THE STORY-TELLER.

Waikato Times, Volume XII, Issue 972, 14 September 1878, Page 2

THE STORY-TELLER.

WIFE IN NAMB ONLY. By the author of " Dora Thorne," " Ox , Her Wedding Morn," " REDEEMED BY LOVE," "A WOMAN'S War," &c. Sr.n. (Continued from last Saturday's issue). CllAirTEli XXVI [T. Lord Arleigh raised his head from his breast. His wife was kneeling sobbing at his feet. 'Norman,' sbe said, m a broken

voice, • I yield— l submit. You knowbest, dear. In truth, I'm not worthy to be your wife. I urge no claim on you; but, ray darling, must I leave , ; 3pu P Coulrt >l not remain here as ■your scr rant, your slave, the lowest m the house— some\v here near, where I may hear thp tones of your voice, the sound of yotft footsteps, where I may stand sometimes at the window and see you ride away, where I may render you little attentions such as loving wives render ? Oh, Norm.n, be merciful, and grant me that at I.'asl. !' •My darling, I cannot ; do not tempt me. You^do not understand. I love you with a fierce, passionate love. If you were near me, I should be compelled to show that love to you every hour of the day, to treat you as my dear and honored wife. If you were near me, I might forget my resolve and remember only my love.' 'No one should know.' she whispered, ' that I was your wife. I would take the guise of the humblest servant m the place. No one should know, love. Oh, darling, let it be so !' She saw great drops of agony on his brow ; she saw a world of pain m his eyes which alarmed her; llt cannot be,' he replied, hoarsely, 4 Pou must urge me no more ; you are torturiug me.' Then she rose, iumbly enough, auTS turned away. I 1 will say no more, Norman. Wowdo with me what you please.' There was a silence for a fow minutes. The sun was sinking low m the western sky, the chirp of the birds was growing faint m the trees. She raised her colourless face to his. •I submit, Norman,' she said. 'You have some plan to propose. Do with me just as you will.' It was cruel, no cruder fate had erer fallen to man's lot, but honour obliged him to act as he did. He took her hand m his. • Some day, deur wife,' he said, ■• you will understand what suffering this step has cost me.' •Yes,' she answered, faintly, 'I may understand m time.' I While I have been sitting here,' he went on, ' I have been thinking it all over, and I have come to a decision as to what will be best for you and for me. You are Lady Arleigh, of Beechgrove—you are my wife, and you shall have all the respect and honor due to your position.' She shuddered, as though the words were a most cruel mockery. "' You will honour,' she questioned, bitterly, ' the daughter of a felon V I I will honour my wife, who has been deceived even more cruelly lhan myßelf,' he replied. 'I have thought of apian,' he continued, ' which can. be easily carried out. Oh our estate — not twenty miles from here — theie is a little house call the Dower Houae— a house were the dowag-rs of the family have generally resided. It is near WinißtpD, » small ouuatry towu. A housekeeper and" two servants live m the houae now, and keep it m order. You will be happy there, my darling, 1 am sure, as far as m possible. I will see that you have everything which you need or require.' She listened as one who hears but dimly. ' you have no objection to raise, have you, Madaline ?' . , 'No,' she replied ; it matters little where I live ; 1 can only pray that my life may be short.' 4 Hush, my darling I You pain me.' 'Oh, xNoiiuftD, Norman,' she cried, ' what will they think of me- what, will they Biy— your servants, your friends '!' ' We must not trouble about that,' said Norman ; we must nob pause to consider what the world will gay. We must do what we think is rights.' He took out bis watch and looked at it.

1 It is eight o'clock,' he said ; ' we shall bave time to drive to Winiston. to-night.' Tnero was a world of sorrowful reproach m the blue eyes raised to his. 1 I understand,' she said, quietly ; you do not wish that the daughter of a felon should sleep, even lor oue night, under your roof.' ( You pain mp, and you pain yourself ; but, if you will hear the tiuth it is my poor Madalin?, just as you say- Even for these ancient walls, 1 have such reverence.' ' Siace my presence dishonours them,' she said, quietly, ' I will go. Heaven will judge .bee ween us, Norman. I say that you are doing wrong. If lam to leave your h >use, I should l.'ke to go at once. [ will go to ray room and prepare for the journey.' tie did not attempt to detain her, for he knew well that, if she made .another appeal to him, ha could not resist the impulse to clasp her m his arms and, at fcue jost of what, he thought his honor, to bid her afcay. ■She lingered before him, beautiful, graceful, Rorrowful. 'Is there anything more you would like to say to me ?' she asked, with aad humility. 'I dare not,' he muttered, hoarsely; 1 1 cannot trust myself.' He watched her as with slow, graceful steps she passed down the long gallery, nev^r turning her fair face or golden head back to him, her white robes trailing on the parquetry floor. When she had reached die end, he saw her draw aside the hangings and stand for a minute looking at the pictured facos of the Arltiyhs ; then she disappeared, and ho was left alone. He buried his face m his hands and wept bitterly. 'I could curse the woman who has wrought this misery !' he exclaimed, presently. And then the remembrance of Philippa 4S he had known her years before — Philippa as a chil'i, Philippa his mother's favori'e -restrained him. 'Perhaps I too (was to blame,' ho thought ; sho would not have taken such cruel vengeance had I betn more candid. 1 Lady Arleigh went to her room. The pretty-travelling costume lay just where she had left it ; the housekeeper had not put away anything. Hastily taking off her white dress and removing the jewels from her neck and the llowers from her hair, Madaline placed them aside, and then, having attired herself for the journgy, she weut down-stairs, meeting no one. Some little surprise was created among the servants when orders came for the carriage to be got ready. ' doing out at this time of night. What can it mean ?' asked one of them. , 1 They are going to the Dower House, answered a groom. ' Ah, th»n his lordship and her ladyship will not remain at the Abbey ! How strange ! But there — rich people neera to have nithio? to do but indulge m whims and caprices !' said the under-liousemaid who was immediately frowned at by her supo-'ors m office. x \ ot i word was spoken by husbaud and wife rg Luly Arleigh took her scat m tho cariia.ge. Whatever she fell; was buried m he- own broas* 1 . Her face shone m rbl -white underneath her veil, andher c-yea were bent downward. Never a woi d ,i d she speak as tbo carriage drove sVviy through the park, where the dew W:i» falling and the stars W6ie bright,

