Orion, The Gold Beater: OR, True Hearts and False.

Auckland Star, Volume XX, Issue 193, 15 August 1889, Page 6

Orion, The Gold Beater: OR, True Hearts and False.

A TALE OF NEW YORK LIFE.

By SYLVANUS COBB, Jtob., Author of tho "Gunmaker of Moscow," "The Storm Secret," Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE LAST BLOW IS STRICKEN !

Jvlia Tivektox waited until she knew that her'husband had retired. She had received from her maid the information that he had been in the library when the latter went down, and hence the wife knew that her greatlife-secretwaaknownto hercompanion. But she seemed not at all frightened. All expression of foar was gone from her face,_ and in its place had, como a look oi iron will—of lirin purpose. She had seen her daughter leave the house early in the evening, in company with the Count of Gusterhausen, and she knew that Isabella would never, come back save 0.3 a wife ! And yet, -when her husband had allied her .where his child was, she had told him she Had simply gone out to spend the evening with a few female friends ! As soon a a Madam was euro her husband had retired, she went to her dress-ing-case and took therefrom an ebony casket. It was very heavy, for it contained all her jewellery. And sho had much of it. Few women in the grsat city had more. She had one set of diamonds—a tiara, brooch, necklace, and ring—worth eighty thousand dollars. And there was some gold in that casket, too ; and also some bank-notes. Aye—there were bank-notes to the amount of one hundred and twentyeight thousand dollars! She had that day drawn out all her money from the bank !

Having secured this, and then taken a large bundle of her most costly clothing, such as laces, velvet, satin, and so on, she glided noiselesely down into the parlour, ■where she lighted the pas, and then opened one of the upper blinds, or shutters. When this was done she sat down upon a sofa, and for the tirst time there was a tremulousness in her frame. But it did not continue long, for in a very few momenta after the stream of light was let out into the street someone rapped three times upon the window, with what appeared to be a stick. The woman started up and listened. In a moment more the signal was repeated, only there were four rape'instead of three. With a noiseless tread and movement Mrs Tiverton went and opened the front door, and on the next instant she was in the embrace of the Prince Bernardo de Tavo.ra.

'My life, you are ready,' he uttered, kiasing her cheek. • All ready,' she whispered. * Are you ?' • '■ Yes.'' The carriage is around the corner. Come, let us lose no time. . The woman hastened back, and having thrown on her shawl and hat, and secured the casket, she picked up the bundle and rejoined Che waiting Prince. 'Eh ?' he said, as he took the bundle. 1 What's dis ? You no como back ? You be mine for always ?' ' Yes, dear Prince !' ' Oh, sunlight of iay sou).!—darling of my life! —sweet, dear, angelic, cherub, delight !' '—Sh! not 80 loud, my love. Let ys., go.' • And the money ?' ' Is all bore, dear Prince. , • Enough to carry us over to my palace on the Arno V ' In money and jewels I have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.' •Oh ! charmer—stealer of my s=oul — keeper of my heart and life—you shall keep all that for charity. While you live upon my bounty you shall bestow that upon the needy peasants, and they shall rise up and call you blessed !' • Oh, delightful!' murmured Julia. With this they descended the steps, the woman having first turned off the gas, and in a few moments they reached the coach which was in waiting at the next corner. Julia Tiverton was handed in, and when the Princo had taken a seat by her side, the horses were started oft" at a swift pace, and the faithless, guilty woman knew that she was leaving her home, never to return to it again in the fleeh ! Yet she did not weep, nor did she appear sorrowful. She clung closely to the apology for a man who accompanied her, and rested her head upon hie shoulder. i When the coach stopped it was before a house in Twenty - Third-street. It was midnight, and yet the parlouraof this houso were lighted, though there was no sound of revelry from within. The Prince assisted Mrs Tiverton to alight, and then conducted her to the door, where they were soon admitted by a black servant. Within the parlour were some half dozen persons, all intimate friends of the merchant's wife. The owner of the housewas a young man who had been left by his parents with a large fortune, and who wa3 now contriving to spend it as fast as possible. He and his wife were present; also a ' fact' young justice: a female friend of the hostess, and tile Count of Gneterhaueen and Isabella. They all arose as the Prince and madam entered, and when tho salutations had passed around, the Count proposed that the ceremony ebonld go on. 'Yes,' said Mrs Tiverton ; 'let ibgo onat once. 5 Blushing and trombling, Isabella Juverfcon was led forward, and with the Count by her side the ceremony commenced. The jßsttee made them man and wife. Isabella had cast off her father's name for ever—and she thought she was going to be happy ! Not a pang was in her heart—not a sting in her conscience—only once she half-wished, or at least wondered, if she would not have been happier if she could have felt that hor father's consent had been given to this union.

