CHAPTER XII. "I CANNOT TELL YOU."

Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2131, 6 March 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XII. "I CANNOT TELL YOU."

' Come out— aro you going to faint?' said George Manners, in a cold, strange voice, the next minute ; and Miss Williams put out her hand piteously, almost like a blind person feeling in the dark, as he spoke. • What is the matter? Cannot you walk ?' continued George. ' Don't look like that, for God's sake ! Here, take hold of my arm, and I will drag you into the nir.' I Have— have some pity on mo,' she said, trembling and shivering, as the night air struck her. • Lean against me one moment— and I will wrap you in this,' answered George Manners, stopping nnd taking off his overcoat, and folding it round her shoulders. • Thank you,' riaid tho trembling woman. ' Don't thank me,' f> ud George, sternly, 1 but let me try to get you home.' And clinging to him, helpless and feeble, as if about to die, Miss Williams tottered on some moments in silence by his side. Then suddenly she stopped. • Don't judge me, George— don't judge me harshly,' she cried ; ' I am not to blame. ' I 1 am uot judging you. Don't excite yourself any more,' he answered, gloomily. ' But it must seem so strange to you,' she continued, partly recovering herself, , ' that? Sir Hugh should any what he did just now. But will you trust me George ? I have done no wronjr. I would be sorry for you to think that I had done wrong.' ' What is thore between you and thi3 man then ?' said George savagely, turning and facing her, ' What mystery is there between you and Hugh Manners ?' I None, none, I swear !' replied Miss Williams. He is nothing to me — I detest and despise him. 1 ' He is a scoundrel,' said George, between his set teeth ; ' a *-c>undrel, whatever it is, to strike a woman as he did yon to-night. But can you not trust me ! Will you uot give mo a right to tell him what I think ?"' ' I cannot tell you,' said she, sobbing and clinging to his, arm. ' I dare not tell you — but, oh ! George, trust me a I little still. 1 ' Don't say that— don't call mo that,' ' But, why ? For a few words will you quite put me away ?' c For such words as those — yes !' I 1 thought you cared for me a little more than that,' she sobbed. ' Shall I tell you how much ? said George, his voice broken with uncontrollable pain. ' Shall I toll you that I meant, to ask yon to-night to be my wife ?— That I would have toiled fur you — and tried to make our poor home happy ? — 0 my God !' and lie pushed hrr roughly away. ' Why have I ever seen you ? — why have you inide me so utterly ini-emble as I feel now ?' ' Forgive me, George, forgive me,' said she, going back and layinsf her h.ind upon his arm. « God knows I meant you no wrong.' 'Why" did you do it then?' he answered, turning away his head. • Why have you destroyed my peace ?' c Dear George, I pray that I have not.' 'You have then,' said ho bitterly. ' Aro you satisfied. All my life's hopes were set on you.' ' Oh, George !' 'I have loved you too j^rell,' he continued, wifch his voice quivering with emotion ; « and to find out now — that you are ' ' But what do you know ?' ' That you are worthless I' cried George, passionately. ' Has a good girl, do you think, secrets with a man like Hugh Manners?— Secrets that can drive the blood from her face, and send her out trembling with shame like you? • You arc cruel— too cruel.' • I am — God forgivo me. I would not strike you, Amy, as be did. I would help you now even in any way that I could— but that is all. ' I abk no more, Mr Manners,' she replied with some pride. ' You have judged mo— you can tell your mother and I shall go.' ' Don't let mo send you out homeless into tho world,' said George, 1 'you can stay for me.' ' With such suspicions — no.' • Clear yourself from thorn, then,' said he eagerly. 'Oh, Amy! sometimes I have thought — it may have been vain of me— that you cared for me a little— for the .sake at least of my love for you, tell me the truth. Are you,' and he ground his teeth together, ' are you and Hugh Manners lovers now ?' 1 No, I sweat- it solemnly.' 