OCTAVIA'S PRIDE; OR, THE MISSING WITNESS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIX, Issue 304, 24 December 1898, Page 6 (Supplement)

OCTAVIA'S PRIDE; OR, THE MISSING WITNESS.

By CHAS- T. MANNERS,

CHAPTER XXIV.

JANE WEST'S PRAYER. Mathew Merle had evidence before him of abundant interest, when he found his way to the boarding-house keeper who had offered to take care of his effects, and the letters which might arrive. There were plenty of letters, qtiite filling- the fancy soap-box into which they had been thrust as fast as they arrived. 'Bless your eyes! here they are, every letter, and nobody's touched 'em, beyond the putting them in this nice clean place,' said the burly host, taking out his pipe, and staring in the dark, wrinkled face of the old East Indian. 'I allers told 'em you'd, turn up in the right time, and sure enough here you are. There's a policeman, was down twice to know about you. Something to do with a drowned gal, Mother Woodstock knows about it. They've saved the clothes, you see. Your niece;, wasn't it? Well, poor soul! her troubles are ended.' 'My niece!' exclaimed Mathew, his dark eyes snapping over the letters, the latest of which he had torn open eagerly. 'What about my niece?' 'Why, she was missing, and yon went off to search, for lier, didn't you ? And they found her drown —dccl. You haven't heard about it, I s'pose.' 'Found my niece, drowned'?' repeated Mathew Merle. 'When? how? This week, or last?' 'Bless your soul, no. But months ago. And there's the clothes down at the station house now. Mother Woodstock identified them; and it's all recorded there about her death. They brought, it to suicide, T believe. But it's down, you can read it. Minn Merle, niece of Mathew Merle, lately arrived from India, identified by the boardingmistress —and all that.' 'The devil!' ejaculated Mathew Merle, laying down even the precious letters of his son, and staring fiercely into the speaker's face. 'Who's at the bottom of this plot, I should like to know?' The man's face showed his bewilderment. And in a moment more Mathew Merle regained his shrewd selfpossession. 'Well, well, I'll look into it,' said he, carelessly, 'but it's a mistake, let old Mother Woodstock says what she pleases. I saw my niece alive and well ten days ago.' 'That's a queer go!' said the man, peering- curiously into the sphinx face. But the old man was busy over his letters again. He had seized upon one bearing the latest date, and at the bottom there was a posteript. He raised a shout of joy and triumph when he saw it. 'My boy is coming, my George is coming. He sailed —why, why, it is time he arrived. I may look for him any day. Oh, this is good news. 1 must run clown to the owners of the Comet, and see ■whether they have heard from her at all. There, man, drink to the good luck of the good ship Comet.' He tossed a silver coin into the man's hand, thrust the letters into his pocket, and went hurrying out, his face aglow, his very hands trem- ! bling with the joy of the news he had found. In the generous glow of his delight, he even gave a coin to the thin-faced begg/ar-girl who held out her timid hand"toward him. 'George is coming! and I have found out the girl's retreat. I shall work the rest to my mind. Xo one holds j the clue, no one but Mathew Merit, and I shall have my way against Them nil. I will keep ray eye on Miss helmine, but I will leave her alone until George comes.' He found the owners of the Comet in good spirits likewise. The ship j had been spoken by a steamer, having made a fine passage to that point. They were looking hourly for the signal of her approach. Mathew Merle went off in such high glee that he never noticed a woman in a plain dark shawl and bonnet, with a thick veil over her face, who kept at just such a distance from him, let him turn as he might. He went down to Mother Woodstock, as he called her, and entered bluntly into the object of his visit. 