A Wonderful Woman.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 460, 5 April 1890, Page 6

A Wonderful Woman.

By MAY AGNES FLEMING, Author of “Guy Earlescourt’a Wife,” "A Terrible Secret,” “ Lost for a Woman,” *‘A Mad Marriage,” eto-

BOOK 11. CHAPTER XIV. UNDER THE KING’S OAK. She did not scream, she did not even stait. There must have been brave blood in the governess’ veins. She stood there stock still, and faced him : but in the moonlight that grey pallor came over the resolute face, and the great grey eyes dilated with somewhat the look of a hunted stag, bo for an instant they stood silent, face to face, he with the brilliant, slanting moonbeams full on his dark, handsome, uncovered head, and his piercing, blue eyes pitilessly fixed on her stony face. Then the spell broke : she drew one long breath, the light came back to her eyes, the natural hue to her face, and she nerved herself to meet and dare the worst. She was one of those ox ceptional women who possess courage that rises to battle back in the hour of danger. She opened the gate and spoke. _ ‘ Captain Redmond O’Donnell,’ she said slowly, ‘it is you. I breathe again, For one moment I absolutely took you for a ghost. My nerves are good, but you gave them a shock.’ ‘ Yes,’ Captain O’Donnell dryly answered. * 1 think your nerves are good, Miss Herncastle. There are not many young ladies not many strong-minded governesses even —who would fancy the long, lonely walk between Scarswood and this place, between the ghostly hours of twelve and two. You are going back ? As I said before, with your permission, I will accompany you. Under existing circumstances it becomes my duty to see you safely home.’ She smiled, came out, relocked the gate, pub the key in her pocket, drew the black mantle she wore closely about her and walked on.

‘ Your duty ?’ she repeated, still with that smile. ‘ Duty is a word with a wide signification to some people. For instance, no doubt you considered it your duty to follow me here to-night—to dog my steps, like he hireling assassin of an Italian novel —to t is not a pleasant word, but the word I want) play the spy.’ He was walking by her side. He was lowering the pasture bars of a field as she spoke, to let her through. ‘Spy ?’ he said. ‘ Well, yes, I confess it looks li<te it. Still in justice to myself and my motives, let me say something more than simple curiosity has been at work tonight. In the usual courseof events, though it might surprise me to see Lady Dangerfield’s governess taking a moonlight ramble after midnight, it certainly would not induce me to follow her, and play the spy, as you term it, upon her actions. But another motive than curiosity prompted me to-night —to dog your footsteps, to wait for your re-appearance,and to accompany you home.’ ‘ Ah, something more ! May I ask what it is that induces Captain O’Donnell to take so profound an interest in one so far beneath him as Lady Dangerfield’s governess ?’ The grave defiance of her tone and manner, the daring mockery of her glance, told him she was prepared to deny everything—to fight every inch of the ground. 4 Well, Miss Herncastle,’ he said. ‘my firßt impression when I recognised you—for your carriage, your walk, your bearing, are not to be mistaken anywhere— Miss Herncastle bowed sarcastically, as to a compliment. ‘My first impression, I say, was that you were walking in your sleep. I knew a somnambulist in Algeria who would walk miles every night, if not locked up. But a little thought and a few minutes’ cautious pursuit convinced me that you were not sleep-walking, but exceedingly wide awake indeed.’

Again Miss Herncastle bowed —again with" that derisive, defiant smile on her face. Her whole look, manner, and tone were entirely unlike Miss Herncastle, who seemed more like an animated statue than living woman in my lady’s spacious rooms.

