Activate Javascript or update your browser for the full Digital Library experience.
Previous Page
–
Next Page
OCR
220
- ‘syould rather; I am better alone.
stay with me, darling.
THEE ONTERNATION
————
~ you wish, remember that the one love of my
Jifetime was given to you nu the kiss I have
just léft upon your lips. -Don’t question me
now, and let me £05 T will be back in a few
mnioments.” sO
She passes through the doorway, aud closes
it after her, then crosses-to the marble mantel-
“picee and touches the spring:
Slowly the stone revolves, disclosing the
paper to view, For a moment she hesitates,.
ihen takes it, opens and reads quickly. Whiter
and whiter grows ber face, and as she finishes
she has to steady herself by leaning against
the chilly. stone.
‘Tt is true,” she says softly ; ** but, oh, my
brave mother, how you must have loved us to
write this!” ;
She folds it again, re laces it, moves the
stone back, and leaves the room. Stainer is
waiting for her, and he wonders what has
brought the new look into her face.
«TP will go back to my room,” she says—"' I
I want to
think—I have so much to think of.” :
She passes her hand “wearily across her
brow, and her eyes grow dim, but not’ with
tears.
“Try not to think,” he says tenderly, ‘and
Let me do what I can
to comfort you; I have the right—I am almost
“your husband.
‘Across ber palo face a faint tinge of red
steals. ‘ :
“Only almost,” she says softly; ‘and it will
be never more. Try to belicve that, dear—
never more. I cannot stay with you now;
must go—I must. Ob, Stainer, if you love me,
do not try to keep me.” :
She looks up almost wildly into his eyes 5
then, before he can sta her, she bas entered
her rvom, closed and loc ked her door.
For some time he listens, but no sound
reaches him; then with slow sorrowful steps
he turns away. fo
“Perhaps she was right,” ho thinks—
“perhaps she _is better alone; but oh, the
poor darling. If only I could bear this trouble
for her!” :
Left to herself Maud dons ber night-robes and
pturows herself upon her bed and thinks.
Vrne countess is right, her brother is not
jher father’s heir; both she, her sister, and
Bruce are illegitimate — nobody’s «children,
Their father is dead; they have no one to pro-
tect them, ‘Their father—they have no father!
The law makes such children orphans as soon
ns they are born, They will be rich, but name-
less. ‘ihe hidden paper gives them Kirton, with
all belonging to it. Is the paper safe where it
is hidden—has the countess seen it? How else
hhas she Iearned the secret? Will she destroy
it, and Ieave them penniless as well a3 name-
less? Ought she to get it, and keep it safely
hersclf? All their future depends upon that
paper. Yes; she must have it!
She rises from her bed and crosses the room,
ghe reaches the door, and lays her fingers upon
the handle; then the place sways up and down
for a moment, whirls round, and without utter-
ing asound, she drops to the floor.
‘The hours pass onward. Little Duncan has
sobbed himself to sleep, Constance has taken
Cwenny to her room, fearful of being alone; the
drowsy god enters the reom, and, having only
‘one kiss left, drops it gently upon the girl’s
eyes; the countess cannot sleep. at ae
One, two, three strike, and Maud still lics
wotionless; as the faintness passes sleep comes,
but restless sleep; the brain is wide awake—
working, thinking still.
‘ “Ibis not safe—-I must get it—she may take
ist”
One by one the words drop from Mand’s
lips, and she rises, slowly turning the key-
and opening the door, as though by instinct ;
her eyes are open but fixed and glassy, there is
no sight in them. :
Along the corridor she gocs muttering still,
enters the countess’s room, and passcs to the
mantelpicce, . : :
“Jt is not safe—I must keep its she might
get it and cheat us,” she mutters again as she
touches the spring; ‘she shall not have our l
name and fortune toot ” oo
Constance is awake; she sits up in bed
watching Maud. Once she calls softly to her,
but reecives no answer, As the great stono
not be beggars!”
paper.
Shall she take it.
she takes it, whatever it is, no one will
She looks towards Gwenn
soundly ; she glances uneasily around. Mau
is moving towards the door; she follows he
now.
gently away. . :
«She cannot robus of Kirton!” the girl say
softly as she leaves the room.
time comes }
CHAPTER XXXVI.
_ CONSTANCE stands with the pap
hand for many minutes after Maud
She wraps a dressing-gown around her, au
sitting down by a table, opens it and reads.
sclf—*‘ this paper proves it, and Mau
and they shall go.”
ing.
°*6 We shall keep Kirton,” the girl mutters as
her hand closes over the paper; ‘* we shall
Constance grows white as she listens ; she
watches the stone as Maud moves it slowly
backward, then her eyes travel down to the
; she is sleeping
er in her
as left the
AL.
ee
revolves, she slips from the bed and crosses to “6 the time when her little child was born, thea
the girl’s side ; then she sees that she is sleep- i
almost as though a voice is speaking tho legend
comes back to her.
Kirton’s lord, when unto thee
wd is born in foreign: clime,
‘Look for sorrow ; it will be
Coming on the wings of time,
Sorrow, and a deep disgrace ;
Bastard in the true heir’s place.
It is all coming truc; the sorrow has come,
and the disgrace to Violet’s children is near.
She scarcely likes to rob i : te Dr »
. : a, to rob | Bruce, the bastard, occupies his brother’s, the
the sleeping § inl ad Ct ne at ently 5 if { true heir’s, place; but he shall be righted ; she
will have no pity upon Violet's children—none
whatever. .