'Can I trust you even in that,' answered George, with a piteous break in his strong voice ; • you— that I had hoped to — to — ' And he turned away his head utterly overcome. ' You can trust me,' said Amy Williams, solemnly. ' George it is wrong of me to say it— but I only care for you too much. lam not deceiving you.' 'Thank God for that then,' he said in a j low tone holding out his hand. ' I will believe your word.' ' He has taken a cruel advantage of— something very painful— that is all.' j 1 Be knows something of your early history, I suppose ?' Miss Williams was silent. ' Amy, why cannot you tell me ?' said George, impatiently. • I cannot — I dare not. But will you believe this ? Whatever cruel imputations he may cast upon me, I have not deserved them— uot willingly, at least.' ' Here is the gate,' said George, with a deep sigh, for they had now reached the Vicarage. ' I don't understand you — will you say to them I am not coming in just now ?' I Oh ! don't go out alone,' she answered, taking his hand ; 'don't George. Do you think I am not suffering too ? Oh, George ! come in— it is New Year's Eve — come in, and forget what you have heard. I 1 shall never do that— no man could.' 'My life has been very crael,' auswered Miss Williams, covering her face with her hands ; ' would to God that it were done.' • Do not let anything I have said grieve you more,' replied George ; 'and if I can do anything for you, will you come to me still ?' 'Yes,' and she held out her hand to him once more—' yes. But for my sake to-night come in, and make no difference with Sir Hugh ; just consider what your mother and sister will think.' 'Always thinking of appearances,' said George, bitterly. • A woman breaks her heart and yours, and goes down smil-

ing to the company afterwards. Thank you Miss Williams I cannot to-night shake Hugh Manners' false hand.' ' Oh, George ! ' But he had already turned, going out into the moonlight to suffer his misery alone. 'Where is George?' asked Mrs Manners, ab soon as Miss Williams reached the Vicarage door ; for she was standing there waiting for them. 1 He— he is not very well— at least— he is well, but he's not coming in just now,' stammered Miss Williams in reply ; and Mrs Manners seeing her pale and tearstained face by the lamp in the hall, looked at her in the utmost surprise. ' What is it ?' she said, • Have you quarrelled ?' ' I— l don't know — Oh, Mrs Manners ! lam not well ; let me go to my room. Do not say anything about me to the others.' ' T will get you some wine,' replied the kindly creature at once. 'Sit down, my dear ; why, you are all in a tiemble.' ' I—lI — I am very unhappy,' sobbed the poor girl, leaning her head against Mrs Manners' broad shoulder. ' Never mind, dear, never mind 5 you'll get it all made up again. George is a bit hot-tempered, I know— indeed, all the Manners are. I am sure his f&ther is, but it's soon off. You'll see it will all come right ;' for Mrs Manners could conceive nothing but a lovers' quarrel to be the matter. ' Dont say anything about this, please,' whispered Miss Williams ; ' I can walk vow, and will go upstairs. Just say, dear Mre Manners, I am not very well.' ' But about George, he'll surely come in?' ' I do not think he will just yet.' ' He came with you to the gate ?' ' Yes. 1 ' Oh, then he's sure to come in. You sec I have some sapper ready for you all.' • He said you were not to wait.' ' I'll send out Jim to seek him,' said Mrs Manners ; and Miss Williams, who thought this might bo the best plan perhaps, made no demur. Meanwhile Sir Hugh and Miss Manners were standing by the drawing-room fire. ' What cau have become of the others ?' said Adelaide uneasily. "Getting sentimental in the moonlight,' answered Sir Hugh. • You see its only old stagers like you and me, Adelaide, who never indulge in such things.' ' Yes,' said Ailul.ude, and she bit her lips as she spoke. 'Do you think (ieorgo oarcs anything about her?' she asked in a few minutes. ' Yes.' ' Oh, Hugh ! do you really ?' 'To be suic I do.' 'What a thing it will be if he marries a woman like that.' ' Yes ; but he won't. There they are.' ' I dou't hear George's vo'ce,' said Adelaide. 'He'll bo comiug presently. Why, Adelaide, isn't thore someone crying in the hall ?' ' I don't know. I think not ; but I'll co and bee ;' but as she opened the draw-ing-room door, Miss Williams fled {upstairs. 