‘And being convinced of that, Captain O’Donnell’s first impulse—the impulse of all brave men and gallant gentlemen, was, “ Miss Herncastle is out for a walk by herself, either on private business, or because of the beauty of the night, or because she cannot sleep. She certainly doesn’t want me, and is quite capable of taking care of herself. I will turn back at once and think no more about it.” That was,lknow, the first thought of Captain O’Donnell, the bravest chasseur in all the army of Africa. May 1 a3k why he did not act to it ?' ‘ Simply for this reason—that Captain O’Donnell recognised Miss Herncastle at six o’clock last evening, as she stood upon the lawn reading the “ Battle of Fontenoy.” ’ ‘ Indeed 1’ Mis 3 Herncastle responded, with supreme indifference; ‘recognised me, did you ? lam rather surprised at that. You encountered me in the streets of London probably before I came here ?’ ‘No, madame, I encountered you in the streets of a very different city. I have an excellent memory for faces, and though I may be puzzled to place them for a little, I generally come out right in the end.’ * I congratulate Captain O’Donnell on his excellent memory. And my face puzzled you at first, did it ? and you have come out all right in the end ?’ ‘ Garry your memory back to the night of the theatricals at Scarsvvood, the night of my first appearing there. I saw you play Charlotte Corday, and in common with all present it quite electrified me. More, I knew immediately that I had seen you before, and in 3omewhat similar circumstances. I asked who you were, and was told Lady Dangerfield’s nursery governess. That nonplussed me—my recollections of you were altogether unreconcilable with the character ,of children’s preceptress. Then came last evening, and your very fine rendering of the Irish poem. And again I was puzzled. Your face was perfectly familiar—your attitude, your voice, your action—but where had I seen you ? Do* you remember Lady Cecil’s exclamation ? —“Miss Herncastle, you are a born actress 1” Like mist before the sun, the haze of my mind was swept away, and I knew you.* I repeat it, Miss Herncastle— l knew you.’ ‘You knew me?’ Miss Herncastle repeated, but her eyes were gleaming strangely now; * well, sir, you know nothing to my discredit, I hope ?’ ‘ Nothing to your discredit, if you have told Lady Dangerfield the truth. But baronets’ wives rarely look for their children’s instructresses in the person of a New York actress.’ * Captain O’Donnell!’ * Miss Herncastle!’

And then there was a pause, and for an instant hoio horribly thick and fast Miss Herncastle’s heart beat only Miss Herncastle ever knew. ' * I don’t understand you,’ she said ; but in spite of all her great self-command her voice sounded husky. ‘A New York actress. I never was in New York in my life. lam an Englishwoman, born and bred,’

If he would only take his eyes off her face, she thought her defiant spirit would rise again. Bub those powerful blue eyes, keen as a knife, bright as steel, seemed to pierce her very soul and read all its falsehood there. ‘I regret Miss Herncastle takes the trouble to make unnecessary statements,’ he said coldly. ‘An Englishwoman born and bred. I believe that. Bub as surely as we both stand here, I saw you six months ago on a New York stage—one of the most popular actresses of that city.’ She was silent—her lips set hard —that haunted look in her large eyes. 4 The play was “ Hamlet,” ’ pursued the pitiless voice of the chasseur; 4 and the great trans-Atlantic actor, Edwin Booth, played the doleful Prince of Denmark. I had never seen “ Hamlet,” and I went the first night of my arrival in New York. The Ophelia of the play was a tall, blackbrowed, majestic woman, who acted superbly, and who looked as if she could take care of herself; but then all American women have that look. At least she was very far from one’s idea of poor, love-sick, song-singing, weak-minded Ophelia ; and I really think she took the character better than any actress I ever saw ; but then my experience has been limited. Miss Herncastle, I don’t remember the name of the actress on the bills, but I certainly have the honour of walking by her side tonight. No’—he lifted his hand hastily— ‘ I beg you will nob trouble yourself to deny this. What good will it do? You can’t convince me, though you denied it until daylight. I know I speak the truth.' She turned to him with sudden impulse sudden passion in her face. Ah ! that is where women fail where men have the advantage of us. The strongest-minded of us will let ourselves be swayed by impulse, and all the vows and resolves of our life swept away in the passion oF a moment. She turned to him with a swift, impassioned gesture of both hands, theatrical perhaps, but real.

4 Why should I lie to you ? You are a man of honour, a soldier, and a gentleman—you will not betray me. I will tell the truth, Captain O’Donnell. lam the New York actress —I am the Ophelia you beheld six months ago.’ ‘ I knew it,’ he answered with composure. ‘ I saw you many nights in succession. It was impossible for me to be mistaken. And as clever and popular actresses do not as a rule quit the stage, and the brilliant, well-paid, well-dressed, highly-strung existence of a popular leading lady, and merge their bright individuality into that ot a poorly-paid, overtasked drudge of a nursery governess, you will pardon me for allowing my suspicions to rise, for following your footsteps to-night. I said to myself, this actress, whom a crowded Broadway house applauded to the echo, night after night, has some motive —a sinister one, in all likelihood —in quitting her profession and coming to this house in the role of governess. For, of course, a governess she will not long remain. Lady Dangerfield is in utter ignorance of her antecedents—believes whatever story Miss Herncastle chooses 'to tell her—takes her recommendations, forged beyond a doubt, for authentic documents, and is being duped every day. I speak plainly, you see, Miss Herncastle.’

