A TERRIBLE MISTAKE

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10031, 4 July 1910, Page 2

A TERRIBLE MISTAKE

XXXIII -Continued. "I can only repeat that I am bewildered, doctor," Lord Manthorpe said. My name is Percy Clifford, and lam the only son of the Earl of Manthorpe. You must telegraph to my father at once." Doctor Munro's face became still graver. . He had recently seen an account of the Earl of Manthorpe's death, couppied with a garbled version of his eccentric will. He believed that *at last he underatcod his patient's itiental trouble. He remembered also that the young man had cried a hundred times for seme one he called Hildred, and that the name Hildred was inscribed on the flyleaf o! the volume to which he clung bo tenaciously. "I won't trouble you any rr.ore now, doctor," the young man wearilyjjadded. He closed his eyes. "1 want to listen to the bells. If I should fall asleep, please wane me when my father comes!"

Within minuteahis low, regular breathing told that he was in a gentle slumber. It was late in the day when he opened his eyes again, and be appeared to have forgotten the conversation between himself and Doctor Munro. He asked no questions, but stared half dreamily at the window.

"No—dcn|t draw the blinds, if'you please, nurse.," he said; "I love to gaze on the hills. They will soon be bathed in moonlight." For two or three days his mental condition remained practically unchanged ; he made no complaint, he expressed no desire, though he had grown stronger physically. The face was .losing its waxen, deathly pallor, and a faint show oc pink was returning to the pale lips. At last he addressed the nurse sharply, peremptorily. /

"I want the book—a Email volume of poetry which I had when i was brought here!" he said. "It is here, sir," replied the nurse, walking to a small oak cabinet. Then she hesitated. Was she doing right 9 Sae felt that the sick man's eyes were tallowing her movements. "If the bcoK is thtre. why do you not bring it to me at once?" Lord Manthorpe irritably erieJ. She did not dare to disobey him. The silghtest oppjaition to his imperious will Wuum txcite him far more than the perusil of a lew poems. She gave him the book, and he told her that he wished to be alone. He turned the volume over curiously, then opened it at random. The page before him was well worn, and his eyes were gladdened by tome verses which he harijlovtd in what appeared to be the long, long The poem was Longfellow's "Endymion," and he read it half aloud, with a strange feeling at his heart:

"The rising moon has hid the stars; Her level rays, like golden oars, Lie on the landscape green, With shadows brown between. "And silver-white the river gleams, As if Diana in her dreams Had dropped her silver bow Upon the meadows low. "On such a tranquil night as this She woke Endymion with a kiss, When, sleeping in the grove, He dreamed not of her love.

"L ke EHana's kiss, unasked, unsought, Love gives it elf, but is not bought; Nor voice nor souod betrays Its deep, impassioned gaze."

last Btanza found an echo in his very soul.he turned to the titie page, and saw the name and the date» inscribed thereon by his own hand. He covered his eyes, and a bitter sob burst from his <ips. The past was no longer a blank. "Hildred," he whispered, "my lost wife, this awakening is worse than death! Why did I not die?"

Wh.en Doctor JVlunro came in Lord Manthoipe told him the story of his life—his romantic marriage, the flight and death of his young wife. It was a pitiful story—a story of the most devoted, the purest love—a story of the bitterest human woe. "I wiah that I had j|died out in the fiel3s that fatal night, doctor!" he cDncluded. "My heart had received its deathlblow and I had no desire to live. There is no pi ice for me among my fellows. No one cares for me now—no one even inquires what has become of me."

The doctor was puzzled, but he spoke no words ot encouragement. Anything he could have said would only have mocked his patient's misery.

Assured that Lord Manthrope was daily growing stronger, Doctor Munro intstituted a careful personal inquiry into all that alfecttd the patient whom he had learned to pity and to love. He went to Fernhurst, the country seat ol the Cliffords of Manthorpe; he made himself master of the gossip at the fashionable London clubs; he visited old Mary at Rose Cottage, and found that Lurd Maniharpe's story was true in every particular.

