CHAPTER XVII. 'FOR EVER AND EVER.'

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 411, 16 October 1889, Page 6

CHAPTER XVII. ' FOR EVER AND EVER.'

Two weeks laber, as June's golden days were drawing to a close, five of Lady Helena's guests departed from ' Powysa ( Place. One remained behind. The Stuarfe family, with the devoted Captain Ham- 1 mond in Trixy's train, went up to London ; Miss Edith Darrell stayed behind. Since the memorable day following the ball, the bride-elect of Sir Victor Catberon had dwelt in a sort of earthly purgatory, had lived stretched on a sorb of daily ruck. • How blessings brighten as they take their flight.' She had given up Charley— had cast him off, had bartered herself in cold blood— ior a title and an income. And now that he held her at her true value, that his love had died a natural death in contempt and scorn, her whole heart, her whole soul craved him with a sick longing that was like death. Ib was her daily torture and penance to see him, to speak to him, and note the cold scorn of his grey, tranquil eyes. Jealousy had been added to her other torments ; he was ever by Lady Gwendoline's side of late — ever at D^exel Court. His father had set his heart upon the match ; she was graceful and highbred ; it would end in a mai riage, no doubt. There were times when she woke from her jealous anger to tage-ab herself. ' What a dog in the manger I grow,' she' said, with a bitter laugh. ' I won't have him myself, and I cannot bear that anyono else should have him. If he would only go away — if he only would — I cannot endure this much longer.' Truly she could nob. She was losing, flesh and colour, waxing wan as a shadow. Sir Victor was full of concern, full of wonder and alarm. Lady Helena said little, but (being a woman) her sharp old eyes saw all. 'The sooner my guests go, the better,' she thought,' ' the sooner she sees -the last i ot this young man, the sooner health ,and strength will return.' Perhaps Charley saw too — the gftiy, tranquil eyes were very penetrating.- It was he, at all events, who urged the exodus to London. 'Let us see a littje Londoji life- in "the season, governor,' he said. ' Lady Porti**"' Hamptoo and that lot are going. TheyUl introduce us to some nice people— : so will Hammond. . Rustic lanes and hawthorn hedges are all very pretty 3 but there^ar possibility of bheir palling oh depraved New York minds. I pine for stone and mortar, and the fog and smoke of London.' Whatever he may have felt, he bore it easily u to all outward seeming, as the men 'who feel deepest mostly do. He could not be said to actually avoid her,--bub certainly singe that .afternoon in the drawing-room, bhsy J had never been for five seconds alone., . • , JVlr Stuart, senior, had agreed, with almost feverish eagerness, to the proposed change. Life had been very pleasant in Cheshire, with picnics, water-pai ties down the Dee, drives to show-uiaces,. lawn billiard^, and cioquet, but, a month of it wag enough. Sir Victor was immersed in his building projects and h,is lad>-love; Lady Helena, ever since the coming and going of the lady in black, had not been the same. Powyes -Place was a pleasant house, bub enough was enough. They were ready to say good-bye and be off to ' fresh fields and pastures new.' ' And, my dear child,' said Lady Helena to Edith, when the departure was fised, 'I think you had much better remain behind.' There was an emphasis in her tqnOj a meaning glance in her eye, that brought the conscious blood to the girl's cheek. Her eyes fell — her lips quivered for an info ant — she made no reply. 'Certainly Edith will remain,' Sir' Victor interposed, impetuously. 'Asif we could survive down here w thout her ! And, of course, jusb at present it is impossible for me to leave. They don't need her half as much as we do —Miss Stuart has Hammond," Prince Charley has Gwendoline Drexel.; Edith would only be in the way !' 'It is sebtled, bhen ?' said Lady Helena again, watching Edith with a curiously intent look. ' You remain ?' * I will remain,' Edith answered, very lowly and without lifting her eyes. 'My own idea is,' wenb on the young baroneb confidenbially, to his lady love, ' bhab they are glad to be gone. Something seems to be bhe matter with Stuart litre.— under a cloud, rather, just at present. Has it struck you, Dithy ?' He had caught bhe way of calling her by the peb name Trix and Charley used. She lifted her eyes abstractedly now, as he asked bhe question. 