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' lost treasure !
266 | _
tions were soon made, and in less than a week the
unhappy woman embarked with her protegé on
board a packet for Holland—the only route, in con-
sequence of the war, open to the continent.
Fanny was delighted with the change, which her
protectress described as.a mere jaunt of pleasure.
She would willingly have taken leave of Sally and
her kind friends in St. Martin’s Court, but was too
timid to insist upon the arrangement.
“ A few days,” she thought, “ would soon pass !’’
Little did she imagine the space of time that would
elapse before she saw them again. —
As the shores of England faded from her view,
the heart of the gifted Frenchwoman bounded with
triumph: it seemed as if the most difficult part of
her task was achieved. Her plan of vengeance was
laid, and the instrument in her hand. Sa
On the very morning of their departure, a carriage,
with Miss Mendez, the Rev. William Rede, and
Mr. Foster, drove up to the entrance of St. Martin’s
Court, and all three directed their steps to the house
of Mrs. Watkins. Unable to extort from the friend
of Fanny the clue to her retreat, he had at last
stated in full everything to the lawyer, and the
visit was at once decided upon. : .
“‘T shall see her at last !” thought Martha; “hold
her in my arms—hear her voice—embrace my long
They cannot dispute my claim!”
o sooner had the clergyman and Mr. Koster ex-
plained to the aged actress the motive which
brought them, than the affections of the old lady
took the alarm. She desired Meg, who eyed the
strangers most suspiciously, to request the presence
of her lodgers for a few minutes. All the inmates
of the house, not excepting the German and his
wife, were assembled in the little parlor.
Sally at once recognised Mr. Rede as the gentle-
man who had assisted at the death-bed of Madame
Du Bast, and related everything which had passed ;
his paying for the funeral, his gift of five guineas to
provide for the future wants of Fanny, and his late
visit to her at the theatre.
“And here,” said the reverend gentleman, “ is
the statement drawn up by the Signor Du Bast,
relating how he became possessed of the child !””
He handed it to Mr. Foster, who read it to the
horror-struck friends of the poor orphan. © ‘*. ‘
‘When he concluded, the blind lieutenant was the
‘first to speak. |: * ‘ , “arse a
' “The statement we'have. just heard,” he said,
‘proves the benevolence of this gentleman, and the
danger from which the innocent object of so much
persevering cruelty was happily rescued;- but I
cannot perceive the link in‘the chain of evidence
which proves the right of this lady to-call herself
her mother!” Mg ‘ .
“Let me see her!” exclaimed Martha. ~ ‘ She
will recognise me! . I only ask to see her in your
-presence!. The mere sound of my voice will be
sufficient : she has not forgotten me! Oh, do not
‘fear me! Let my tears, my agony at this suspense,
‘which wrings my tortured heart, convince you that
my claim is nature’s holiest one—a mother’s love!”
’ Mr. Foster mentally observed that his client care-
fully avoided positively stating that she was her
‘mother, ~ ° wg :
“T believe it!” said Sally. .
“‘ What says the child?” demanded Mrs. ‘Wat-
:kins, hot altogether pleased with the readiness ‘of
her lodger in giving an opinion before she had
spoken. . us ps
“T believe it?” repeated the dancer, firmly, “ A
‘hundred times Fanny has described to’ me ‘her
mother—her dark, thoughtful eyes—her voice of
‘affection—their solitary life !” i
»* Bless her!” murmured Martha. ' “ She has not
forgotten mel” | °° .
-* One thing,” continued Sally, “ puzzles me!’
' Every one was anxious for her to proceed. : {
-“ She described her parent as poor—living. in a
. dark, ‘gloomy house, but where, she could not tell!
’ Now this lady appears to be rich—has fine clothes
—a carriage—friends!”. __, .
'“ T-was poor!” interrupted Miss Mendez ; “ mise-
_tably poor, and helpless as the outcast-who has no
friend but heaven! I had been deprived unjustly
of my fortune: but the injustice is repaired! Iam
rich in the world’s dross ; but richer still in the love,
-the recollection of my lost treasure! Restore her to
me—give me.the means of proving the truth of my
_assertior, and amply will I reward-you!” —-"..