'Look here, Mother Woodstock, what Satan's work have you been, helping along ? Who was that in the slouched cap, and high-collared cloak, who coaxed you into giving my niece that nice cup of coffee—that coffee you'took such pains to prepare. And what were you paid for helping along that pretended suicide, and the registered death of Mina Merle ?' began he, the moment he entered the room where the boarding-house keeper sat looking over her newly returned basket of laundry linen. ' Bless my heart, Mathew Merle ! How you startle a body,' exclaimed Mrs Woodstock, so completely taken by surprise that she could not control her features and looked the blank dismay she felt. ' Whatever do you I mean ?' ' Come, come, no blarney, woman, I know the whole story, about the taking of the girl to a ship, and all the rest. In fact I've got the girl home again, and she is here in England, sound and well. Xow what does it mean that I find her death registered according to your testimony and identification ?' The great red hands of Mrs Wood- : stock were fumbling over the clothes, and she bent her head clown to the : basket to get a moment's time to I think. But- that was just what Ma-1] thew Merle meant she should not do. j' 'Come, come,' said he. 'I'm going I] up with my story to the police. I can ; 5 tell them something about your drug- i( ging that coffee, and when poor Mina ] was helpless, taking her clothes to put j3 on some poor wretch and dressing her ' 1 in boy's garments. I can tell 'j 1 ' Good Heaven, Mathew Merle ! you ' 1 won't give a body a chance to breathe! j■* Why don't you ask me in civil fashion, ! f and maybe then I should tell you ; 1 everything you want to know.' yen- ? tured the woman, in an insinuating ; * tone. 'Sit down, won't you, and TU . ; c have in a mug of ale.' ' ' I don't want the ale, but I am will- I ing to hear the truth. Just own up, ! * and you will save yourself a deal of ; l trouble, now, 1 can tell you.' J ' Humph ! There's other folks can !•■ tell too. You're very mu^ worried r about your pool' Mina now. Time * was you hadn't too much conrpasion.' ? 'You won't maKe anything o f that mmc. I'm the »irl s S«ardian, and i: if she is stubborn and bad behaved, A

it's my place to help it What I want to know of you is who that fellow was in. the cloak, the fellow with the hachet face and the gray eyes, and I want yon to own up that it's not Mina Merle who is buried in the pauper's grave. A sharp game somebody meant, to play.' ' They wasn't gray eyes at all,' said the woman, promptly. 'The eyes ■ were great big blue ones, and looked oddly with the whiskers. I don't, mind owning up, Mathew, if .you. promise it will be safe for me.' ' A o-ood deal safer than the other way. But T want to know that chap.' You don't remember ; the eyes must have been gray.' ' No, they were not : T'll stake my life on that : and if you don't mean to I be cross, L can tell you more. He' dropped a ring here—pulled it out of! his pocket somehow- —and there's a j mark inside of it.' ' Let me have it,' said Mathew Merle, setting his lip grimly. She laughed slyly." 'But first I want yon to say that T shall get clear of the trouble. I'll, take your word for it, Mathew Merle.' 'Of course you will. And if you'll make a clean breast of it, and help me to prove the dead girl was not' ni3 r niece. I won't mind vewardng- you, besides insuring your safety.' 'All right. Ask your questions as fast as you like, and T'll answer...true —honour bright.' 'First, then, who do you think,\that fellow was in the cloak and cap and false whiskers ? I know you for a wonnyi as curious as the next, and I'll venture to swear you didn't let the matter rest without trying to ferret it out.' Mother Woodstock shook her head, and struck her coarse, hands together angrily. ' She was a cunning one, now, T tell yon. I did the best I could, and only found out the ring, and that it was no man.' 'No man !' ejaculated the listener, staring at. her like one demented. ' Yoii don't mean it was a woman ?' 'But I do. That much is pretty clear to me.' 'Let me see the ring,7 said Mathew Merle. She thrust her hand into her pocket, and drew out a long silk purse, once gay with steel beads, but. rusted now and frayed ; slipped the steel rings away, and brought forth a heavy ring, with an agate stone, on which was carved what seemed a family crest. The keen black eyes snapped with the old basilisk glitter as he looked at it. 'Well.' said he, to himself, 'if the ring came from the Middleton's, they are premature in adopting the crest of Wainwright Slope. It is a high hand somebody is carrying, that is certain.' ' Tt was a woman,' persisted Mother Woodstock. 