HENDRY DUNBAR.

Bruce Herald, Volume III, Issue 73, 31 August 1865, Page 6

HENDRY DUNBAR.

> ;By th^' Author of * Aurora Floy d,' 'Lady ; ■•■ :v ■'■■ ' '■■■ Audley^SecreV&c^cfcd. >■ ■ ;;;: : i - i ; -,'. / ! " t {Opniintted from. out last.\ i h This was> enpughj.: i :Clement ran acr^s : ' . ■>,■ -the -park; toihe^wJestern.; entrance, got' into the fly 7 and tol4 fch^: man .to drive back to ShornclifFe r ,by -the iliisford -road, as fast as he could go, and to look out on the way for the young -lady whom he had driven tp^Maudesley Abbey _that afternoon. :;. '• You watch' the left c side -of 5 the road, I'll watch the Tight,; Clement said. The driver was cold and cross, but he was anxious to- get back to ShornclifFe, -and he r drove; _very fast. -..•■■-■: ''■?.'..' : ; ; Clement sat with the window; down, and . ; the frpscyr;, wind- blp wing full upon his face. : as he. looked; out for Margaret., . ... .; ,.', But. he reached,, ShornclifFe without , : having, pyei'taken ;her, \ and , the .fly crawled under . ,: the ar ct way. , beneath . which rthe dashing maiLc^oache,^ had rolled : in -the .day ; s : that were for ever gone. ;.' . : ': Shej must ..have got ; home ; before i me,' ; : the^cashjer thought; 'I shall find her up stairs; : jwith : my mother.' ; ; : . ;- .He went up to the large room with . the .bow^window. . The table; in the centre of .the- room was laid for dinner, and Mrs ... Austin, was nodding in a, great arm-chair ,iis near the fire, .with the county newspaper ; . ; ;; injh.er; lap.^ The >vax candles wei;e lighted, f : : -the crimson , curtains, were ,■■ drawn befpre. /; ;; che bow : window,, and the. room, looked ; altogether very cpmfortabie: but there; ; i: was no; Margaret. ■ ; , ... j • The widpw started up at . the sound '. of* the opening; of the door and her son's . . hurried footsteps. „; f j ; jii , ' Why, Clement,' she criecl; ' how late (.you are! I seem; to have; been sitting dozing' here for full two 1 hours ; and the • fire ..has b;e;en replenished .three times since the clptli was. laijd, for dinner. What have. . ypu.b.een doiiig*, my dear .bpy ?' ; Clement; looked about him before he answered.. ..,/ : ; ; ■ , ; , ...-. * Yes, I amtyeryjate, mother, I know,' .he said;, f but Where's Margaret?' , ... : . Mrs Austin stared aghast at her son's question.; _ .. , . . ; , . Why, Margaret is with you, is she not?', : she exclaimed. , ; 'No> mother j. I expected to find herhere/ i ; i;. . ; : ■ ...•-. ' Did, you.; leave her, then ? ■ • ■ l No, not exactly. ; that is to say, I ; — ' ; ••'■■' Clement- dra not finish the sentence. He walked slowly up and down the roomc thinking, while his mother waitched him very anxiously. - 'My olear Clement,' Mrs Austin exclaimed at last, 'you really quite alarm "" me. You set out this afternoon upon some mysterious expedition with Margaret ; and though" l ask you- "both~where you are going, you both refuse to satisfy, my very natural curiosity, and look as solemn as if yo;u were about to attend ei funeral. Then, after ordering dinner for; seven o'clock, you keep it waiting nearly two hours; and you come in without Margaret, and seem alarmed at not seeing : her here. : What does it all mean, Clement?'. ■•-■■- ' I cannot tell you, mother.' ■••■-■ 'What! is this business of to-day a part of your secret ?' . : ■ . 'It %' ? answered the cashier. ' I can oniy'say again: what' l said before, mother. — trust me !' ' ; !. , : <§b The- widow sighed, and shrugged her shoulders with a deprecating gesture. ■ ; 'I; suppose I must be- ;satisfied> Clem,' •she said. .-But this is the first, tixne there's ever been- anything like a mystery between you and me.' ' ; .-.- ... -,-:.'■ llt is, mother ; and I hope" it may be the last.' " ~ ■".; The elderly .waiter,. rr who,, remembered the coaching days/aud pretended to believe that the Reindeer was -not' ian: institution; of thepast, came in presendyiwith the- ; first course. : - - ■ - - :■■■■■■■..■■ !'■ „;. It happened to be one of those days:.on: which fish was to be had: in ShornclifFe.; nnd the first coui'se consisted o-f a pair- of : very small soles and a^ large.cru'et stand.' The waiter remoHred^the cover with asloftyi

