CHAPTER XL—(Continued.)

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1624, 30 November 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XL— (Continued.)

" His supposed father is not his father at all." The words repealed themselves again and again in my mind as, with all my vague doubts levived, I stared at the Count in astonishment. " I don't suppose you can foim any idea as to the writer of this precious epiatlc ?" he said. " Not the remotest. I am thunderstruck ! What do you intend to do ?" "Nothing 1" "Nothing?" " No. To take any notice of such a letter would be to have a shaic in its baseness, and, even were Walter all therein described, I would not now alter my intentions regarding him. I can be as firm in the one direction as the other. Still, the writer of this infamous letter plays well on is, peihaps, my greatest weakness — the respect for so-called purity of blood. One of those feelings," muttered the Count, half-aloud, " which arc more powerful than the calm rea&on which condemns them." "Do you mean to show Walter this letter ?" I asked, as I prepared to get out of bed. 11 Undoubtedly ; it is only fair to make him aware of the enemy who tries to stab him in the dark. It will pain him a good deal," added the Count, as he left the 100 m, " but it . must be done!" Ten minutes more found me down stairs. Breakfast was on the table, but no one had sat down to it. The Count was pacing the room, accoiding to habit, with his head bent down, and his hands clasped behind him. 11 These things are best .settled in few words," he said, at last, stopping in front of Walter. " You saved my daughter's life last . night ; if you and she aie still of the same nrind, you have my consent to marriage." Walter grasped his hand in silence— he could not speak. " Ah, I see," said the Count. " There is no change in your feelings, at any rate. What say you, Paola ?" For all answer, his daughter came forward, and placed her hand in her lover's with the proud sincciity chaiacleiistic of her. And so we sal down to breakfast— a cheerful little party, with small foreboding of the shadow which that cruel letter was so soon to cast upon us. Walter's happiness sparkled in his bright blue eyes, and lit up the face which the short, silky, brown beard proclaimed to be no longer that of a stripling ; Paola's grave and modest joy seemed to lend a softer air to her lofty beauty, and the little Quakeress, catching the pleabant infection, laughed and chattered with an unwonted liveliness, which rendered her irresistibly piquantc. I, too, felt a load lifted from my spirits, and, when the Count called Walter aside, as we rose from the table, I felt assured that, after a little sunrise and anger, the villanous letter would be forgotten, and all go •' merry as a marriage bell." How much I was mistaken I discovered when, some ten minutes later, I was sent for to the library. Walter stood by the table, gazing fixedly at the anonymous letter, as if unable yet to realise its purport. His face was pale as death, his broad brow knit, and his eyes, when he raised them, shone with a pale, steely glare, which was new to them. " The Count tells me," he said, in hollow and altered tones, " that you have seen this — this thing," and he pointed to the letter. " He says that he intends to ignore it, and he advises me to do the same. What do you say ?" "I agree with the Count. Do not allow your happiness lo be stabbed to death by the hand of an unseen coward. Treat this " Walter interrupted me with a harsh laugh. " You little know me — either of you !" he said, crushing the letter in his strong, brown hand. "You, Count, are proud— no man more so, and I can estimate the effort which it costs you to ignoie this cruel attempt to ruin my dearest hopes. But I am as proud in my way as you are, and, though from my heart I thank you for your generous offer to disregard this vile letter, I say — nay, I swear — that, until this matter is sifted lo the bottom, your daughter's name shall never be coupled with mine 1" "Take time, Walter," said the Count. "You are naturally excited; take lime to consider, before you pledge yourself to such a course." " I am not excited now," returned Walter, more calmly ; " and I say that, if I were to consider for a thousand years, my decision would be the same !" "That is more than any man can say," was the reply. " But — be it as you will 1 lam willing to carry out my promise ; though, at the same time, if the matter can be cleared up, I shall be all the more pleased. You had better see Paola, and make known to her your resolve ; she knows nothing yel of this letter. Poor girli her happiness has been short-Jived," went on the Count, when Walter had left the room : " but, at the first word of his desire to suspend the engagement, her pride will come to her aid. Why should people so much decry the spirit of pride ?," he added, reflectively — " that master-influence which rules over all other emotions, and can control, at times, even the weakness of the ' body itßelf." " Shakespeare tells us," I said, " that ' by that sin fell the angels.' " " By what sin ?" asked the Count, stopping the march to and fro, which he had just commenced. " By pride." , "No — you mistake! It is of ambitionWolsey is speaking when lie uses those wordßv .Shakespeare was not the' man to confound; two such different qualities. , Ambition s;is< 'demonstrative and'aggressive ; -pride^i ajlentlyi > defensive. , And, as for the sty,ot We maij»r# i wp'knpw nothing about Shak'eßpeare'p idea's" ;dn?,£uch points/ f#|k>re rtwi&WlapiJ