'You may start on that. Now look at the letters inside the I'ing.' The old man held it, up, and read the delicately traced characters there: ' Octavia, from her father.' 'Humph !' said he. 'that is worth taking note of. whether anything comes of it or not.' And then he fell into a deep reverie. But. the glad consciousness that was overflowing- and bubbling up within him., in almost boyish soon dispersed the momentary gravity. 'Well, T am not going to fret over it to-day. But it is well for you Mother Woodstock, that you concluded to tell me the truth. We'll get to the bottom, of it presently. My George is coming, and he will look into it. .My soil is coming to England. The vessel is looked for every day.' And having told this with as much proud importance as if he had informed her of his inheritance of a throne, he took his leave, taking with him the ring bearing the Wainwright crest. The veiled woman came out from the pawnbroker's shop at the corner a moment after, and followed him as J before, to the very door-way of the se- | eond-nife hotel where he was stop"in."\ j Mathew tramped up the loug flight] of stairs, and his pursuer, after a. mo-j ment's hesitation, followed, and as he 1 took the key from his pocket, and unlocking the door passed in, she came, or. and looked carefully, not only at the number of his door, but at tV>.«e | adjacent. She went back down stairs : to the room allotted for the boarders' j sitting-room, found the housekeeper, ! and ■was presently installed in a room ! on the same corridor, which com- ] mandeda, good view of Mathew Merle's chamber door. i When she was safely alone in this room the woman drew a long, shud- i dering breath, threw back her veil, j and showed ; Jane West's face, but. j alas ! with a lack of the old freshness and cheeriness. There were dark" cir- ! cles under her eyes, which shone with their old steadiness, but held also a feverish brightness. She looked worn and tired, but desperately earnest, and net upon some purpose, from | which it was plain to see no idle circumstance could turn her aside. She left her door ajar, and sat down where she could catch the first movement from the room beyond. .When the ; gong sounded Mathew Merle was \ prompt, to appear. He locked the door again a.nd put. the key in his pocket, ancb-then. leisurely .descended to the dining-room. : j Jane West came but''stealthily and; silently, a bunch of. keys in her j hand, and waited until the lodgers of , that floor had descended. She did not ; feel herself a thief or a meddler when she tried first one and then the other, ! and she was prompt to say, when the J chambermaid came around the corner, i with a pack of towels on her arm: ! 'If you please, can you unlock the | door for me? I have got a wrong ! key, and I've come back for a handkerchief.' ■ j Unsuspecting, the girl took her own ' key and opened the door. Jane's alert eye searched the room, while a ' prayer that the object, of her search mibht be there was in her heart. j; She walked straight to the red silk j handkerchief bundle lying on the bed, \ opened it hastily, closed it again, and i walked out. The chambermaid depos- ' j ited her fresh towel, re-locked the c door, and went her way. Mathew Merle, after his hearty dinnev came back and sat. down a little ] while for a nap. Then he wrote a'■ < letter making an appointment, with j 1 the Earl of Chi Chester. After which I he went out into the street, bought, j c a small leather case, such as could ' i be thrust into his inner pocket, and 1 returning', he opened the bundle tied i j in the red silk handkerchief, took out carefully the book of red morocco s with the gilt clasps and the yellow c packet, of papers, and fitted them into I the case, and put the case into a poc- r ket made inside his woollen shirt. g 'One may as well be cautious,' he f said. 'A valuable packet like that h might be easily taken from me, and v there's plenty as are willing to go to j t any lengths for it.' i g And having thus, figuratively speak- 1 a ing;, securely locked the stable door,. j Mathew Merle walked down to the

