THE VICAR'S GOVERNESS. CHAPTER XLVI.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2197, 7 August 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE VICAR'S GOVERNESS. CHAPTER XLVI.

It was more than an hour, however, be,iore she was able to leave the house— an hour passed in the moat violent hysterics and frantic arief, and in miserable selfhumiliation anil reproach. How long this mood might have lasted it was impossible to say, but the proud Adelaide Manners was recalled, partly at least, to herself; by hearing the hall doorbell repeatedly ring, and strange voices talking loudly, as they passed and repassed the library-door, where they then were, • Who are they ?' she asked ; • who are they T ami Amy was obliged to confess «he supposed it was the coroner's jury assembling to view Sir Hugh's body. 'It' is time we were going then,' said Adefaide, with a, shudder ; and covering her face with a shawl, she asked Amy to order a carriage at once to convey her home. She was ill for many days after this— ill when they carried her unfortunate cousin |to his plat:e by his father's aud brother's aide — when Hugh Manners, ninth baronet, aged thirty-one years, was laid in $he family vault; and the tenth baronet (as he called himself) stood by, and read the servide over his dead nepheW'fl coffin, with great emphasis and expression,; but, it must be admitted, witß some secret satisfaction and pride. Mr. Portland, the family solicitor, was among the funeral guests, and when the •olemn ceremony was over returned to the Vicarage to dinner, for he and the Vitfaf had some business to discuss. This naturally related to the claims of the unhappy girl who called herself the late baronet's wife ; claims which, though the Vicar might openly pooh-pooh at, he was really uneasy and disturbed about. Mr Portland, urbane and courteous, had frequently addressed bis host during the day as * Sir Arthur,' congratulating him, with well-bred ease, on his new honours; bnt when the Vicar with assumed indifference and contempt began his story over the port, the old lawyer ghook his head. -„.,. • , • I don't like the look of it,' he said. These claims are seldom raised by women without some grounds, particularly by a mertf country girl like this.' 1 But she's mad, my dear sit,' interrupted the Vicar, excitedly. 'Who would believe a mad women's story V 'Her affection for him must have been very strong to have driven her so,' said Mr Portland, quietly, ' which makes it Pmore unlikely that there should be any attempt to deceive. You say her father affirms that they were married? It nrobablv was ft Scotch marriage to satisfy the girl's scruples ; and the laws of Scotland are strangely loose upon this point. I fear for the present we had better drop Sir Arthur,' he added, with a/ smile. «I will never believe it,' said the Vicar, starting up, forgetting his philoiODhy and his pride at once, and begin- ' nine hastily to pace the room. * Never, Portland. A more confounded young rascal about women there never lived than Hugh Manners, and d'ye think he'd marry her? Unrty a merp fisher girl? ffever, my good sir-never !' A faint smile stole round Mr Portland s lioa as he looked at the exojted church aUroitary— a faint smile of satire, at the oood man who was trembling iesfc hia nephew had done something to save hi* •oul. B»fc thß nexfc instauc lw checketi vJr *j( c knew hia own heart too well to Jespfa* a little exhibition of human weakne »The probability is/ he said, 'that .ome-sort of irregular marriage did take Sace between them ; but the probability ?« also. Manners, that tbe child will not be torn tUw, and if it ia, that she, Uraorantasabemusfcbe, will be unable J to prove any real claim, and the silence Wrf the father we may suppose could be SeC « Bui about taking the title!' said the Vl « C There will be a little necessary delay about it,' replied Mr Portland; 'we had better make. a little unnecessary. It wouW be unpleasant to have a .lawsuit if J^Hbe^rSded.' Better wait till the ihild i» horn before any steps are taken. -In the meantime we can make enquiries into the truth of the story, and if you can Sve me a bed here I will see the gir and fir f^her in the morning, before I leave

Narbrough. And now, shall we join the ladies?' k , . Mr Portland had sat next Amy during dinner, and he had admired her. He had admired all the pretty womon he had met during his long life. Beauty was everything in a woman, he said, for it was tangible, and their other good qualities he thought were not. He went up, therefore, and sat by her again. He was wondering if she were the cause of his ' youug friend George's long absence ; wondering if these two had been lovers. And he found it out before he had been in the drawing- room five minutes. •Yon will know my youug friend George Manners well, I suppose?' he asked ; and the deep flush and quickened breath at once gave him his answer, for he was not one who always judged by words. • He will return to England now, I conclude,' went on Mr Portland ; * the unhappy event of poor Hugh's death will make a great difference in bis prospect*.' Amy sighed and grew a little pale. She had thought of this beforq ; thought that George would now be a rich man, and that others might try to win the prize— that others, fairer and younger women perhaps, jriight learn to love him now. 4 1 do not know/ she said, falteringly ; and then she added, * but Ido know, that if— if there is any doubt—' and here she paused. •You allude to Sir Hugh's supposed marriage to the fisher girl V said Mr Portland. * Have you ever seen her ? Is she so beautiful ?' • The most beautiful woman I ever saw,' answered Amy. 