a flourish., as".; if thesinall . soles had been ; the noblest turbot that ever made the glory ■of an aldermanic~feast. ; -Clement seated himself at the "dinner table r in defereniceltohis mother, and went the ceremony of dinner ; but he scarcely ate half ; a dozeV mouthfuls".. , His ears were .strained to hear the; sound pi f Margaret J s footstep in- the corridor'withbut ; and' he- rejected' the waitex^s .fish sauces in ■a manner that almost wounded the feelings of that functionary. His mind was racked by anxiety about the ; missing'' girl.", .. Ha,d_ he passed/her on toe, road T ' ■ Np, that was very improbable'; for he had kept so sharp- a watch upom the. lonely highway ?that itwas more; tftani unlikely the familiar fig'ure of her whom- he looked for could juaye escaped. s hjs' . eager * ; <?yes^ Had Mr IDunbar detained her ' at M : atidesley Abbey against' her v^ill-P : J No, no; that was quite impossible"; for the footman: had' distinctly ■ declared J. that he had seen. his, master's: visitor leave the house; and the footman.'s manner had been innocence itself. . The.dinner. table. was cleared by and by, >and Mrs Austin produced some colored wools, and a pair ot''ivory knitting needles, and set: to work yary.;quietly by the light of the tall wax candles; but even she was beginning to. be uneasy at the absence of Margaret.,. . . ..'■■■; \-, ..'.My dear .Clement/, she said , at last, ' I'm ' really quite uneasy .about iMadge. . How is it that you left her ?' ■■; Clement did not answer! this question 1 ; but he got up anil took his hat from a side table near the door. „ ; . . ....'l'm -uneasy about her absence too, mother,' he said; Til go and look for her.' j ..,...• . . . . . • He was leaving the room, but his mother called to him. . . ' Clement !' ..she; cried, 'you surely won't ; g-o out without your greatcoat— upon such a: bitter night as: this, too I' „ But Mr Austin did : not stop to listen to his mother's remonstrance ; he hurried out into "the corridor, and shut the door of the room behind him. He wanted -to run away and look for Margaret, though he did not know how or where to seek for her. Quiescence had become intolerable to him. It was utterly impossible that he should sit calmly by" the fire, waiting for the comingvofthe girl lie loved. . He was* hurrying' along- the corridor, but he stopped abruptly : for a well-known figure, appeared upon the broad landing* at the top of the stairs. . There was an archway at the. end of the corridor, and a lamp hung under, the archway. By the light of this lamp,' Clement Austin saw Margaret Wilmot. coming towards him slowly: as if she' dragged herself along by a painful effort, ind would have been well contend to sink , upon the carpeted floor, and lie there helpless and inert. :, Clement ran to meet her, with his face lighted up by that intense delight which a ■rban feels when some intolerable fear is suddenly lifted off his mind. 'Margaret !' he cried; 'thank God you have returned ! Oh, my dear, if you only knew what misery your conduct has caused me!' He held out his arms, but, to his unutterable surprise, the girl recoiled from him. She recoiled . from him with a look of horror, and shrank against the wall, as if her chief desire was to avoid the slightest contact with her lover. '. ■ . ; "" ' Clement was- startled by the ibjarife' whiteness of her face, the ifixed , stare of her dilated eyes. The January wind had blown her hair: about her forehead in -loose disordered tresses j har shawl and dress were ; wet "with melted snow; but the cashier -scarcely ■•■ lobkedi at these. He only saw her face ; his gaze was fascinated by the' ■■■girl's awful pallor,, and the, strange expression of her eyes, i ' ' ;' My darling,' he said; ' come into the parlour. : My. mother ; has been almost >s much, alarmed as I have been. Come, Margaret ; -my poor girl, I can see t^ai this interview has been too much for you. Comej dear.' \ . Once: more; he approached her, and again - she shrank r . away from him, dragging; herself; along' against the wall, and with her eyes still /fixed in the sarnie death like stare. . . '...,. '■ 'Don't speak to me, Clement Austin,' ; she. cried;- l don't approach me.. There is 1 contamination in me... ;I am no : fit asso- j ciate ■ i for an. honest ; man. Don't come neaFiine^: ■: :- '. < : ; ?.' ■.;■•■■(]. ' i