office of \tbe underwriters, and wat died impaitiently the signals there, an nonncing the approach of inward bound vessels. The Comet was still unheralded, bir he saw one of the owners there, whe informed hi in that she was sure to b< in the river before another tnorning as such a ship had been seen from be • low that morning 100 far oil" for he] private signals to be made out. Bu lit was the"Comet, beyond questioning 'I'll go down to see my Lady Marj early in the morning,' said Matliev Merle, 'and I'll have plenty of cash oi hand when I meet George.' CHAPTER XXV. "IT IS TOO LATE." Lord Ronald Falkner was floating on the sparkling wave of a lover': rapturous bliss, and was too happj himself to notice the'haggard face o: his uncle's newly chosen Australia! agent, or even to be aware that his mother was thinner, and whiter, am weaker than on their first arrival The rose-coloured cloud floating ar oufid him hid the little signs of gathering gloom in the demeanour of hit friends. But when Octavia showed' nervous and restless symptoms,, anc was fitful and capricious in her gaj moods, he roused himself to searcl for the cause, alarmed for the healtl of her body, and never suspecting what Felix Thorne knew very well that it was the mind which was disea sed. He called in Sir James, one clay by what he deemed a very skilfu stroke of diplomacy, and appealed t< him for a confirmation of his theory that his beautiful betrothed was wear ing out her strength in persisting tc follow up the reckless gayety of th< party nt Cbichester Rookery. Octavia was present, and could noescape the physician's scrutiny. Sh( was deeply annoyed, but tried tc smother Hie feeling, and yielded hei wrist to the examination of Sir .Tames the indignant blood leaping angrilj through her veins, as she said to her self: 'This is un pardon ably stupid ii Lord Ronald. If he had half the in tuitive perception of Felix, he woulc have seen that this would disturb anc vex me.' "A feverish pulse, certainly,' saic the famous physician, 'and T cletec symptoms of nervous and steeples! nights. The young lady would cer tainly be much improved by rest anc quiet.' 'Rest and quiet, then, she mus have,' exclaimed the adoring lover 'You will not rebel, I am sure, dieares Octavia, remembering that the pre cious trust of looking after yon de volves upon me, since your father ii himself an invalid. You must relin quish these excursions and fetes, anc the drawing-room nonsense of even ings; but you shall not be left to- grow melancholy. T shall devote my wholt time to you. I will take you to ride; 1 will read to you. You shall have i boudoir fitted up especially for youi seclusion, and 1 shall ward awajy al intruders. No one, but your firthea and myself, shall be allowed to enter Ah! what more can one desire'? Ii will be an elysium.' Outwardly Octavia smiled, but within there Fell a great horror. To be. shut out from the excitonaeni which alone kept her spirits from | sinking into such n dead gloom, oi foreboding and dread; to be compelled to find all her entertainnneni in the society of her noble lover whose presence had already grctwii tiresome, almost intolerable, from which she was thankful to eseapei— it was v sorry prospect for a spirit already fretted and chafed. Again Ihe thought rose, and i),uts bitterly received: 'Felix understands me better. .He knows there is no elysium for nae with Lord Ronald Cor my sole comipanion.' And a deeper slab came behind: 'This is only the approach of tine realization of my pride and ambition. What will it be when I am fettertxl to his side for life?' Yes! Amid the triumph and flattery of her envied position as the betrothed of Lord Ronald, for all lwsfather's deep joy and proud hoptls, Octavia was miserable. And it was uot the pang of alarm lest the lavsuit should be renewed; it was not the fear of losing Wainwright Slop*-, nor the dread of any exposure whiefh might come which pressed such sharp pain into her heart. She tried to cheat herself into believing it. bu?fc there were times when the trutSi looked at her unvailed by any sophistry. Her heart had cried out I'otits true nourishment, and for broad! she had given it a stone. It did not ease the smart that the stone was no common pebble, but a rose diamond set in purest gold. She saw the cold, stern face oi Felix, growing every day more haggard and ghastly, with a wild terro> that would not be coaxed into quiet. Yet still she persisted stubbornly upon the appointed course. She could not descend to a lowly position. She, Octavia