The Secret of a Birth

Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 125, 28 May 1888, Page 6

The Secret of a Birth

BY CHARLOTTE M. STANLEYMcKEXNA.

CIIAPTEH XL 'AI.AS! WllA'i' IWSOKAST «* 3iAVK X C M SIITTKU '.'' Asn not one won! of this excitement, this indignation, this bitter censure, reached Olivia's ears. Utterly ignorant of the offense she had committed against society and family pride, the innocent criminal lived contentedly in her beautiful and luxurious foreign home, .shelicred by tendcrcst love from eveiy care. At first r. sense or quiet security and peace in,* hers; nolhin- mure. .Shu- fult [hat frhoiiad r:aciu:d a calir., untroubled Iftvoii most welcome after tho cruel storms oi her young life. Poverty and suturing could never reach her here; am I heie, it anywhere, her delicate, blighted babyblossoui might rhrivoand strengthen into now health and life. IS was the fwiiloet, tiniest creature; smaller and more backward when it was near three years old than many a healthy, well-developed babe of twelve months In fact the baby's sister that iuul arrived, to Victors inten.se delight, to keep it company, seemed if anything the linear ot the two; so that, when Clu-wtios child was four years old, and Victor's only tyro, strangers meeting r.ho littlo ones tuget.ier iroquontly supposed thorn to be twins. To make this fancy seem more probable, the sisters were singularly alike, either of them resembled their respective father in feature or complexion, while each was a tiny copy of the lovely mother ; hey were named clivia and Christine. There came n, baby-Victor, too but lie brought sorrow with him. After his birth Olivia's health began to fail and, when in; died at six months old, griof for his loss prostrated her. She failed and faded day by day. Victor was almost frantic with fear that the light of his life and desiro of his heart was about to be taken from him. He removed his family to Paris, and placed his adored wife under the cave of the most eminent physicians. To his dismay they recommended a sea voyageand return toiler native

Return to America ! Return to the colony where the secret of his lite must be made known to his own wife ! Something like despair enmo over his heart; that sentence of return sounded like the death-knell of his happiness and her love. For she had learned to love him. Not with the ardent, passionate love that had made her count riches, station, friends as dross for Christie's sake, bnt with the tender, clinging affection that is born in warm and womanly hearts of habit, gratitude and esteem. Moreover, he was the father of her children ; on that score his claim upon her heart was Jiot inferior even to Christie's own.

And he made her life so quiet!v happy : his devotion had been so unvarying and so true, surely Olivia would have boon less than human had not her heart, being ■widowed and bereaved, made some answer to a love so true.

Hor affection waa founded upon esteem, and there are those who say such lose wears bn.st; not so thought Victor.

: For.' questioned ho, ' when she learns the truth, will she find its suppression inexcusable? And. it I thus forfeit her esteem, will not her love go with itV In his endeavour to escape that calamity, ho sought earnestly to avoid the homeward journey. Would not Italy, England, any other country do as well 1

But hera Olivia herself defeated him. The doctor's advice had been given in her hearing, and pleased her fancy well. She caught at the notion of a return to her native land eagerly and with interest. ' No, no ; Victor dear ; what do I care for those strange countries? Lotus go home, dear, home. If there is any place on the face of the earth where I shall get strong and well again, it is surely in my dear America.'

And Victor said no more ; it would have been worse than useless. His wife's own fancy had confirmed the physician's words, and he felt that the die was cast.

Olivia recovered something of her old spirit and strength in the pleasure she felt in looking forward to the voyage. ' I never knew that you cared so much for America before,' said Victor, in some surprise. She laughed almost merrily.

' I did not know it myself,1 she said. ' I have r.ofc been home-sick through these six years, believe me; but I suppose it is the suddenness and novelty of the idea that pleases mo. lam but a fickle woman, dear, and I like change.'

Victor sighed. The thought of another change ,impending upon their arrival in New York huntf heavily o'er his heart. Olivia, busy and excited over her preparations for departure, noticed nothing of his anxious care.

