KILDEE; Or, The Sphinx of the Red House.

Auckland Star, Volume XVIII, Issue 267, 12 November 1887, Page 6

KILDEE; Or, The Sphinx of the Red House.

BY MAY E- BRYAN, Author of "The Bayou Bride," V The Fugitive Bride," &c.

CHAPTER LI. (Continued.) "This was nob," Zulieme said, "what I sent for you to say. I did not

send for you to ask forgiveness of you. It i's?i?uM avail mo nothyjg. I senb to confess another, perhaps a greater wrong that I haye done you."

" W hat can you mean ?' "You "'have two' daiighfcers, General Montcafm." " I have but one, madame-—the otner perished almost in babyhood." " Drowned by. springing from the nurse s arms into the swift stream that ilows from Wonolla Springs?' " Yes." " And she was your favourite child. The nurse had brought her to the train to say good-bye to yooa You were going as fatas New York with 'your brother, who was on his way back to Europe, He paid you a hurried visit—shortened because youiearned through your spies fcliat a woman was huntin «• linn. In New York a summons came to yon by telegraph : your child was drowned, your wife prostrated - \vl:h grief. The body was not found. Y-6u took your wife to Europe by advise of her physicians." " What ho you mean ? Why do you bring np these details ?" "To make you feel what I shall tell you is true. I arrived in Wonolla one minute before the train oti which you and your brother had taken passage had left the station. I did not see you ; you were already in the car. I saw your brother standing on the steps of the car in the act of giving back to the nurse a beautiful child he had just kissed. Before I could get to him the train moved away. I had heard he was in America, and I had tracked him here. I was bunting him to make him tell me what he had done with my child. I did not know that you also were in Wonolla—so far from home. I resolved to follow Captain Montcalm to New York. An express train left in an- hour. I would go in that. I had heard that he had married in Europe—a false report. ' This, then, is his child, , I thought, ' tenderly cared for and caressed : while my child— his as well —where was it? In some foundling house or orphan asylum,'" neglected, starved, beaten.' My brain was wild with the pain I had suffered, the drug I had swallowed as a nepenthe. I followed the nurse and found her standing on the bridge. "' Whose child is this V I asked. "'Mrs Montcalm's, , she answered, sul-

lenly. " ' Was it her father who was kissing it good-bye at the %aiii ?' . " ' Yes,' answered the woman. Her eyes were red, her face scowling. I questioned her and found she was bitter against the Montcalms. She was related to them, and she thought she should be treated as an equal—nob as a servant. She was anxious 70 get money that she might leave them and hunt up a lover whom she thought they had separated her from. The idea flashed _ into my half-crazed brain to bribe tlie girl to give me the child and pretend that it had sprung from her arms and been drowned. I acted upon it. She held out till she saw the gold, and then she half consented. I snatched the child, wrapped it in my cloak, andhurriedto the train which was thonstarcing. I will go with it to New York, I said, leave it with a woman there while I iind Captain Montcalm. 1 will say to him, ' I have your child — your petted darling. Give me back my child and yon shall have yours ; refuse, and I will never tell you where she is—not if you kill mo or imprison me. lam desperate. Ido not She shall be raised in poverty and shame !' "I • did not carry out my programme. An accident happened to the train. I waa bruised and my arm broken. Tlie child was not hurt. Before I had quite recovered I knew I had been in error—that it was General and not Captain Montcalm's child I had taken. I would have restored her, but you had sailed for Europe. I had no money to follow, and I had a horror of the ocean. I kept the little one. 1 was not always kind to her. She had the Montcalm face, and in some dark moods I could Aye crushed her fol- the look there was Wh her eyes. But I did not mean to leave her to starve in a garret at St. Louis. I was trying to work honestly for my bread. I fell in the, street from overheating, fatigue, and weakness—brought on by poor food. I was taken to the hospital. I had a long period of illness—a longer period of mental derangement." She stopped, her voice had sunk to a whisper. . _ • . Leaning toward, her, the general had ' drunk in her story. When she paused, lie sa "i: A '■„.,• , ,„ Jjflnd the child starved in the garret.' Hip; that young man standing there |Mll§ier, andtoolc care of her, until some ormsfriendsadopted her." " Were they—were they honest people, madame '!" "As honest as you or your daughter, General Montcalm. They raised her honestly—so honestly, that When I found her and claimed her and would (God forgive me) have helped to do her a wrong, her own purity saved her." The last words were hardly audible. " Wherefis slie-r*speak, woman, I command—l eftreatyou 1" he cried seizing her arm. H& thought her dying or dead. Her lids were closed and her white lips parted. " Where is she?" he demanded, turning to Max. Zulieme revived. She waved her delicate hand at Max to stay his answer. " first proof of my story," she said. "Theresa small chain around my neck ; Inez, unfasten it." The dark woman ''with the hard, beadlike black eyes rose, undid the clasp of the slender "chain from Zulieme's neck. As she "hi t'ed"it and General Montcalm caught sight of the cross-shaped locket of gold and jet tb'afc dangled from it, he stretched out lii&hand eagerly: He touched a spring, and? a licJMn the centre of the cross flew open,' 'showing the miniature face of a stately olcllady. A"! '■ "My mother's face," said the general. "My child had this ground her neck, when «he was drowned. We never found the body ; we the whirling current had carried it off or'swept it under the rock. Someone have found the body, And "this chain may have been —"

"Pardon me for interrupting/you, general," said Max, stepping forward and holding out avoided paper. "Here|g|«|,; confession of the nurse - Nell nessed, as by Ira Heathcliff and, Honor 2Aonbc4tn. Your daughter has doubtless told you of this paper. It w>B not burned, as (supposed, but it was safely preserved." "' Genera] Jtyonfjcalm unfolded the paper with a shaking,.')iancL....' ; He ran his.eye rapidly ovetn ifi-*his expression of doubt gave jtlace to Ohß of assurance. He looked '• "The clrild—whfere is she—she; was my darling—her mother's, h/earfc was broken at her loss. And you .' woman, God may forgive you, I never will. Young nian, she says you took care of J rky Child. Dofesshe •fcilllive? Where in she V

"She was called Kildee—a pet name — she knew no other; she was with your daughter in the room with Nell Barnes when the woman died, and when the fire occurred."