These words, pronounced with the energy of true
. grief, wrung from the heart. whose love had been
unjustly suspected, made a visible impression upon
her hearers; even old Meg was touched ; several
times she raised her apron to her eyes to wipe away
hertears. ° coves : us
“Mein Gott!” exclaimed the German, “put I
do pelieve her!” i
‘“* As for Barry he had long been convinced.
“The proof you demand, madam,” said the blind
lieutenant, “ you have a tight to exact, and I am
sure the friends of Fanny will willingly consent that
you shall see her in their presence! If the child
should recognise you ——
“She will! she will!” interrupted Martha, in a
tone of exultation; «I stake my claim on the
result !”
All were of the officer’s opinion except Mrs.
Watkins : she desired one proof more—which, as it
promised a coup de théatre, was exactly in her style,
and accorded with her tastes and feelings. The old
lady loved the romantic, even in the simplest cir-
cumstances of life. : ne
“ Of course,” she observed, “you will recognise
er?’
Miss Mendez smiled—the doubt appeared so pre-
posterous.
“In that case,” continued the actress, “ perhaps
you will look around you!’ : .
“T do not understand you!” ;
“Do you see no memorial of her?”
The picture which Barry had painted, introducing
the speaker as the Duchess of York, and Fanny
and Sally as the young princes, was hanging in the
apartment. No sooner did the glance of Martha
fall upon ‘it, than she burst into a flood of happy
tears: it was the proof—the irrefragable proof—that
the child she had mourned and the one they had
protected was the same. .She pressed her lips
silently to the canvass: the-action was more elo-
quent than words—not a doubt remained.
“Tt would be cruel,” said the young painter, “to
trifle with such feelings! Within an hour you shall
see her! You have a carriage at the door—we will
accompany you!”
“Yes,” added Sally, “such a meeting will im-
prove the hearts of those who witness it!” -
—~—.
CHAPTER XXXVIIL
Oh how this tyrant doubt disturbs my breast,
My thoughts like birds who, frightened from their nest,
. Around the place where all was hushed before, .
“Flutter and hardly nestle any more.’ : Otway.
“Snatt I behold her? Will she recognise me?
Will the desire of years, the ceaseless yearnings of
my heart, at last be gratified?” 9 7
Such were the questions which Martha repeatedly
asked herself, as the carriage rolled rapidly towards
Highgate. a . oO :
‘Time only could answer them—and never had his
wings appeared to lag so lazily. In’her impatience,
she would, had it been possible, have annihilated
both it and distance. Each moment appeared an
age till she embraced her long-sought treasure—
dearer to her than the wealth she had inherited—
than the world, whose pleasures fortune appeared to
have placed within her grasp, merely to see the gift
rejected. , ue .
Her companions remained silent during the ride,
or, if they spoke, it was only in whispers to each
other, Convinced of the Teality of the lady’s claim,
they felt that her anxiety and affection admitted but
one consolation—the presence of Fanny—all else
was a mockery and disappointment. The lawyer
mentally argued whether the tie between ‘his client
and the orphan was or was not closer than she had
hitherto acknowledged. Pa aE at
' “Tf not the child of Miss Mendez, whose child
was she?” he repeatedly asked himself. . .
Sally reflected with foreboding sadness on the dis-
tance which ‘the discovery placed between her
adopted sister and herself; whilst’ Barry and the
aged actress felt only unqualified pleasure at the
or
'| brilliant prospects of their little favorite.
On reaching the lodge at the end of the lawn in
front of the cottage, ‘the party found, to their sur-
prise, that the gate was open, and the neat gravel
walk deeply indented with the ruts made by the
wheels of some heavily-laden vehicle. "There were
straws, too, scattered upon the path, and adhering
to the whitethorm hedge and shrubs—the unmistak-
able signs of a removal.’ ‘Poor Martha observed
them, and turned ‘her eyes inquiringly to her com-
“Furniture, most likely; has been brought
urniture, most likely, has been broug!
house !”” observed the’ lawyer, be gntto the
ne client smiled incredulously, - a!
