Through Deep Waters.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 2510, 11 August 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Through Deep Waters.

BY INA LEON CASSILTS, Author of " lima Raphael, Actress," " Tho Youa? Widower," "M. Caddie s Carpet Baff,' 7 &c„ &c. CHAPTER XXII. With the morning came the long string of inquiries ; and at about twelve o'clock the carriage of Lady Magdalen Hyde brought its owner in person. Lady Magdalen was a tall stately dame of fifty, the wife qf a cousin of Florence de Clifford s father, and she manifested considerable astonishment when informed by the footman that M. de Cambaceres would like to see her. She, however, kept her own counsel, and when Cambaceres entered the drawing-room all coldness and pride which she might have intended to show vanished before that charm of presence and manner which no one who came in contact with tho Spanish artist ever resisted. As briefly as possible he explained to Lady Magdalen the circumstances which had occurred since Agnes' illness, informing her of the flight of Lady de Clifford, the reason for which he pledged himself to tell her shortly, only giving her now the solemn assurance that it was connected with events in which, though Florence had sinned greatly, she had not sinned in a manner to sully her fair fame. Deeply distressed by all she heard, Lady Magdalen at once promised to remain to take the headship of the house. Slowly but surely the fever lessened, and at nine o'clock that night, when Dr. Dehvyn left his patient, he urged on Don Cola to take some rest, assuring him that there was no immediate danger, though he could not yet say all danger was passed; but the painter shook his head. "No," he said, "I am not conscious of weariness ; and I could not rest. lam like an Arab steed for endurance, Dr. Delwyn."

" I cannot see that without your telling me," said the physician smiling; " well, as you will. Goodnight." Eest! If Agnes had been her old bright self again how could he rest after all that had passed that day, the knowledge that sent the blood bounding through his veins, and filled him with wild hope, hope that would not suffer despair to crush, jet, as he faced fearlessly the difficulties that lay before him, he dared not encourage; and while Agnes slept he paced up and down the gallery without, filled with conflicting thoughts, oppressed with such feelings as owly a man can know who has suffered as he has suffered.

During the latter part of the night Lisetta sat up to watch the sleeper, while Merced lay down to rest for a few hours on a sofa in the room, but after a while the West Indian arose, and approaching Lisetta whispered, " Where is Don Cola, I want to spoak to him." " Walking up and down in the gallery." " I shall be with him in the anteroom, then," said Morced, " and 1 can hear you if you lift your voice." She went quickly—out into the gallery, and Don Cola paused as he saw her.

" Come in here,'' said the woman in a low tone, and he obeyed her, closing the ante-room door carefully. " Let me tell you now," said Merced, sitting down on a sofa, and drawing him to a place beside her, " let me tell you all that I know, and when the senorita is better, then you will be able to act." " Merced," said the Spaniard, " how can you be sure after so many years that I am your fosterson?" " How can I be sure V she said, looking at him steadily ; " you were more than a year old, Cola, when your father, Sir Herbert de Clifford, took you to Italy, and yours is not a face that is often seen. At Santa Lucia when I carried you out the people used to come up and look at you, and were always admiring your beauty, and, Cola, there is a minature out there, there must be—" " A minature," said the painter, quickly.

" Sir Herbert had two minature paintings of you, taken a year after your mother died," said Merced, •' they were perfect likeness. An Italian artist, wlio had been shipwrecked at Santa Lucia, and was waiting for a ship, painted them. One Sir Herbert kept, the other he gave to your mother's brother, who was very fond of you, Don Ramon de Calvados. He was living when I came over to Europe a few years a<*o. You are like that picture now. Though it is a child's face, still you are like it—some people might not see it. Lady de Clifford does not seem to have seen it, but I am your foster-mother, and I had you from your birth. If all the world," she said, vehemently, " were to deny it I would always declare that you were my own boy, my own fosterchild. Your face has haunted me day and night ever since 1 saw you. Your dying mother put you in my arms and bade me take care of you, and I knelt to your father and begged him to take me over to Italy, and he would not. When you passed through this room quickly I knew you ; it may seem strange, you may doubt me, but God gives to a mother and a foster-mother on instinct He gives to none other. Doubt my memory, Cola, and break my heart. I know you are my fos-ter-son."

" I do not doubt you, I do believe you, Merced," said the painter, and the faithful woman clasped her arms about him and kissed his forehead and lips, as she had done long weary years ago, when she had lulled him to rest on her knees in the far off sunny island of the Spanish Main. Rousing herself after some moments the Creole woman said steadily—

" I will tell you, Cola, all I know, and God, we must believe, will not allow you to suffer wrong."