'Mr Scuarb? What did you say, Sir Vicbor ? Oh — under a cloud. Well, yes, I have noticed it. I think it is something connected with his business in New York. In papa's last letter he alluded to ib.' 4ln paoas lasb lebber ' ' Mr 'Frederick Darrell had said this : ' One of bheir great financial crises, they tell me, is approaching in New York, involving many failures and immense loss. One of the most deeply involved, it is whispered, will be James Sbuarb. I have' heard he is bhreatened with ruin. Let us hope, however, bhis may be exaggerated. Once I fancied ib would be a fine bhing, a brilliant match, if my Edith married James Stuart's son. How.much better Providence has arranged it !' Once more, my dearest daughter. I conerabulate you on bhe brilliant vieta opening before you. Your sbepmother, who desires her beet love, never wearies 1 of spreading the wonderful news '■ that our little Edie is so soon to 'be the bride of a great English baroneb.', , , f ' Miss DarreH's sbraight tilack brows met in' 'a frowning line as 1 " she . perused this parental* and pious "dpistle. Tne* next instant it Was born into minute^ attorn^ and; scattered toVthe four winds of heaven. •- There seemed bo -be some foundation Jorthe news. Lebters without end kept coming •for Mr Stuart; little boys bearing the ominous orange envelopes of the telegraph company, came almost daily to Powyas Place. Afber bhese lebters and cable messages the gloom on Mr Stuart's face deepened and darkened. He lost sleep'; he' lost appetite ; some great and secret fear seemed preying upon him. ' What was it ? His family noticed it, and inquired aboub his health. He rebuffed them impatiently, 'he was qtiite well — he wanted bo be let alone \ whybhe.unmenbionable-to ears-politeneed they badger him with quefctiotiß-? They I held their peace and let him alone. . That

ib-in any way concerned commercial failure they never dreamed ; to them the wealth of the husband and father was "somethiwer illimitable — a golden river flowing from a golden ocean. That ruin could approach them never entered their wildest dreams. He had gone to Edith one day and oflerod her a thousand-dollar cheque. 1 For your trousseau, my dear,' he said. ' It isn't what I expected to sive you — what I would give you, if—' He gulped and paused. 'Things have changed with me lately. You will accept this, Eilie-.it will at least buy your wedding-dress.' She had shrunk" ba°,k, and refused— not proudly or angrily -very humbly, but very firmly. From Charley's father she could never take a farthing now. 'No,' she said,< 4 I can't take it. Dear Mr Stuart, I thank you all the same ; you have given me more already than I deserve or pan ever repay. I cannot take this. Sir -Victor Catheron takes me as I am — poor, penniless. Lady' Helena will give me a i white silk dresa aud veil to be married in. For the rest, .after my wedding day, whatever my life poav lack, it will not lack dresses.' He had replaced the cheque in his pocket book, inwardly thankful, perhaps, that it had nob been accepted. Tho day was passed when about thirty thousand dollars would have been as but a drop in the ocean to him. The time of departure was tixed at length ; j and the moment it ?«as fixed, Trix flew j upstairs, and into Edith's room, with the news. 4 Oh, let us be joyful,' sang Miss Stuart, waltzing in psalm time up and down the room ; ' we're off at last, the day after tomorrow",'Dithy ;, so go pack up at once. It's been very jolly, and all that, down ! here, for the past tour week?, and youtvt had a good time, I know ; but I, for one, will be glad to hear the bustle and din of city life dnce more. One grows tired doing the pastoial and tooral — I mean only rural — and craves for^shops, and gaslight, and glitter, and crowds of human beings once I m re." Our rddtns are taken at Langham's Edie, and that blessed darling, Captain Hammond, goes] with us. Lady Portia, Lady Gwendoline, and Lady Laura are coming also, anjj I mean to plunge headlong into the giddy whirl of dissipation, and mingle with the bloated aristocracy. Why don't you Ha ugh ? What are you looking po sulky abojut?' 'Am I'look-i«s sulky ?' Edith said, wich a faint smile, j ' I don't feel sulky. I sincerely hope ybu may enjoy yourself even moi© than r you ajnticipate.' 4Oh - you do-!' said Trix, opening her eyes : ; ' and how about yourself— don't you expect to enjoy yourself at all 1\ 1 1 would, no dqqbt, bnty-vl am not going.' " ■ . ■ 'Not going!' Thunderstruck, Trix repeats the words. - ' :. J . 