‘ You do, indeed,’ Miss Herncastle answered bitterly. 4 You state your case with all the pitiless grimness and truth of the stern old judge on the bench, summing up the facts that are to condemn for life the miserable culprit in the dock. And after all,’ she flung up her hand, her eyes flashing, ‘ what) business is it of yours ? Are you my lady’s keeper ? Has your own fate been ordered so smoothly that you should hunt down to ruin a poor wretch with whom life has gone hard ?’

Something in her tone moved him—something in that passionate, savage, hunted look of her eyes touched him, he hardly knew why. 4 No, God knows,’ he said sadly, 4 my own life has been no pathway of roses. lam the last man on earth to sit in judgment upon my struggling fellow mortal and accuse him. I have no wish to hunt you down, as you call ic. This night’s work, this night’s discovery, and your avowal, shall be as though they had never been. Whether I do right or wrong in concealing the truth is much too subtle a question for me—l only know I will conceal it.’

She held out her hand suddenly, with a second swift impulse. ‘ For that much at least I thank you. Why I have left the stage, why I have come here, you have answered to your own satisfaction. Some sinister motive must be at the bottom, of course. And yet, Captain O’Donnell—and yet—can you imagine no better, no higher, no more worthy motive ? The one may be brilliant, the other dull; one well-paid, welldressed, well - applauded ; the other a pittance—Quaker garb, and the obedience of a servant ; but yet the dull life is the safe one—the other full of untold dangers and temptations.’ Captain O’Donnell smiled.

‘ I grant it. Full of untold dangers and temptation to foolish girls and frivolous matrons —not to such women as you. In any situation in life you are quite capable of taking excellent care of yourself, Miss Herncastle. That plea has not. even the advantage of being commonly plausible. What your motive may be, 1 don’t know —it is your own business and in no way concerns me. Unless,’ he paused—- * unless, Miss Herncastle —’ he said, slowly.

* Yes, Captain O’Donnell—unless— ’ * Unless I find trouble of any kind coming of it. You are doing mischief already—do you know it? You have frightened two or three people into the belief that you are a ghost.’ Miss Herncastle laughed—not a very natural-sounding laugh. ‘ Poor little Sir Peter ! Is it my fault, Captain O’Donnell, that I resemble some woman he has known, dead and in her grave ?’ ‘ Perhaps not; I have not quite made up my mind bow that is yet. Second clause—’ he gave her a piercing look; * are you aware that Sir Arthur Tregenna is engaged has been engaged for years—to Lady Cecil Clive ?’

‘ Ah,' Miss Herncastle said, scornfully, ‘ now we tread on. delicate ground. Sir Arthur Tregenna is engaged to Lady Cecil Clive, and Sir Arthur Tregenna has shown the despised nursery governess the simple courtesy of a gentleman to a gentlewoman. For, in spite of the New York acting and English teaching, lam that, sir ! He has kindly talked a little to Miss Herncastle, and the earl’s daughter deigns to be jealous, with all her beauty, and birth, and breeding, of poor, lonely plain me. And you, Captain O’Donnell—you of all men—tell me of it.’

* And why not I, Miss Herncastle ?’ ‘Because,’ she burst out, fiercely, passionately, * Lady Cecil Clive may be engaged to fifty wealthy baronets, but —she loves you ! Ah ! you feel that!’. She laughed in a wild, reckless sort of way. * She loves you, the soldier of fortune, the free companion, and will give Sir Arthur her hand at the altar, whileher heart isin your keeping ! And this is the dainty, the spotless, the proud Lady Cecil. What you are or have been to her in the past, *you know best; but—l wonder if Sir Arthur does ? He is a faithful friend and gallant gentleman. Don’t you think,

Captain O’Donnell, my judge, my censor, that from your hands and hers he deserves better than that?’ She had struck home The tide of battle lmd turned—victory sat perched on her banner now. His face flushed deep red, under the golden bronze of an Afric sun, then grew very white. Miss Herncastle, womanlike, pursued her advantage mercilessly.