He jvould havegonef to her to clasp her in his. arms, and comfort her with.soothing^, tender . waV something, in her. eyes .that held him v at. oay, las if he had been rooted to the spot' on : which he: stood, , ' i, ..., - ; :ha;cried. ri ■ ,L-<.:> , ' He 'followed he;r, :; but she recoiled from :hitpj a'iidy as i h6-h€ld r out Ms haridto g^alsp her wrist, = she 7 slipped : by.him suddenly, •and ; rushed" away towards the other end of -the 'cbMddi»J ; ■' ■■-••'■' "' : ■/■ " : ' Clement jFqilo wed; her] but she opened; a 4oti? at thk^eMVof .the passage, and went into Mrs ''A' Mil's i; r6bmv ThW ; cashier: tieard the' 'keyj turned: hurnedJyiii ?t|he; lo'dk, | and Jie k&ew that/Ma i'garfet Wiinot had. locked hbrgelf;in?. ; Tlie-rdom in which, she slejit was' inside thsct" occ.upijed : by Mrs Austin. ' „■ " ;; r: ' '■"'" ';■"' /: '- :;I Lx Ciem^nt. stood for some moments. almost paralysed l by what ' had, happened. Had he done 1 wrong ■ in !i s'eeking to bring about this interview between : Margaret Wilmot and Henry Dunbar ? He began to think lie had been most culpable. . This impulsive and^sensitive giri had seen her father's assassiri| and the horror of the meetinghad been too much • for her impressionable nature/ and had, produced, for the time at least, a fearful effect upon her over- wrought brajn. ./ 1. must appeal to my. mother,' Clement thonght ; 'she alone can give me any help in. this business.' , He: hurried back to the sittingvroom, and found his mother still watching the rapid movements of her ivory knittirigneedles:.;: . The Reindeer was a well-built house, solid. and :old-«fashioned, and listeners ; lurking in the . long ; . passages had but small chance of redping much rewdrd for thdir pains, unless they found a friendly keyhole.. ; ' ; Mrs. Austin looked up with an expression of surprise as her son re-entered the : room. 'I thought yoxi had gone to look for Margaret,' she said. , ; There was no' occasion to do so mother^ she has returned.' j 'Thank Heaven for : that! for ! I have been quite -alarmed by her strange absence.' . . ; : '■■ ■ > ISo ..-have I, mother ; but I am still., more alarfned by her manner, now that: she has returned; -' ' I asked you just now to trust me, mother,' said Clement, very gravely. ■' -It is now my turn to confide in you. ' The business in which Marg'aret has been engaged this evening was of al most painful nature— so 'painful that lam scarcely surprised by the effect that it has produced' on' her sensitive mind. I want you to go tb her mother. '■ I want you; to comfort; my poor girl. She has locked herself -in her bwn ropm'j but she will admit you; : no doubt; -Go to her mbthefj;and try and qui'et her excitement,' while : I |go for alitiedi'cal man' ; '■ '■■ "' ■ '•" '■ \ : ; ' You tbink that 'is very illy tlien ; Clement?' - ' .'" f l '' '' ' ' ; '■ \ ;:; ' I don't know; th-at^ mother, but such violent emotion as she' has evidently en-dured-nright produce brain fever. I'lligo and look idr'a doctor.' • ; ; Clemenfhurneddown to the hall ; of, the hotel, #hile his' mother -went to seek Margaret. He found j the landlord^ who : directed him to the 'favourite ShbrnclifFe medical man. \ ■ '^Lubkily^ Mr Vincent the - surgeon was at home; t He 'received Clement very cor^ dially,' put on his hat without five minutes' delay, and :. accompanied Margaret's lover back to the Heindeer." r i 'It isa case of mental excitement/ Cle-; ment said. ■ ' There may be no necessity, for medical treatment ; but I shall feel more comfortable when you have seen this poor girl.' . • Clement conducted Miv Vincent to. the. sitting^robmi ■'' "■•'•-■•■- ■.;■■■ . ; /I'll go and see. how Miss -JWilmot is,' the cashier said. ■ i -.-.',- The doctor gave a j scarcely perbeptible start as he heard that name of Wilmot. Th'e,'murder o pf Joseph Wilmot had'formed the- subject; of many a long^'di'seussion amongst the ; townspeople', at Shbrhcliffe, and the familiar name struck the snrgeon's ear. i , . ' 'But what of that/ thought Mr. Vincent: name : is not such a very uncommon one.' . : Clement went to his mother's room, knd knocked at the door.; ; ; The widow came aut to , him presently. „ 'How is she: i now., mother i?' ;i Clement asked. ■".-■■■ ,-.■ .«•..-. . ;: ;:; ;;-.j; .. ■_■; ]-.'.. " : ' .]'.