tlie mistake of crediting him with the opinions ■which ho puts in the mouth of this character or that. Well, Ruth, what is the matter ?" The Quakeress had come into the room with more haste than was "usual with her; a flush was on her cheek, and she spoke rapidly and eagerly. " I think, friend Giustiniani, that I ean — or, at least, my father ean — throw some light upon this matter of the young man Addisons parentage. Truly, I meant not to listen, hut, befoie I could leave the room where thy daughter is, I heard something said concerning a doubt of his being the son of his reputed father. Doth that person possess the station called Yaramboona?" " Yes ; near — What's the name of that place, Raymond ?" " Kojonga," I answered. "Then, I pray thee to confer with my father," returned Ruth; "for he hath often spoken with mo concerning a destitute woman whom he befriended not long before I was born. She was a widow, with a little boy of two years old, and, as she belonged to the Roman Catholic communion, she was taken charge of by a clergyman of that church, and afterwards married to this man Addison." " You are sure it is the same ?" asked the Count. " He dwclleth attlie same place," said Ruth. "He lived in Melbourne at the time of the marriage, but I have heard my father say that ho afterwards went to dwell at the station of Yaramboona." "Then, we must sec your father on the subject, Ruth. Will you come with me, Raymond ? This will evidently throw some light on the matter. That boy may have been Waßer ; docs ho remember anything of his mother ?" " He has but a faint, dream-like recollection of her," I said— " nothing at all distinct. But he has always supposed himself to be Addisons son." " That may bo so," said the Count ; " but he need not be, for all that. Croce di Malta /" ho exclaimed, as Ruth left the room, " I see it all." " Sec what, Count ?" I abked ; my voice shaking, as a strange possibility presented itself to my mind. " Nothing, my friend, nothing I" he replied, after a pause. "An explanation of this mattor has occurred to me, which I should be heartily glad to find the true one, but, lest it .should prove otherwise, I will keep it to myself for the present. Let us go and see Stone forthwith !" I did not press the Count for an explanation, for I su spooled that the thought in his mind was also the thought in mine. What that was remains to be seen. At the door we met Walter. He was now more composed, and it was evident to me that his unconfj[ueiable hopefulness was alleady raising its head once more. " I have explained my position to your daughter, Count,", he said, " and she agrees with me in my determination." " There is no other course open to her," returned the Count, somewhat stiffly. "My daughter could scarcely be expected to sue for a continuance of the engagement which you wish to suspend. 'Forgive mel" he added, seeing that Walter bit his lip and turned away. " I am really soiry for you ; but I am equally sorry _ for my daughter, and I cannot help thinking your conduct a little Quixotic. However, I bpgin to see my way to a solution of thopioblem; we are now going to make an inquiry in connection with the matter, but I think you had belter not come with us. Raymond will make known the results to you, and, in the meantime, keep up your heart I" The Count held out his hand, and Waller gra&ped it warmly, while the old sanguine gleam came into his eyes. " It will all end happily," he said, " I am sure of itl Where shall I meet you, Raymond ? I cannot come here any more until this matter is cleared up." "I will come to your office in the course of the day," I said. " Depend upon me," and Waltor took his departure as the Count went inside to speak to his daughter. " She looks at the matter in the same light as Waller does," he said, when he rejoined mo, a quarter of an hour later ; " which is fortunate for him. She is not the girl to endure a slight, and if she did not admire him for this resolution, she would resent it with an intensity which would wither up her love and make her hate the sight of him. It is the peculiarity of our national temperament neither to love nor to hate by halves, Your Dr. Johnson should have gone to Italy for his "gobd hater ;" while, as for good lovers, our history teems with them — from Prancesca da Eimini downwards." Another hour found us at the Quaker's place of business in West Melbourne. Plain, . solid, and unpretending, like himself , like him, also, it was quiet and orderly, and the appearance of Mr. Reuben Harrison, as,' perched upon a high stool, he surveyed us through the glass partition of the counting-house, was at painful variance with the placid decency of the establishment in general. His features had become swollen and puffy, his high colour had developed an unpleasanMendency to concentrate itself about his nose, his curly black hair was glistening with oil, 'and his ultia-fa&hionable dress supplied all that was necessary to complete the vulgarity of his aspect. "Be seated, friends," said an older clerk, whose language bespoke the Quaker, if his garment did not. " Silas is not within ; he hath gone to the Custom-house, but I expect his return every moment. Meddle not with that — it conccrneth not thee," he added, to Harrison, who had officiously reached over to take the Count's card. "More than you think, perhaps!" was the reply, given with a toss of the greasycurled head, as Harrison descended from his stool, and asked the Count to step aside with him for a moment. What the nature of the interview was I could not imagine, but it was a very brief one, and ended in the abrupt and discomfited return of Mr. Harrison to his perch, just as Silas Stone walked into the office.