Chapter XL.—Swift Retribution.

Waikato Times, Volume V, Issue 295, 2 April 1874, Page 3

Chapter XL.— Swift Retribution.

' You would not deceive me, lam aure y You would not be persuaded that anything so cruel could be kind or just ?' pleaded Florence to Mr Martin and Lawrence Daly, many days later, when the had been told the truth, and when the fiat had gone forth that her Walter must be, for the few years he would probably hare to live, one between whom and his kind there must b« an increasing separation. She bore it well, submissively, she who was so proud of him ! But her mind was haunted by one fear, which she now sought to allay. Would they ever try to take him from her ? Would those doctor* send him to strangers, to try for cure, who might indeed be very wise, and even gentle, but who would banish her from him ? She had avowed this fear to Mr Martin and to Lawrence, to whom she clung with the old trust intensified a thousandfold. But they were now reassuring her. ' Indeed, we would not deceive you, or consent to your being deceived,' said Lawrence, pressing her patient hands in his, and looking through eye* dimmed with tears into her sweet beseeching face. ' You will never be asked to part with Walter ; on the contrary, all our hope and trust are in you. He will nsver need any other care than yours, and it may be that will avail for a long time. Do not fear separation, for it will never befall you.' ' Thank you ' she said, turning her eyes first on him, and then on Mr Martin, with submissive gratitude which wrung their hearts. ' Then I can bear it very well. I could bear it, if God willed it, otherwise ; but lam very thankful that I may hare my Walter with me ; that He has made this light to me — so much lighter, I mean. And — and I don't think he will erer be unhappy, for he will always, you know bo the same to his little world — to me and baby.' Then she left them, and went to him ; and while the two men stood, unable to say to one another what was in their rnmds, Florence was kneeling beside her husband, with her arm encircling his head as he slept the heavy sleep from which it was so difficult to route him, and her sweet lips murmuring, close to his changed face, delighted thanks* giving, as of a mother over her infant, wonderful inarticulate words of lore, and prayer that, for the mind darkened upon the earth, the soul might be white before the Throne. Walter and Florence, and Miriam were to go abroad soon, to certain baths in a remote part of Germany, which they were advised to try for Walter. He was quiescent and easily managed, but he displayed a growing disinclination for any •oeiety but that of Florence and hi» child. From the first, he took little notice of Daly ; and gradually ceased to care for Miriam's presence. Florence remonstrated with her on her resolution to accompany them to Germany. Why should Miriam leave her now house, and change all her plans of life, to go with them ? She knew it was to be with her ; but how little they could be together! She should be always occupied with Walter ; and Miriam must not think that, while this was so, she ever could be unhappy. Tho innocent sufferer, she on whom the family calamity fell with all its weight, was supporting and comforting the other, out of the treasures of her self-devotion and of God's grace. But Miriam was determined. If she were only to see Florence occasionally in the day, and to say 'good morning' and ' good night ' to her, she would go. She cared nothing for her house now, and her plans of life were all laid aside. Since their first interview, Miriam and Daly had never been alone together — this by Miriam's contrivance. So he had never been able to solve the mystery of her dismissal of him on that occasion, and the painful impression of it remained. He took infinite blame to himself for the manner in which he had told her his story ; he had laid stress on the injuries Mr St Quentin had done him, and she, doubtless, thouuht he included his wdl in the category, whereas nothing had been farther from his intention. If he could havo made her understand that the most he had expected, if he and Mr St Quentin had met, was a kindly recognition, and that he regretted nothing but that he had not had the chance of shaking the old man's hand, and relegating bygones to the regions of bygones. Had she suspected him of coming to her in the contemptible character of a complainant, of a disappointed expectant ? If so, it must havo been the fault of his own manner ; and yet, the mere notion was somehow derogatory to her. How could she regard this old man's wealth as of such importance — to him, or to herself — as to give it such a place, in such an interview, under such circumstances ? Why did she not regard tho coincidence that there was a connecting link between her dead husband and her brother's friend as the trifling matter which, though interesting, it really was ? He could not forget, though he would fain have forgotten, Walter's stricture upon her over-estimate of wealth. It must be some inexplicable feeling of this kind, some absurd, unworthy .notion of a cluira, or a censure upon her inheritance, which had caused her offence with him. Lawrence laughed at tho idea, but the laugh was not genuine, and the annoyance ta«, and also keeD. He would explain himself fully, and rectify this, at the first opportunity ; there must be nothing in bis mind to dim the image he had set up there of Miriam. But she never gave him a chance. She met him with graceful coldness ; her manner was perfect, and utterly wanting in all he desired to find in it, so that he asked himself if the frank confidence, the intimacy, the emotion which had characterised their first meeting, had existed in reality or in his presumptuous fancy? She treated him with the utmost