'Come here, my two fivc-yeav-olds,' she cried, merrily to the little girk', whom she always costumed exactly alike, and whoso resemblance to each other and herself was wonderful. ' Look at them, Victor, dear; Madame Mirabel will be puzzled, i warrant, to tell me which i.s 'which. Who would imagine that one is some two years the other's ssnior? No stranger could ever guess which.' But when they were fairly on their voyage, and its first novelty had somewhat worn away, Olivia observed her husband's daily increasing sadness and depression, and with the line instinct of an affectionate and sympathetic heart at once divined its cause.

' You are unhappy, my beloved,' she said, coming noiselessly up to him one evening, as he paced thoughtfully up and down the deck, and slipping her white hand into his own.

The term of endearment was an unusual one on her lips, and was designed to reassure and console him.

' You are unhappy because you doubt your wifo. Y'oti think that when wo reach America I shall learn this terrible mystery of yours (for which I do not care one straw), and that it tfill turn me against you. Oh, foolish Victor ! I am glad that 1 persisted in coining now, so that I may prove to you how greatly you misjudge me.' As she spoke she glanced up into his brooding face and saw that it was anguished and pale. Her heart was touched with tender pity, and she nestled closely to his side.

' Surely, Victor,' she said, very earnestly, 'you do not think, whatever this secret is, that anything could part me from you now ? Surely you know I love you.' He answered with a gesture of despair. 'Wot with the love that.pardons wrong and shame; not, Olivia, as I love you. I have wronged you, my heart's dearest, I have wronged you. You will curse me when you learn how much.' Olivia regarded him with amazed surprise. 'I shall ncrer curse you,' she said, earnestly. ' Never, Victor ! What is this dreadful secret that hangs like a dark cloud over your life ? Your life—so good and honourable, Since you seem to feel that it must come to my knowledge, be brave and tell it mo yourself. It is no crime or fault of yours, I have your assurance of that; and if it is to affect my life as well as yours, surely I can learn it best from your own lips.' 1 If,' he answered her with a smothered cry of anguish. 'If it is to affect your life ! Oh,'child, how little do you euess.

At this moment, in your childhoods iTmir in that New York to which we are hastening, your very name is a by-word and. a reproach. lluwe who speak it. think that it soils their lips, and couple it with an insult or a curse, jno one who ever loved or cherished you but would turn from you with horror-the society ot which you'wore once the ornament and pride, shudders at the very mention or your she interrupted him with a wild, white face and trembling lips. ' Are you going mad V What crime '! 'A" crime against it* laws, it* caste, its nreindices, the crime of marrying me.' She was startled, frightened now. bhe drew away from him a little, and gazed into

his face. ~. ~ , 1 And you ?' she cried. ' For God's sake, Victor, tell me all. What v the horror that makes an outcast of you? What wron"- thing have you ever done1;' He dropped his anguished face upon his hands. , 'I hun lind,' he answered, with a deep and bitter groan. '.I have lived when 1 should have died !'

CHAPTER, XIF. CHKISTIK Oil CKTirSTIT.'S 11 HOST. ' Until tho iioiu- in which I unuriod yovi, I had iijvcr done any ilcliborate wrong Be all else as it may, until that hour I was ut least a man of honour. Tluit nmrriagc was my crime, Olivia, all else was my misfortune. A ci'imo which nob even tho mad passion and aniruish of my love can palliate or excuse—-v crime for which 1 shall lives to hear you uut'su n;c.' Tliuy liaci withdrawn LljciuKclvo.fi to a secluded corner now, and Victor liad seated himself upon a lingo coil of rope. Olivia stood beside him, agitated and pa'.e; a terrible conviction slowly training strength within her mind that this blighted horror ot her husband's life was something1 widely diilerunb to all that she had ever pictured, something terribly tangible and veal. Tim hour .vas somewhat lute, and the deck being almost dds-ertod, there, was little dimmer of their being observed or overheard. Victor's head van bowed upon his clasping hand:-;, and heavy, tearless sobs convulsed Ids frame.

She .heard them. She—the woman whom he had so loved, anil who, after a gentle, passionate fashion, loved him also. She heard, and tender pity filled all her -soul. .Shu went and put her arms around his neck, nnd seated herself upon his knees, and nestled closely to his bosom. ' I Bhall never curse you,' she said, between soft, pitying caresses. ' See ! Are these kisses curses now ? Tell me t.ho whole truth. I swear it shall not part us—l swear it. Tell it, and let there be no mystery between us evermore. I have cast in my lot with yours, i am your wife. I will share your late to the very end. Now, tell me.1 JJnt he shrank and trembled. ' Not now, oh ! not now. Not when you come and cling to me, and caress me. Don't. ask me to tell you that which will make you shudder and shrink away. My love, my yen tie, generous love. You do care for me v little,'after all, I do believe.'