4No : it has, been decided I hat I remain here 1 . You won't miss me, iTrix — you ' will have Captain Hamm6nd.' 1 Captain Hammond may go haqg himself. I want you, and you I mean to have. Let's sit down aud^jeitson this., thine- out. Now what new croVchet has L got;-"intio your Miead ? . Alky I jask^whafc your ladyship elect means to do"?"" . '-(To -remain quiqtljry: Jhcre until — until— •.you .know. *"■*,' *>■ ' ' Oh, 1 know S'^fciMjjandescribable adorn); 1 ' until 1 you are raised to the sublime dignity of a baronet's wife. And you mean* to mope away your existence down here for the next two months listening to love-making you don't, care that about. Oh, no need to fire up; I know how much ,yon care about it. A.'nd I say youj shan't. ' ! Why, you are -fading away jbo s£ shadow now under it. You shall fcoftie. upito Lo.nd.on with us. and re;, cuperate. ChjariW «hall take -y au every -j where.' V- * > *• , i y fi She saw her winee — yes, that was where the vital place lay. Miss Stuart ran on : ' The idea of living under the same roof for two morta^ months with r,he young man you are going] to marry ! You're a great stickler for etiquette — I hope you don't call (/t«A,etiquette ? Nobody ever heard of such a thing. I'm not sure bulf that it would be immoral. Of course, there's Lady Helena ■to pi ay. propriety, and there's the improvements Catheron^ Itoy,als to amuse you, arid there's Sir Victor s endless 44 lovering "' to edify you, but still 1 say you shall come. You started with us, and you shall stay with us — you belong to .us, not to him, until the nuptial knot is tied. I wouldn't; give a fig for London without you. I should die of the dismals in a week.' 4 What, Trix — with Captain Hammond ?' • Bother Captain Hammond ! T want you. 0 Edie, do come !' . ' I can't Trix.' She turned away with an impatient sigh. ' I have promised. Sir Victor wishes , it, Lady Helena wishes it. It is impossible.' ' '* ' And Edith Da'rrell wishes.it. Oh, say it out, Edith,' Trix retorted bitterly. ' Your faults are many, but fear of the truth used not to be amontr them. You have promised. Is it that they are afraid to trust you out of their sig^t-?' ' Let me alone, Trix. I am tired and sick — I can't bear it.' She laid her 1 face down upon her arm — tired, as she, said — sick, soul and body. Every fibre of her heart was longing to go Wibh th'ero— tp be with him while she might, treason or no to Sir Victor ; but it could not be. Trix stood and looked at her, pale with anger. ' I will let you alone, Miss Darrell. More — 1 will let you alone for the remainder of your life. All the past has been bad enough Your deceit to me, your heartlessness to Chat ley — this is the last-drop in the cup. You throw us over when we have served your turn for newer, grander friends— it is only the way of the world, and what one might expect from Miss Edith Darrell. But I didn't expect it— l didn't think ingratitude was one among your failings. I was a fool !' cried Trix, with -a burst. 4 I always was a fool and always wijl be. But I'll be fooled by you no t longer. Stay here. Miss Darrell, and when we, say good-bye day after tomorrow, it shall be good-bye for ever.' And then Miss Stuart, very red in the face, very flashing in the eyes, bounced out of the room, and Edith was left alone. Only another friend lost for ever. Well, she, had Sir Victor Catheron left— he must suffice for alt now. All thab day and most of the next she kept her room. It was no falsehood to cay she, wa,s ill— she was. She lay upon her bed, her dark, eyes open, her hands clasped over her headj looking blankly before her. To-morrow tljey must part, and after to.morrow — but , her mind gave it up ; she * could riofrlook beyond. Phe came downstairs when to-morrow came to say fkrewell. The white wrapper she, w,oi-e, .tfcafj not whiter than her face. Mr Stuart shook hands in a nervous, hurried sort of way that had grown habitual to him of\ late,, <Mrs! Stuart kissed her fondly, ; MiBs V Stuar"t:jqat touched her lips foimally to her cheek, 'and Mr Charles Stuart held her cold fingers for two seconds in his warm clasp, looked, ' with his own easy, pleasant smile, straight into her eyes, and said good-bye . precisely as he aaid it to Lady Helena. Then it was all over ; they wore i gone; the wheels that bore .them away crashed over the gravel. Edith Darrell felt nn though thby were crashing over her That night the Stuarts were •itabliibcd

in elegant apartments at Langham's Hotel. But alas tor the fraibly of human hopes ! -'The splendid time'Trixy so confidently looked forward to never came. The very morning after their arrival came one ,of the boys in uniform with another sinister orange envelope for the head of the family. The head of the family chanced to be aione in his dressing-room. He took it with trembling hand and bloodshot eyes, and tore it open. A moment after there was a horrible cry like nothing human, then a heavy fall. Mrs Stuart rushed in with a ecream, and found her husband lying on | the floor, the message in his hand, in a fit. " Captain Hammond had made an appointment with Charley to dine at. St. James street that evening. Calling upon old friends kept the gallant captain of Scotch Grays