* You see the mote in your brothei‘’a eye, but how about the beam in your own ? Most men like to think the heart of the woman they marry has held no former lodger. They like to think so, and if in nine cases out of ten they are duped, if they do not know it, what does it matter ? My Lady Cecil is pure and spotless as mountain snow, is she not? And she sells herself—it is my turn to use plain words now, sir—sells herself for Sir Arthur’s thirty thousand a year. She is the soul of truth and a living lie to him every day of her life. She will become his wife, and her heart will go out after you to Algiers. Yours she is and will be—and Sir Arthur trusts her and you. Bah! Captain O’Donnell, is there one true woman or man in all the world wide ? I don’t say Sir Arthur has any right to complain—be is only treated as the larger half of his sex are treated ; but don’t you call him to order if he chances to say a few kindly words to me. We are at the park ; may Igo in? lam tired to death, walking and talking. Has more to bo said or shall we cry quits, and say good-night ?’ ‘ How will you get in ?’ he asked. ‘ The doers and windows seem bolted for the night.’ 4 Doubly bolted, doubly barred,’ Miss Herncastle replied with a contemptuous laugh, 4 to keep out burglars and ghosts, the two bugbears of Sir Peter’s life. Nevertheless I will get in. Good-night, Captain O’Donnell.’ She held out her hand. ‘I would rather you had not followed me, but you thought you were doing your duty, and I do not blame you. Shall we cry quits, or shall it be war to the knife ?’ He touched the ungloved hand she extended and dropped it coldly. ‘lt shall be whatever Miss Herncastle pleases. Only I should advise her to discontinue these nocturnal rambles. She may get followed again, and by some one less discreet even than myself, and the very strange cries that issue from that mysterious dwelling be found out.’ She caught her breath ; she had quite forgotten Bracken Hollow. ' You heard—’ ‘ I heard three vei’y unearthly cries, Miss Herncastle. I shall inquire to-morrow who lives in that house.’ ‘ Do. You will hear it is an old woman, a very old. harmless woman, but a little, just a little in her dotage. These moonlight nights affect her, and when her rheumatism twinges come on she cries out as you have heard her.’ He smiled as he listened. 4 You don’t believe me ?’ she exclaimed. 4 You think I am telling a second lie.’ 4 My dear Miss Herncastle,’ the chasseur replied, 4 we never apply that forcible word to a lady. And now, as you seem tired, and le3b poachers and game-keepers should see us, I think we bad better part. You are quite sure you can get in ?’ 4 Quite sure. Good - night, Captain O’Donnell.’ He lifted his hat and turned at once. Miss Herncastle stood where he had left her, following the tall, gallant figure that crossed the moonlit field so swiftly, with a strange expression in her eyes and on her lips. Not anger, certainly nob hatred, whatever it might be. She stood there until he was out of sight, until the last sound of rapid footsteps on the distant highroad died away. Then she turned entered the great elm avenue, and disappeared.

It was the next night after this that something very strange and very startling occurred to Sir Peter Dangerfield. Beside his sunset pilgrimage to that remote Castleford churchyard, the Scarswood baronet made other pilgrimages to Castleford, by no means so harmless, In an out-of-the-way street of the town there stood a tall, white house, set in a garden off the highway, and looking the very picture of peace and prosperity. A gentleman named Dubourg, of foreign extraction, and his wife resided there. M. Dubourg was a most agreeable gentleman, Madame Dubourg the most charming, most vivacious, and, when artistically made up for the evening, the prettiest of little women. Perhaps it was owing to the charm of those agreeable people’s society that so many officers of the Castleford barracks, and so many of the dashing young country squires, frequented it. Or, perhaps—but this was a secret—perhaps it was owing to the unlimited 100 and lansquenet, the ecctrte and chicken-hazard you might indulge in between night-fall and sunrise. For lights burned behind those closed Venetians the short summer and the long winter nights through, and men sat silent and with pale faces until the rosy lances of sunrise pierced the blinds, and the fall of the cards and the rattle of dice were the only sound to stir the silence. Immense sums were staked, little fortunes were lost and won, and men left haggard and ghastly in the grey dawn, with the cold dew standing on their faces, or rode home flushed, excited, richer bv thousands of pounds. The Castleford police kept their eye on this peaceful suburban retreatandthedelightful Monsieur and Madame Dubourg, but as yet no raid had been made.