"Sir Herbert de Clifford cauie out to Santa Lucia when I was but a little girl in the service of your mother, Beatriz Calvados. I was her father's slave. He was the son of a Castillian noble, and had a large plantation in the island; your mother, I believe, had Indian blood in her, for her mother's family came from South America, where they had gone originally in the last century. I do not think there was any coloured blood in Beatriz; her mother, Don Luiz' wife, I know was a Spanish Creole, and the Creoles, as you know, are not peoplejof slave blood, though I find Eurspeans usually make that mistake. Sir Herbert was yachting among the islands, and he came with letters of introduction to Don Luiz. Beatriz, your mother, was then only seventeen. They loved each other, and in a few months were married, and Don Luiz, a fortnight before his death, gave me my freedom. Sir Herbert and Beatriz de Calvados were married at the Church of the Assumption, in Castries, on the 25th May, 18—. It was a grand wedding, and there were three priests officiating, and a largo crowd present, all her relations, and myself and all her personal attendants; there was also a register made of it in the church ; but many of the witnesses must still be alive, some I know are. The child that was born to me died, and you, born but three weeks later, were given to me as my fostcr-child. I had you for nearly two years after your mother died, and then Sir Herbert went to Italy. I would have gone with him, but my husband was a slave, and Sir Herbert would not buy him, so I was forced to remain. It was taking my life away," she said, pausing, then went on quickly. " But never mind my suffering, that is past. For years I could not find out anything about you, till one day an English ship came to Santa Lucia, and one of the officers, who could speak Spanish, came to the house where I was then servant, for my husband was dead. He had with him an old English newspaper, and ho read to me a part that told lww you had died in Italy only a few mouths after you reached it. Four years ago I came to Italy in the service of

a lady, and now the Holy Virgin has bronght, me to Edglaud to see my foster-son once more, and help him to gain his rights. Ah ! Cola ! what have been' my sufferings to yours, believing yourself the child of a slave, at least that your mother never was a wife."

" Hush !" said the painter in a low voice, "do not speak of that. Merced, I dare not think of it when I remember that I may utterly fail to prove my identity with Herbert de Clifford's son. My own earliest memories are of Spain, of Cadiz. I was as a child with a lady living there. She would know, if she lives still, who placed me with her. Then I went to the South of France to a school; then to Italy, and there I was till Morella took me into his studio; brought up," he said, through his set teeth, "on his money, till the generous noble who admired my first picture left me the half of his fortune, and I was independent." " Who then ?" said Merced, "took you from your father, and for what motive V'

" Who, Merced 1 His wife Florence, and the man whose name you have heard often perchance in these two days, Selwyn Grant-Faulkner. I will tell you all, but first let me ask you a few questions. Is there anything—any mark by which you could indentify me V' " No," said the nurse directly, " nothing save what I have told you, nothing distinctive. Lady de Clifford did not recognise you." " No, but she never had a good memory for faces; she told me so, Ursula Lambourne, her servant, may have recognised me, it is hardly likely. The marriage, from all that you say would not be difficult to prove, even without the evidence possessed by Grant-Faulkner ; the identify is the real question at issue. Was I baptised in the Church of Assumption, Merced, and under what names 1" "You were baptised in the same church by the Padre Almeido Gonsales, under the names of Leon Rafael Cola Juan Maria. " And was I at all like my mother 1" Merced shook her head— "You had her complexion, and the same shape of hand—she had very beautiful hands She was handsome ; but you were more like her bro'her Rafael, who died in his boyhood. She called you after him." " She was fond of him them 1 When did he die 1" " About a year before Sir Herbert came out to Santa Lucia. But Dona Beatriz grieved bitterly over his death and would often talk to me of him. He was very handsome, like you —beautiful, I should call him. There is the same shape of lip and brow and eye, though you are handsomer than even he ever was. Dona Beatriz was so happy because you were like him." "Is there any picture of Rafael de Calvados?" " There was one painted by an artist in Spain, when he was there with his father, Don Luiz, It hung in the dining-room of Don Luiz's hacienda, and when Dona Beatriz died Don Ramon, her uncle, had it." " It is still in existence, Merced," said Cambaceres, " it will be a valuable link in the chain of evidence. I must not lose time. I must have Grant-Faulkner watched." He rose as he spoke. " I will return shortly," he said, "go now, Merced, and take some rest; you need it. God has of a truth sent you to me, my fostermother," He kissed her tsnderly as he spoke, and then turned hastily and went out. This was the time for action, and when anything had to be done r.o man of business was more practical than the Spanish artist, whose profession was with the ideal. He went to the library, and sitting down wrote the following brief note te Elsinger : " Dear Albrecht, —Go early tomorrow to M (the private detective), and tell him to hare GrantFaulkner watched. I have much to tell you. Come here as soon as you can ; I presume something detained you, or you would have been a second time to-day. Agnes sleeps while I write. She progresses slowly, but, I trust in God surely. Lady Magdalen Hyde is here. Adio. —Yours till death. " Cola-Maria." James, the young footman, who had ushered in Elsinger that day, was, Don Cola knew, still up, and to him he consigned the note, asking him to leave it immediately at Elsinger's house, which was not far. James would have done anything for the Spanish painter, and he departed with alacrity.