As soon ac the marriage had been concluded the object of the meeting was pained, and after drinking a few glasses of wine the company prepared to separate. 'My child,' said Mrs Tiverton—and her voice trembled some as she spoke—'you will go to your hotel to night, and—and when will you come home V ' When you say, mother.' ' Come when you please. You need not fear to tell your father that you are married. You may come to-morrow.' •Very well,' said the new-made _ wife. • To-morrow the Count and myself will call upon you. ,,- As Isabella was about to turn away, her coach having been announced, her mother caught her by the hand. ■ My child—lsabella '—she uttered spasmodically — 'God bless and keep you. Should anything happen that you don'fc see me to-morrov/ ; cr—or—if you don't see me for some time—you won't forget me. You'll pray for me. You'll remember mo !' • Why -ma—whab makes you epeak so strangely ?' 'Strangely, my child? It's nothing— only—only—the thought that you are married—that you are no longer to be with me 88 a companion—moved me.' •Oh—ie that all?' returned the young bride, with a light, faint laugh. ' Don't feel tad, ma—l shall ccc you often,' ; With this the lighb-headed, empty-hearted bride was Jed away to her carriage, and for a few momenta the mother was left stand? in<' alone. And during these few momenta there vres.O «ome strange thoughts and feel-

ings in her soul. She felt sure she should never see her again—unless, indeed, the Count should take her to Germany, and then bring her on a visit to Rome or Florence ! But her thoughts were soon broken in'upon by the Prince, whocametoinformher that hia coach was ready. She prepared herself in a few moments, and was then led out. She found her bundle safe as she had left it. The casket she had kept in her own possession. ' Whither shall we go, dear Piince ?' she asked, as she stood upon the sidewalk. ' We will go to a hotel, now, and in the morning start for Philadelphia,' returned the Prince.

The lady assented to this, and having taken thoir seats within the carriage they wero whirled off to one of the ' down-town ' hotels. And over them, for the present, we must drop the curtain. Thus far we have only seen the heartless toying of the faichloss wife. God forbid thab beyond this her deeds should bo dragged into the light!

On the following day Mr Tivorbon was jusb preparing- to«o out with Bertram and Aurifi Rboda, when a coach stopped'before the door, and going to the front parlour wir.doy/ he saw the Count Adolphus Gusterhauven alight, followed by his daughter Isabella. In a few moments more they were in the , 'Ah—Mr Tiverton,' said the Count, bowing and tHvisting his body into all the fashionable shapes he could think of, 4 Allow me, sire, to introduce—aw— mine wife.' , . . . ' Your Wife, sir !' gasped the merchant, starting back. ' Yes, eir. \Wo were married last evening.' ■ ' Last Evening !' repeated the astounded man, hardly ab!e to credit the evidence of his own sense. ' Last evening ! And have you been away &\\ night, Isabella?' ' Yes, pa. , murmured the wife, clinging to her Count. ' We are married. Oh ! you will forgive me !' ' Married ! Mis wife ! Oh, God have mercy ! But say—did your mother know of this ?' ' Yes, pa. She gave ma her consent. Where i 3 she ?' 'She must be in her chamber, I have not seen her this morning. But hold—l will send for her. . Thus speaking Mr Tiverton rang the bell, and in a few moments Sarah Johnson answered the summons. ' Sarah -go and tell your mistress I wish to see her in the parlour. , ' She's gone, sir,' replied the girl. 'Gone?—gone where?' * I don't know, sir. She went away la3t night with somebody, and hain't been back since. All her jewellery is gone, and all of her best things, sir !' «W e ll i—v/ell !' gasped the terror-stricken man. ' What else do you know ?' 'Only that she went yesterday and drawee! all her money out of the bank, sir ; and was busy all day in n'xin' up her things.' 4 Isabella,' spoke the father in a hushed whisper, ' was your mother present at your marriage last evening f 'Yes, sir,' the daughter replied, now frightened herself. ' And who was there with her ?' Isabella hesitated. ' Tell me, my child—who was with her ? 'The Prince!'

Paul Tiverton staggered back to a sofa, and sank down. Ho "covered his faco with his hands and groaned aloud. 'Let me go up to her room,' said Isabella.

