ISHMAEL OR IN THE DEPTHS.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 435, 8 January 1890, Page 4

ISHMAEL OR IN THE DEPTHS.

' '- UJ BV ! •. ::>■.■ ~ ■. :i f MRS : EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH,

Author of “Self-Raised.” “Fair Play.” “The ii.-f ;r, -Missing: l ride," “A Noble Lord,” “How rjc}.-'v\ He Won Her," “The Princo of . , .... , Darkness,” “ Tried for Her I’/. Life,” Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER VIII. ’‘ Who’ could possibly be coming: to this : 'reedpte country mansion at one o’clock at night ? While Herman Brudenell paused . ‘in expectancy, taper in hand, Jovial once ‘ more opened the door and looked in. * ‘ Jovial, is that the sound of carriage 1 wheels, or do I only fancy so ?’ asked the 0 young man. ‘ Carriage wheels, marser, coming right to de house, too !’ answered the negro. ■ v “* Who on earth can be coming here at this hour of the night? We have not an *. acquaintance intimate enough with us to ■ take such a liberty. And it cannot be a belated traveller, for we are miles away from ’ any public road;’ 1 ; ‘ Dat’s jes’ what 1 been a-sayin’ to myself, sir." But we shall find out now directly.’

While this short conversation went on, . the carriage drew nearer and nearer, and ’‘■finally drove up to the door and stopped. Steps were rattled down,some one alighted ■ and the bell was rung. Jovial flew to open the door—curiosity “ giving wings to his feet. 1 ’ Mr Brudenell remained standing in the “ 'middle of the drawing-room, attentive to “what was going on without. He heard Jo’vial open the door and a woman’s voice inquire : ’ ‘ls this Brudenell Hall?’ i! “; ‘ln course it is, Miss.’ ‘ And are the family at home ?’ ‘Yes, Miss, dey most, in sen’al, is at dis hour ob de night, dough dey don’t expect ■' wisiters.’ ‘ Are all the family here ?’ * Dey is, Miss.’ ‘All right, coachman, you can take off the luggage,’ said the woman, and then her voice, sounding softer and farther off, spoke to some one still within the carriage : ‘ We are quite right, my lady ; this is Brudenell Hall; the family are all at home, and have not yet retired. Shall I assist your ladyship to alight ?’ Then a soft, low voice replied : * Yes, thank you, Phcebe. But first give the dressing-bag to the man to take in, and you carry Fidelle.’ ‘ Bub—bub—bub —bub— but,’ stammered the appalled Jovial, with his arms full cf lap-dogs and dressing-bags that the woman hadforced uponbim, ‘ you had bettersomeof you send in your names, and see if it won’t be ill-convenient to the fam’ly, afore you ’spects me to denounce a whole coach full of travellers to my marser! Who is you all, anyhow, young woman ?’ ‘ My lady will soon let you know who she is! Be careful of that dog! you are squeezing her! and here, take this shawl, and this bird-cage, and this carpet-bag, and these umbrellas,’ replied the woman, overwhelming him with luggage. ‘Here, coachman ! Bring that large trunk into the hall ! And come now, my' lady; the

luggage is all.right.’ As for Jovial, he dropped lap-dogs, birdcages, carpet-bags and umbrellas plump up'on the hall floor, and rushed into the drawing-room, exclaiming : ‘ Masser, it’s an invasion of de Goffs and Wandalls, or some other sich turriners ! And I think the milishy ought to be called ont.’ “ Don’t be a fool, if you please. These are travellers who have missed their way, and are in need of shelter this bitter night. Go at once, and show them in here, and then wake up the housekeeper to prepare refreshments,’ said Mr Brudenell. ‘lt is not my wishes to act foolish, marser; but it’s enough to constunnate the sensoriest person' to be tumbled in upon dis way at dis hour ob de night by a whole raft of strangers—men, and women, and dogs, and cats, birds included!’ mumbled Jovial, as he went to do his errand. But his services as gentleman usher seemed not to be needed by the stranger, for as he left the drawing-room, a lady entered, followed by a waiting maid. The lady was clothed in deep mourning, with a thick crape veil, concealing her face. As Herman advanced to welcome hex-, she threw aside her veil revealing a pale, sad, young face, shaded by thick curls of glossy black hair.

At the sight of that face, the young man started back, the pallor of death overspreading his countenance as he sank upon the nearest sofa, breathing in a dying voice ‘ Berenice ! —You here ! Is it you ? Oh Heaven have pity on us !’ ‘ Phoebe, go and find out the housekeeper, explain who I am, and have my luggage taken up to my apartment. Then order tea in this room,’ said the lady, perhaps with the sole view of getting rid of her attendant; for as soon as the latter had withdrawn, she threw off her bonnet, went to the overwhelmed young man, sat down beside him, put her arms around him, and drew his head down to meet her own, as she said caressingly : * You did not expect me, love? And my arrival has overcome you.’ ‘I thought you had been killed in that railway collision,’ came in hoarse and guttural, tones from a throat that seemed

suddenly parched to ashes. ‘ Poor Herman ! and you had rallied from that shock of grief; but was not strong enough to sustain a shock of joy ! I ought not to have given you this surprise ! But try now to compose yourself, and give me a welcome. lam here ; alive, warm, loving, hungry, even ! a woman and no spectre risen from the grave, although you look at me as if I were one ! Dear Herman, kiss me !' I have come a long way to join you 1’ she said, in a voice softer than the softest notes of the cushat dove. ‘ How was it that you were not killed ?’ demanded the young man, with the manner of one who exacted an apology for a griev-

ous wrong. ■’ ‘My dearest Herman, I came very near being crushed to death ; all that were in the same carriage with me perished. I was ■go seriously injured that I was reported among the killed ; but the report was contradicted ih the next day’s paper.’ ‘ How was it that you were not killed, I asked yon ?’ ’My dearest one, I suppose it was the wiil of Heaven that I should not be. Ido not know any other reason.’ ' Why did you not write and tell me you had escaped ?’ " " ‘ Dear Herman, how hoarsely you speak ’

And how ill you look ! I fear you have a very bad cold !’ said the stranger, tenderly. ‘ Why did you hot write and tell me of you'r escape, I ask you ? Why did you permit me to believe for months that you were no longer in life ?’