So that night passed ; Agnes slept till morning; and when, at ten o'clock, Dr, Delwyn came lie found her still very weak, but so much better that he declared he should not call again till the middle of the day, and assured Father Michael and Lady Magdalen Hyde, who were in the room, that danger, actual danger, was passed, and all that the patient now needed was care. " And of that," he added, smilingly, " I think there will be no lack. AVliere is Don Cola ?" " He is with the Signor Elsinger, his friend," said Merced, "he does not know you are here ; the signorina would not have him sent or, but I am sure he would like to 100 you, He is in the library." "I will go to him," said the

physician, and he turned to his patient—

" I declare," he said wistfully, as he took the hand she held out to* him, " much as I long to get you well, I shall be sorry to lose you." " But you need not," she said smiling a little, f You will always be a friend, a very dear friend — always welcome." "You are a clear child, and I shall remember your words," said Dr Delwyn, " but mind, when you go back to Italy (1 shall send you there to get up your strength, in good hands, I know), you shall leave us poor benighted ones your portrait to look at, Don Cola will not want it, as he will have the original. Ah ! I like to see that colour; you were looking rather paler than I admire." Agnes did coloor, but she kissed the kind physician's hand as he. said— "You could always see it, or anything else you like. He shall paint you another, if you will have it."

"If I will have it! I shall not fail to hold him to his pledge, for a pledge from you for him is more bidding than his own. Good-bye, my child. Mind !no talking and no thinking." And he went down to the library. No talking and no thinking. The first injunction she could easily obey, but the last was not so simple a task. Yet when Cola eame up, which he did in less than ton minutes, he, somehow, without in the least fatiguing the attention of the sufferer, contrived to keep her mind from dwelling on the subjects which held so prominent a place iu it. He speke a little to her, but addressed himself to others, and the vt>ry sound of his voice was soothing. He spoke to Father Michael of those things which he knew she loved to hear, and she, never directly appealed to, listened attentively; yet there was no need for any effort of the brain ; both the speakers threw all that they said more into the shape of dissolving views, that rose, and fell, and blended, and melted before the languid gaze, and flowed in upon the wearied heart like soft music, giving all, and exacting 110 effort of thought or even of feeling. In the same manner, when Father Michael was gone, the painter described to Lady Magdalen Ilyde the Obor-Ammorgau Passion Play, which he had seen as a youth, and which he now recalled with singular vividness to his hoarors; and yot Agnes' acuto intelligence, languid though it was, could see how he moasured his language so as to present rather a marvellous picture, glowing with rich colouring, and the thousand effects of light and shade, than an awful drama. The dramatic element was not, could not be, lacking, whero the sacred actors in tlio drama appeared so prominently in the foreground, but the more tender tints of the picture were dwelt on with a wonderful delicacy of touch, and made to form a kind of sequenco to the conversation that had gone before, so that they lingered on the soul and left a long train of mellow light, " ever refulgent, soft and tender," which did not pass away, even when the first brightness of the impression had failed.

Dr. Delwyn came again in the middle of the day and at night, and when he called the next morning he pronounced his patient quite out of danger, and declared that her constitution must be more like "steel springs" than he had at first supposed. " But then," lie said to Lady Magdalen, " she has jjood blood in her veins, and my experience is that there is a good deal in good blood."

CHAPTER XXIII.

The next morning Merced Rodriguez went to the office of Messrs •, -with Father Michael, who translated her evidence, which was carefully taken down. Cambaceres himsolf spoko to Ursula Lambourno; ho told hor that she was watched, that to escape was useless, and would subject hor to instant arrest on a charge of complicity in conspiracy, and finding that she was completely involved, the waiting woman confessed her part in the transaction and agreed to appear as a witness. She endeavoured to stipulate for some pecuniary advantage, but this the painter sternly refused. "Grant Faulkner," he said, "bribed you to be false to your mistress; the only bribe I shall offer you is the alternative already presented to you. Choose it if you like, and remember that if you only try to play mo false you will not find me too merciful." That afternoon he left for Paris, but first went into Agnes's room to bid her farewell.

" And you will not be back till to-morrow," she said wistfully; " must you go ? " '' I must indeed my darling ; but I will roturn to-morrow, without fail."