';I can scarely tell, you.- ; Her manner frigh tens me." She is lying on tier bed as motionless, as if slie were., a corpse, and with her eyes fixed on the wall opposite to her. When I speak' to her, she does not 'answer me so much; afe by a r looky; but if I go near her- she shivers; and gives a' lon^ ; shuddering sigh; ''■■ . -What does it^all imean,^ ■Clement?? :. .-„ :, ; ; J „.-, • „,./. * kno^s, mother. :; *I can only tejl you that she has : gone -through a meeting which was 1 Certainly' calculated to 'hav.e.had a considerable 'effect upon her ■found.' "Btitjl^Hiad'^'.ide^ that the effect Would be anything; like ; this; :; ■ : Gan : the;doctor.come ?' ' . -' 'Yes> I think hfe ■ Had [better !"c6me at once.' ' •'■.•■ • . :. 1 Clement returned I ,W ; the sitting-room,. > and remained ■ there' ; J while l • MrP 'Vincent went to ; see Margaret. "- To poor -Clement it seemed as if the burgeon/ ; wa's ! ' 'absent .nearly an hour, so 'intolerable was rtlie an- . guish of that interval ! of suspense. : ' /At last, however, the creaking footstep of the medical man' sounded : in "the corridor. Clement hurried to the door tomeet him. "' • ;' "' ','.'" .' Well/ he cried eagerly. . . \ Mr. yincentshpo^hisVhead. 'Itis a case in which'* my : services can be of very, little avail,' he said ', 'the younglady is suffering from some : mental uneasiness, which she refuses to communicate to "her 'friends. If you : could, get her to talk to you, she would no doubt be very much benefitted. If she wertan ordinary person, she would cry, and the relief of tears would have a most advantageous effect upon her mind. Our patient is by no means an ordinary person. She has a very strong will.' ' Margaret has a strong will !' Clement exclaimed, with a lock .of surprise ; ' why, she is gentleness itself.' ;' Very likely ; but she has a will of iron ; nevertheless. I implored her to speak tome just now; the tone of her voice would have been some slight diagnosis of her state; but I might as well have ; implored a statue. She only shook her head slowly,, and she never once looked at me. However, I "will send her a sedative draught,, which had better be ,taken immediately, and I shall look round in the morning.' ; Mr. Vincent left the Eeindeer, and Clement went to his mother's room. That loving mother was ready to sympathise with every -trouble that affepted her r son. She came out of Margaret's room and went to 'meet Clement. , ■ , . . /Is she. still the same; motlier ?' heasked. ..',.' ' Yes quite th e. same. Would you liketo see, her?' ; :? 'Very! much/; [ / } , Mrs. Austin and her son went into the adjoining chamber. : Margaret .was lying, dressed in" th& darnp,- ( dragg - led gown which she had worn .thataiternoqiij upon the outside of theTbed. The dull stony'lopk of her face filled -Clement's mind with an awful terror. He began; to; fear that she was going mad. -.•;.- ' . : ' . He sat down upon a chair close by the bed, and watched her for some moments in silence, while his ;mother stood by, scarcely less anxious than himself. Margai'et's arm hung* loosely by; her side, as .. li l eless in its attitude as if it- had belonged to ; the dead. Clement took the slende> handMn his.;, He had; expected to find it dry and burning ,with, feverish heat, but, to; his - surprise, it \v,as cold as. ice. ■ , ....■ ;■•; ■;r ; ■•; 1 Margaret,' he s.aid; in ;r a low earnest voice, r you ; kno'\v-;how dearly. I have loved and do jove : yoii ;' yo.ij know how entirely my happiness depends [upon yours ; surely my dear one; yoavwiir not refuse-^*you cannot be so: cruel as. to keep, jour sorrow a secret, from -him wjho has so good.'a right to share 1 it ?. Speak to. me my darling. R.emember •what; suffering you are iriflicting: upbn- me : ,by this, cruel Silence? . ;-.-,• : i '-,'-. :.:■..;.. ;.•■; .--.: .At last the hazel eyes losj;; ; their fixed look, and wand.exed [for a moment to- Clemen t. Austin's face. . V; .' Have pity upon mi?,' the -girt said, iaa" hoarse, 'unnatural voide'^ c have cdtnpassion upon me, for I need man's mercy as" well as the mercy of God. ; Have some pity' upon me, ~ Clerifent Austin,, and leave me now ; I wilt talk to you tomorrow.' f ■ " '". ' / You will tell me } all that has happened ?' . ...