‘ Herman, I thought surely if you should p- have seen the announcement of my death in one paper, yog; would see it contradicted, ~ ;as,it was, in half a dozen others. And as for writing, X was incapable of that for months ! y; Among other injuries, my right hand was 'll crushed, Herman. And , that it has been saved at all is owing to a miracle ofmedical skill?

‘ Why did you not get some one else to write, then !’

* Dear Herman, you forget! There was no one in our secret ! I had no confidante at all! Besides, as soon as I could be moved, my father took me to Paris, to place me under the care of a celebrated surgeon there. Poor father ! he is dead now, Herman ! He left me all his money. I am one among the richeet- heiresses in England. But it is all yours now, dear Herman. When I closed my poor father’s eyes my hand was still too stiff to wield a pen ! And still, though there was no longer any reason for mystery, I felt that i would rather come to you at once than employ the pen of another to write. That is the l-eason, dear Herman, why I have been so long silent, and why at last I arrive so unexpectedly. I hope it is satisfactory. But what, is the matter, Herman ? You do not seem to be yourself ! You have not welcomed me ! you have not kissed me ! you have not even called me by name, since I first came in ! Oh ! can it be possible that, after all, you are not glad to see me?’ she exclaimed, rising from her caressing posture, and standing sorrowfully before him. Her face, which hadlooked pale and sad from the first, was now convulsed by some passinganguish. He looked at that suffering face, then coveredhiseyes with his hands and groaned. * What is this, Herman ? Are you sorry that I have come ? Do you no longer love me? What is the matter? Oh, speak to me !’ ‘ The matter is— ruin ! I am a felon, my lady ! And it were better had you been crushed to death in that railway collision than lived to rejoin me here ! I am a wretch, too base to live ! And I wish the earth would open beneath our feet and swallow us !’ The lady stepped back, appalled, and before she could think of a reply, the door opened, and Mrs Brudenell, who had been awakened by the disturbance, sailed into theroom. * It is my mother !’ said the young man. struggling for composure. And rising, he took the hand of the stranger and led her to the elder lady, saying : ‘ This is the Countess of Hurstmonceux, madam ; I commend her to your care.’ And having done this, he turned and abruptly left the room and the house.

CHAPTER IX. THE VICTIM. Good hath been boi-n of Evil, many times. As pearls and precious ambergris are grown, Fruits of disease in pain and sickness sown ; So think not to unravel, in thy thought, This mingled tissue, this mysterious plan. The Alchemy of Good through Evil wrought. T UPPER. ‘ But one more day, Hannah ! but one more !’ gaylv exclaimed Nora Worth, as she busied herself in setting the room in order on Friday morning. ‘ Yes, but one more day in any event ! For even if the weather should change in this uncertain season of the year, and a heavy fall of snow should stop Mrs Brudenell’s journey, that shall not prevent Mr Brudenell from acknowledging you as his wife on Sunday ; for it is quite time this were done, in order to save your good name, which I will nob have longer endangered,’ said the elder 3ister, with grim determination.

And she spoke with good reason ; it teas time the secret marriage was made public, for the young wife was destined soon to become a mother. ‘ Now, do not use any of these threats to Herman when he comes this morning, Hannah. Leave him alone ; it will all be right,’ said Nora, as she seabed herself at her spinning-wheel. Hannah was already seabed at her loom ; and there was but little more conversation between the sisters, for the whirr of the wheel and the clatter of the loom would have drowned their voices, so that to begin talking they must have stopped working. Nora’s caution to Hannah was needless ; for the hours of the forenoon passed away, and Herman did not appeal’. ‘I wonder why he does nob come?’ inquired Nora, straining her eyes down the path for the thousandth time that day. ‘ Perhaps, Nora, the old lady has been blowing him up, also,’ suggested the elder sister. ‘ No, no, no—that is not it ! Because if she said a word to him about his acquaintance with me, and particularly if she were to speak to him of me as she spoke to me of myself, he would acknowledge me that moment, and come and fetch me home, sooner than have me wrongly accused for an instant. No, Hannah, I will tell you what it is ; it is his mother’s last day at. home, and he is assisting her with her last preparations,’ said IN ora. ‘lt may be so,’ replied her sister; and once more the whirr and clatter put a stop to conversation. The afternoon drew on.

‘lt is strange he does not come !’ sighed Nora, as she put aside her wheel, and went to mend the fire and hang on the kettle for their evening meal. Hannah made no comment, but worked on ; for she was in a hurry to finish the piece of cloth then in the loom ; and so she diligently drove her shuttle until Nora had baked the biscuits, fried the fish, made the tea, set the table, and called her to supper.

• I suppose he has had a great deal to do, Hannah ; but perhaps he may get over here later in the evening,’ sighed Noia as they took their seats at the table. ‘ I don’t know, dear ; but it is my opinion that the old lady, even if she is too artful to blow him up before you, will contrive to keep him busy as long as possible to prevent his coming.’ ‘ Now, Hannah, I wish you wouldn’t speak so disrespectfully of Herman’s mother. If she tries to prevent him from coming to see me, it is because she thinks it her duty to do so, believing of me as badly as she does.’ ‘ Yes ! Ido nob know how you can breathe under such a suspicion ! It would smother me V

‘ I can bear it because I know it to be false, Hannah ; and soon to be proved so— Only one day more, Hannah ! only one day ! only one day !’—exclaimed Nora, gleefully clapping her hands. They finished their supper, set the room in order, lighted the candle, and sab down bo the knitting that was their usual evening occupation. Their needles were clicking merrily, when suddenly, in the midst of their work? footsteps were heard outside. ‘ There he is now !’ exclaimed Nora, gayly, starting up to open the door. But she was mistaken ; there he was not, but an old woman covered with snow.