'A little !' .she cried, the tears starting in her eyes. 'I love you well and truly. There is nothing in the world so dear to me, except my children.' And a cloud came over her face at that last word.

' God bless you for the sweet assurance, love ! Grant me one favour, then. When we arrive in America, sooner or later, you mud know all. Consent to remain in ignorance until then. Let me take you to Louisville and bhow you my —my people, and your home : let me teach you what flood my great love can bring you, before you learn'the bitter evil. Grant me this, Olivia, my life : be still, until we reach our home at least, the loving wife who knows no reason to shrink from or despise the husband who adores.her.'

She laid her head upon his shoulder sadly, and with a somewhat weary sigh. I;JJq it as you please,' she said.. ' 1 cannot help feeling as if it would be better that you should tell mo yon; but be it ns you please. Only one question answer now, to set my heart at rest. This cur?e — this secret—-which so blights your life and mine, will it also harm our children ':' His voice sank sorrowfully.

'My child it will; nob yours,' he answered.

She gave a cry of pain. '' Mine !' ' Yours !' is thai the way you think of them? Are they not both equally mine.—equally dear? My darlings! My heart's treasures'. Oh! Victor, .1 have learned to think of you as the father of them all— Ollie and Time, and our little angel, too.' She burst into passionate weeping, and he strained her close and fondly to his breast, comforting her. ' Forgive me, sweet, i'o was a careless word ; they avo both mine in love. But if one of them can escape this blight and curse, Olivia, would you not wish it so?' 'And lab it go away from us to strangers, and despise, perhaps, the parents who gave it life? For assuredly I will cling to you through good and evil—you, who have been a father to my orphaned child. Let my hard uncle take it, perhaps, and bring it up to hato me ! Have it taught to look down upon its own sister, to whom, you say, the curse, must cling ! No ! a thousand times no ! 1 lovo my children both as one—both the same. They shall share the same home, the same love, the same care, have equal advantages and disadvantages. If there is any way to shield them both I will take it gladly, bub if one must suffer, so must the other; they are our children both >.' Her cheeks were (lushed j ho.r eyes sparkled; the was altogether unusually excited.

Rising from her seat on Victor's knee, she began to walk Up and down nervously. 11 am thankful to Heaven that they look so much alike and so much of one age. 1 see, now, that it was a merciful Providence who so ordained it. No one shall be able to distinguish them, if I can help it. No one shall kuow which of them is yours.' She linked her bands over Victor's arm and walked up and down with him, talking excitedly. ' Vote must keep the secret too, even from your own people. I will not have it said of one, ' There is a curse on her,' making her seem an outcast from her birth. My little darling ! Shall they, who have been like twins in love, be set against each other? Oh, Victor, promise mo that none shall know which one is, indeed, our child !'

He made the promise readily, never blanking of the result, and pleased at her solicitude for his daughter. She thanked him warmly. ' You see, it will bo the best and only plan; no one can distinguish, and make trouble between them. It will be the secret of a birth over again, dear, and you and I will kuep it, for their sakes, for ever.' He started at her words, uneasily. '' The secret of a birth !' Alas ! Olivia, it was just such a kind of deception—concealment —what you will—that was the cause of all my misery ! Had my parents brought me up to un understanding of the truth", it would not have fallen on me likea thunderbolt at the last, when prejudice, pride, the habits of a young man's lifetime, made it inflict on me a pang, a wound, that neither philosophy nor time can heal. God grant that we do not make the same mistake with our dear child.'

She answered, almost impatiently. 'I do nob know. I cannot toll. You give but half confidence, and I can only judge and act according to my light. 77ms 1 do know—that I wilL not have my children's hearts estranged. Oh, that you would tell me the whole truth at once ! It can be no worse than my wild fancy pictures*v-

But ho shook his head, resisting her imploring eyes and tone with a tender, sorrowful smile. •Let mo enjoy the respite you have given ; io is but for a little while. \\ ho knows if, when it is past, you will not take from mo both wife and child. I have Matched you closely, dearest, through all these years. Your mind has been an open book for me, night and day. 1 have hoped, ay, prayed that some vision ot the truth might cross it, so you might be prepared. But I hoped iv vain. No glimmering of the truth has come to you. You have thought of murder, madness, dishonour, but never once of (kit— this misery to which these others seem mere trifles. No faintest shadow has ever crossed your mind of the curse- that so soon must blast your innocent life, as long ago it blasted mine.'

