THE STORY-TELLER

Waikato Times, Volume XII, Issue 1014, 21 December 1878, Page 2

THE STORY-TELLER

WIFE IN NAME ONLY. By the author of " Dora Thorne," "On Her Wedding Morn," " Redeemed by Love," " A Woman's War," &c. &g. (Coutinued from Saturday's issue). CHA'irTER XXXVII. The reason of his separation from his wifs revealed, Lord Arleigh again pat the question — ' Do you think, Lord Mountdean, that I have, done wrong V The Earl looked at him. ' No,' he replied, ' I cauuofc Bay that you have.' * I loved her,' continued Lord Arlei<?li, but I could not make the daughter of a convict the mistress of my house, the mother of my children. I could not lot my children point to a felon's cell as the cradle of their origin, I could not sully my name, outrage a lon<r line of noble ancestors, by making my poor wife mistress of Beechgrove. Say, if the same thing had happened to you, would you not have acted m like manner V 1 1 believe that I should,' answered the Earl, gravely. ' However dearly you might love a woman, you could not place your coronet on the brow of a convict's daughter,' said Lord Arleigh. ' I love my wife a thousand times better than my life, yet I could wot make her mutcess of Beechgrove.' ' It was a cruel deception, 'observed the Earl — one that it is impossible to understand. She herself — the lady you have made your wife — must be quite as unhappy as yourself.' 'If it be possible, she ia more so,' returned Lord Arleigh ; ' but tell me, if I had appeared to you m the dilemma — if I had asked your advice — what would you have said to me i ' 1 should have had no resource but to tell you to act as you have done,' replied the Earl ; «no matter what pain and sorrow it entailed, you could not have done otherwise.' ' I thought you would agree with me. And now, Mountdeau, te!l me, do you see any escape from mv difficulty ?' ' I do not indeed, .replied the Earl. 'I had one hope,' resumed Lord Arteigh j and that was that the father