‘ Law, Mrs Jones, is this you ?’ exclaimed Nora, in a tone of disappointment and vexation,-

‘ Yes, child—don’t ye see it’s me? Le’me come in out’n the snow,’ replied the dame, shaking herself and bustling in., . . ‘ Why, law, Mrs Jones, you don’t mean it’s snowing !’ said Hannah, mending the flre, and setting a chair for her visitor. ‘ Why, child, can’t you see it’s a-snowing —•fast as it can ? been snowing ever since dark - soft and fine and thick ' too, which is a sure sign it is agoing to be a deep fall; 1 shouldn't wonder if the snow was three or four feet deep to-morrow morning,’ said Mrs Jones, as she seated her&ejf in the warmest corner of the chimney, and drew up tlie front of her skirt to toast'her shins. . ‘ Nora, dear, pour out a glass.of,wine.for Mrs Jones; it mjay warm her up, and keep

her from taking cold.’ said Hannah, bospitab y. • _ - - Wineglass there was uone in the hut, but-Nora • generously poured out a large teacupful of-fine old port that-had been given her by Herman, and handed it to the visitor.

Mrs Jones’s palate was accustomed to no better stimulant than weak toddy made of cheap whisky and water, and sweetened with brown sugar. Therefoi-e to her this strong, sweet, rich wine was nectar. ‘ Now this ’ere is prime ! Now, where upon the face of the yebh did you get this ?’ she inquired, as she sniffed and sipped the beverage that was equally grateful to smell and taste. ‘ A friend gave it to Nora, who has been poorly, you know ; bub Nora does not like wine herself, and 1 would advise yon not to drink all that, for it would certainly get in your head,’ said Hannah. ‘ Law, child, I wish it would ; if it would do my head half as much good as it is a-doing of my insides this blessed minute, after being out in the snow, too ! Why, it makes me feel as good as preaching all over !’ smiled the old woman, slowly sniffing and sipping the elixir of life, while her bleared eyes shone over the rim of the cup like phosphorus. 4 Bub how came you out in the snow, Mrs Jones ?’ inquired Hannah. ‘ Why, my dear, good child, when did ever I stop for weather ? I’ve been amonbhly nussing up to Colonel Mervin’s for the last four weeks, and my time was up to-day, and so I sat out to come home ; and first 1 stopped on my way and gob my lea along of Mrs Spicer, at Brudenell, and now I s’pose I shall have to stop all night along of you. Can you ’commodate me ?’ ‘Of course we can,’ said Hannah. ‘ You can sleep with me and Nora ; you will be rather crowded, but that won’t matter on a cold night; anyway, it will be better than for you to ti-y to get home in this snowstorm.’

* Thank y’, children ; and now, to pay you for that, I have got sich a story to tell you ! I’ve been saving of it up till I gob dry and warm, ’cause I knew if I did but give you a bint of it, you’d be for wanting to know all the particulars afore I was ready to tell ’em ! But now I can sit myself down for a good comfortable chat! And it is one, too, I bell you ! good as a novel !’ said the old woman, nodding her head knowingly. ‘ Oh, what is it about, Mrs Jones ?’ inquired Hannah and Nora, in a breath, as they stopped knitting and drew their chairs nearer together. ‘ Well, then,’ said the dame, hitching her chair between the sisters, placing a hand upon each of their laps, and looking fi-om one to the other —‘ what would ye give me to know, now ?’ * Nonsense ! a night’s lodging and your breakfast!’ laughed Nora. ‘ And ye’ll get your story cheap enough at that ! And now listen and open your eyes as wide as ever you can !’ said the dame, repeating her emphatic gestures of laying her hands heavily upon the knees of the visitors and looking intently from one eager face to the other— ‘ Mr—Herman— Brudenell —have—got—a—wife ! There, now ! What d’ye think o’ that ? ain’t you struck all of a heap ?’ No, they were not; Hannah’s face was perfectly calm ; Nora’s, indeed, was radiant, nob with wonder, but with joy ! * There, Hannah ! What did I tell you ?’ she exclaimed. ‘ Mrs Brudenell has spoken to him and he has owned his marriage ! But, dear Mrs Jones, tell me—was his mother very , very angry with him about it ?’ she inquired, turning to the visitor. ‘Angry? Dear heart, no! pleased as punch ’ ’peared ’s if a great weight was lifted off her mind,’ replied the latt6r. ‘ There again, Hannah ! What else did I tell you ! Herman’s mother is a Christian lady! She ill-used me only when she thought I was bad; now Herman has owned his marriage, and she is pleased to find that it is all right! Now isn’t that good ? Oh, I know I shall love her, and make her love me, too, more than any high bred, wealthy daughter-in-law ever could ! And 1 shall serve her more than any of her own children ever would ! And she will find out the true worth of a faithful, affectionate, devoted heart, that would die to save her or her son, or live to serve both ! And she will love me dearly yet!’ exclaimed Nora, with a glow of enthusiasm suffusing her beautiful face.

‘ Now, what upon the face of the yeth be that gal a-talking about ? I want to tell my story !’ exclaimed Mrs Jones, who had been listening indignantly, without comprehending entirely Nora’s interruption. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs Jones, laughed the latter; ‘I should nob have jumped to the conclusion of your story. I should have let you tell it in your own manner; though I doubt if you know all about it either, from the way you talk.’ • ‘ Don’t I, though ! I should like to know who knows more.’

‘ Well, now, tell us all about it!’ ‘ You’ve gone and put me out now, and I don’t know where to begin.’ ‘ Well, then, I'll help you out—what time was it that Mr Brudenell acknowledged hia private marriage ?’ ‘ There, now : how did you know it was a private marriage? / never said nothing about it being private • yet. Hows’ever I s’pose you so clever you guessed it, and any way you guessed right; it were a private marriage. And when did he own up to it, you ask ? Why, not as long as he could help it, you may depend ! Not until his lawful wiie actually drove up at Brudenell Hall, and that was last night about one o’clock !’ ‘ Oh, there you are very much mistaken ; it was but seven in the evening,’ said Nora.