" There is something that is kept from me," said Agues. " Merced went away this morning, and now you, and I do not know whom you are going to see ; but I shall know soon, shall I not ? " " Yes, soon, very soon," said the painter, " when you are a little stronger." _ " I am getting quite strong, said the girl raising herself; ''I said all the responses aloud at verse this morning." "You will be strong enough to go to Italy by September," said Oambaceres, adding with a halfsmilo, you are very late in town this year." I "I should like to go away," she

paid restlessly, " I want to go home and see my mother's picture and her grave. Father Michael asked Padre Leonardo, and ho says it is in a little church-yard, and he marked the spot by a wooden cross; but we will put a beautiful marble cross over it." " Aye, Agnes—and perhaps," ho said, watching her face, " and a memorial window in the chapel at Clifford-Ardeley." Sho looked up at him wonderin gly— " No, Cola, you forget. That will go to Bertram de Clifford now. You will write to him in a few days and tell him, will you not? Ah ! if I had only known all these years !" He repeated the words in his heart, taking them bitterly to himself, but aloud he said no more, save the last parting words, and left her, and an hour later the express train was whirling him from London Bridge to Dover.

She lay and pondered vaguely over what he had said, and marvelled that she should have so strangely forgotten, and yet she could not believe ho had forgotten, it was impossible. What could he mean 1 but it did not matter, she thought, she would know all in time.

And when Don Cola came back from Paris—arriving in London early in the evening—she learned that his words had not boon from any forgetfulness of the rights of Bertram dfi Clifford. Even that clay and night had wrought in her a change for the better, and Doctor Delwyn had found her so much stronger, that Cambaceres ventured to tell her the truth that had lent significance to his apparently singular speech. She listened with intense earnestness, but said little, for he anticipated all questions, and left no point unanswered. Deep joy like deep grief gives little outward sign, and at first she did not even speak, but only clung to him in a very delirium of unspeakable happiness, finding at length only a few broken words, and after that the shining light in her dark eyes, the look of calm unshaken peace on her beautiful facc gave the sole evidence of a joy which as yet she could find no language to even imperfectly express. Cambaceres spoke to her on the subject later in the evening. " Agnes!" he said sitting down by her, after he had signed to Merced to leave them alone, " I have been speaking to Lady Magdelen Hyde. I have told her (unavoidably as you will sec in a moment) as much as was necessary, for I do not care to waste time for she is a noble hearted woman. She seems, and no wonder, very fond of you, and promises, so soon as Dr. Delwyn recommends the change, to take you to Italy. You will sympathise with nie, Agnes, when I say that I will not willingly give to a wife any but my father's unstained name. The world knows that you are the betrothed wife of Cola de Cambaceres, but it rests to my honour that I should not seal that betrothal under a name which bears the stamp of shameful birth. In your veins is the blood of nobles." 11 1 do sympathise with you, Cola; you are right, and your wish would be enough," was her simple answer. "In my veins is the blood of nobles! Yes; I cherish that knowledge, and thank God for it; but if you fail, you are always Cola Maria to me."

" Always Cola Maria to you, Agnes ! It is not for my hand to raise again the barrier which your hand—not mine—broke down. But, oh ! anima mia, even your love, though it would soothe could not heal the wound which must bleed afresh if I stand before the world as an imposter who has tried to redeem the shame which was not his own, by the shameful lie to which he could not succeed in giving the semblance of truth, and which stained a name free, at least from dishonour."

" It will not be, it cannot be !" said Agnes, with the calin certainty of the future of a righteous cause to which the faith of women more often attains than the faith of men. " The name you have kept spotless shall win you back your father's noble name. I know you trust in in God, Cola, and He, we know, cannot fail." " Blessed be His Name—no !" said the painter, and he bowed his head and crossed himself. "It was but a passing cloud, Agnes." And Agnes smiled and answered softly—" ' Hope deferred maketh the heart sick ; but when the desire cometh it is a tree of life,'" (To be continued).

Queen Olga of Greece is making several garments with her own hands for her eldest daughter's marriage basket." Riaz Pasha, tho new Prime Minister of Egypt, is a Mohammedan. His predecessor, Nubar Pasha, was an Armenian Christian, The Grand Duke Alexis, brother of the Czar, is said to be able to drink moro champagne than any other European Prince, even in Russia. Miss Agnes Kennedy Muki'hy has been appointed a notary public by Governor Hill, making the third female notary in New York city. Horace Walpole's villa, which Baron de Stern purchased about nine years ago, is to be sold at auction in a few weeks by the Baron's executors. A Polite Correspondent.— A gentle man at Paris, writing to a lady at St. Petersburg, thus commenced his letter: — Madam, I should apologise for writing to you in my shirt sleeves, but tho weather is so hot I liavo been under tho necessity of tucking them up. The Morning Post';! Berlin correspondent learns from a trustworthy source that all Russian endeavours to place a loan of four hundred million roubles have failed. A French syndicate abandoned the negotiations on rumours that Germany would prohibit the importation of Russian com,