had perhaps been unjustly .sentenced, or that he inigh t nfter all prove to be innocent. I wont to see him — he is one of tho convicts working at Chatham.' ' You wont to see him !' echoed the Earl, m surprise. ' Yea ; and I gave up all hope the momeut I saw him. Ho is simply a handsome reprobate, I asked him if it was true that be bad committed the crime, and ho auswered me, quite frankly, < Yes.' I asked him if there was auy extenuating 1 circumstances i he replied, < Wautof money.' When 1 iiad seen and spoken to him, I felt convinced that the step I had taken with regard to my wife was a wise one, however crael.it may have been. No man iv his senses would voluntarily admit a criminal's daughter into his family.' ' No ; it is even a harder case than . I thought if,' said the E.rl. 'The ■ only thing I can recommend is resig- | nation.' t Lord Mountdean thought to him- ■ self that he would like to see this hapless young wife, and leara if she suffered as her husband did. He wondered too wbat she could be like this convict's daughter who had been j gifted with a regal dower of beauty ' and grace — this lowly-born child of [ the people who had been fair enough [ to charm the fastidious Lord Arleigh. I Meanwhile Madaline was all un- > conscious of the strides that destiny [ was making m her favour. She had thought her husband's letter all that f was most kind . and, though she felt > that there were no real grounds tor I it, she impressed upon her mother [ the need for the utmost reticence. 3 Margaret Dornham understood from • the first. . ' Never have a moment's uneasif n 683, Madaline,' she said, 'From . the hour I cross your threshold until > I U&ve your father's name shall i never pass my lips.' r It was a little less dreary for i Madaline when her mother was with > her. Though they did not talk much, jj and had but few tastes alike, Marga--3 vet was all devotion, all attention to r her child. She was sadly at a loss to understand matters. She had quite ex--1 pected to find Madaline living at - Beecbgrove — she could not imagine * why she was alone at Winston ~ b House. The arrangement had seemed reasonable enough while Lord i Arleigh was abroad, but, now that ■ he had returned to England, why did he not come to hia wile, or why did 1 she not go to him ? She could not - understand it; md, as Madaline ■ volunteered no explanation, her mother asked for none. '. But, when day after day she saw 3 her daughter fading away -when 3 she saw the fair face lose its color, 3 the eyes their light — when she saw I the girl shrink from the sunshine I 1 and the flowers, jrom all that was bright and beautiful, from all that was cheerful and exhilarating — she knew that her soul was sick unto death, She would look with longing eyes at the calm, resigned face, wishing with all her heart that she might speak, yet not daring to do so. What seemed to her even more surprising was that no one appeared to think such a state of things strange ; and, when she had been at Winston some few weeks, she discovered that, as far as the occupants; of the house were concerned, the condition of matters was not viewed as extraordinary. She offered no remark to the servants, and they offered none to her, but from casual obsrrvationa she gathered that her daughter had never been fo Beechgrove, but had lived at Winston all her married" life, and that Lord Arleigh had never been to visit; her. How was this ? What did the terrible paiu m her daughter's face mean ? Why was her bright young life so slowly but surely fading away '? tibe noted it for some time m silence, and then she decided to sneak. One morning, when Madaline had turned with a sigh from the oldfashioned gardon with its wilderness of flowers, Margaret said, gently — ' Madaline, I never hear you speak of the Duchess of Hazlewood, who was so very kind to you. Does she never come to see you ?' She saw the vivid crimson mount to the white brow, to be speedily re placed by a pallor terrible to behold ' My darling,' she cried, iv dis tress, I did not expect to grieve you !" ' Why should I be grieved ?' said the girl, quietly. 'The Duchess does not come to see mo because she acted to me very cruelly ; and I never write to her now.' Then Margaret was silent for a while. How was she to bring forward the subject nearest to her heart ? She cast about for words m which to express her Ihoughts, ' Madaline,' she said, at last, 'no one has a greater respect than I have foT the honor of husband and — I mean, for the good confidence there should be between them. In days gone by, I nover spoke of your poor father's faults, and T never allowed anyone to mention them to mo. If auy of the neighbors ever tried to talk about him, I would not allow it; So, my darling, do not consider that there is any idle curiosity m what I am about to say to you. I thought you were so happily married, my dear ; and it is such a bitter disappointment to mo to find that such is not the case.' Tbero camo no reply from Lady Arleigh ; her hands were held before her eyes: 'I am almost afraid, dearly as I 'ove you, to ask you the question,' Margaret contiuued, ' buf, Madaliiu 1 , will you toll mo why you do not live with your husband '?' "1 cannot, mother,' was the brief reply. 'Is it—oh, tell me, dear— is it any fault of yoars? Have you displeased h'lU?'

'It is through no fault of mine, mother . h e says s0 himself. 1 'Is it from any fault of his? Has he done anything ..to displease you P' warmth, he has notMndeed, ho COUld not, 1 love him soT 'Then, if you have not displeased each other aud really love each other, why are you parted m this strange fa.3h.ou j> It seems to me, Madaline, thatyou are his wife paly iv name.' ' You are right, mother, and I shall never bo more } but do not ask me wny, tor I can never tell you. The socket must live and die with me.' ' I hen, I shall never know it, Madaliuc, my love.' ! ?T*?' mothei V ahe anew te d. ±Sut do you know, my darling-, that it is wearing your life away ?' Yes, I know it, but I cannot alter matters. And, mother,' she continued, it we are to be good friends and live together, you must never mention this to rao again. 'I will remomber,' said Margaret, kwsing- the thin, white hands, but to herself she said matters should not so continue. Were Lord Arleigh twenty times a lord, he should not break his wife's Heart m such a cold, cruel fashion. A sudden resolve came to Mrs Dorniiam—sho would go to Boeuhgrovc, aud see Lord Arleigh herself. If he were angry and sont her away from Winiaton House, it would not matter— she would have told him the truth. And the truth that she had to tell Mm was, that tb> separation from him was slowly but surely killing his wife. 1o be Continued.