" And was left in the burning house and perished. Great; God! 1 remember! My daughter was strongly drawn to that girl— she grieved over her horrible death. And she was her sister—my own littlo Ruth. Why did you resurrect this crime? Why did you tell me my child lived, only to add that she died before i knew her ?" ".Be calm, general," Said Heatholift. "Your daughter did not perish in the flames. It was another who was burned. It was she whom Carleon rescued. She did not want to marry me ; and to she went away with her foster sister. She is not very far off and will come to you soon. You will find her as true and pure as though she had been reared in your own home, side by side with her sister .Honor." The general dropped into a chair and bent his face upon his hands. When he raised his head, his eyes were moist and shining. He got up and shook hands warmly with Max. " It seems I owe you unspeakable thanks, my friend. I must know you better," he said. Then he turned and paw Hazard still sitting in the window, half .screened. by the faded purple drapery. The boy was very pale. More than once he had been on tho point of stealing out of the room, but a strange attraction chained him to his seat, and turned his eyes persistently to the white face upon the pillow. And yet she had not seen him. General Montcalm broke into an excited, happy laugh, and cried out to Hazard : " Hall, do hear this wonderful story ! Is it true or am I dreaming ? Tell me Me seized Hazard by the arm and drew him from the window. " Was ever anything niovo wonderful? I have two daughters—mylittlo Ruth was nob drowned —she was net burned. She is alive ; I shall see her. What is the matter ! You look miserable. You look miserable. You must bo happy. Do you not congratulate me ?" " With all my heart, general." At the sound of his voice, a spasm passed over the deathlike face on the pillow : her eyes flashed open—wildly, eagerly. They fell upon Hazard, and a great light of love and longing leaped into them. "My boy, ray son, my darling!' , she cried; "you did come to me! You did come to see me die, God bless you ! I—" She stopped; the look upon Hazard , ? face choked the words in her throat—a look, dark with scorn, loathing, fury. Her arms, she had stretched out to him, dropped by her side.

"Forgive me," she said faintly, "I did not mean to speak—the sight of you waa so sudden. I meant never to tell—never to let the world know. But is is done now. Oh ! for pity's .sake do nob look at me so ! Come to me, my child !" "You are delirious, crazy!" exclaimed Hazard, white with anger. "lam no child of yours."

Her eyes flashed as a flame leaps up from wan ashes.

" You are my son," she cried. " I have have nursed you at this bosom. I mourned for you, prayed for you, sought you everywhere. I caught this last sickness following after you in the night. I have watched your bed unknown when you where sick. There stands a man who knows you are my son. For my sake, he traced .you out and found you at the monastery. Afterward you ran away from the Catholic .school-, k*» paw you here and knew you. Ho lias your letters written to the father superior, asking him to tell you of your parentage. The priest sent them to him. Heathcliff would not tell you who your parents were. He did not want to shame you—to spoil your career. I ought nob to have spoken. I meant to have died and made no sign. But I saw you ; I longed to hear you call mo mother. Oh. my son, do not deny me ! Ib is too hard, too cruel to disown a dying mother, though she be—what Fate has made me. General Montealra, you canno*, turn against my boy, for he is of your own blood -the Montcalm blood."

Hazard's eyea, half proud, half imploring, sought the general's lace, lit < tood (after the first start of surprise) listening to thia unexpected revelation with stein, unmoving features. Now a look of cold scorn came into his face.

"The Montealra blood, with the bar sinister!" ho said. "Do you imagine 1 would recognise it, even were it proved the Montcalm blood ? which it is not. There is no trace of it there" (turning his cold eyes on Hazard). "It is yoar face ; why did I not see it before ?" "Ho is your brother's f-on —I swear it! "He is the non of a clukl-stealer, a inanslayer—a—!"

" Hush !" she said, sharplj, holding forth her clasped imploring hands. "Do not say it. He scorns, he hates me now ; it is enough. But it is no fault of his that he is my son ; and the world will nevei know. He is gifted; he is ambitious ; you are his patron. Do not cast him out of your favour." "If he can deny you, if ho can prove that "

" Stop !" cried Hazard. His face was white and drawn, bub the manhood iv him had awakened. '' I forbid you to sting her with another word. I will not deny her. Mother!" he knelb at the bedside; "you are my mother ! I feel it. I felt it when you first spoke to me thafc dark night in the streets. Mother," he bowed his head over her and pressed his lips o hers, " live that I may take dare of you—thafc I may love you,'' , he said, raising his head a little that he might see her face. A wonderful light transfigured that face. For an instant it glowed in more that its youthful loveliness. She lifted her arms and clasped the neck of her Hoy. She tried to speak, her lips parted, and a smile ot unutterable joy and tenderness played about them; then she drew him down to her and held him to her heart. In the stlliness was heard her quick, sobbing: breath—once, twice, then all was silent. Hazard felt her arms relax. Softly he unclasped them and looked at her face. " She is dead !" he said. He kissed the still smiling lips, and bowed his head upon her pillow.