'Is there anything the matter ?' she asked of Mrs Manners, who was still standing in the hall. ' No, only Geoigo has not come in — has uouo for a walk. He's got a headache, I'll send Jim to book him, 1 answered Mrs Manners in groat confusion. ' The lovers inn 4 have qu irrelled,' said Adelaide, scornfully, returning to the drawing-room, « and Goorge has gone off in a pet." ' I had better go too, then,' said Sir Hugh, yiwnin/. Ho will be cjming in, I suppose, lik%n, raging liou.' ' Oh, Huarh ! dou't go. Sit out the old ye.u\ Supper will be iPidysoon.' ' Mr dear gii), George will be making a scene ; I had better go.' ' Have yo-i ve^ed him about anythiujr':' ' Wliv, you werj there the whole time.? 4 1 he ird something. But stay, Hugh, spend the List hours of the old year among friends.' 'By Jove, one's best would bo the blankets this cold night, I think,' replied Sir Hugh, shrugging his shoulders. 'Good night, Adelaide. Make my excuses to your step-mother, and mind come in your best Ipoks to-morrow. And then after shaking her hand, he went away. ' Wher« is your cousin gone ?' said Mrs Manners, coming into the room a few minutes later, 'To bed, like all wiie people,' replied Adeluide, ' Good night, Mrs Manners ; I shall wish you a, happy New Year^tomorrow morning." ' I will wait up for your brother,' said Mrs Manner^ gravely. 'Good night, Adelaide.' The New Year had begun when George Manners, with a white, stern set face, reentered tho Vicarage. • Well, Gsprgie, said his* step-mother, opening tho door when she hoard his step outside, ' come in. Come by tho fire ; I've a famous oue for you here, and tho kettle is boiling.' George came in without speaking, and stood holding his, hands over the blazing fire. ' Why, you are shivering ray dear. Let mo pull off your boots; and sit down here,' ami she drew thp Vicar's own easy chair close to tho fender. 'And now Georgie, let me mix you somo whisky. ' ' You aro very good, mother.' ' I'm glad to see yon back, the night is so cold. ' Is Hugh Manners gone ?' said George. ' Yes he only stayed a few minutes, and Adelaide would not sit up to suppor after he was gone'; so your father, poor man, got all tho good things to himself ; but ho really 6eeraed to enjoy them.' 'And— and Miss Williams?' asked George. ' She camo in, in sttch a state, poor thing — crying fit to break her heart. Oh, Georgie ! you should'nt vex her, for I'm sure she loves you well.' ' Oh, mother, no.' ' But I know better, Georgie ; and trust a woman for finding out these things.' ' It would be better If she did not. No, mother, yon muit forget all about this — Amy Williams cannot be ray wife.' ' What ? have you quarrelled as bad as that?' 'It is all over,' answered George ; and he turned away his head, ashamed of his irrepressible emotion, even before his fond step-mother. 'Oh ! my dear,' said she, coming and laying her arm round her shoulder, ' don't let a little thing part you. You love each other, and many waters canuot quench it.' George only bowed his head down upon her kind baud. 'What is it, dear?' urged Mm Manners. ' Cannot I put it right? If it is anything about that cold-hearted Tillain, Sir Huj?h, I don't believe it. It's poor Peggy Richardson, I fear, that ' 'Ay— -.bo's tho last, I daresay, answered George, with #reat bitterness. 'But Georgie, there's nothing between Miss Williams and Sir Hugh ; he's scarcely seen her.' 'Mother,' said George, rising, ' do not let us meutiou her auy more — do uot talk of her please. But you will bo kind to her still— after I am gone.' ' After you aie goue !' ' Yes ; I am obliged to start for London to-morrow, but I may not be lang away.' 'Oh, George! what is it?' What is the matter ?'

1 1 would rather say nothing. Bear with mo to-night, mother ; it's the last time you will fee me thus.' ' What can I .say to comfort you, dear?' ' Nothing,' he answered, with a kind of of smile—' nothing, mother. But I h ive not wished you a happy new year, ' And ho went up to her, and kissed her cheek. ' God give you one, my d,irliug,' said Mrs Manners, the tears streaming down her comely cheeks as she spwkc, George smiled again. 'Good night and God bless you mother,' he said ; and then, almost without another word, he left her and wont upstairs to enduro his sleepless pain.