A passion for gambling had ever been latent in the Dangerfield blood. In the days of his poverty it had developed itself in his continual buying of lottery tickets ; in the days of his prosperity, at the gamingtable. Insect-hunting might be his hobby —chicken-hazard was his passion. Of the sums he lost and won there Lady Dangerfield knew nothing; her apartments were in the other wing of Scarswood. Of the uuearthly hours of his return home no one knew but the head groom, who sat up for him and took his horse, and was well paid for his silence and service. As a rule, Sir Peter’s losses and gains were pretty equal; he was an adept at chicken hazard, and no more skilled gamester frequented the place. On the night then following Miss Herncastle's adventure, Sir Peter rode gayly homeward at a much earlier hour than usual, the richer by six hundred pounds. He was in high good spirits—for him ; the night was lovely—bright as day and twice as beautiful. In his elation all his constitutional dread of ghosts, of * black spirits and white, blue spirits and grey,’ vanished, and he was actually trying to whistle a shrill little tune as he scrambled along. The clocks of Castleford, plainly heard in the stillness, were striking twelve as the baronet entered his own domam and rode up the avenue. What was that ?

His horse had shied so suddenly as nearly to throw him off. They were near a huge oak, called the King’s Oak, from the legend that the young Pretender had once taken refuge there from his pursuers. Its great branches cast shadows for yards around. And slowly out of those gloomy shadows—a figure came—a white figure, with streaming hair, and face upturned to the starry sky. All in white—true ghostly garments—noiseless, slow, it glided out and stood full in his pathway.

The bright, cold light of the moon shone full upon it, and he saw —the dead face of Katherine Dangerfield ! Katherine Dangerfield ! Not a doubt of it. Who should know the face better than he, as he used to see her long ago in her white dress and flowing hair ? Katherine Dangerfield, with a face of stone upturned to the midnight sky. He sat frozen for a moment—frozen with a horror too intense for words or cry. Then the startled horse shied again, and a shriek rang out in the midnight stillness, those who heard might never forget. The horse plunged madly forward, and there was the sound of a heavy fall. The groom, half asleep at his post, rushed out : two or three dogs barked loudly in their kennels. The groom rushed forward and seized the horse, quivering with affright. He was riderless. At a little distance lay Sir Petei, face downward, on the dewy grass, like a dead man. And nothing else earthly or unearthly was to be seen. CHAPTER XV. ‘AS IN A GLASS, DARKLY.’ Tiie groom echoed his master’s cry as he stooped and lifted him up. He was senseless ; be had struck his forehead on a stone, and was bleeding freely. It was an awfully ghastly face upon which the moonlight shone. The double alarm had been heard. In five minutes another of the grooms, sleeping over the stable, came running to the spot. 4 T’ maister hurt,’ grooip number one explained ; 4 been flung off his horse. Gi’ us a hand here, my lad, and help us lift him oop and carry him into house.’ They bore the stark and bleeding form between them, found his night key in his pocket, opened the door and carried him up to his own room. One or two of the servants appeared—the alarm was speeding through the household. 4 Best tell my lady,’ some one said ; 4 and, Davis, hadn’t thee better go to Casbleford for a surgeon ?’ Both suggestions were acted on ; my lady was summoned, very much startled and very peevish at being disturbed in her 4 beauty sleep.’ 4 And what could she do?’ she fretfully asked. 4 Of what use was it summoning her ?’ All was confusion, servants standing nonplussed, my lady’s only emotion, as she stood in her flowing white wrapper, gazing with much disfavour at the bleeding face and motionless figure, one of anger at being routed out. The groom had gone for the surgeon ; pending the surgeon’s arrival, nothing seemed likely to be done. In the midst of the 4 confusion worse confounded 5 appeared upon the scene Miss Herncastle, also in a wrapper, alarmed by the noise, and carrying a night-lamp in her hand. 4 Oh, Miss Herncastle!’ my lady exclaimed, 4 perhaps you. may know what to do. I am sure I don’t, and it was most inconsiderate awakening me in this manner, when my nights are so broken, and with my shattered nerves and all. And then the sight of blood always makes me sick. Perhaps you can do something for Sir Peter ; he has had a fall ofF his horse, and seems to be stunned. I don’t believe he is killed. I wish you would see, and if it’s nob dangerous I’ll go back to bed.’ My lady shivered in the chill night air; the great .rooms and long corridors of Scarswood were draughty. 4 1 would stay with pleasure, of course, if there was any real danger, or if Sir Peter were dying, or that kind of thing, but I know he is nob.’