occupied all day ; and as the shades of evening began to gather over the* West End, he stood impatiently awaiting his arrival. Mr Stuart was ten minutes late, and if there was one 1 thing in this mortal life that upset the young warrior's equanimity, it was being kept ten minutes waiting for his dinner. Five minutes more ! Confound the fellow — would he never come? As the impatient adjuration passed the captain's lips, Charley came in. He was rather pale. Except for that, there was no change in him. Death itself could hardly have wrought much change in Charley. He had not come to apologise ; he had not come to dine. He had come to tell the captain some very bad news. There had been terrible commercial disasters of late in Now York : uhey had involved his father. His father had embarked almost every dollar of his fortune in some bubble speculations that had gone up like a rocket and come down like a stick. He had been losing immensely for the past month. This morning he had received a cable message, telling him the crash had come. He was irretrievably, past all hope of redemption, ruined. All this Charley told in his quietest voice, looking out through the great bay window at the bustle and whirl ot fashionable London life, at fche hour of seven in the evening. Captain Hammond, smoking a cigar, likened in gloomy silence, feeling particularly uncomfortable, and not knowing in the least what to say. He- took out his cheroot and ppoke at last. 'It s a deuced bad state of affairs, Charley. Have lyou thought of anything ?' ' I've thought of suicide,' Charley answerodj 'and made all the preliminary arrangements. I took out my razor-ra&e, j examined the edges, found the sharpest, and— put it carefully away again. I loaded all the chambers of my revolver, and locked ] it up. I sauntered by the classic banks of ihe Serpentine, sleeping tranquilly in the rayso'f the sunset (that sounds like poetry, | but I don't mean poetry). Of the three I tbj'iok 'I prefer it, and if the Worst comes to the" worst, it's there still, and it's pleasant and cool.' 1 How do your mother and sister take it?' Captain Hammond gloomily asked. ' My mother is one of those happy-go-lucKy apathetic sort of people who never bieak their hearts over ' anything. She \said, "0 • dear me !" several times, I and cried a little, Trix hasn't •time to.*'. bake it" at all. She is absorbed all day in attending her' father. The Ht turns out not to be dangerous at present, but he lies in a sort of stupor, a lethargy'! Rom which nothing can rouse him. Of course our first step will be to return to New ..York immediately. Beggars — and I take" it that's about what-we are at present — have no business at Langham's.' . Captain Hammond opened his bearded ,'ljps asHhough to speak, thought better of iVTeplttced his eigar-again between them in moody silence, and stared hard at nothing out of the window. • I called this afternoon upon the London agent of the Cunard ships.' resumed Charley, ' and found that one saile in four days. Providentially two cabins remained untaken ; I secured them at once. In four days, bhenj, we sail. Meantime, old fellow, if you'll drop in and speak a word to mother and Trix,,you will be doing a friendly deed. Poor-souls ! they are awfully cut up.' Captain Hammond started to his feet. He seized Charley's hand in a grip of iron. • Old boy !' he began — he never got further. The torrent ot eloquence dried up suddenly, and a shake of the hand that made Charley wince finished the {sentence. 'I shall be fullyoccupied in the meantime,' Charley said, taking his hat and turning to go, ' and they'll be a great deal alone. If I can find time I'll run down to Cheshire, and tell my cousin. As wo may not meet again, I shall like to say "good-bye."' He departed. There was no sleep that night in the I Stuanfc apartments. Mr Stuart was pronounced Qu.t of danger and able to travel, I but he still lay in that lethargic trance — not speaking at all, and seemingly not suffering. Next day Charley started for Cheshire. ' She doesn't deserve it,' his sister said, bitterly ; • I wouldn't go if I were you. She has her loyer —her fortune. What are we "or our misfortunes to her ? She has neither heart, nor- gratitude, nor affection. She isn't worth a thought, and never was — there !' , 1 1 wouldn't be too hard upon her, Trix, if I were you,' her brother answered coolly. • You would have taken Sir Victor yourself you know, if you could have got him. I, will go.' He went. The long, bright summer day passed ; at six he was in Chester. There was some delay in procuring a conveyance to Powyss Place, and the drive was a lengthy one. Twilight had entirely fallen, and lamps glimmered in the windows of the old stone mansion as he alighted. The servant stared, as he ushered him in, at his pale face and dusty garments. 