'"' t ' v ' .T'jw^ll talk tp.ybu to-mprrbw,' ahswered; jSlarg^ret,,robkiiig ,dt her .lover w,ith a inflexible face ;_' but leave me now, .leave me/ or I will run out ', of this room, .' -and"';^awiay^frbm this ihotis^. /rshall^omad if am not left alone/ '/ : ." ' ' Clement Austin . rbse'frpm ;his seat near tile bedside -y, :,.,.■,..'.""','.■■ f I -am going Margaret/, lie ' said, in : a tone of "wounciecl ieMiiJg'- \ .f but I leave you %ith. a Ke'ayjr hearii.V 1 1 did ;.not think there would eyer cbme a : ' time < in ; 'which * y!ou : reject my sjaMpathy.' '; „' ; ■ ' ,' *T.will ! tiilk't6.yQuVto-ni6rroV,' Margaret said, V-fbi; the .'thiifd* time. ;.; ' '■ •■•■ .. ,^he spoke in; a strange Mechanical .way, as : if this had" been a ;set speech ; which she Jiad arranged for^herself. ' ' "■ \\\ j'^-V^l^enii'^^pd^lo^Mn^'stt' her for ; some li|tle ;^ itima; , Tiut- ' there /.wa? ! ,iit> chknge, ' .either ..ih her face or; a'ttitude^ and the young man went slowly "and sorrowfully from the r00m, ,-' "i J ; . ' '."_' 'I leave, her in ; your ; hands/ inother/ he said. ' I know how tender ; and true a! friend she has in ypti ; : I leave her in your care, under, Providence. .May- Heaven, have pity lipoii ller K and me !' Gl AB TE R i'XiXX 1 1. .''•■:• -^^ewell. Margaret submitted -to take the sedative draught sent by the medical ■ man;; She submitted; at Mrs.; Austin's request ; but it seemed as if she scarcely understood why the medicine was offered to her. She, was like a sleep-walker, whose brain is peopled by the creatures of a dream, ; and who has no consciousness of. the substantial realities that surround him. The draughtj which Mr. Vincent had spoken of as a sedative, turned out to be a very powerful. opiate/ and. Margaret sank into a profound slumber about a quarter of an hour after taking the medici ne. Mrs. Austin went to Clement to carry him these, good tidirigs. 'I shall .sit up two. or three hours, arid see how the poor girl goes fbn, Clement/ the widow said ; ' but I hope you'll go to bed; I know all this excitement has worn you out.' 'No,, mother; I feel no sense of fatigue.' . ■ - ' But you will try to get some rest to please me? See, dear boy^ it's -already near twelve o'clodk! . ' Yes, if you wish it mother, I will go to my room/ Clement :: Austin answered quickly. --: •' ; ,' "■■ ■. His room was near .those • occupied by his . mother and . Margaret, much nearer than the sitting-room. He bade Mrs. Austin, good J night and left her ; ibut he - hud no thought of going to bed, ; or : even trying :to sleeper He: went to. his own room,: and .walked upand down, going; but into the - corridor, every now . and then to listen : r at . the door • of his mother's chamber. :::,■: ; ; He heard nothing. .Sometime between two and three o'clock Mrs. ; Austin opened the door of her .room,- :and found her son lingering in the i corridor.. "f-Is she i still .^asleep,; niother/ Clement asked. ' : . ' ; .-„ : •..,; : : Yes, and she is sleeping very calmly., . I am going to bed now> pray try tp< get;some sleep yourself.' ... ■ ; ; i X will,rmother.' • . : ; Clement returned to his room. He was ; thankful, as he thought that sleep would bring tranquillity and relief to Margaret's overwrought brain. He went to bed and fell asleep, for he was exhausted by the fatigues of the day and the anxiety of the night. Poor; Element fell asleep, and dreamt that ;he met Margaret Wilmot by. moonlight in the park; around Maudesley; Abbey, walking with a dead manj whoseface was strange to him. This was the last of many dreams,: all more or less grotesque or horrible, -but none' so vivid or distinct as this. The- end o£ the vision woke Clement with a sudden shock, arid he opened) his eyes upon : the cold morning light; ; which -seemed especially cold in this chamber, at the Reindeer, where the paper onrthe walls was of the palest gray,, and every curtain or drapery of a spotless : ' White. '': ■ ' ■-■:';.. ■ ' . „ ; :;.J „.,,.[ ; Clement lost np time over his toilet.; He j looked . at : his watch , while . , dressing, and; found thatit was; 4 between .seven land eight. It wanted a quarter to .eigEt when he left his rtfom,' and went to hM,.mp,ther's door to;!-,inquire about, -Margaret, jHe knocked softly, but there was- np r answers