' Go,' replied tho father. She went. She found it as Sarah had said. All the jewellery wan gone, and also the rnosC valuable of her less bulky clothing. On the dressing-case she found a folded and sealed note, directed to herself. She broke it open, and rd:id.ji£; and under the first 'impulse of her disappointment and ill-feeling, in consequence of her mother's having gone off and left her thus, she carried the missive down and gavo it to her father. He opened it, and read aa follows :

Isabella.—When you cret tlu'3 I shall be far from you. You will not blame mc for the step 3 I have taken. You know I could not livo lutppi y with your father. He is not tmiteu to my tastes and feelings. But I have tounu one who is. Oil ! you know the Prince i< a splendid man. Hβ lovea mo very much. His love for mo is a passion. He is poetical and romantic; and I know he will make mo happy. \v c snail tO to Italy- that land of iove and sunshine, where my lii'e will pass away in pleasure ana love. Oh the P/im:e has charmed rtie, and I have charmed him. I fly to embrace him ana rtflt upon hi 3 bosom. If you go 1.0 Germany with your own deer Count, he may talce you to Italy, and we shall meet. Will it not bo delightful thus to meet iv that laud of poetry and But I must draw to a closo. You may tell vouv father. it you plcasj, where I asn gone ; but tell Juki it will bo useless to search for me. 1 do not blame him, because I know his nature would not let him assimilate to me. Good-bye, Isabella, and may you be happy in. roriv new relation. I must subscribe ))>ysolt aa I am hereafter to be known, for my old r.amo 1 nrostput off. So-as the happy wife of the man whom I adore, , I subscribe myself your friend and mother, Julia de Tavoka, Princess.

Paul'Tiverton read the letter through, and as it fell from bis hands, he bowed bis head, and remained for some moments motionless. Had he been alone he would have wept; bub he controlled himself; and is soon as he dared to trust his speech he arose to his feet. 'Isabella,' he said, 'you ask my forgiveness. I grant it; fully and freely; and whenever misfortune may come—when the hour arrives that shall see you in want of love or friendship, then come to me, and a father's arms shall be 'open to receive you, and a father's heart to love you as ever. But never come here again with this thing whom you call husband !' 'Sir J , exclaimed the Count, starting to

his feet. 'Bo easy,' returned the merchant, casting upon the popinjay a look of ineffable contempt. 'I-should dislike to have my daughter's husband horsewhipped from the house —' 'Sir/ —•which xtill bo most assuredly done if you offer me one word of your insolence !' Adolphus G. C. Gusterhausen seemed rather fearful of tempting the merchant further, for he s&nk back into his chair, muttering aa hfi did so : 'You are my Wife's father. Inat protects 3'ou.' ; : ' And, now, my child,' resumed Tiverton, turnino- to his daughter, 'since you have taken to yourself a husband I suppose you must cleave to him—at least, while you wish. Your husband will never cross my threshold again ! You shall be welcome at anytime.' ' But her portion, sir—her marriage portion !' murmured the Count. '•She must look to her husband for support while she lives with him, sir,' coolly returned the merchant. 'As for you, sir— you may from this time forward rest assured that not one penny of my money shall find its way to your purse !' ' ]Slo V gasped the Count. ' Not r<. penny, sir !' • Dunder and blixen i' ' You understand me, sir !' ♦Dear Count,'whimpered Isabella, turning to her husband, 'yon know you have money enough. You did not marry me for my money. Oh, do not let pa think you are mercenary !' ' Then let us go,' said the disappointed, husband, taking his wife by the hand. Isabella turned toward her father, and for a moment she hesitated. •I have said all I ca« say,' spoko Mr Tiverton. ' You have chosen your own pillow, and you must lie upon it if you will. Yet —there is something more I will say ; if you wish I will have you freed from these bonds at once.'

• How, sir ? I'd like to know bow you'll separate a man and wrfe ¥ cried the Count, 'Never you mind, sir; only be assured

I could do it much more easily than you can remember to speak*like a German !'

• Let us. go, my wife,' the Count said, turning away to hide his coufusion. He could not bear the keen gaze" of the man before him. Hβ felt uneasy and unsafe, for he had a. dim fear that the merchant could see beneath the outer guise he wore.

' I will remain with my husband,' said Tsahella. There was a spice of bitterness in her tone, and a cloud upon her brow ; but she turned away, aud was soon in her carriage once more. It was a severe struggle for that father. Ho would have clasped his child to his bosom, and bestowed upon her of his wealth ; but he saw that she had a lesson to learn, and he was confident that sho would soon learn it. ■

After they were gone—the Count and Isabella—Mr Tiverton saw the note upon the carpet where lie had dropped it. Ho picked it up and put ib in his pocket, and then, went into tho library, where he iiad left Bertram and Aunt Rhoda.