courtesy, as Walter's friend, and never for one moment lowered the barrier between him and herself, which rendered any reourrence to the circumstances of thsir first interview impossible. He was puzzled, disappointed, disheartened, and only the sad need in which Florence stood of his sympathy andhelp, and her perfect trust iv him, hindered his taking an abrupt leave of them all, and returning at once to America. Only slight reference was made to the relationship which had existed between Lawrence and Mr St Quentin. Walt*r had heard of it without interest, and soon apparently forgot it, and Florence had said very little about it. If he were not forced to believe, that Miriam resented it, since she kept him at a distance so inexorably, he might have thought she also had forgotten it. He saw her almost every day, and every day ha felt that it would be better for him to see her no more. Fate had not been propitious to Lawrence Daly. Of all the women in the world, his world at least, Miriam was the only one whom it was absolutely forbidden to him to love. He had never loved, never imagined that he loved any woman, until now. And dow, that unattainable woman had taken such full, utter, immediate possession of his heart, and his 6oul and his senses, that all life to como must be one dead level of aimless endeavour, unprofitable labour, mere waste, because she would never love him, never belong to him ! He was a strong man, reticent and brave, a man who knew how to take the training and punishment of life as they ought to be taken by those who are going np higher to the guest-tables of the Master ; but he winced, and writhed, and shuddered under this infliction of his fate. The warp in her character, which he knew — for he was no blind lover, of the kind who, when their eyes are opened, are most unreasonable tyrants to women, but clear-sighted, one who loved her, not a glorified fancy of her — made the unhappy circumstances more fatal than they would have been, had he entertained even the faintest hope that lie might win her. How would she, warped as her mind was, by her false estimate of wealth, regard a profession of love on his part — he, who would have been her husband's heir, but for the w:ll whioh gave all to her. Perhaps her cold, resolute avoidance was intended a* an intimation to him that such an expedient for the remedy of his disappointment, in which it was plain she persisted in believing, was not within his reach. When this suggested itself to him, Lawrence Daly's power of endurance ceaied, and he resolved that, not even for the sake of Florence, would he remain longer in London. On the following day, he told Mrs St Quentin and Florence that he was going to Liverpool on Friday — it was then Monday — and should sail for New York on Saturday. Florence dropped her needlework, and began to cry ; but Miriam, sitting idle, was quite unmoved. ' It mutt hare come some time,' he said, taking Florence's hand ; ' and you an going away so soon, it is but a few days earlier than you would have left me. You will send me good news from Germany ; and next year, if things go well with me, I will come and see you.' Not a word, not a look m all this was addressed to Miriam, who might not have heard it, so perfect was her composure. ' Yes, I know, Lawrence — and you are very kind — but all seems to come at onee — and ' Then Florence, for once unable to control herself, hurried out of the room. Lawrence fully expected that Miriam would follow her. But Miriam sat, her heavy and hollow eyes downcast, in perfect silence. For only the second time in their lives these two were alone together. After several minutes of great embarrassment to Lawrcnco, Miriam said : ' I think, Mr Daly, you told me you had a drawing of tho place you and Walter hred at, and of your claim, at tho gold mines— will you give me that drawing ?' 'Of course,' said Lawrence, much surprised. 'If you wish, 1 will give it to you with pleasure. But it is a mere f keteh — and ' ' Yes, you told mo so. But I wish for it, and some day I mean to let Walter sco it, and try whether any association with it exists in his mind. Don't be afraid of my doing anything rash ; I will watch for a good opportunity. Will you bring me the sketch to-morrow ?> As she spok«, she drew towards her the cabinet of ivory, silver, and ebony which formerly stood in her boudoir in Paris, and unlocked it. ' I will give you an equivalent for your sketch, Mr Daly, 1 she continued, in a tone of even more than her customary coldness, as she drew out one of tho drawers of the cabinet, and laid her li*nd on a immature. ' Look at that likened. Qt whom in it . ' i

Ho advanced tud took tho portrait in lilt hands. 'It u my Aunt Kate.' 'Mr St Quentin'i firat wife. It ii yourj. Don't thank me ; this, at least, is your right. Or, it* you will thank me, let it be in action.' She locked the cabirrt, pushed it from he r, and roie. 'Mr Daly,' she laid, 4 1 a*n the last person in the world who ought to ask a favour of you.' ' But the first.' he replied earnestly, 'to whom I would render one.' She bit her lip and frowned, and he took heed that the did go. ' I have b most particular, a most urgent reason for requesting you to defer your departure. I ounnot explain it, I cannot even indicate it. V?e go to Germany this day fortnight. Will you, as the only service 1 shall ever ask of you, remain in England for the same space of time after we have gone ?' Her tone was impressive, but the look in her eyes made Lawrence her slave. ' I will,' was all he said. ' And will you tell no one that you do so at my request V ' I will tell no one.' Then she left him ; and from that moment until they exchanged a general farewell, she was never again alone with him. And poor Florence thought he had deferred his departure for her sake.