‘There now, again ! how do you know anything about it ? Somebody’s been here afore me and been a-telling of you, I suppose ; and a-telling of you wrong, too !’ petulantly exclaimed the old woman. ‘ \o, indeed, there has not been a soul here to-day ; neither have we heard a word from Brudenell Hall! Still, I think you must be mistaken as to the hour of the •wife’s arrival, and perhaps as to other particulars, too ; but excuse me, dear Mrs Jones, and go on and tell the story.’ ‘Well, but what made you say it was seven o’clock when his wife arove ?’ inquired the gossip. ‘ Because that was really the hour that I went up to Brudenell. Hannah was with me and knows it.’ 1 • Law, honey, were you up to Brudenell yesterday evening.’ •• “■ ; ‘To be sure I was ! I thought you'knew it! Haven’t y° u just that the marriage was not acknowledged until his wife arrived ?’ r '••• : ‘ Why, yes, honey ; but what’s that to do with it? with you being there, I mean? Seems to me there’s a 1: puzzlement here between us? Did you -stay there till one o’clock, honey ?’ ~ ; ■> ■ ‘Why, no, of course not! We came away at eight. ’ : ‘ Then I’m blessed If I know what you’re a-driving at ! For, fin course, if you come away at eight o’clock, you couldn’t a-seen her. 7 v « ■ - ‘ ‘ i ‘ Seen whomV questioned Nora. ‘ Why, laws, his wife and child, as never arove till one o’clock.’ ' Nora burst out. laughing ; and in the midst of her mirthfulness exclaimed : ‘There, now, Mrs Jones, I thought you didn’t know half the rights of the story you

promised to tell us, and now I’m sure of it ! Seems like you’ve heard Mr Brudenell has acknowledged his marriage ; but you haven’t even found out who the lady is ! Well, I could tell you ; bub I won’t yet, without his leave. 5 ‘So you know all about it, after all? How did you find out ?’ ‘ Never mind how ; you’ll find out how I knew it when you hear the bride’s name,’ laughed Nora. ‘ Bub I have hearn the bride’s name ; and a rum un it is, too ! Lady, Lady Hoist? no! Hurl? no! Hurt? yes, that is it! Lady Hurt-me-so, that’s the name of the lady he’s done married !’ said the old woman, confidently. ‘ Ha. ha, ha! I tell you what, Hannah, she has had too much wine, and it has got into her poor old head !’ laughed Norah, laying her hand caressingly upon the redcotton handkerchief that covered the grey hair of the gossip. ‘ No, it ain’t, nubher ! I never drunk the half of what you gin me. I put it up there on the mantel, and kivei-ed it over with the brass candlestick, to keep till I go to bed. No, indeed ! my head-piece is as clear as a bell,’ said the old woman, nodding. ‘ Bub what put it in there, then, that Mr Herman Brudenell has married a lady with a ridiculous name?’ laughed Nora, ‘ Acause he have, honey ! which I would a-told you al about ef you hadn’t a-hept on, and kept on, and kept on interrupting of me !’ ‘Nora,’ said Hannah, speaking for the first time in many minutes, and looking very gi-avely, ‘she has something to tell, and we had better let her tell it.’ ‘Very well, then ! I’m agreed ! Go on, Mrs Jones !’ ‘ Hem m-m !’ began Mrs Jones, loudly clearing her throat. ‘ Now I’ll tell you, jest as I gob it, this arternoon, first from Uncle Jovial, and then from Mrs Spicer, and then from Madame Brudenell herself, and last of all from my own precious eyesight ! Tears like Mr Herman Brudenell fell in ’long o’ this Lady Hurl-my-soul— Hurb-me-so, I mean—whilehe wasoub yonder in forring parts. And ’pears she wasa very greablady indeed, and abeautiful young widder besides. So she and Mr Brudenell, they , fell in love long of each other. But law, you see her kinfolks was bitter agin her a-marrying of him—which they called him a commoner, as isn’t true, you know, ’cause he is not one of the common sort at all—though I s’pose they being so high, looked down upon him as sich. Well, . anyways, they were as bir.ter against her marrying of 'him, us his kinsfolks would be agin him a-marrying of you. And, to be sux-e, being of a widder. she adone as she pleased, only she didn’t want to give no offence to her old father, who was very rich and very proud of her , who was his onliesb child he ever had in the world ; so to make a long rigamarole short, they runned away, so they did, Mr Brudenell and her, and they gob married private, and never let the old man know it long as ever he lived—

‘Hannah, what is she talking about?’ gasped Nora, who heard the words, but couid not take in the sense of this story. ‘ Hush ! I do not know yet myself, there is some mistake! listen,’ whispered Hannah, putting her arms over her young sister’s shoulders, for Nora was then seated on the floor beside Hannah’s chair, with her head upon Hannah’s lap. Mrs Jones went straight on. ‘ And so that was easy enough, too ; as soon arter they was married, Mr Herman Brudenell, you know ; he was a-coming-of age, and so he had bo be home bo do business long of his guardeens, and bake possession of his ’states and so on : and so he come, you know, and kept his birthday last April! And—’ ‘ Hannah ! Hannah ! what does this all mean ? It cannot be true ! I know it is nob true ! And yet, oh, Heaven ! every word she speaks goes through my heart like a red hot spear ! Woman ! do you mean to say that Mr Herman Brudenell left a wife in Europe when he came back here ?’ cried Nora, clasping her hands in vague, incredu lous anguish. ‘ Hush, hush, Nora, be quiet, my dear. The very question you ask does wrong to your —to Herman Brudenell, who with all his faults is still the soul of honour,’ murmured Hannah, soothingly. ‘ Yes, I know he is ; and yet—but there is some stupid mistake,’ sighed Nora, dropping her head upon her sister’s lap. Straight through this low, loving talk went the words of Mrs Jones :

‘ Well, now, I can’t take upon myself to say whether it was Europe or London, or which of them outlandish places; bub, anyways, in some on ’em he did leave his wife a-living along of her ’pa. Rub you see, ’bout a month ago, her ’pa he died, a-leaving of all his property to his onliesbdarter, Lady Hoist, Hurl,Hurt, Hurb-my-boe. No ! Hurt me-so, Lady Hurt-me-so ! I never can get the hang of her outlandish name. Well, then, you know there wa’n’b no call to keep the marriage secret no more. So what does my lady do bub want to put a joyful surprise on the top of her husband : so without writing of him a word of what she was a-gwine to do, soon as ever the old man was buried and the will read, off she sets and comes over the sea to New York, and took a boat there for Raymoubh, and hired of a carriage and rid over to Brudenell Hall, and arrove there at one o’clock last night, as I tolled you afore !’ ‘ Are you certain that all this is true ?’ murmured Hannah, in a husky undertone. * Hi, Miss Hannah, didn’t Jovial, and Mrs Spicer, and Madam Brudenell herself tell me ? And besides I seen the young cre’tur’ myself, with my own eyes, dressed in deep mourning, which it was a fine black crape dress out and out,, and a sweet pretty cre’tur’ she was boo, only so pale !’ ‘Hannah!’ screamed Nora, starting up, ■‘ it is false ! 1 know it is false ! but I shall go raving mad if I do not prove it so !’ And she rushed to the door, tore it open, and ran out into the night and storm.