1 You will i ell Miss Darrell I wish to see her at o'»ce, arid alone,' he said, slipping a shilling into the man's hand. •«. He took a seat «n the' familiar reception - room, and waited. Would she keep him long, he wondered — would she come to him — would she come at all ? Yes, he knew she would, let him send for her, married or Single, ,when and how he might, he knew ehe would 'come. She entered as the thought cros«ed his mind, hastily, with a' soft 'silken rustle, a waft of perfume. -He rose up and looked at her; so, for the., space of fiv_e seconds, they stood silently, face to face. To the last hour of his life Charley-Sfcuart remembered jier, as he saw her then, and always with ajsharp pang of the same pain. She was drefeseo! for a dinner party!. She wore violet s|ilk, * trailing far behind her, violet shot .with red., Her- vgraoeful shoulders rose up exquisitely' out of the point Jace trimmings,' her armSjSparkJed in, the lights. A\ necklace of amethysts set in clusters, with diamonds between, shone upon her necfc-^ amethysts and diamonds were in her Jea'rs a'ncl clasping tKe arms above the elbows. Her jwaving, dork hair was drawn back off her facfr; and crowned „ witfh an ivy , wreath. The soft, abundant wax lights, showered down upon her. So she stood, replendent as a queen, radiant as a goddess. There asv look on Charley Stuart's face, a light in his grey eye s s, very, rare to 'tee. He only bowed and stood aloof. , ' I have surprised you, I 'am sure—interrupted you, I;greatyy fear. You will par-

don Both, I know, when I tell you what has brought me here.' , In very few words he told her — the great tragedies •of life are -always * easily told. They were ruined — he had engaged their passage by the next steamer —li 6 had v merely run down as they were never likely to meet again — for the Bake of , ojd times, to say good-bye. ' ? Old times! Something rose in the girl's throat, and seemed to choke her. Oh, of all the base, heartless, mercenary, ungrateful wretches on earth, was there another so heartless, so ungrateful, as she ? Poor — Charley poor ! For one moment — one — the impulse came upon her to give up all — to go witb him to beggary if need be. O.ily i for one moment — 1 will do Mias DarrelL's excellent worldly wisdom this justice — only one. 4 1 see you are dressed for a party — I will not detain you a second longer. I could not depart comfortably, considering that you came over 1 in our care, without informing you .why we leave so abruptly. You are safe. Your destiny i& happily settled. I can give to your lather a good account of my stewardship. You have my feincerest wishes for your health and happiness, and I am sure you will never quite forget us. Good-bye, JVliss Darrell.' He held out his hand. 'My congratulations are premature, but let me offer them now to the futuie Lady Catheron.' ' Miss Darrell !' When, in all the years that were gone, had he ever called her that before ? She arose and gave him her hand — proud, pale. ' Ithankyou, 1 shesaid coldly. ' I will send Lady Helena aud Sir Victor to you at once. They will wish to see you of course. Good bye, Mr Stuart. Let us hope that things ftiay turn oub better than you think. Give my dearest love to Trix, if she will accept it. Once more, good-bye.' She swept to the door in her biil iant dress, her perfumed laces, her shining jewels — the glittering fripperies for which her womanhood was to be sold. He stood quite still in the centre of the room, as she had left him, watching her. So beautiful, so cold-blooded, he was thinking ; were all her kind like this ? And poets sing and novelists rave of woman's love ! A half smile came over his lips as he thought of it. It was very pretty to read ot in books ; in real life it was — like this ' She laid her hand on ohe silver handle of the dooi — then she paused— looked back, all the womanliness, all the passion of her life stirred to its depths. It was good-bye for ever to Charley. There was a great sob, and pride bowed and fell. She rushed back — two impetuous arms wenL round his neck ; she drew his face down and kissed him passionately — onee — twice. 'Good-bye, Charley — my darling— for ever and ever !' She threw him from her almost violently', and rushed out of the room. Whether she went to tell Lady Helena and Sir Victor of his presence he neither knew nor cared. He was in little mood to" meet either 6f them just then. Five minutes 1 later, and, under the blue silvery summer ni^ht he was whirling away . back to Chester. When the midnight ( stars shone in the sky he was halfway up to London, with Edith's first, last kis3 on '. his lips. (To be continued.)