Wainwright, be- willing to marry her father's secretary, theearl's business agent! No, she must shine before the world as Lady Falkner. Let it cost what secret pain it might, the brilliant destiny must beaccomplished. And so Octavia smiled, and allowed Lord Ronald to withdraw her, with' his lover solicitude, from the only scene which made her life there endurable. She was petted and caressed, anc* overwhelmed with his attentions, until she grew to shudder at the very sound of his coming- footsteps, to shrink from the slightest touch of his hand. Lord Ronald was singularly unfortunate in his method of bestowing attentions, and had ucme of that fine, subtle perception and tact which would have showu Felix so unerringly, just when to leave her alone, and when to soothe and cheer by his companionship. To be sure if Octavia j had only loved him since*sly, she; would not have wearied of h's com- j panionship, but such constant pi™-! sence is the test of true love, and Miss \ Wainwright was found wanting. j General Wainwright had paid bis i congTatulatory visit to Lady Mary, j and the pair had enjo3red it vastly, j their parental anxieties laid aside. ! picturing the happy future of their ■ childi'en... It was mutually understood that the sooner the wedding :ame the better suited-the pair would ' be. And when General Wainwright •eceived a letter from Screw & Scatterfood hinting that he must be prepared tor a renewal of this suit, the latter lad no hesitation in paying a second nsit to Lady Mary, and on the plea of :he uncertainty of his own health, g-ently insinuating that it was his irdent desire to see the marriage take place at once. Lady Mary was equally earnest, and

- when Lord Ronald was consulted they - obtained v willing and joyful consent. - The day ivus appointed by the two before Octavia was consulted, Lord t Ronald naturally taking it for granted 0 that her father" expressed the wishes c of his beautiful betrothed. She heard •, them calmly when the matter was' -explained to her, and smiled a. grar''clous acquiescence, but. immediately t after hurried away out of sight into •. • the first retreat she could find, which 'y j chanced to be a little music-room v ! opening between the library and the n private parlour of the countess. There 1 she sat down deadly cold, shiveringfrom head to foot. What had she consented to do? Aside from with her own hand setting the I seal of her life-long wretchedness, she 0- i had voluntarily agreed to assist in an ".j imposition, a fraud —what else could ■it be called? The earl and Lord Roy nald believed her the heiress of Wain* f wright Slope and its generous revenue. 1 lAs such they were willing to lift her Ito their higher stations. This hurried * marriage was her father's work, to I secure her against any retraction on their part, when the claim of the Middletons could no longer be con- " eealed. Her cold cheek burned hotly i? as she tried to picture what the world ;' would say. And then she reassured herself it would not make any dif■r. ference with Lord Ronald. She had a- confidence enough in the depths of I 1 his: affection to know., .that he would f gladly take her portionless as with the ' generous Wainwright dower. But "there was the Earl of Ch.iches.ter and * Lady Alary; it was a very different 1 affair with them! li she could only o have seen into Lady Mary's chamber, '> where that lady sat clasping her thin '- hands over her throbbing heart, mur--0 muring: c 'Oh, 1 feel like a thief and a coward every time 1 look into the General's t face What will they think of me if the P worst comes, and they learn that I 0 knew all the time, and yet never told r them —allowed Octavia to sacrifice her i, brilliant prospects? Heaven forgive V my selfishness, but for poor Ronald's ■- sake I must persist! And, after all, what need she care for the empty title a if she loves Ronald? There is no great 1- wrong certainly.' d Thus the two parties, mutually cond senting to* a cheat, consoled their fears, and cajoled the stings of con--3 science. 1 Octavia had but one more trial. As a she sat there, white and shivering, .. in the music-room, the library door (j unclosed, aoud Felix Thorne came in slowly. f. Did he know she was there? He . g-ave no start of surprises onry a satirical smile curled his lip, and a ~ steely gleam in his grey eye betrayed [ his secret anger. 