'My friends,' he said, ' I cannob go with you as 1 had hoped. But io makes no difference. You can jjo out to Broadway —it is only a few steps—and there take a .stage, and ask the driver to set you down at number—. It ia well up-town, but j f ou will bo left at the door. If Orion Lindell is not in you will find his mother aud my ward, and they will either send for the young man, or have you remain until he returns. I know of no one in tho city who can help you in finding poor Constance better than he can. And there is one errand I wiah you to do for; me; No. Stop—l will write a note. 1

Thus speaking, tho merchant sat down before the great walnut secretary and wrote a short note which ho folded and sealed, and then directed to Ellen Durand.

' There,' he said, arising and handing the note to Aunt Rhcda, ' will you give that to Ellen ?'

The old lady promised that she would, and then Mr Tiverton waited upon them to the door, and having once more directed them how to proceed, they departed. Just as the merchant turned back into the hall, he met his coachman, who informed him that tho horsee were ready and harnessed.

' I shall not want them, Thomas. And— look you-tell the servants that I am home to no one save Ellen Durand or Odon Lindell. To all others lam not at home. ,

After this, Paul Tiverton sought his library once more, and having bolted the doors, he sank down upon che long couch. He drew forth that fatal letter and read it once more; and then, with his head bowed, and his hands clasped tightly over his face, he burst into tears. • Oh, Julia ! Julia !' he groaned : ' thou hast stricken tho last blow ;" and from this timo forth thy grave ia digged ! And thou hast done it! Poor, ignorant Julia J Oh ! thou wert forced upon me—' The sentence was cut sliort, for he would not speak the words that had arisen in hia thoughts. H3 remembered how Julia Church had been forced upon him, and how she had schemed to obtain his hand. And the thoughts came now with peculiar power.

There is one more scene which we must crowd into this chapter.

At tho very hour on which Julia Tiverton was riding away towards tho hotel with tho Prince, Duffy Glieker entered the house in Cow Bay, where he hod left hia prisoners, flo had a small, dark lantern, which wo have seen him use before, and also a latchkey to tho door. He entered, and in thq hall he pulled ofFliia boot.s. 'If I can get up without inakin 1 any noi.se,' he said to himself, ' I may catch her afore she can grab that pistol of horn.

And with this in tent ,he crept upstairs, *as"noiselessly as possible. When ho had reached the" door of the chamber where he had left hia prize, ho was not a little astonished to find the bolts— one at the top and one at the bottom— both drawn. Yet he opened it as ca&ily as possible, and glided in. His first look at the bed revealed the fact that it was empty. lie gttzed all around, but his prisoners were not there. In a fury he dashed out of the chamber, and started, for the basement in search of tho landlady. When he reached tho hall he found two men there, whom he had not seen on entering, and whom he would gladly have avoided now—for they wore policemen.

' Ah — this ia Mr Giicker, I believe,' said one of them.

' Yee,' returned the villain ; ' and I want to find Mann Golden.'

' We will take you to the place where she ie stopping, sir,' rejoined one of the officers, at the same time taking from his pocket a pair of handcuffs. ' Come —no waste of time, now. The woman who kept this place and all her people arc in the Tombs, and you must co with us.'

Glicker hesitated a moment, and then fcemed inclined to resist; bub he soon came to his senses, and allowed the ornaments to be placed on his wrists. 'Now where is my wife ?' he asked, when this was done.

' Who was your wife ?' asked one of the police. • The woman that was in the right-hand back room on the next floor.'

'Oh —Mrs Milmer, you mean ? She that used to live over Crown's groggery, and lo3t her husband there f

• Yes— only she's Mrs Glicker now. .

1 Well—l guess she's free by this time. I saw Peggy Warling not long since, and she told mo the whole story. She took a young fellow named Lindell up there—a goldbeater, 1 think he is ' •Aye—and a Duffy Gliefer beater, too, I reckon, 1 added the "second policeman, with a laugh. Tho villain swore terribly when he found that Orion Limiell had again thwarted him ; but tho officers soon put a stop to Ins cursing, and then led him off towards the Tombs.

' Won't you tell me how tho young rat found out that the widder was there? , asked tho prisoner on (,ho way. •He didn't know it until he reached tho room,' returned the officer. 'An enemy of his sought to harm him, and to that end hired Peg Warling to entice him to her room, and have him there about the time we came down upon the house. But, you see, it all turned out the other way. Peg used to use that room, so she took Lindell there. You see it now.' 'dicker 'saw it very plainly, and once more the officers were obliged to stop him from cursing and swearing , . (To be Continued.)