* What in the name of the law ails her?’ inquired Mrs Jones. ‘Nora! Nora! Nora!’ cried Hannah, running after her. ‘Come back ! come in ! you will get your death ! Are you crazy ? Where are you going in the snow storm this time of the night, without your bonnet and shawl, too ?’ ‘ To Brudenell Hall, to find out the rights of this story,’ were the words that came from a great distance wafted by ths wind. 1 ‘Come back ! come back !’■ shrieked Hannah. But there was no answer. Hannah rushed into the hub, seized her own bonnet and shawl and Nora’s, and ran out again. ‘ Where are you going ? What’s the matter ? W hat ails the girl?’ cried old Mrs Jones. ; ~ , , Hannah never even thought of answering her, bub sped down the narrow path leading into the valley, and through it up towards Brudenell as fast ah the dark night, the falling snow and the Slippery ground would permit; but it was boo late ; the fleet-footed Nora was far in advance.

CHAPTER X. THE RIVALS. One word—yes ov no! and it means Death or life! Speak, are you his wife ? H .. —Anon. Heedless as the mad, of night, storm and danger, Nora hurried desperately on. She was blinded by the darkness and smothered

by the thickly-falling snow, and torn by the thorns and briars of the brushwood ; but not for these impediments would the frantic girl abate her speed. She slipped often, hurt herself sometimes, and once she fell and rolled down the steep hillside until stopped by a ciump of cedars. But she scrambled up, wet, wounded and bleeding, and tore on through the depths of the valley and up the opposite heights. Panting, breathless, dying almost, she reached Brudenell Hall. 'The house was closely shut up to exclude the storm, and outside the strongly-barred window-shutters there was a barricade of drifted snow. The roofs were all deeply covered with snow, and it was only by its faint white glare in the darkness that Nora found her way to the house. Her feet sank half a leg deep in the drifts as she toiled on towards the servants’ door. All was darkness there ! if there was any light, it was too closely shut in to gleam abroad. For a moment Nora leaned against the wall to recover a little strength, and then she knocked. But she had to repeat the summons again and again before the door was opened. Then old Jovial appeared—his mouth and eyes wide open with astonishment at seeing the visitor. ‘Name o’ de law, Miss Nora, dis you ? What de matter? Is you clean tuk leave of vour senses to be a-comin’ up here, dis hour of de night in the snow-storm ?’ he cried. ‘Let me in, Jovial. Is Mr Herman Brudenell at home?’ gasped Nora, as without waiting for an answer she pushed past him and sank into the nearest chair. ‘ Marser Bredinell home ? No, miss. Nor likewise been home since late last night. He went away ’mediately arter interdoocing de young madam to de ole one ; which she tumbled in upon us with a whole raft of waiting maids and men and dogs and gold fishes, and debil knows what all besides, long arter midnight last night—and so he hasn’t been hearn on since, and de family isinde greatest’stress andanxiety. Particular she, poor thing, as come so far to see him ! And we no more 3’picioning as he had a wife, nor anything at all. ’till she tumbled right in on top of us ! Law, Miss Nora, somefin werry particular must have fotch you out in the snow to-night, and ’deed you clo look like you had heard bad news. Has you hearn anything ’bout him, honey ?’ ‘ls it true, then ?’ moaned Nora, in a dying tone, without heeding his last question.

‘ Which true, honey ? ’ ‘ About the foreign lady coming here last night and claiming to be his wife ?’ ‘As true as gospel, honey—which you may judge the astonishment it put on to us all.’ ‘Jovial, where is the lady ?’ ‘Up in de drawing-room, honey, if she has not ’tired to her chamber.’ ‘Show me up there, Jovial, I must see her for myself,’ Nora wailed, with her head fallen upon her chest. ‘ Now, sure as the world, honey, you done heard somefin ’bout de poor young marser ? Is he come to an accident, honey ?’ inquired the man, very uneasily. * Who ?’ questioned Nora, vaguely. ‘ The young marser, honey ; Mr Herman Brudenell, chile !’

‘What of him?’ cried Nora —a sharp, new anxiety added to her woe. ‘ Why, law, honey, ain’t I jest been atelling of you ? In one half an hour arter de forein lady tumbled in, young marse lef’ de house an’ hain’t been seen nor hoard on since. I fought maybe you’d might a hearn what’s become of him. It is mighty hard on her, poor young creatur, to be fairly forsok de very night she come.’ ‘Ah,’ cried Nora, in the sharp tones of pain—‘take me to that lady at once ! I must, must see her ! I must hear from her own lips—the truth !’ ‘Come along then, chile ! Sure as the worl’ you has hearn somefin, dough you won’t tell me : for I sees it in your face ; you’s as white as a sheet, an’ all shakin’ like a leaf an’ ready to drop down dead ! You won’t let on to me, but mayhaps you may to her,’ said Joviai, as he led the way along the lighted halls to the drawing-room door, which he opened, announcing : ‘Here’s Miss Nora Worth, mistess, come to see Lady Hurt-my-soul.’ And as soon as Nora, more like a ghost than a living creature, had glided in, he shut the door, went down on his knees outside and applied his ear to the keyhole.

Meanwhile Nora found herself once more in the gorgeously furnished, splendidly decorated and brilliantly lighted drawingroom that had been the scene of her last night’s humiliation. But she did not think of that now, in this supreme crisis of her fate.

Straight before her, opposite the door by which she entered, was an interesting tableau in a dazzling light—it was a sumptuous fireside picture—the coal-fire glowing between the polished steel bars of the wide grate, the white marble mantelpiece,and above that, reaching to the lofty ceiling, a full-length portrait of Herman Brudenell; before the fire an inlaid mosaic table, covered with costly books, workboxes, hand-screens, a vase of hothouse flowers, and other elegant trifles of luxury; on the right of this, in a tall easy-chair, sat Mrs Brudenell; on this side sat the Misses Brudenell; these three ladies were all dressed in slight mourning, if black silk dresses and white lace collars can be termed such ; and they were all engaged in the busy idleness of crochet work; but on p. luxurious crimson velvet sofa, drawn up to the left side of the fire, reclined a lady dressed in the deepest mourning, and having her delicate, pale, sad face half veiled by her long, soft black ringlets. While Nora gazed breathlessly upon this pretty creature, whom she recognised at once as the stranger, Mrs Brudenell slowly raised her head and stared at Nora.