then lie tried the door, anH jfintirng 1 it unlocked, ppenM it few ; ihchVs withja cautious hand, and listened to his mother's regular breathing. ; • • - -;^ .. f r §>he is asleep, poor ,. soul/ he. thqught. / 1; [won't disturl); ner,.fpr she niust'warit' •rest after jsitfiing'iup half last night/ '■ \\ \ „ . . -. iOlement;- closed^; ,. the • door as. noiselessly as , ije tad opened it, and then - went, sib wly to the sitting-room. There was, a,'struggling 1 fire in r the shining"' gratej knd the inde-i fatigable' waiter, whb.refu'secf ito believe |in J the V.extinCtibri of ■-, mail- coached, <■ had laid : the ] /breakfast .ippiratus^frosty^boking white^ahd-'blue "cups an4: saucers ,ohj a snowy cloth, a cut-glass ; cream-jtig't'hat looked as if .it'had'b'eeD:' mkd.e out of ice, and^a -brazen urri in the last-stage of polish." The breakfast-service was harmoniously 'adaptedftp the jseaspn, .and;eminenjl?ly ckl- J culated to produce a fit of shivering in the sojourner at the Reindeer. : ! ';'; r But Clement, Austin did not bestow somuch- as one glance upon the .breakfast table. He hurried tb the bow-window^ wji'ere Margaret Wilmot was sitting-, neatly, dressed in her morning garments, with her' shawl on, and her .bonnet lying on a chairnear her. ' , ' Margaret/ . exclaimed Clement, as he approached the place where Joseph Wilmot's daughter was sitting; 'my dear Margaret, why did you get up so early this ■ mornings when you so much need ; rest? ; ' ";-■■■ . The girl rose and; looked at, her lover with a grave and quiet earnestness of ; expression; but her face was quite as colourless as it had been upon the, previous night, and her lips trembled ;a_ little, as she spoke to Clement. 'I have had sufficient rest, she said, in a low, tremulous voice; i'l. got up^early because-r-because— -I am going' away.' • ,: . Her. two hands had "been hanging loosely amongst the fringes . of her shawl; she lifted them now, . and linked her fingers together, with a convulsive motion : but she never withdrew ner eyes from Clement's face, and her glance never faltered as she looked at him> f Going away, Margaret ?' the cashier cried, 'going away— -to-day, this morning V : ' Yes, .by the half-past nine o'clock train/ •' Margaret., you must be mad to talk of such a thing.' ' No,' the girl answered slowly, 'that is the strangest thing of all-— I am not mad. I am going awayj Clements-Mr; Austin. I wished to avoid seeing you. I meant to have written to you tell you — ' . , ' 'To tell me what/ Margaret ? '' asked Clement, 'Isit I who am going mad ; or am I dreaming all this 1 ' ■ 'Itis no dream, Mr. Austin. My. letter would have only told you the truth. lam going away from here because I can never be your wife.' ' -. > '" \ t ' ' :f. You, can never be my wife ! why not Margaret ?' ; _.■. ■ *-$:> cannot tell you the reason.' . . / ' But you shall tell me, Margaret ! ' cried Clement, passionately. 'I will accept no sentence such as this until I know your reason for pronouncing it ; I, will suffer no imaginary barrier to stand between you ' and me. - There is some; mystery, some mystification in all this,. Margaret; some woman's fancy which: a few words of explanation would set at rest., Margaret, mjj pearl ! \do you think. l will consent to lose you sp lightly ? My own dear love !: do you know me so little; as to think that I will part with you ? .My lov3 ; is a stronger passion, than y.oa think,. Madge ; and; the bondage you accepted when ypn promised tb'be my; wife: is .a bondage "thafrjcannot so easily ;be. shaken off !' ;. ; ..■:,-. V : ■; ; ,-, . ■■■: ■Margaret r watched her lover's • face/with i with melancholy, fearless-eyes. . : ■ . • ' ' ' -- ; \ : ; ' Fate is. stronger than love, Clement/ she said/ : mournfully. J'l lean : never be yourwife!' \ A < : '■'■'■'■■ '; -- .'TOynotP . ; : ; ' ' :: ; i 7;, ,".;■; ' :: : .' ■".. '.'.- : 'For a > ;rejason' which, you. c^n, never know/. _" r ... '.'■':•. ',".'■■ r\'.\".'.." J '.' r" .''-■' ',':!'■'.', >'t*'. • '•Margaret, I will libt ,'subinitK-' 1 V."' ■ | ; f You »must submit/ the girl, .saSid, hold--ing up -lier hand, as if. to. §tbp her : lover's • ■passionate; 'words., Yo^j-inus't submit, piemen t.,,.' P: ;ThiS; .world :, seems ;yery ; hard sometimes/ ■ so: , Hard , that ]in a dreadful intertat ;o£ dutl. despair the. heavens, are hidd^en fyom us, and:We cannot recognise the Eternal wisdom,,: guiding .the hand', that, afflict us: ; My life seems very hard^o me ' to-day, f Clemgnt. j Dp not; *ry jp $$*■$ &■ harder, -i I am- ,a uniiappy^wjo^an j

