Chapter VI. Sunrise.

Otago Witness, Issue 2026, 22 December 1892, Page 13

Chapter VI. Sunrise.

«A.ll yet seems well, and if it end so meet The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. —"All's well that ends well."

Mordaunt was up at daybreak the following morning, and started off with a brisk step through the park and across the fields ,to Jocelyn Towers. It was a dear frosty morning, and the sun had just risen. Mordaunt soon arrived at bis destination, and was taken to the room where the friend of his boyhood lay dying. A trained nurse had arrived the night before with an eminent physician— people can travel vary rapidly io these days of steam and electricity. V Don't let him get excited," she whispered warningly t) Mordaunt as he entered, and he nodded in answer.

"Mordaunt, Mordaunt," said Sir Philip's voice, sadly changed since Mordaunt heard it last. " Come closer. I cannot see you, it is ■o dark."

Mordaunt took' one of the restless hands in his firm clasp.

" Can you ever forgive me, Mordaunt 1 " the weak gasping voice went on, " forgive me for getting you into gaol, you who have always been so proud of your unsullied name."

" I forgive you freely and entirely," Mordaunt answered, in a low voice, "as I hope to be forgiven some day." "Thank God," said the sick man. "Now I can die in peace." He lay still for a moment, and tben sat up, saying, breathlessly, " Tell Gnarda— ask her to — to forgive —me." Then a changed look came over his features, and hi 3 white lips formed the one word, "mother." The nurse laid him gently back among bis pillows, and with one little eigh Sir Philip Jocelyn crossed the river. When Mordaunt was on his homeward walk his face was graver than when he started, though his step was quite as elastic. He stopped at a small cottage in the vicinity of Jocelyn Towerp. Tha door was opened in answer to his knock by a woman who exclaimed direoMy she saw him :

"Oh, Mr Mordaunt, thank tbe Lord you are back agairj I " " How is Maggie, Mrs Drew ? " asked Mordaunt.

" She is quite well again, thank you, sir, and is alwajs asking after you." " I ciH only stay a few minutes, but I sbonld like to see her," said Mordaunt.

"Bless you, eir," answered the woman, laughicg, " ahe is in bed and asleep, but you are welcome to come in. Drew is away looking after the birds."

Mordaunt entered the houee, and was taken to the bedside of his little friend. Very different she looked now, with her rosy facp, from tho wasted little creature that Mordaunt had visited only a few months before. Mrs Drew was very anxiou3 to talk of the accident that had happened to her young master. "I hope, sir, Sir Philip is coming round," she began. " I am grieved to tell you, Mrs Drew, that Sir Philip is dead," Mordaunt answered; and after a few more words .to comfort the poor shocked woman he continued his walk home. Guarda met him in tbe hall. " Well," Bhe asked, "how is he?" Mordaunt took her hand and drew her into tho dinning room where the tiUe was laid for breakfast. "His troubles a- c all over," he said gently. " Oh, my darling," he went on, " it was a dreadful crime to commit, but I can quite sympathise with him. Think if you had learned to care for him and not for me ; how could I ever have lived without you ? " Guarda put a hand on each of his shoulders,

and looking up into hi* face whimpered, •• You would hare gone away and borne it in silence." Six months later in the little village of Cootmere on a quiet summer evening a man and girl stood in the churchyard beside a grave with a newly erected headstone, upono whioh is written : In Loving Memory of Mordaunt Lamond. There was not a sound to be heard but tho sweet note of a nightingale in a wood at a short distance off. Presently Mordaunt — for it is he— speaks, "Come, Guarda, wa must be going home, or Godfrey and' Mary will be wondering what has become of us." So there have been more wedding 3 thaq one lately, and how true is tho saying When night is darkest dawu is nearest,