‘ You here, Nora Worth ! How dare you ? Who had the insolence to let you in ?’ she said, rising and advancing to the bell-cord. But before she could pull it, Nora Worth lifted her hand with that commanding power despair often lends to the humblest, and said : ‘ Stop, madam, this is no time to heap unmerited scorn upon one crushed to the dust already, and whose life cannot possibly offend you or cumber the earth much longer. I wish to speak to that lady.’ 4 With me!’ exclaimed Lady Hurstmonceux, rising upon her elbow and gazing with curiosity upon the beautiful statue that was gliding toward her as if it were moved by invisible means. Mrs Brudenell paused with her hand upon the bell - tassel and looked at Nora, whose lovely face seemed to have been thus turned to stone in some moment of mortal suffering, so agonised and yet so still it looked ! Her hair had fallen loose and hung in long, wet, black strings about her white bare neck, for she had neither shawl nor bonnet; her clothes were soaked with the melted snow, and she had lost one shoe in her wild night walk. Mrs Brudenell shuddered with aversion as she looked at Nora ; when she found her voice she said: , . ‘Do not let her approach you, Berenice. She is but a low creature; not lit to speak to one of the decent negroes even ; and be-' sides she is wringing wet and will give you a cold.’

‘ Poor thing! .she will certainly take one herself, mamma; she looks too miserable to

live ! If you please, I would rather talk with her ! Come here, my poor, poor girl ! what is it that troubles you so ? Tell me ! Can I help you ? I will, cheerfully, if I can; ’ and the equally * poor ’ lady, poor in happiness as Nora herself, put her hand in her pocket and drew forth an elegant portmonnaie of jet. * Piit up your purse, lady ! It is not help that I want—save from God ! I want but a true answer to one single question, if you will give it to me. ’ ‘ Certainly I will, my poor creature ; but stand nearer the fire; it will dry your clothes while we talk.’ ‘ Thank you, madam, I do not need to.’ ‘ Well, then, aßk me the question that you wish to have answered. Don’t be afraid, I give you leave, you know,’ said the lady, kindly. Nora hesitated, shivered, and gasped; but could not then ask the question that was to confirm her fate ; it was worse than throwing the dice upon which a whole fortune was staked ; it was like giving the signal for the axe to fall upon her own neck. At last, however, it came, in low, fearful, but distinct words : * Madam , are you the wife of Mr Herman Brudenell V ‘ Nora Worth, how dare you ? Leave the room and the house this instant, before I send for a constable and have you taken away !’ exclaimed Mrs Brudenell, violently pulling at the bell-cord. ‘ Mamma, she is insane, poor thing ! do not be hard on her,’ said Lady Hurstmonceux, gently; and then, turning to poor Nora, she answered, in the manner of one humouring a maniac : ‘ Yes, my poor girl, I am the wife of Mr Herman Brudenell. Can Ido anything for you ?’ ‘ Nothing, madam,’ was the answer that came.sad, sweet and low as the wail of an Aiolian harp swept by the south wind. The stranger lady’s eyes were bent with deep pity upon her ; but before she could speak again Mrs Brudenell broke into the discourse by exclaiming : ‘Do not speak to her, Berenice! I warned you not to let her speak to you, but you would not take my advice, and now you have been insulted.’ ‘ But, mamma, she is insane, poor thing ; some great misery has turned her brain ; I am very sorry for her,’ said the kind-hearted stranger. ‘ I tell you she is not ! She is as sane as you are Look at her ! Not in that amazed, pitying manner, but closely and critically, and you will see what she is ; one of those low creatures who are the shame of women and the scorn of men. And if she has misery for her portion, she has brought it upon herself, and it is a just punishment. 3 The eyes of Lady Hurstmonceux turned again upon the unfortunate young creature before her, and this time she did examine her attentively, letting her gaze rove over her form. This time Nora did not lift up her hands to cover her burning face ; that marble face could never burn or blush again; since speaking her last words Nora had remained standing like one in a trance, stone still, with her head fallen upon her breast and her arms hanging listlessly by her side. She seemed dead to all around her. Nob so Lady Hurstmonceux : as her eyes roved over this form of stone, her pale face suddenly flushed, her dark eyes flashed, and she sprang up from the sofa, asking the same question that Mrs Brudenell had put the evening before. ‘ Girl ! what is it to you whether Mr Brudenell has a wife or nob? What are you to Mr Herman Brudenell V

* Nothing, madam ; nothing for evermore,’ wailed Nora, without looking up or changing her posture. ‘ Humph ! I am glad to hear it, I am sure !’ grunted Mrs Brudenell. ‘ Nothing? you say, nothing ?’ questioned Lady Hurstmonceux. ‘Nothing in this world, madam; nothing whatever ! so be at ease.’ It was another wail of the storm-swept heartstrings. ‘ I truly believe you ; I ought to have believed without asking you ; bub who, then, has been your betrayer, my poor girl ?’ inquired the young matron in tones of deepest pity.

This question at length shook the statue ; a storm passed through her ; she essayed to speak, but her voice failed. * Tell me, poor one ; and I will do what I can to light your wrongs. Who is it?’ * Myself !’ moaned Nora, closing her eyes as if to shut out all light and life, while a spasm drew back the corners of her mouth and convulsed her face.

4 Enough of this, Berenice ! You forget the girls !' said Mrs Brudenell, shortly, putting her hand to the bell and ringing another peal. 4 1 beg your pardon, madam ; Idid indeed forget the presence of the innocent and happy in looking upon the erring and wretched,' said Lady Hurstmonceux. 4 That will do,’ said the elder lady. ‘ Here is Jovial at last. Why did you not come when I first rang ?’ she demanded of the negro, who now stood in the door. 4 1 ’clare, mist’ess, I never heerd it de fust time, madam.’