'Ah, Miss Wainwright! So lam in s season to give early congratulations. " There is quite a buz/, of excitement in the household over the delightful news just proclaimed. 1 congratulate v Lord Ronald. He will have a bride c who will wear his coronet with, queen--Ily grace.' a Octavia was not unmindful of the v disdainful anger of the tone. Her pride helped her to gather up her r faculties, and face him without be» * traying all the weakness of her heart. * 'Thank you; I have no doubt Lord Ronald shares your opinion,' she said, ' brushing the lace ruffles of.her sleeve. with persevering attention, t Such a look on her part never,failed; 1 to raise all the wrath of Felix's fierce nature. His sallow cheek grew liot, " his eyes flashed, the thin lips curled t angrily. Octavia knew it. and secretly tremi bled. How the lightest gesture of i that man could sway her proud spirit, l while Lord Ronald's most, passionate - love vow wearied and sickened her. 'Miss Wainwright,' said he, 'be 5 fierce, and proud, and cold,' and haughty as you like. You know very , well a word from me to the earl can dash you down from this pinnacle of your success and triumph. Why should I hesitate to speak it—l. who lose nothing, and gain all?' , Her white fingers still played carelessly with the dainty ruffles. She as- [ sinned an air of languid indifference which nearly drove him frantic. 'I don't know why yon should, Mr Thorne: people are usually inclined to . act for their own interest.' For a moment his anger-rendered him speechless—then he burst forth 'in a perfect tirade of accusation, in ! the very midst of which he stopped, and said, in a voice thrilled with the 1 most piteous entreaty and tenderness: 'Octavia! Octavia! my proud, highspirited bird, meant only to soar in congenial skies, beware how you allow "I them to thrust you into a cage, al-1 though that cage be a gilded palace! j Oh,.think what it is you risk, what a! r life you ohodse! After all, is rank so 'I much? Think of it —a meaningless * title, that does not show in a man's ' looks or acts, that is no part of him- j self —shall that weigh against a tender j heart which holds your allegiance— ' you cannot, you dare not deny it. 1 Octavia. A love so pure, so idolatrous as mine could not fail to win return. ! You love mo, and you marry Lord i Ronald! Ocfavin! Octavia! have mercy i upon yourself, if you have none for j •me!' ! 'Tt is no choice betw-een ease arid j ■ -poverty. If it were, one could never 1 blame you. But you know very well '■ my wife will lack no comforts of life, . jif she fails to win its elegancies. It ■| is. only the temptation of rank and j power. Believe me—oh, believe me! ■[ you will find it a poor and worthless ' thing! Pause, before it is wholly too :i'ate! Listen to me!' She had not stirred her eyes from 'the face which in its pale passion seemed to empty upon her the very soul itself. Scarcely had she breathed, , otaly her fingers had fallen away from \ j the filmy lace and fastened with an | imn grip on the massive gold circlet on. her fingers, in which was blazing | the. rare rose diamond of the Falkuesis. A strong struggle shook her as with jan ague. j j Helix, awed, and fairly spent with j j suspense, watched her silently. j iSLi-e rose at last, whiter than the j statue beyond, and almost as rigid j lookuig. i 'It is too late now, Felix. I shall !marry Lord Ronald!' said Octavia, and went out slowly, as if th? movement j ' of her limbs required all her strength, j ( j Site heard, with dull ears, the male-j ' | diction he flung after her. j( ; Two hours afterward he saw her in ! ' the ttrawing'-room, receiving with j graceful ease the cordial congratula- I tions and badinag-e of the company. - ' She was to remain only a week \ longer at Chichester Rookery, and the seclusion having been broken into, I Lord Ronald merrily agreed that they should make one couple of a famous I yachting expedition which had occupied the minds of the guests for a week past. When that was over Miss j Wainwrigjbct was to return to her own home, the preparations for a mag- t nificent trousseau and wedding j festival were to be hurried j

up, and Lord and Lady. Falkner were to start, in just six. weeks, upon their bridal tour'to Germany. (To be Continued.)