"Do you think that any dsubt as to the legality of her marriage ever

2? BY f. L. DACEE, i ] Author of—The Doctor's Secret, A Case for the Court, l« 5 Sir John's Heiress, A Loveless Marriage, *} Trenholme's Trust, Etc. 7

"It is a beautiful world," he thought, "and why should I, of all its millions, be the moat wretched, the most hopeless, the most accursed? Do I not owe every miserable moment—even perhaps my wife's estrangement and death—to one man ? Am I animated by any ig noble feelings of revenge? Even the sweet poet in neavenly strains, bids us hope—even his sweet songs are turned to gall and bitterness! What cruel irony I find in the lines which once filled my heart with purest joj !

"No one is so accursed by fat?, Nj one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds unto his own. '"Responds, as if with unseen wings, An angel touched its quivering strings And whispers in its song, "Where hast thou,stayed so long?" TO BE CONTINUED

occurred to your wife?" he asked Lord Manthorpe gravely one day. The young man was convalescent, though still very weak, and seated in the bay window of a cozy room, lie seemed never to tire of gazing ovsr the terraces and gardens, at the wintry blue skies, and listening to the cheery songs of the robins. He looked up quickly when the doctor spoke.

"Never!" he emphatically replied. "It was impossible. We were married in a church, in the presence of hundreds of witnesses 'lhe bells rang a merry peal. No, doctor; it was not that. At the last my wife became frenzied at the murder of her grand father. She remembered that I had been angry with him a few hours before the discovery of his body, and evil words were whispered into her ears. She was too ill, too full of anguish to reason for herself, and she fled in the belief ihat I had struck the poor old man in a fit of anger. I often pray that she did not die in that belief, doctor. Ob, it is too horrible!' He shivered. "T have been ill nearly two months. It is a long time; but I shall soon go out into the world again, and one of my. first duties wi'l be to have the body of my darling taken ■to Manthorpe." Hia voice sank to a husky whisper, and hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

Doctor Munro's brows contracted for a moment.

"No," he thought, "I dare not tall him yet that Lady Manthorpe's remains have already been taken away—whither no ore seems to know." "I have some news for yon,, my lord," he said at length, "news which cannot fail to be of some little interest to you, as it concerns your• self. The story of your marriage has become public property—it is iihpossible to keep these things secret for very long—and, coupled with the late earl's eccentric will, it became the gossip of the clubs."

"Go on, pray!" said Lord Manthorpe, flushing warmly. "Yourdisappearance has caused an alarm. It is generally supposed that you have gone abroad with your wife. After being practically disinherited, nothing would have been more natural on jour part. Miss Glinton, the late earl'a ward, is the guest of a distant relative —a Lady Locksley. Your kinsman, Mr Owen Daventry, is not regarded favourably in society. He has recently been mixed up in some disreputable swindles in connection with the turf I have ascertained this much for your especial guidance, and not from any idle curiosity of my own. My lord," he hazarded, after a momentary pause; "I know that you will not regard any suggestions of mine as unkind or presumptuous." "I could not,- Doctor Munro. Say what you will," replied Lord Manthorpe. "Yor news has greatly interested me. lam glad. Miss Glinton is in good hands. Lady Locksley is an old friend of the family, and I have been at her place in Sussex hall a dozen times. I will write to Constance in a day or two, and explain all the evil that has befallen me. I' can rely upon her sympathy in all things. I may even visit Lady Locksley. It seems odd that I should begin to take an interest in life so aoon after my intense desire to die!"

He looked away half dreamily, but his eyes did not see the magical beauty of the trees, the branches of which swayed gently in the wind, their vesture of hoar frost flashing like myriads of costly gems in the golden light of the sun. Prom afar came the shrill cries and laughter of happy childhood, mingled with ,the musical whir and clang of the skaters' steel.