4 1 dare say you would,’ more than one of the servants present thought, as they listened to this wifely speech, and smiled furtively. 4 lf Sir Peter were dying, n.y lady, you would stay with pleasure.’ Miss Herncastle’s calm, pale face, looking more marble-liko than ever in the fitful lamplight, bent over the rigid little baronet. She felt his pulse, she wiped away the blood with a web sponge and discovered the trifling nature of the cut, and turned to my lady. 1 Sir Peter is in a fainting fit, I think, my lady ; probably, too, stunned by the shock of his fall. The wound is nothing, a mere scratch. There is not the slightest danger, I am sure, and not the slightest necessity for your remaining here. In your delicate state of health you may get your death of cold.’ My lady had never been sick two hours in her whole life. 4 Permit me to urge you to retire, Lady Dangerfield. I will remain and do all that is necessary.’

‘ Very well, Miss Herncastle, I believe I must. I fear I shall be ill as it is after the shock ; my nervous system feels completely unstrung. If there should be any danger I beg you will send me w T ord the very first thing in the morning.’ And then my lady, with a wretched expression of countenance, wended her way back to bed, and Miss Herncastle had charge of the lord of Scarswood. She dismissed all the gaping servants, with one or two exceptions the housekeeper and a man and set to work with the air of one who understood her business. She bathed his face and temples with ice-water ; she slapped his palms ; she applied sal-volatile and burnt feathers to his nostrils; and presently there was a flutter of the colourless eyelashes, a tremor all over the body, and Sir Peter's small, near-sighted, pale blue eyes opened and fixed on Miss Herncastle.

‘My dear Sir Peter, how do you feel now ?’ the soft, sweet’ tones of that most soft, sweet voice asked. ‘ Better, I sincerely trust!’

He had not known her at first; ho blinked and stared helplessly in the lamplight ; but at tlie second look, the sound of her voice, an awful expression of horror swept over his countenance; he gave another wild cry of affright, half started up, and fell back senseless once again. It was really a tragic scene. All the exertions of tlie governess failed to restore him this second time. The moments dragged on ;-the housekeeper (nob Mrs Harrison of Sir John’s reign, en passant ; she had left upon her master’s death) and the butler sat dumb and awe-stricken. Miss Herncastle never wearied in welldoing, applied her restoratives incessantly until at last, as all the clocks in Scarswood were chiming the half hour after three, the groom and surgeon came. The surgeon was a young man, a new practitioner, and considered very skilful. He brought Sir Peter round for the second time presently, and once more the baronet’s eyes opened to the light of the lamps, and the moon streaming in through the bars of the Venetians. He stared around, bewildered, his face still keeping its expression of horror, his eyes fixed on the faces of the physician, the housekeeper, and the butler. Then he spoke in an awe-stricken whisper: ‘ Where is she V 1 Who ?’ It was the surgeon who asked. * Whom do you mean, my dear Sir Peter ? —Lady Dangerfield.’ *1 mean Katherine Dangerfield.’ The young doctor had heard that story, stranger though he was—had heard of Sir Peter’s delusive and ghostly belief, and shook his head. * There is no such person here, my dear Sir Peter. Your mind is still—’ Sir Peter raised himself up on his elbow, with a sort of scorn. ‘I tell you I saw her—saw her twice ! Don’t talk to me of my mind, you fool! I

saw her ! She came—oh, Heaven !—she came and stood before me out there under the trees, all in white, her hair flowing, aud her dead eyes turned up to the stars ! I saw her ! I saw her ! and I live to tell it ! And five minutes ago I opened my eyes and saw her again, her dead eyes, her stern face looking over the bed !’ The young doctor recoiled. Had Sir Peter gone entirely mad ? Mrs Butler, the housekeeper, came forward—a genteel creature, and the widow of a curate.