Then Olivia urged him no more.. A gloom, that was partly the foreshadowing of sorrow, partly the reaction from recent excitement, tool: sudden possession of her soul. She leaned heavily upon her husband's arm and sighed. ' I am very, very tired,' she said,' 'and it grows late. Let U6 talk no more tonight.' Nor any other night or day, upon that subject, until they reached Now York. When they did so, and just before they amicd, a very strange thing happened. A foreign vessel starting from tho port had just I'efi/ her moorings, and act sail. A .Spanish cuasting vessel —homeward bound. The sailors — some leaving and some going homo ; some loud and merry, others quiet and sad, thronged on her deck, HWiimied in her rigging, mustered eagerly t,o the land side to catch a last glimpse of whore.

Among (hem one— pale in spite of all his beard and bronze, and with a lmmlsomo, sternly sorrowful face -stood apart from iho rest with head bowed down, and dark eyes (ixod on the sen-water.

'Me had the air of a man whom nothing interests ; who leaves no regrets behind and sees no hopes before him. Others might look back or forward to home and friends on shore : he looked neither to right nor left, to land nor sea : his dark sad glance fell on the heaving waves, as it might have pierced into some yawning trrave wherein the hopes ami love ot a lite lay buried.

And Olivia, standing- on the steamer's deck and watching tho coasters pail, leaning on her husband's arm, while her liUlo children clung around hor— Olivia saw him. She started violently, and turned deadly pale, and her eyes devoured him eagerly. A sickening sense of terror seized her ; she staggered blindly, and put her hand convulsively upon her heart. ' Oh, if lie would only raise his oyes !' she thought, ' only onco look this way !' Victor observed her emotion with alarm.

' What is it, love?' he asked, anxiously. She pointed to the vessel fast receding from their sight.

' There ! There ! See there ! Oh, God, how like Christie ! It in Christie !' Victor recoiled, as from a sudden blow. 'Christie!' lie cried. ' Great God !Is she goingl mad ? Christie is dead, Olivia !' .She fell weeping on his breast. ' 1 know it, oil, 1 know it; but 7 liane ■teen hi?}), Victor : Christie or Oh) istie s ghost! Oh, Heaven pi'y us! Ho comes back from the grave to warn nio it is an evil omen !'

Victor carried her to her stale-room, and soothed and calmed her, until presently she smiled faintly at hor own folly. To bo sure tiiis sailor wore a beard, and she had not seen his eyes—she was norvou.?, and a chance resemblance had alarmed and shocked her.

' You arc so kind and patient,' f-he. ?::;Id gratefully. And you would not wonder at me if you could know how great the resemblance was. I shall always feel as if 1 had seen poor Christie's yhoirfc !'

Very scon the steamer lay alongside her pier, and the passengers prepared to go ashore. In the bustle and excitement of landing Olivia recovered hor spirits, and almost forgot her late alarm.

And^thc Spuni-h vessel Paquita, outward bound, moved slowly" and 'g'r'aeofully'oub to sea —the brisk wind filling hor broad white sails, that Happed and spread themselves to the stiiFsea-breeze like the wings of an ocean bird, and still upon her deck stood that solitary figure, lonely among so many ; with dark eyes fixed upon the dancing, racing waves, as on an open grave.

What does lie SCO there? Hopes dead, love lost, a faith and trust betrayed. The haunting memory of \ vanished face whose living reality wenb floating past bufc now, while he foreboro to lilt his heavy eyes, heavy with pain and tears—weary with i^azing on a life and world of which the glow and glory has gone by. He lifts them now, with a swift appeal to Heaven; where is Olivia now ? Gone, even as he is going—far away. The distance between them increases with every hour. Gone, to stifle, if she can, that monstrous thought, that torturing quostion : ' Was it Christie, or Christie's ghost?' ( To he continued.)