andin^allthei'woHdtlieFe is only one favor you" can ; grant me. • ; Let ■-mefgib- away ■ unquestioned j- and blot: my image, from your heart for ever when lam goite;;' :u \ •- / 1 will never let- you g6/' ( Cl9inent Ausv tin answered resolutely; ..' < HYou are; mine by right of your town; most! sacred .promise, iftlargaret.': ; .N»> womanisb folly, shall part • us.-'-'-".: ::.': :;'-•;•; I. .'.:■ :• ,' .-\ r ■' ') --..-. .i ; '". ' ' Heaven, knows it. is n<> .womanfs : folly that parts-usy Clement/; the girl answered; in a plaintive j tremulous voice.. : '\ '" ■'■ is it, theii, Margaret ? ' ' I can never tell you.' : . 'You. will change your mind*' ■ ; ""? ('a '■ . .. . ./ ;.?• / ■ ; ,t ; . ;_ . ■ She' looked at him; with ani air of .quiet resolution stamped upon; her colorless face. 1 i- Clemarit . remembered : what : the; . doctor had said; of his -patient's iron will.. Was it possible that Mr Vincent had .been right ? -Was this gentle girl's resolution "to : over* rule a strong man's passionate vehemence; ■ ■' -■* "What is it that can part us,. Margaret?' Mr Austin cried. What is it? You saw Mr Dunbar yesterday ?' - i : • The girl shuddered, and- over ,her. colorless face there came a livid shade, which was more deathlike than the marble whiteness that had preceded it. ' Yes,' Margaret Wilmot said after a pause. ' I was — very fortunate. , I gained admission to— Mr Dunbar's rooms.' ' And you spoke to- him ? ' * '/Yes.' F ■ l - Did your interview with him confirm or dissipate your suspicions ? Do yoU;Still believe that Henry Dunbar murdered your unhappy father ? '- > ' No/ answered Margaret, resolutely, ' I do not.' ' You do not ? The banker's manner convinced you of his innocence, then ? ' 'I do not believe that Henry Dunbar murdered my — my unhappy father.' It is impossible to describe the tone of anguish with which Mergaret spoke those last three words. • - ■' But something transpired in that interview at Blaudesley, , Abbey, Margaret ? Henry Dunbar told you something — perhaps something about your dead father—some disgraceful secret which you never heard before; and you think that the shame of that secret is a burden .which I would fear to carry ? You mistake my nature, Margaret, and- you commit a cruel .treason against, my love* "Be my wife, dear one ; and if malicious people should point to you, and say, l Clement Austin's wife is the daughter oi a thief and a : forger, I. would give them back scorn for scorn, and tell them that I honor my wife for virtues that have been sometimes missing in the consort of an emperor.* V : For -the first time that morning Margaret's eyes grew dim, but she brushed away the gathering tears with a rapid movement of her trembling hand. ' -'You are a good man,. Clement Austin,' she said ; ( and I— I — wish that I were were better worthy of you. You are a good man ; but you are very cruel to me to-day. Have pity upon me, and let me She drew a pretty little, watch from her waist, and looked at the dial. suddenly remembering that the watch ; had been Clement's gift, she took,; the slender chain from, her neck, and handed them both to him. ' \. : 'You gave me these when I was your betrothed wife, Mr. Austin; ; J. have no right to keep them now.' • • '! She spoke very, mournfully; but /poor Clement was only, mortal. ; He was a good man, as Margaret had just declared;; but, unhappily, good men are apt to, fly into. passions, as well /as their inferiors in the iscale, of morality. - " : " j Clement Austin , ; threw ; the pretty little Genevese toy upon ihe flopr, and ground it ..to -atoms under the : heel: of his boot. ' Ycu are cruel and unjust, ]VJ"r Austin/ Margaret said. i . .;. fl am a man, Miss Wilmot,' Clement ap.swered bitterly ; ' and I have the feelipgs of a man. When the wuman I have r l6ved and believed in turns upon me, and cbblly tells me that she means to break my Heart, without so much as deigning to' give me a reason for her conduct, I am not so much a gentleman as to be able to smile politely, and tell her to please herself/ : The cashier turned away from Margaret and. walked two or three., times up and down the room. He was in apassionj but grief and, indignation: were so inter/ningle"d in %is breast Jfchat he ; sbai'cely kneW r which