«It must be that!” added the youn inter ;
“for it is only:three days since we paw thew berg
—Fanny and madame!: ‘They cannot have removed
so suddenly !” Phe pot oeh
» Both !Sally and Mrs. ‘Watkins declared the sap-
position ridiculous, i Without :a word’ or hint—it
was impossible. ebb to
FRANK’ LESLIE'S NEW YORK JOURNAL. °~
How often does the presentiment of ill prepare us
for the reality—soften the blow which otherwise
would crush us! There was an appearance of deso-
lation about the place which warned the anxious
woman she was once more doomed to disappoint-
ment. .
By this time the carriage had reached the front of
the cottage. Instead of Fanny—her pale face lit
with smiles—or the still beautiful though sad coun-
tenance of Madame Garrachi advancing to the porch
to welcome them, the daughter of the old couple
who resided at the lodge made her appearance, and
demanded who they wanted.
How the heart of Martha sank at the question !
« Want!” repeated Sally, who now felt thoroughly
alarmed; ‘why, Fanny—madame to be sure!
‘Whom else should we want?”
“They be gone!” replied the girl with a broad
in, ,
Doubtless it appeared an excellent joke to her,
that gentlefolks, as she called them, should come all
the way from London, and be disappointed.
“Gone out, you mean!” observed the young
painter. 7 : ,
“Gone for good and all!’? said their informant;
‘gone to furrin parts, I take it! “Feyther says it
be mortal droll; Marks, the broker, bought all the
things for an old song: they be nearly all cleared
out—only one load more!”
Barry and Mr. Foster sprang from the carriage,
and assisted the ladies to alight. No sooner did her
feet touch the ground, than Martha darted past the
girl into the house, hunted through. every room,
calling in most endearing terms upon her child to
answer her. The distress of Sally was scarcely less
poignant. .
Fauny’s chamber was the only one in which the
furniture had not been disturbed: there was the
little bed, with its white curtains—the pillow which
her head had so lately pressed; several of her old
copy-books and some flowers fading for want of
fresh water were upon the table.
“ Gone!’ sobbed Martha, throwing herself upon
the pillow, and covering it with kisses; «gone!
and I am still doomed to be desolate!
The dancer, who had followed her, sat down upon
| the window sill, and cried for sympathy,
_The lawyer—who meanwhile had been making
enquiries of the man at the lodge—appeared at the
door of the chamber, followed by Barry. The old
actress was too indignant and too much agitated at
what she considered the unwarrantable conduct of
Madame Garrachi, in removing Fanny from Eng-
land ‘Without consulting her friends—to follow
them, > we Se
She gradually consoled herself, however, by the
reflection that madame was only a Frenchwoman
and a singer, and did not belong to the legitimate
part of the profession. ‘
“Gone!” exclaimed Sally, with a fresh burst of
tears, as soon as she saw her lover; “gone without
a word or line for me !”? + .
“ Ungrateful, indeed!” exclaimed Miss Mendez,
witha sigh; “she must be sadly changed! ‘They
have corrupted her young heart and ——”’ :
She is not ungrateful!” interrupted Sally, jn-
dignantly—for ‘the surest way to rouse her spirit
was to say anything disparaging of her favorite;
«she never was and never will be ungrateful—and
you are the last person in the world who ought
to say sol Night ‘after night she has’ kept me
awake describing your looks, your words, and kind-
ness to her! How else should I have recognised
you?’ “We never met without her speaking of you;
and when we drank tea at the lodge with Miss
Mellon, and the servants handed round cake in
great silver baskets, and wine, and fruit, she whis-
pered in my ear that she would sooner receive a
crust of ‘bread fram the hand of her dear mother !
I begin to believe you are not her mother,” she
added, or you would never have the heart to
blame her!" ‘
Every word which the speaker intended as a re-
proach was a balm to the disappointed Martha—for
it proved to her that the child of her adoption had
not forgotten her—that she still held the first place
alike in her memory and love. . Instead of feeling
angry with the dancer, she would have pressed her
in her arms and kissed her. Dor
. This pleasing satisfaction was still further increased
by a discovery which Barry made in one of the copy-
books: It.was part of a letter written by Fanny to
her sister, in which she stated that madame was now
kind—very kind—to her ;‘that she, too, had ‘heard
of the intention of her enemies to get her once more
in ‘their power — and that they were to. travel for,
some time. to avoid them, | mo
ore ‘oaet y
“Go where I will,” continued ‘the affectionate
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