‘ My dear Sir Peter, you alarm yourself unnecessarily. 1 assure you ’—Mrs Butler revelled in words of three syllables—'it was the governess, Miss Herncastle, whom you beheld a few minutes ago when consciousness returned. My dear Miss Herncastle, pray come forward and corroborate my assurance.’

Miss Herncastle, hovering aloof in the moonlight and the shadows, came slowly forward, speaking as she came. ‘ I am sorry to have startled Sir Peter bv my unfortunate resemblance to his dead relative. Mrs Butler is right ; it was J you saw a few moments ago, Sir Peter.’ He sat up in bed gazing upon her, the wild look of horror dying slowly out of his wizzen, little, pinched face, and an abject look of fear coming in its place. Her eyes were fixed upon him,steadily, strongly, intensely. What mesmeric power was there in those calm grey eyes to subdue him to her will ?

‘Lie down, Sir Peter,’ she said very gently, ‘and let me give you somo medicine. Will you not order him a sedative, a composing draught, Mr Weymore ? lam sure he needs it. I will administer it, and will watch, with Mrs Butler, until morning. ’ The young doctor obeyed. He prepared the sedative, and Miss Herncastle administered it. Sir Peter took it from her hand, spell-bound it seemed, unable to refuse, unable to take his fascinated eyes off her face. Then he lay back : she arranged hi 3 pillows, smoothed the coverlet, made him comfortable, as only a deft-handed woman can. All the time his eye 3 never left her face —all the time he never uttered a word. The spell of some mesmeric force was upon him, and rendered him obedient to her will. Mr Weymore, the Castleford surgeon, took his departure. ‘ Nothing ailed Sir Peter but shattered nerves; he wanted rest, x-epose, tonics, cheerful society, entire change of air. He saw,’ he said, ‘ he left him in excellent hands,’ with a glance of admiration at the calm, serene young lady. ‘He would go now, and call early the ensuing forenoon. Good-night, Miss Herncastle.’ And Mr Weymore, with a second admiring glance at that Juno-like form and grave, thoughtful face, took his hat and his departure. The sedative had its effect —Sir Peter fell asleep, Mrs Butler nodded in her easy chair, Miss Herncastle drew the curtains, l-aised the blind, seated herself by the window, and with her chin on her hand, looked out. It was past four : the waning moon was dropping pale out of sight in the west, the eastern sky was flushing and brightening already with the beauty and splendour of a new-born summer day. The tall tx-ees stood motionless, the waving grass and cowslips were glistening with dew, long silver lances of light pierced the mysterious green depths of waving fern. It was beautiful—beautiful. Of what did Miss Herncastle think as she sat there with sombre face and duskily brooding eyes ? After days darkly told. Sir Peter fell into a deep, refreshing, natural sleep as the morning wore on. Some time after suni’iseLady Cecil entered, hearing for the first time of what had oc-cux-red, and offered in her kindly, gentle way to take Miss Herncastle’s place. Very haggard in the iosy brightness of the July sunrise Miss Herncastle looked, her eyes heavy, her cheeks pale. ‘Goto your room at once,’ Lady Cecil said. ‘You look quite worn out. Pray, do not attempt teaching to-day. After you have slept and breakfasted go for a long walk. You need it, lam sure.’ She murmured her thanks and went. And Lady Cecil, with the upper housemaid for companion, took her vacated post. My lady still slumbered—her wretched nerves always required her to lie abed until eleven o’clock.

The news spread, as such news is pretty sui’e to do. By noon that day all Castleford knew that Sir Peter, riding home at midnight (pretty hour for a magistrate and a baionet to be gadding), had beheld Catherine Dangerfield’s ghost under the trees of Searswood, had fallen from his hox-se in a fit, had struck his temple on a stone, and now lay at Death’s door, if he had nob already entered that gloomy portal. The news spread—it was the talk of the town, and among others came to the ears of Captain O’Donnell. ‘ Saw a ghost,’ the chasseur thought, knitting his brows, in a reflective frown : 4 what fooling is this? Saw Katherine Dangerfield—Humph ! Has somebody been playing a practical joke at the superstitious iittle baronet’s expense, I wonder? I’ll walk over and see.’

He walked down. It was past three when he reached Searswood. On the grounds he encountered Lady Cecil Clive and the twins out for a holiday. He joined the trio at once.

