THE STORY-TELLER.

Waikato Times, Volume XII, Issue 957, 10 August 1878, Page 2

THE STORY-TELLER.

WIFE IN NAME ONLY. By the author of " Dora Thobne," "On Her Wedding Mobn," "REDEEMED BT LOVE,"- " A "WOMAN'S War," &c. &a. (Continued from last Saturday's issue). CHAPTER XJ.YI. /o ' As he read on, his face graw pale. What could it mean — this reference to The Lady of Lyons ? That was the story of a deceitful marriage — surely all unlike his own. v — • 1 You are wondering. Turn the page, and you shall read that, when an idea once possesses a woman's mind, she has no rest until it is carried out. I had none. My vengeance was mapped out for me— it merely required filling m. Let me show you how it was filled vp — how I lied to you, who to another have never uttered a false word. ' Years ago we had a maid whom 'my mother liked very much. She was gentle, well-mannered, and well bred for her station m life. She left us, and went to some other part of England. She married badly- -a handsome, reckless, ne'er-do-well, who led her a most wretched life. 'I know nof., and care nothing for, the story of her married life, her rights and wrongs. How she becomes of interest to you lies m the fact that very shortly after my maniage she called to see me and ask my aid. She had been compelled to give up her home m the couufcry and come to London, where, with her husband and child, she was living m poverty and misery. While she was talkiug, the Duke came m. I think her patient face interested him. He listened to her story, and promised to do something for her husband, You will wonder how this story of Margaret Dornham concerns you. Head on. You will know m time. ' My husband, having promised to assist this man, sent for him to the house, and the result of that visit was that the man, seeing a quantity of plate about, resolved upon helping himself to a portion ot it. To make my story short, he was caught, after having broken into the house, packed up a large Darcel of plate, and filled his pockets ivith some of my most valuable ewels. There was no help for it

but to prosecute him, and his spnt»ence was, under the circumstances, none too heavy, being ten years' penal servitude. 'Afterwards, i w-Mit lo see his wife Margaret, and found her m desperate circumstances ; yet, she had one ornament m her house — her daughter, a beautiful young girl, so fair ef face that at first she quite dazzled me. The moment I saw her, I thought of your description of your ideal — eyes like blue hyacinths, and hair of gold. Forthwith a plan entered my mind, which I have most successfully carried out. 'I asked the girl's name, and was told that it was Madaline — an uncommon name for one of her class, — but the mother had lived amongst well-to-do people, and had caught some of their ideas. I looked at the girl — her face was fair, sweet, and pure. I felt the power of her beauty, and only wondered that she should belong to such people at all. Her hands were white and shapely as my own ; her figure was slender and graceful. I began to talk to her, and found her well educated, refined, and intelligent — all, m fact, that one could wish. * Little by little, their story came ' out. jit was one of a mother's pride 1 and glory m her only child. She worshipped her, literally worshipped her. She had not filled the girl's mind with any nonsensical ideas about being a lady, but she had denied herself everything m order that Madaline might be well educated. For many years, Madaline had been what is called a governesspupil m a most excellent school. " Let me die when I may," said the poor but proud mother, cIe I shall leave Madaline with a fortune m her hands ; her education will prove a fortune to her." ' I asked her one day if she would let me take Madaline home with me I for a few hours; she seemed delighted, and consented at once. I took the girl home, and with my own hands dressed her m one of my most becoming toilettes. Her beauty was marvellous. She seemed to gain both grace and dignity m her new attire. Shortly afterwards, with her mother's permission, I sent her for six months to one of the most fashionable schools m Paris. The change wrought m her was magical ; she Jeained as much m that time as some girls would have learned m a couple of years. Every little grace of manner seemed to come naturally to her ', she acquired a tone that twenty years spent m the best of society does not give to some. Then I persuaded Vere, my husband, to take me to Paris for a few days, telling him that I wanted to see the daughter of an old friend who was at school there. In telling him this I did not speak falaely-^-Madaline's mother had been an old friend of mine. Then I told him that my whim was to bring Madaline home and make a companion of her ; he allowed me to do just as I pleased, asking no questions about her parents, or anything else. Ido not believe it every occurred to him as strange that the name of myJ>rotegS and of the man who had robbed him was the same — indeed he seemed to have forgotten all about the robbery. So I brought Madaline home to Vere Court, and then took her to London where I knew that you would see her. My husband never asked any questions about her; he made no objection, no remark— everything that I did was always well done m his eyes. ' But you will understand clearly that, to you, I told a lie when I said that Madaline's mother was a poop relative of the Duke; you know now what relationship there is between them. Even Lady Peters does not know the truth. She fancies that Madaline is the daughter of some friend of mine, who, haying fallen on evil days, has been glad to send her to me. ' Knowing you well, Norman, the accomplishment of my scheme was not difficult. If I had brought Madaline to you, and introduced her you might not have been charmed, the air of mystery about her attracted you. My warning against your caring for her would, I knew, also help to allure you. I was right m 6very way. I saw that you fell m love with her at once— in fact, the first moment you saw her, — and then I knew my revenge was secured. ' I bought my husband the yacht on purpose that he might go away and leave me to work out my plans. I knew he could not resist the temptation I offered. I knew, also, that if he remained m England he would want to know all about Madaline before he allowed you to marry her. If the marriage was to take place at all, it must be during his absence. You seemed, of your own free will, Norman, to fall naturally into the web woven for you. 'I write easily, but I found it hard to be wicked — hard to see my lost love, my dear old companion, drift on to his ruin. More than once I paused, longing to save you ; more than once I drew back, longing to tell you all. However, the spirit of revenge within me was stronger than myself — my love had turned to hate. Yet, I could riot quite hate too, Norman — not quite. Once, when you appealed to my old friendship, when you told me of youi plans, I almost gave way. 'Norman ! I cried, as you were leaving me but when you turned again I was dumb. *So I have taken my revenge. I Philippa, Duchess cf Hazlewood, or this your wedding day, reveal t< you the first stain on the name o

Arleigh - the first blob on one ol the noblest escutoheons m the land You have married not merely a low born girl, but the daughter of c felon — m plain words, a felon's daughter is mistress of proud Beechgrove ! You who scorned Philippa L'Estrang°, who had the •ruelty tc refuse L he love of a woman who loved you— you who looked cloud, high, have chosen from near a prison cell ! The daughter of a felon will be mistress of the grand old home where some of the noblest ladies of the land have ruled— the daughter of a felon will be mother of the heirs of Arleigh ! Could I have planned, prayed for, hoped fer, longed for a sweeter revenge. ' I am indifferent as to what you do m return. I kave lived for my revenge, and now that I have tasted it life is indifferent to me. You will, of course, .write to complain to the Dake, and he, with his honest indignation justly aroused, will perhaps refuse to see mo again. I care not. ; my interest m life ended when my love died. 'Let me add one thing more. Madaline has been deceived. I told her that you knew all her history, that I had kept nothing back from you, and that yen loved her m spite of it but that she was never to mention it to you.' He read the Jetter with a burning flush on his face, whioh afterwards grew pale as with the pallor of death ; a red mist was before his eyes, the sonnd of surging waters m his ears, his heart beat loud and fast. Could it be true — oh, merciful Heaven, could it be true ? At first he had a wild hope that it was a cruel jest that Philippa was playing him on his wedding-day. It could not be true — his whole soul rose m rebellion against it. Heaven was too just, too merciful — it could not be. It was a jest. He drew his breath with a long quivering sigh— his lips trembled ; it was simply a jest to frighten him on his weddingday. - To be Continued.

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