‘The hours pass onward, and at length the
morning breaks. Constance crosses to the
T , window and watches the sun as it rises; then,
quickly. . In a moment she will be too late. | : Ahi
She stretches out her hand and draws the paper as the heavens grow bright, and the birds
begin to twitter in their nests, she leaves the
room, and goes slowly downstairs to the room’
“you have : where her dead husband lies.
saved that for us, mother; and I will keep the . at ee ° .
paper so safely, no one shall sce it till the right i weere told to watch, wit atid to Tat bee
‘Two men are standing at the door; they
pass.
The room is almost dark ; only a stray sun-
beam finds it way in here and there.: With
slow uncertain eteps Constance moves to the
| window, and throws back the heavy shutters,
Ictting ina flood of sunlight ; then she turns
towards the couch where her darling sleeps his
room. :
She scarcely likes to open jt~—it almost scems | y,
to her as though she has stolen it from a spirit’ last long sleep.
—but it is only for a moment this feeling lasts. ing, She rises, as though socine Constance
2 S.
Hic is not alone ;. by his side Maud is kncel-
for the first time.
“You will wish to be alone,” she says softly.
a3 7 ”
It is true, then,” she says, speakin fo her: “J could not bear for him to be here with only
it. My son is Earl of Kirton. I shall not have
to Icave the Castle, or live by the favour of one
L hate ! This aper shall give my sou his rights,
the men to watch-him, so I came, I—I have
not said a word of sympathy to youyet; but L
wish I could comfort you.”
She stands with one hand resting upon her
father-—her father, indeed, though the world.
She reads it through again, and a look of feat ;an4 the law may declare that she never had
crosses her face.
For the first time she realises that it is
Violct’s will, and that it gives Kirton, and all
belonging thereto, to Bruce and his sisters.
“It comes as a shock to her.
had died without a will, Duncan, or
heir, could not claim the Castle or estates.
the paper.
all I want. I must hide this,
upon my side.’
secret drawer, and places the paper carefully i
might fail me; then I should lose everything.
all over the pillows. .
How like her mother she is}
the little wood at Herrneskretchen.
is slecping before her.
not bear to be alone.
c
one to exchange a word with.
he Jeft her, full of health and strength, chidin,
her ‘gently-because she frowned when he sai
he must bo, just to his first. wife’s children
no thought or fear of comin
he is dead—it scomsincredible!
him always.
‘remembers their long
days-which were so
It had not occurred to her that, unless Violet
uncan’s
«J must hide it,” she says, looking down at
“What would be the good of the
title without the rest?.. The gipsy cam prov
Maud has
read it, no doubt ; but no one will believe her
word ; and even if they did the law would be
She crosses to her jewel-casc, opens little
it.
6] dare not burn it,” she thinks. ‘The gipsy
She looks at Gwenny’s sleeping face—at the
bright golden hair flung in beautiful confusioa
Constance’s thoughts go wandering backward | ™ i A
to the first time she saw Duncan and Violet in | you have discovered ?
It seems to her as if the gentle lovely girl |’
who was 80 kind to her in those far-off days
She wishes now that she had not asked t yes. 3 7
Gwenny to slcep with her ; and yet she could , &DXiety 5 in Constauce’sof grief and gratified:
She has been so used to ;
Duncan’s cheery presence in the room, hi
loving tender voice speaking to her 5 she could
not: have lived the night through without some-
Almost it seems to her impossible that
Duncan can be -dead; such a little while ago
‘Whatever her faults are, and have been, she
has loved her husband—not for his position or
, Wealth, but for himself alonc;-as a child, a of one whom we both loved—to keep the secret,
gitl, a woman, she loved him, and will ‘love
‘All her tears aro shed ; but her thoughts are
very busy” travelling over the past. She
honeymoon, the beautiful loved so dearly, and thetcars roll slowly down
ull of gladness; she thinks : vo .
one—looking at Constance with sorrowful
sympathy.
«No -one can comfort me,” Constance
|| answers coldly. ‘* Have.you been here long?”
~ “Long?” she looks slowly round at the
bright sunshine and daylight. “Yes, I suppose
T have ; it was hours ago. when I came.”
“©You-have been here alone, in the dark, ali
the night with—with him.” :
“*Yeg.” :
c A slight shiver runs all through Constauce’s
rame.
«Were yo u not afraid?” :
“ Afraid! Why should I be afraid. Ho was
always good to me while he lived, he always
loved me; it is not likely that he would do me
harm now—now that he is dead.”
She’ stoops her bead and kisses her father’s
Y } cold lips, then she looks again at Constance.
‘He has gone from us,” she says gently,
“just when most we wanted him, You remem.
ber what you told me yesterday about the
trouble which is coming tous? Are you deter-
mined to make public the secret which yousay
n
“Tram determined that my son shall occupy
his proper position.” :
Thereis silence for a moment. The twowomen
stand on either side .of the dead man. In
Maud’s eyes there is a look of sorrow and.
revenge.
3{., fit Lonly had myself to think of,” Maud cons
tinues, “you might do as you wished and I
would not utter a word tostay you; but for my
brother—for my sister, I beg your mercy. If my’
dead father could speak he would forbid you to;
do what you think of doing. It may be that un.
wittingly my mother did. marry again while:
her first: husband lived, but he would have.
made you keep it secret—you know that he.
kissing, her, and riding away full. of life, with | Would. ‘This Castle and all thatit contains—all
ing death ; and now i
the great lands surrounding it weremy mother’s;
I think—I know that they would be ours—that
your child would have nothing. but the bare:
litle,and I ask youin the presence of our dead—
as I am sure he would have wished.”
She pauses, and for a moment Constance’s
heart is touched. :
She looks down at the dead man whom sha
her cheek.
WV
4