FOOTPRINTS; OR, STOLEN AWAY.

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4610, 13 October 1883, Page 1

FOOTPRINTS; OR, STOLEN AWAY.

[An Original Stoby.]

CHAPTER Till.— (Continued). THE WAIF OF THE SNOW-DBIFT. " Queenie," he said, " would you like to lire with me, and learn English songs, and dance with pretty English children?" " Oh yes, Signor, that would he good, but, my father?—when he is better he will want Inez to go out with him," and the smile died oat of the beautiful eyes, as the fair vision of that possible future faded before the prospect of that father's neglect and possible cruelty. "And he will take the nice clothes Signor has given, and sell them to get drink, and play casino," continued the child, while the ready tears sparkled on the heavy drooping lashes. "I will go with you to your father, my queenie," said Mr Renault, " and ask him to let you stay with me, and I will give him more money than lie would earn with his organ," The child fairly danced with delight at this. Full well she knew the weakness of Di Courcy, and how readily he would part with anything for gold, precious gold. : The snow had ceased now, and the child placed her hand in that of her new friend and led the way to her father's poor lodging. In one of those miserable crowded houses, up many weary flights of narrow stairs, was the attic room that constituted the house of the Di Courcys. '"'■' As Mr Renault entered, the wretched man turned on bis bod, so dirty and com*' fortless, and began to pour out a volley of abuse to the child he had sent out to - "pick up a penny" somehow, to get bread and drink. For the latter he craved, and as soon as he saw the stranger he began to plead pitiously for " just a drop of brandy to keep the life in him." Mr Ronault produced some food that he had brought from the coffee house, and then proceeded to kindle a fire and prepare some hot coffee. More coals were procured, and soon their ruddy glow diffused a grateful warmth through the shivering frame of the invalid, while the welcome luxury of a good;meal had a most salutary effect upon his temper. In answer to Mr Bonault's skilfully managed enquiries, Di Courcy stated that " some great trouble had driven him from his native land, and compelled him to seek shelter in England. That he had been strangely unfortunate, and at last found himself friendless and k destitute in a strange land. The intense cold, aggravated by severe privations, had brought on his present illness, and thus deprived him of his only means of support, as for many weeks he had been quite unable to carry his organ. The child, Inez, had . managed to earn a few pence by singing or running messages for the landlady, but this had proved a very inefficient means of subsistence. When Mr Ronault offered to place him in a hospital, where he should be well cared for, and also to take charge of the child, with the object of cultivating her musical talent, and training her for the stage, further .offering Di Courcy a stated sum for her possible services, there was an ominous glitter in those avaricious eyes, and an intelligent gleam of anticipated good fortune o'er spread the cadaverous features of the supposed father, as.he accepted the offered terms. . So before night fell Di Courcy was conveyed in a cab to the nearest hospital, accompanied by Mr Ronault, who provided liberally for nis tiomfort.' Then, with a sigh of content, little Inez, or " Queenie," us the manager chose to call her, was taken to the pleasant home, where Madame Renault waited tea, wondorjn^r^frjy at the continued absence of '■'bet-^Hually ifai:U&tsJ husband- ■ AsbeieSy-ss possi'sja the hind-hearted manager - related tliei&wy'of his' littlo "snow vrair,'! ab^f^^Srafcss- heart pi" his young wife wenjfouiittjflfewst; pity towards the friendless dulj^^^^< Bye^and-bye, when Inea^^^^Bpzzig I peacefully in her' cosy/bed,^^^^&ault i unfolded his little scheme' toj^and explained his intentions of^^^^^^^the f latent talent of the little s]^^^^^Hb7« ing that Bhe