4 Keep your eyes open in future, or it will be the worse for you ! And now what excuse can you offer for disobeying my express orders, and not only admitting this creature to the house, but even bringing her to our presence ?’ demanded the lady, severely. 4 1 ’clare ’fore my ’vine Marster, madam, when Miss Nora come in de storm to de kitchen-door, looking so wild and scared like, and asked to see de young madam dere, I fought in my soul how she had some news of de young marster to tell ! an’ dat was de why I denounced her into dis drawin’-room.’

4 Do not make such a mistake again ! if you do I will make you suffer severely for it! And you. shameless girl! if you presume to set foot on these premises but once again, J will have you sent to the work-house as a troublesome vagrant.’ Nora did not seem to hear her ; she had relapsed into her stony trance-like stupor. 4 And now, sir, since you took the liberty of bringing her in, put her out—out of the room, and out of the house !’ said Mrs Brudenell. ‘Mamma! what! at midnight! in the snow-storm !’ exclaimed Lady Hurstmonceux, in horror. 4 Yes ! she shall not desecrate the bleakest garret, or the lowest cellar, or barest barn on the premises!’ 4 Mamma ! It would be murder ! She would perish !’ pleaded the young lady. 4 Not she ! Such animals are used to exposure ! And if she and all like her were to “ perish,” as you call it, the world would be so much the better for it! They are the pests of society!’ ‘Mamma, in pity, look at her ! consider her situation ! She would surely die ! and not alone, mamma ! think of that!’ pleaded Berenice.

4 Jovial! am I to be obeyed or not ?’ sternly demanded the elder lady. 4 Come, Mis 3 Nora ; come, my poor, poor child,’ said Jovial, in a low tone, taking the arm of the miserable girl, who turned, mechanically, to be led away. 4 Jovial, stop a moment ! Mrs Brudenell, I have surely some little authority in my husband’s house ; authority that I should be ashamed to claim in the presence of his mother, were it not to be exercised in the cause of humanity. This girl must not leave the house to-night,’ said Berenice, respectfully, but firmly.

‘Lady Hurstmonceux, if you did but know what excellent cause, you have, to loathe that creature, you would nob oppose my orders respecting her ; if you keep her under your roof this night, you degrade yourself; and, finally, if she does not leave the house at once, I and my daughters must —midnight and snow-storm notwithstanding. We are nob accustomed to domicile with such wretches,’ said the old lady, grimly. Berenice was not prepared for this extreme issue ; Mrs Brudenell’s threat of departing with her daughters at midnight, and in the storm, shocked and alarmed her, and the other words re awakened her jealous misgivings. Dropping the hand that she had laid protectingly upon Nora's shoulder, she said : *lb shall be as you please, madam, I shall not interfere again.’

This altercation had now aroused poor Nora to the consciousness that she herself was a cause of dispute between the two ladies ; so putting her hand to her forehead and looking around in a bewildered way, she said : ‘No ; it is true ; I have no right to stop here now ; I will go !’ ‘Jovial,’ said Berenice, addressing the negro, ‘ have you a wife and cabin of. your own ?’ ‘Yes, madam ; at your sar vice.’ ‘ Then let it be at my service in good earnest to-night; take this poor girl home, and ask your wife to take , care of her to-night; and receive this as your compensation,’ she said, putting a piece of gold in the hand of the man. * There can be no objection to that, I suppose, madam,’ she inquired of Mrs Brudenell. ‘ None in the world, unless Dinah objects ; it is nob every honest negro woman that will consent to have a creature like that thrust upon her. Take her away, Jovial!’ ‘ Come, Miss Nora, honey ; my ole ’oman ain’t agwine to turn you away for your misfortins ; we leabes dat to white folk ; she’ll be a mother to you, honey ; and I’ll be a father ; an' I wish in my soul as I knowed de man as wronged you ; if I did, if I didn’t give him a skin-full ob broken bones if he was as white as cotton wool, if I didn’t, my name ain’t Mr Jovial Brudenell, esquire, and I ain’t no gentleman. And if Mr Reuben Gray don’t hunt him up and punish him, he ain’t no gentleman, neither !' said Jovial, as he carefully led his halffainting charge along the passages back to the kitchen. The servants had all gone to bed, except Jovial, whose duty it was, as major-domo, to go all around the house the last thing at night, to fasten the doors and windows, and put out the fires and lights. So when they reached the kitchen it was empty, though a fine fire was burning in the ample chimney. ‘ There, my poor hunted hare, you sit down there and warm yourself good, while I go an’ wake up my ole ’oman, an’ fetch her here to get something hob for you, afore bakin’ of you to de cabin, an’ likewise to make a fire dere for you ; for I ’spects Dinah hab let it go out,’ said the kindhearted old man, gently depositing his charge upon a seat in the chimney corner, and leaving her there while he went to prepare for her comfort. When she was alone, Nora, who had scarcely heeded a word of his exhortation, sab for a few minutes gazihg wofully into vacancy ; then she pub her hand to her forehead, passing it to and fro, as if to clear away a mist —a gesture common to human creatures bewildered with sorrow ; then suddenly crying out: ‘My Lord ! It is true ! and I have no business here ! It is a sin and shame to be here ! or anywhere ! anywhere in the world !’ And throwing up her arms with a gesture of wild despair, she sprang up, tore open the door, and, the second time that night, rushed out into the storm and darkness.

The warm light kitchen remained untenanted for perhaps twenty minutes, when Jovial, with his Dinah on his arm and a lantern in his hand, entered, Jovial grumbling : 4 Law-a mity knows, I don’t see what she should be a-wantin’ to come here for ! particlar arter de treatment she ’ceived from ole mis’tess las’ night ! tain’tsich a par’dise nohow for nobody much less for sAe ! Hi, ’oman !’ he suddenly cried, turning the rays of the lantern in all directions, though the kitchen was quite light enough without them. 4 What de matter now, ole man?’ asked Dinah. 4 Where Nora ? I lef’ her here an’ she ain’t here now ! Where she gone ?’ 4 Hi, ole man, what you ax me for? How you ’spect I know ?’ 4 Well, I ’clare ef dat don’t beat eberything !’ 4 Maybe she done gone back in de house ag’in !’ suggested Dinah. 4 Maybe she hab ; 1 go look; but stop, first let me look out’n door to see if she went away,’ said Jovial, going to the door and holding the lantern down near the ground.

