ould be traced with considerable distinctness. Theie was a good breeze blowing. The young L-idy Nora Kildare, ilceing from her late prison at Yew Cottage in charge ot the escaped convict Fogarty, toward the coast, felt, her heart bound exultantly within her, and her boul thrill with a joy so wild and strange and sweot that it was absolutely painful. She breathed in tho bracing air, and it intoxicated her almost as if it had bcon wine. After her long fortnight of imprisonment in a dark cell everything looked strangely beautiful to hei. Tho starlight, {he shadows around her, the way-side houses, all had their charms, and her graze lingered upon them as upon the various features of a raie and glorious picture, She had no doubts or fears ot the sinister man who sat beside her in the light waggon, his attention fixed upon the hoise. Had he not rescued her from imprisonment? Did ho not wear a sailor's erarb, and were not sailors kind-hearted and true and honest ? And was he not taking her to England and to her stern old guardian, Sir Russol Ryan, who would protect her from her enemies and battle for her rights ? Instead of sntpecting her rescuer, her heart was filled with a glow of gratitude towards him, .and already she was planning how she would rewaid him for all his good ness to her. Fogarty, as we may as> well call tho man fiist introduced to the reader under the ialse name of Murple, prorooded along tilio quiet road for some distance at a swift rate, and he turned into a road leading to the south and east. He had gone but a few yards upon this new course when the sound of a vehicle rapidly driven came to his ears from the road he had just quieted. This vehicle, drawn by a single horse, was proceeding toward Clondalkin, and had evidently come from Dublin. Fogarty looked back, as did tho Lady Nora. At the moment that the vehicle which had aroused their attention passed the junction of the two roads, both had a clear view of it. It wa« simply a light dog-care, and was occupied by a man and a woman. Both the-e persons had their heads turned toward Fogarty's w.Mggon, their faces being in shadow. For a moment or so only was the opportunity for scrutiny continued. Then the dog-cart sped on toward Clondalkin, and the light waggon huriied on its course, presently turning into another road. Ah ! if but some subtle instinct had told the fleeing girl that the tenants of the dogcart were her lover, the young Lord 0'Neil, and her faithful maid, Alleen Mahon ! If only she could have guessed t'lat they were on their way to Yew Cottage to rescue her ! And if only Wild Larry of the glen had suspected that the young girl he looked at with such idle curiosity was the impeiilled lady ot his love, what dangers, what sorrows, what anguish might not have been saved to them both ! But the distance between them, the soft, fleecy shadows, and the rapid motion of both vehicle*, pre/ented tho recognition, and they went fb« ir <.ep.ir.ite ways, the poor young Lady Not a driving straight to peril from which her lover would have given his good right hand to save her. 1 Thank Heaven ! we have left the Dublin road !' breathed the young girl. ' Did you see how I muffled myself with my scurf and veil for a disguise. Mr Fogarty? I feared that the man in that dog-cart was Michael Kildare. Oh, it would be terrible to meet him now !' ' Don't ye have no fears, my lady,' said Fogarty j reassuringly. 'If that little spider-legged lawyer was to board us, he'd find my grappling-irons fixed into hi* flesh in a way he wouldn't fancy. I could handle him as easily as a child !l! l The girl smiled faintly, and shook her head. 'I should have said the same a month — ohree weeks ago,' she said. ' But I know Michael Kildaie now, and I did not know him then, although I have been on intimate terms with him all my life. I thought him tender and kind and afFectionate, with a rather weak and womanish character, perhaps, but good and honest. And now I have found, under all his flowery softness — iron ! He would" be a dangerous opponent even for you, Mr Fogarty.' ' I am not afraid of him,' said the pretended sailor, touching up his horse. • You would be if you knew him better,' said the Lady Nora. 'He is like a glittering: serpent — deadly ' I have a horror of him now — a sickening horror !He pretends still to love me, but I believe he would not scruple to cut short my life, if he believed my death would be an advantage to him.' Fogarty flushed guiltily, and whipped up his horse smartly. He knew only too well that Michael Kildare was capable of the wickedness of which the Lady Nora suspected his ability, and he knew also that Michael Kildare had decreed tho young girl's death. Was Fogarty not now, by the lawyer's orders, conveying the Lady Nora to Black Rock, there to decoy her aboard the sloop he had charteied, and had not Michael Kildare told him that the young erirl must be cast overboard in mid-channel ? Nora knew better than Fogarty Michael Kildare's capacities for crime. As they approached Black Rock, Fogarty slackened the speed of his horse, permitting him to walk. He was a little ahead of time, and besides, he had no desire to arouse the townspeople from their beds. It was his way, like that of Michael Kildaie's, to move as secretly and cautiously as possible in the execution of his nefarious schemes. 'I left a man on board my sloop, my lady,' he remarked. 'He's a part owner, and takes charge when I'm absent. But he can't go along this voyage, on account of bis family. ' • It's jußt as well,' interposed the Lady Nora. 'I am sure that you can manage the sloop alone. ' 1 Oh, yes, my lady, I always do,' said the pretended sailor. ' But it ocenrred to m& you might feel afraid to put to pea with me alone — that you might be afraid of me, like !' ' Afraid of you who have rescued me from a terrible imprisonment— perhaps from a terrible fate?' cried the young heiress, warmly. ' No, indeed, Mr Fogarty ; I trust you as I would trust a brother ! You have shown your kind, good heart too plainly for me to fear you !' ' I am only an ignorant chap,' observed Fogarty, after an embarrassed pause. * You wouldn't think, to look at me, my lady, and' hear me speak, that lam the grandson of a gentleman. Yet I am. My grandfather was a physician. His younger daughter married an architect, named Liffey, and lived like a lady. She is Mr