.was uppermost. But grief and love allied themselves presently:,- and together were too strong for indignation. Clement Austin went back to the window;, Margaret wa«j. standing where he had! left her,. but .sheVhadiput on- her bonrnet and gloves,: . and was quite ready to leave tile, house. - " ■■-. -fMarg-aret,' said. Mr Austin,., trying to take "her. hand, but she drew herself away from him,, almost as she. , had shrunk ."from him on the ; previous .nightlf. .f Margaret, once for, all, listen tbti^e.. IJoveyou, and I believe that' you love, mei. : .If this is: true no obstacle on earth shall part/jusosoxlong we live, Thereisonly: one c.onditiQn upon which I will let you.; go tMs.'day.,'; ,' ,r> \ ■- < r What is that condition ?'::?! • , /Tell me; that I have been foaled by my own' egotism. I am tWel ye, years older than you, Margaret, and there. is nothing very romantic or interesting either in myself or worldly position. ' ,1 am a proud man. I will not sue in forma pauveris, T lf you do not love me Margaret, you are free" to go/ Margaret- bowed her head, and moved slowly towards the door. ' 'You are, going— -Misrf Wilmot ! r ' Yes, I am going. : Farewell; Clement. Clement caught' the retreating girl by her wrist. You shall not go thus, Margaret Wilmot !-.' he cried, passionately—* not thusl You shall speak to me ! You shall speak plainly ! You shall speak the truth I You do not love me ?' 'No, I do not love you/ * It was all a farce, then^-a delusion — it was all falsehood and trickery from first to* last. When you smiled: at me, your, smilewas a mockery; when you :blus.hed, your blushes were the simulated^ 'blushes Tof a professional coquette. Every tender; word you have spoken to me — 'every tremulous cadence in your .low voice-— every tearful look in the eyes that have seemed so truth- . ful — all — it has altogether been false—altogether a delusion — a— .' ' ' The strong man covered his face .with; his hands and sobbed aloud. Margaret watched him with tearless eyes ; hei* lips were convulsively contracted, but' there . was no other evidence of emotion in her face. 'Why did you do this, Margaret ? r !^Clement asked at last, in a heartrending voice ; ' why did you do this cruel thing ? * 1 1 will tell you why,' the girl answered, slowly and deliberately; 'I will tell you why, Mr Austin, and then I shall seem utterly despicable in your eyes; : and it will be a very easy thing for you to blot out my image from your heart. I was a poor desolate girl; and I was worse^than poor and desolate, for the stain of my father's shameful history blackened my name. It was a fine thing for such asme to win the love of an honest man— - w a gentleman: — who could shelter me from all the troubles of- life, and give me a^. stainless name and an honorable place in society. I was the daughter of -a returned convict, an outcast, and your love offered me. a splendid chance of redemption from the black depths of disgrace and misery in which I lived.* I was only mortal, Clement Austin; what was there hr my blood that should make me noble, or good, or strong to stand against temptation .? Lseized upon the one chance of my miserable life ; I plotted to winyour love. Step by step I lured you on until you offered to make, me your wife. That was my end and aim;. I ( triumphed ; and for a time enjoyed my success, arid the advantages that it brought me. But I suppose the worst sinners have some kind of conscience. . Mine was awakened last night, and I. resolved to spare you the misery of being married to, a woman who» comes of such a race as that from which I spring.' ■ . - v Nothing' could be more callous than theV' manner with which Margaret Wiimot had made this speech. Her tones had never faltered. She had spoken .slowly, musing before every fresh sentence ; but she had spoken like a wretched r creature, whose withered heart was almost incapable of womanly emotion. : " Clement Austin- looked at her with a blan^ ., wondering stare. '" . (Toleaontmuea.) "■