Once her husband iuraed to her an< tried to take her hand m his,jbut ab< ™It will be better i>nt «o t IV, Norman! she said. 'I can bea.i' bsi m mlbuop, So they drove m unbroken iniietude. The dew lay glistening on ha grass anc trees • all nature was hushed, tranqnil, B wee t ; and skill. U wta syely tlu strangest drive that husband and wife had ever taken together. More than once noting the silent, graceful hgure, Lord Arleigh was tempted to a ? k Madahnetc fiy with him to some foreign land, where they could live and die unknown-more than once he was tempted to kiss the beautiful lips and say to her, You Phill not leave me, Madaline ;' but the dishonour attached to his name caused him to remain silent. They had a ropid drive, and reached Winston House— as it was generally called -before eleven. Groat was the suaprise and consternation at bo unexpected an arriVa!. The house was m the charge of a widow whose husband had been the late lord's steward. She looked somewhat dubiously at Lord Arleigh and then at his companion, when they had entered. Madaline never opened her lips. Lord Arleigh was strangely pale and confused. ' Mrs Burton,' he said, M can hardly imagine that you have heard of my marriage. This is my wife-Lady Arleigb.' - All the woman's doubt an I hesitation then— she became all attention ; but Lord Arleigh inwardly loathed his fate when he found himself compelled to offer explanations that he would have given the world to avoid. ■ ' lam not going to remain here myself, he said, m answer to the inquiries about rooms and refreshments. ' Lady Arleigh will live at Winston House altogether ; and, as you have always served the family faithfully and well, I should like you to lemaia m her service.' The woman looked up at him m such utter bewilderment and surprise that he felt somewhat afraid of what she might s»y ;he therefore hastened to add — ' • 'Family matters that concern no one but ourselveß compel me to make this arrangement. Lady Arleigh will be mistress how of Winston Hou^e. She will have a staff of servants here. You can please yourself about remaining— either as housekeeper or not — just as you like.' ' Of course my lord, I shall be only too thankful to remain"; but it Beeins so very strange that ' ' Lord Arleigh held up his hand. ♦Hush!' he said. . 'A well-tiained servant finds nothing strange.' : [ The woman took the' hiut and ! retired. Lord Arl e ig a turned to say farewell to his wife. He . found her standipg by the window, white and tearless. .*.. „' 'Oh, my darling,' he cried, 'we now must part ! Yet how can 1 leave you — so sad, so silent, so despairing ? Speak to me, my own love -one word— * just one word.' • ■.'< i i • ■••> Her woman's heart, so quick to pity, was touched by his prayer. Sne smiled as sad, as sweet a smile as ever was seen on woman's lips. < ' '1 shall be better m time, Norman,'' she said, ' and shall nob always be sad.' • There are some business arrangements which mast be made/ he continued,, hurriedly— ' but it will be better for us uos to meet again just yet, Madaline— l could not bear it. I will see that all is arranged for your comfort. You must have every luxury and ' Luxury,' she repeated, mockingly. >\ ' Why, I would rather be the sorriest beggar that ever breathed than be myself i Luxury ! You mock m?, Lord Arleigh.' ' You will be less bitter against ma m time, any darling,' he said. 'I mean just what I sayr-^hat, you ■BhalUbaye everything this, world cm gi7e you ' ' Kxcept- lovo and happiness,' she interposed. • Love you have swoet ; you have mine —^•the fervant, true, honest, deep love of my heart and soul. Happiness comes m time to all who do their duty." Tbink of Oarlvle's words— 'Say unto all kin da of happiness, ' I can do without thee -wii.h self-renunoiat on life begiiis/' ' Oa r lj;le had '"'no 1 sued fate as mine iv his thoughts,' she sud, 'when he wrote that. B at, ! Lord Arleigb, Ido not wish to complain. I am sorry that I have interrupted you. I have accepted my fate. Say all you wish— l will be silent.'