'It is a pitiable sight, and I know George will be her truest friend if she lives. He will see that justice is done to her and hers— l know that, however much it may interfere with his own prospects.' ' He is a fine young fellow, I daresay,' said Mr Portland ; but in this world, my dear youug lady, it does not do to be too quixotic, Well, we will see— we will see. I thiuk I must have a look ( at this beauty before I go.' . He kept to his resolution, and, accompanied by the Vicar, walk.cd down on the. following morning to the village, ostensibly to see the schoolroom, but in reality to sift the truth of poor Peggy's story. ; The Vicar pointed out Richardson fl house to him, and then walked on, and Mr Portland found himself. at the old fisherman's door just as the doctor was leaving it. 'Dr. Ruthyen, knew who he was. John, Portland was as well known in Northumberlaud as the Duke himself, and the country doctor touched his hat with a sort of rough respect to the rich lawyer, and made way for him to enter. 'You're come to see after my poor patent inside, I suppose ?' he said, in a low voice. 'I heard you were at the Vicarage, but, poor lass, she is in no state to be questioned.' ' Would it do her any harm for me to see her for a few minutes, doctor ? asked Mr Portland, with his fine smile. »' Not a whit, not a whit. She'll take you most likely for someone else. She fancies I am the poor lad they buried yesterday. Come in, Mr Portland ;' and the doctor was moving away, but Mr Portland detained him. 1 1 have no secrets to discuss, doctor, Jie said, ' so perhaps you will kindly stay. You know the common report, of course, and my friend and client, Mr Manners, can have only one wish, which is to see that justice is done to all.' Dr. Ruthyen made no answer. He was a very honest man, and had a certain natural distrust in lawyers, which he could never overcome, and he did not quite believe in the Vicar. • She's in the inner room,' he said, abruptly, and led the way across the small kitchen, where an old rheumatic man sat asleep, by the fire,' to the little room beyond, 'Is that her father ?' asked Mr Portland, in a low voice. 'Ay, poor man— he's going down the hill fast— and you is Peggy, Here's a gentleman come to see you, Peggy," he continued, addressing a figure. who was sitting up in a small blue-checked curtained bed, with long, lovely brown hair streaming quite over her face, through which she was drawing her fingers like a comb, through and through and took not the slightest notice of their entrance, or of the wortla which Dr. Ruthyen had d addressed to her. ';\Von"t you speak to us, Peggy ?' said the" doctor to her again ; pushing gently j enough her long hair back from her face, aijd showing by this action her, almost perfect features. ' Won't you say good mjorning to, this gentleman?' Theu the unfortunate girl lifted up her large, brevn eyes, in which there was not reason, but still unutterable pain, and fixed them with- a kind of flickering mournful stare on Mr Portand's face, but still was silent. ' My poor girl,' said the old lawyer, and held out his white, thin hand, on which he fwore a valuable family diamond. 'My poor girl, I fear you are very ill V But Peggy's eyes had caught the glitter of the stone and her expression changed, aud she snatched his hand and held it fast. 'It's bonny, bonny,' she said ;{; { bonny, like his ' And then she laughed— a terrible laugh— and kissed Mr Portland's hand. - • Like whose V asked Mr Portland gently. Peggy laughed again, and then flung back the old man's hand. 'I know,' she said, nodding her head, 'I know; "but 1 won't tell. He made' me swear a fearful oath I would never tell. Never—he said, n6ver. But the devil stood by and heard, so he beat Hugh after all— after all.' And she laughed again and then drew her hair onoe more over her face* combing her long slender fingers thought it as she had done before. ' She is like {some beautiful mermaid,' said Mr Portland, with a sigh ; for her singular beauty and pitiable condition had touched his heart. 'How lovely she is,' he added, as he turned away. ' No, don't wake up the old man, doctor; I do not care to speak to him to-day ' And he walked out into the open air. ♦Well, I thank God,' he said impressively, when he got there — 'I thank God that, among my many misdeeds, I have at least' driven no woman mad.'