Kildare's housekeeper, and I wouldn't wonder, to judge irom what my mother says, if she were some day to be. Mrs Michael Kildare, My aunb can play the grand lady to perfection, v »tho doctor's elder daughter married a man of inferior social rank, a thriftless, jolly, drinking fellow, named Tim Fogavty. 1 Avas the offspring of that marriage. My father diod when I' was a child, and my mother mado her living by various humble ways. My aunt, Mrs Liffey, took a fancy to me and sent me to school, and I got a decent education. I wantod to be a doctor like my grandfather, but fate was too strong for me. Being of a roving disposition,' he added, with ironical emphasis and concealed meaning — having reference to his transportation at government expense to a penal colony—' I set out to see the world. And 1 saw it i Did you ever hear of me, my lady —of Mrs Liffey'e nephew, Tim Fogarty ?' ' Never,' replied the young lady Nora. ' I knew very little of Mrs Liffey, very little of Michael Kildare's household. While papa lived I used to visit Dublin often, but we stopped at an hotel, exceDt. once when we stayed a whole soason and papa took a house. And since papa's death 1 lived on a,t Kildare Castle with my step-sistei\ as papa desired me to do. He said he wished me to grow up among the tenantry, to know them all intimately, to win their love, and to lo.ve them all in return. He expected me to spend the most of my lifo at Point Kildare, and he did ''not want me to. go oft to Dublin and get a 1 taste foi\ gaycties, such as would unfit me for my quiet , future. And so it' has happened. jiijaVlknow so little about Mrs Lifl'cy.' WJ > ' That was a foolish question of mijae',', observed Fosravty, -with a breath of relief, 1 ?! having experienced a momentary fear that ■ his antecedents were not unknown to the young girl. ' Plow should a great ]ady like you have heard of a poor fellow like me? But here we • are at Black Hock. You still think, my lady, that you had better go aboard the sloop and set off, immediately for England ? You would not think it better to wait for the packet ? ' Oh, no ! no ! Before the packet sails, Michael Kildare will be at Kingstown watching for me. Escape in her would be impossible. It is not 'as if I were of age. My only safety lies in going to-night !' cried the young heiress, impetuously. Forgarty smilei grimly under his false beard. 'You right,' he said. 'You must sail to-night. And you cannot delay, my lady, to procure a woman to attend upon you. We should be oil" at once.' 'Yes, at once.' ' I was over to Black Rock this morning,' said Fogarty, ' and cold my partner 1 should be off for a voyage to-night. You see, my lady, I made up my mind this morning to rescue you, and so I told my partner I should bring a young lady aboard to-night — ' 'You told him that? Oh, if he should have betrayed me ' He may suspect — ' 'No. I took my precautions. I pretended that I was going to elope with a young woman named Flaherty, and the fellow hasn't the ghost ot a suspicion of the truth. So, my lady, if you'll just put the veil over your face, my partner will think it's all right and never say a word.' The Lady Nora complied with the suggestion, veiling her face. Fogarty drove | down the street of the small town, halting near the pier. Here he sprang out, assisting the Lidy Nora to alight. He secured his horse to a convenient po&t, and, taking his basket of provisions in his handt he conducted his fair charge down the pier, scanning the adjacent bay with keen glances. „ The sloop he engaged lay near at hand, ready to sail. A small boat from her, with the sloop- master in it, lay rocking in the shadow of the pier. There were other small eraits in the vicinity, out there was no sign of life about them. Except for the three figures mentioned, the pier and the bay sesmed deserted of human being. ' Sloop, ahoy !' said Fogarty, in a low voice ' Ay, ay, sii !' returned the man in the row-boat beside the pier, in a aimilaily cautious tone. ' A word with you, my hea 'ty,' said Fojrarty. The &loop- master sprang out on the pier, and the two men withdrew a few paces, leaving the Lady Nora alone on the end of the pier looking off upon the bay, whose phosphorescent gleams and white caps shone through the gloom. r ' About the security for the sloop,' whispered Fogarfcy, keeping an eye upon the slender, dainty figure at a little distance, with floating hair and garments blowing in the wind. ' Here's the watch I promised,' and he handed over his mother's greatest treasure, an old-fashioned gold watch, which he had purloined during the day at a convenient moment. 'And for greater security,' he added, ' there's my horse and waggon on the street there, which, if you'll keep till J come back — ' ' That I will !' cried the sloop-master, well pleased. 