succ,esEsVami^perhaps, .become one of the stars of the theatrical world. ■ ■-" But .will there -hot be difficulty with that man Di Ccrorey ?" suggested the prudentlady, as she lovingly fingered the beautiful hair that lay in raven ringlets on the pillow. " Ah! if you could see him," replied hefhusband, " you would know that not for long would his presence trouble any-! one, and it will be well for. Queenie that , she has found a friend." And bo, indeed, it proved. Not many days had pasßed ere Mr Renault was! summoned to the bed-side of the dying man. In the presence of a worthy priest ;he desired to make his confession ere he passed into the presence of the Father, whose commands he had so heedlessly regarded. ■It was a sad story of sin and suffering that Di Courcy told that night. How he had squandered his means, ruined his health, and destroyed all hope of future happiness by his sinful drunkenness and debaucheries. How the evil, spirit 'of jealousy and revenge had prompted him to rob the mother of her only, treasure, because she refused to connive at his sin. But evert as,the name of that ill-fated lady tremble'd^on his tongne, and he was about to reVWltbe; parentage of the sweet' child he had so,i)tuelly Rtolen, a great and terrible'psroxtejfr;'S£;paitt ( seized him, and vtbsn it had -away the soul of. l||ti?o Di Courcy had entered the presence 1 ojMts-.Go.d aiiil.Judge^'""-- ----■ :With of profound awe and commiseration far the guilty wretch who \. bad left suslik'oark record behind him, Mr E'o^ujnlefrthe hospital, resolving to - prove hhasslf both father and friend to' ths orphaaed Inez—the waif of the snow drift. V t CHAPTEK IX. • ' ; „/>., .-- , SEABCHING-. v-A'-~ few days later there came two strange visitors to that dreary lodging - house in Marylebone, where Di Courcy -had lived bis strange, unapproachable life . during the last two years. The frequenters of that coffee house where Mr Eonault had provided little , Inez, with the much needed bountiful meal, stared in idle wonder or curiosity at the two ladies in deep mourning who got out of the cab that had brought them hither, and enquired for " No. 27, Medler's Row." A brief glance at the calm proud beauty ' of the elder, lady convinces us of the identity of the Countess Di Eau Cruaz, while it is easy to conjecture who is that shrinking slender figure at her side. Circumstances have changed with the Countess and Lady Inez since we* saw them,last in sunny Spain. 1 , After the death of Ferdinand, there had been bitter striving and ilLieeHng between the cousin who succeeded him as heir at law and the widowed Countess Di Eau Cruaz. It soon became apparent that the ladies could not remain in the old home, so with many a sorrowful regret the Countess retired to a small property of of her own, where they bad resided in comparative comfort until the utter failure of the bank in .which the income of the Countess had been^invested threw them into great distress sad perplexity. The Countess had not failed to institute every possible ■ enquiry,' •concerning Di Couroy and the stolen child, and at length received news of b.im;from Paris," where be w|is known:'^as a poor dancing master Jtßtat this:-£ime^the loss of her property deprived her of the means to follow this clue, but at length, having obtained, through the influence of a friend, a situation as cbaperone to a young Italian lady, who was shortly to be married to an English merchant, and would need a guiding hand while passing through the ordeal of an introduction to English modes and customs. The Countess, ac coznpaniod by Inez, who was engaged as maid in the same family, found an opportunity of tracing Di Courcy to London. - And here in the midst ot every luxury wealth could procure, the Lady Teresa Egmontine fought the hardest battle a woman's heart can know in the daily, hourly, struggle to appear perfectly happy and content, while her very soul writhed in bitter anguish at the prospect of a life- _ time to be spent in the constant society of one whom she could never school her . impulsive young heart to love. But the shattered fortunes of the Livigney family had demanded this sacrifice upon the altar of filial duty, and the young girl had , accepted her father's stern decree as in* evitable, and had silently consented to become the bride of the wealthy English' , man,whose moneyed influence would go far to save the family from threatened f poverty and.pbscurity. With an lilmost sisterly affection the Lady Teresa clung to her young maid, haring discovered that she was indeed a living portion or fragment of a very ten- . der memory, for in those happy days of careless childhood she could well remem-' ber the stately Don and his lovely daughter, than whom there had been few more light of heart, amid the gay throng that had filled the halls of the, Livigneys with mirth and happiness. This young wife had never known a mother's sacred love and tender counsel, and now in this, her need, she turned with almost child-like confidence to the gentle ' * guidance of the Countess, from whom, as '. £ron3;^ifaperior mind, she would- seek,ad--1V !& matters per.taininjg^tp .thY „/djira^^d.Wß( p onsibiiities«f her { new* ■'•%&<» Mt t;'j)gmontine was very fond Wnft proud j-T <>f his beautiful Italian wife, and the lovely UT\«Jjady Teresa became the theme of safety's %|?.charmed circles, the.idol of the fashion-. '^S^ble world, and her beauty, her jewels,,-, &*p'fcr entertainments were the subject * "popular discussion, but " Mrjs iGfjfifedy 'to . herself could find no flaw as yet in;,ithe ,; perfect model of domestiq felicity Nthat Egmontine Hall presented to her critical * inspection. , V •>;" ' But Inez saw the shadow that rested so* often on the placid brow, the silent heart- . ache that glistened in the depths of those' 1 dark eyes, as they hid beneath their heavy drooping lashes, and the heart that had known such bitter sorrow for itself, went out in silent sympathy towards this other 4 .,. motherleis one, to whom fortune had denied the crowning blessing of a woman's 'viUifiva happy love. - •• My little bird is very shy," the fona * husband was wont to remark, " but by your skilful training, .Countess, she will soon learn, and, I trust, ably fulfil the duties of an English lady." "Ab, yes," the observant cbaperone ' would soliloquise, as she noted the weary 1 , look in her lady's expressive eyes, ".truly ' one can train the mind for any position in life, but can one school the heart P and it ' x. I mistake not there is such a wealth ot love and power of passion lying dormant (here tbat may'at any. time burst forth,

and <toßt% the peace of%ore than one life." .. ■ ~ ' '\> Y . Adored by her^. husband, flattered by her friends, admired and respected by every servant of the household, and greatly esteemed .for her benevolence to the poor, whose fervent blessings were perhaps her richest treasure, the Lady Teresa grow more weary day by day of the golden fetters that bound her proud, yet timid, heart in irksome bondage, and slowly, yet surely, she was changing from the gay, light hearted, girl to the loveless heart sick woman.

It had happened that one fine afternoon in early December the ladies were out on a grand shopping expedition, in preparation for the expected Christmas festivities, and as they dismounted from the carriage the Countess became conscious of a strange fascination to listen to the wild notes of a Spanish cantata that was being sung by a young child, whose eager, expectant, gaze, and thin pinched features, told their own silent tale of privation. (To be Continued.) .