‘Yes, Dinah, ’oman, here day is; little foot prints in de snow a-goin’ away from de house an’ almost covered up now ! She done gone ! Now dat beat eberyting! Now she’ll be froze to death, ’less I. goes out in de storm to look for her ; an’ maybe she’ll be froze anyway; for dere’s no sartainty ’bout my findin’ of her. Now ain’t dat a trial for any old coloured gentleman’s narves ? Well den, here goes ! Wait for me here, ole ’oman, till I come back, and if 1 nebber comes all I leabes is yourn, you know,’ sighed the old man, setting down the lantern and beginning to button up his great coat, preparatory to braving the storm. But at this moment a figure came rushing through the snow towards the kitchen door.

4 Here she is now ; now, ole ’oman ! get de gruel ready !’ exclaimed Jovial, as the snow-covered form rushed in— 4 no, it ain’t, nyther! Miss Hannah ! My goodness, gracious me alibe, is all de worl’ gone ravin’, starin’, ’stracted mad to-night? What the debil fotcli you out in de storm at midnight? he asked, as Hannah Worth threw off her shawl and stood in their midst.

4 Oh, Jovial ! I am looking for poor Nora! Have you seen anything of her?’ asked Hannah, anxiously. 4 She was here a-sittin’ by dat fire, not half an hour ago. And I lef’ her to go and fetch my ole ’oman to get somefin hot, and when I come back ies’ dis very minute, she’s gone !’

4 Where, where did she go ?’ asked Hannah, clasping her hands in the agony of her anxiety.

4 Out o’ doors, I see by her little footprints a-leading away from de door ; dough I ’spects dey’s filled up by dis time. I was jes’ agwine out to look for'her.’ 4 Oh, bless you, Jovial!’ 4 Which way do you think she went Miss Hannah ?’

4 Heme again, I suppose, poor child.’ 4 It’s a wonder you hadn’t met her.’ * The night is so dark, and then yon know there is more than one path leading from Brudenell down into the valley. And if she went that way she took a different path from the one I came by.’ ‘I go look for her now! I won’t lose no more time talkin', and the old.man clapped his hat upon his, head and picked up his lantern.

‘ I will go with you, said Nora’s sister. ‘No, Miss Hannah, don’t you ’tempt it; tain’fc no night for no’ oman to be out.’ 4 And dat a fact, Miss Hannah ! don’t you go ! I can’t ’mit of it! You stay here long o’ me till my ole man fines her and brings her back here ; an’ I’ll have a bit of supper ready, an’ you’ll both stop wid us all night, suggested Dinah. ‘I thank you both, but I cannot keep still while Nora is in danger ! I must help in the search for her,’insisted Hannah, with the obstinacy of a loving heart, as she wrapped her shawl more closely around her shoulders and followed the old man out in the midnight storm. It was still snowing very fast. Her guide weht a step in front with the lantern, throwing a feeble light upon the soft white path that seemed to sink under their feet as they walked. The old man peered about on the right and left and straight before him, so as to miss no object in his way that might be Nora. 4 Jovial,’ said Hannah, as they crept along, 4 is it true about the young foreign lady that arrived here last night and turned out to be the wife of Mr Herman ?’ 4 All as true as gospel, honey,’ replied the old man, who, in his love of gossip, immediately related to Hannah all the particulars of the arrival of Lady Hurstmon ceux and the flight of Herman Brudenell. 4 Seems like he run away at the sight of his wife, honey ; and ’pears like she thinks so, too, ’cause she’s taken of it sorely to heart, scarce holdin’ up her head since. And it is a pity for her, too, poor young thing ; for she’s a sweet perty young cre’tur’, and took Miss Nora’s part like ar. angel when de old madam was a-callin’ of her names, and orderin’ of her out’n de house.’ ‘Calling her names ! ordering her out of the house ! Did Mrs Brundenell dare to treat Nora Worth so ?’ cried Hannah, indignantly. 4 Well, honey, she did rayther, that’s a fact. Law, honey, you know yourself how ha’sh ladies is to poor young gals as has done wrong. A hawk down on a chicken ain’t nuffin to ’em !’ 4 But my sister has done no wrong; Nora Worth is as innocent as an angel,as honourable as an empress. I can prove it, and I will prove it, let the consequences to the Brudenells be what they may ! Called her ill names, did she ? Very well ! whether my poor wronged child lives or dies this bitter night. I will clear her character tomorrow, let who will be blackened instead of her ! Ordered her out of the house, did she ? All right! we will soon see how long the heir himself will be permitted to stop there ! There’s law in the land, for rich as well as poor, I reckon ! Threatened her with a constable, did she ? Just so ! 1 wonder how she will feel when her own son is dragged off to prison ! That will take down —’ Hannah’s words were suddenly cut short, for Jovial, who was going on before her, fell sprawling over some object that lay directly across the path, and the lantern roiled down the hill. What is the matter, Jovial?’ she inquired. ‘Honey, I done fell—fell over somefin’ or order ; it is—law, yes—’ 4 What, Jovial ?’ ‘lt’s a 'oman, honey; feels like Miss Nora.’ In an instant Hannah was down on her knees, beside the fallen figure, clearing away the snow that covered it. ‘lt is Nora,’ she said, trying to lift the insensible body; but it was a cold, damp, heavy weight, deeply bedded in the snow, and resisted all her efforts. 4 Oh, Jovial, I am afraid she is dead ! and 1 cannot get her up ! You come and cry !’ wept Hannah. 4 Well, there now, I knowed it—l jest did ; I knowed if she was turned out in de snow-storm this night, she’d freeze to death ! Ole mist’ess ain’t no better dan a she-bearess !’ grumbled the old man, as he rooted his arms under the cold dead weight of the unfortunate girl, and with much tugging succeeded in raising her. 4 Now, den, Miss • Hannah, hadn’t I better toke her back to my ole ’oman ?’ ‘No; we are much nearer the hut than the hall, and even if it were not so, I would not have her taken back there.’ They were in fact going up the path leading to the hut on the top of the hill. So, by dint of much lugging and tugging, and many breathless pauses to rest, the old man succeeded in bearinghis lifeless burden to the hut. ( To he Continued.)