'I'll take the horse and waggon and drive home, and you can be o(T in the ploop. Or shall Igo aboard with ye?' ' No. Is there water aboard ?' ' Water and provisions a plenty. Ye paid nothing about them, and chinks I, ' Lovers is fools,' begging your pardon, ' and won't think of such a, thing as a wind contrary, or being bccalnied, or blown out of her coose,' pay- I to myself, and so I made boold to put a shtore ot things aboard, which you'll find 'em in the locker. 5 ' I'll make it all right when I get back,' said Fogarty. ' And now I'm off. Goodbye. ' The two men separated, the sloop-master putting the gold watch in his pocket, and hastening to ascertain- the value of the horse and waggon left as additional security for the sloop, and Fogarty hurrying to the row- boat, a rope froih tfch'ioh' was secured to the pier. • Now, my lady,' he said. The slender, girlish figure turned and came toward him, the pale and lovely young face still hidden under the folds of the veil. 'I've got rid of my partner,' said Fogarty, putting his basket into the boat, and assisting the Lady Nora to follow it. 'He don't suspect ever a bib. We are safe, my lady, for which the saints be praised.' He sprang into the boat and pushed away from the pier with an oar. Then he rowed rapidly toward the sloop. They were soon alongside. Fogarty steadied the row-boat against the sloop's side, and the Lady Nora climbed over into the larger vessel. ' I'll have to let this boat trail after us,' said Fogarty, dropping his basket over into the sloop. ' I'll make her fast. ' He hastened to do so, securing the loose end of the rope attached to the row-boat to the stern of the sloop, and then crept cautiously into the larger vessel. ' Now we'll be off !' he said, pulling up the anchor, * ' The sails'll catch the breeze in a minute. ' Ah, here she takes us !' The sloop gave a lurch and a bound as the wind swelled her sails, and moved slowly out into the bay. The Lady Nora sat down, holding to the vessel's side. ( The sloop was a small affair, of some five or ten tons burden, and had been built exclusively for pleasure parties and - excur-

I sions. She had a half deck occupying one third of her- hull. , The cabin under this half-deck was too low and small for sleeping purposes, and served as a pantry and locker. The remaining two-thirds of the vessel comprised simply .an open space, around which ran a cushioned divan. When the sun shone there was an awning to serve as a roof over the passengers, but this awning of sail-cloth was now of course hidden away under the half-deck. Fogarty unreefed his sails, the sloop swung around to her course, pointing her noae directly out into the bay, and toward St. George's Channel, and began to move like a horse warming to the race. ' Afloat ! afloat !' the girl murmured. ' We are leaving the dangerous land.' Yes, but to embark on the more dangerous sea. Of all the perils that had ever threatened her young life, the darkest was gathering about her now. The girl looked back at the receding shores of the Irish coa&t, all her sorrow, all her anguibh, and the light of a great hope shining in her sunny brown eyes. ' Farewell, dear old Ireland !' she whispered, softly. 'I leave you a poor, homeless fugitive. I will come back to you to resume my old place, and to take up again my old honours.' Fogarty took his place at the tiller, and sank into' a respectful silence, addressing now and then some observation about thoir course to the girl passonger. They swept, on with increasing speed. The lights low on the shore died out from view. The gleam fiom the Ba4ley lighthouse.ofl. Howth head grew 'brig.htei> and brighter. The lights from theships in Dublin Bay also faded. The sloop was 1 out in ,-,ljlipymidst of the white caps and the phost^jjj|oresccnt gleams, aud was bounding forj^fd liko some „ living creature, the light fSoray dashing from her bowsprit, and coming now and then in a shower over her sides. An hour — two hours passed. The shore had since disappeared behind them. The light gloom had settled down all around them. A strange loneliness, a mighty desolation, seemed brooding over the restless water. The 3 r oung Lady Nora gave herself up to her dreary yet hopeful thoughts. She was weak from her long imprisonment and her miserable, meagre prison fare. She was wearied with her ride and the excitements of the nights. And &o, by and by, the little I glossy head dropped to the low bulwarks. the sunny eyes closed wearily, and over the pale, sorrowing young face crept the peacej ful unconsciousness of slumber. j Fogarty's eyes gleamed with a wicked sense of power, as he lifted them toward her in a sullen gaze. ' Asleep !' he muttered. 'If I was to keep to my bargain with Mr Kildare, this is as good a place as any to chuck her overboard. Perhaps I'd better. I'd have a hold on the lawyer then, and he'd have to pay me well. But he'd have a tighter hold on me. How could I prove he hired me to kill his ward ? He might have me arrested for the murder. The girl's a prize jn the right hands. 'She knows too much' about. Mr Kildare to live. She must enlighten me. I can make my fortune out of hor, and I mean to do it. You won't go to England nor to Sir Rus&el Ryan, my lady, nor yet to any place you'd'like. You ar"e in my power, and your life and ' death are in my hands. Whether you live or die I shall decide, and I haven't made up my mind fully yet. And where I shall take you I don't yet know.' He chuckled grimly. Then he deliberately altered the course of the sloop, and they went bowling over the waters toward the north. Alas ! poor Lady N ora !