‘ Good-morning, Lady Cecil. Bonjour, mesdtmoiselks Pansey el Pearl. Lady Cecil, what ghastly news is it that is galvanising all Castleford ? I don’t understand it. Sir Peter has seen a ghost.’ * So Sir Peter says. Captain O’Donnell, and who should know better? He had been somewhere in Castleford until close upon midnight, the traditional ghostly hour, and riding up the avenue he saw the ghost of Katherine Dangerfield—a lady six years dead ! She came gliding out from beneath the King’s Oak—she was all w hite, of course. She frightened his horse —it started and threw him. That is Sir Peter’s story he remembers no more. Wilson, the head groom, -supplements the marvellous tale by saying he heard the most “ hoffullest scream ” that ever was heard, and rushing to the spot, found Saracen quivering with terror and Sir Peter was certainly thrown off his horse, and now lies ill and feverish upstairs. His nerves are in such a state that he nearly falls into spasms if left a moment alone.’ ‘ Who is with him ?’ Captain O’Donnell asked. He had listened very gravely and thoughtfully to Lady Cecil’s explanation. ‘Miss Herncastle. She is an excellent nurse, it appears, and he is docile as an infant in her hands, though fractious beyond belief with the rest of us, I believe.’ Lady Cecil tried to speak very carelessly. ‘ Sir" Arthur Tregenna is there also. ’ The chasseur lifted his eyes and looked at her keenly for a moment. She did not meet that blue piercing glance; she had stooped and was gathering the hyacinths at her feet. ‘Miss Herncastle,’ he repeared that. * And he is passive as a child in her hands, is he ? Now that is odd, too. I fancied be disliked and feared Miss Herncastle, because of her unaccountable or fancied resemblance to this very dead Katherine Dangerfield.’ ‘ So he said. I don’t pretend t« understand it, or half the other things I see, but so it is. She gave him a second terrible fright, too, last night.’ 1 How ?’ * She came down and took charge of him when he was first brought in, it peara

Ginevra was there, of course ; bub poor Ginevra—of what earthly use is she in a sick room ? She went back to her chamber when convinced there was no dangei - , and Miss Herncastle went to work, Mrs Butlersays, as though she had been a hospital nurse all her life, and restored him to consciousness. The monxenb he saw who it was, he uttered the most dreadful shriek and fell back in a second swoon. 5 ‘Ah !’ Captain O’Donnell said, intensely interested. ! They could do nothing for him then, until the surgeon came. When next restored his first question was “ Where is she?” “Who?” the surgeon asked. “ Katherine Dangei’field,” was the wild answer; “ I saw her twice to-night—once out under the trees, and five minutes ago by my bedside !’’ He was like a man mad, they say at first, then Butler explained that he was mistaken, that he had seen no one but Miss Herncastle, and Miss Herncastle came forward and confirmed her words. She looked at him steadily with those great eyes of hers—(you should see Mrs Butler when describing it) and he subsided immediately, like a terrified child. I took her place early in the morning—she looked fagged to death—and Ginevra came in for a few minutes at noon ; but strange to say, he asked for Miss Herncastle, and seemed restless and feverish until she came. Now he is perfectly quiet. The tableau in the sick room is this—Sir Arthur reading gravely aloud the “Castleford Chronicle” at one side of the bed, Miss Herncastle gravely embroidering at the other, and Sir Peter, lying with wide-open eyes that never leave Miss Hern'eastle’s face. They all looked so vexy well content that I came away.’ She laughed a little and gathered more hyacinths for her bouquet. Again the soldier glanced at her with those blue, brilliant eyes of his, but again the brown eyes were intently fixed on her flowers. Was Lady Cecil jealous ? ‘ It is a pity, no doubt, to interrupt so happy and well-aesorted a party,’ he said, ‘ still I think I will be vandal enough to do it. I am very much interested in this matter, and am going to tui-n amateur detective and probe it to the bottom. A veritable ghost in this nineteenth century is a novel and wonderful curiosity ; let us make the most of it. It is something even to see a man who has seen a ghost. It has never been my good fortune, in all my varied experience, to meet one before. I shall go at once and “interview”- Sir Peter. ’ He bowed and departed, and Pansy and Pearl, who had run off, rejoined Lady Cecil. (To be Continued.)