Our Story Teller. KATE FRASER.

Bruce Herald, Volume VII, Issue 649, 13 November 1874, Page 3

Our Story Teller. KATE FRASER.

. BY ( i.. CITIZEN OF DU3TEI)I»i .* :

-„ v Chapter IV.-

-(Continued),

Next mprning ihe old man repaired to Fox Hill estate: , ,He ; knocked at Major

Levbourne'a mansion, and was shown ioto^rotrtn on^'his^requeßtingt'o see thf ,jttaster.^ „a.;fe,w: , ,m inutes; after h^ v 'arriya|. ;< the Maj^r and. at one*: vrehWiip i!o lala " vieiifcjp with a *' How arf-

you Bromley. Glad to see you back sJj 'o3tiind)i)aclc,(»ir, ;beforeJl shakeThandp k*Y e a : few,t,,<words together." ........ 5o ibe ! 'Major '''comprehended the h but affecting ignorance, he "What is the matter|,Brpra]ey ? " "The, matter is. this :r— l wi««h you to r!if wh^n 1 ybu^iirten<l j:i marrying my ttontlllriftT****'* ■-<*>''' •'■■■■■■<<->■■■■»'■■'■■ -_ ; Bromley, you are some-, what impetuous ,are jvyqu notyin asking euch a Btraigbtfory?ard..queßtiqn," v . . , ! *» 'thirit you will cdnwder me . ■o,^wWn!Jlw telli s y6u" tfiatr' I ! Wa8 an acci.dent^lJiftener :to what. : passed between you and my daughtw last evening, and that she has told me all the bitter truth."

-r , ,and,r then, alter a pause, the l^yjor wenf on, " famj sorry, more sorry "ib'aii" I°can 7 ' express to you, tfiat I have acted so badly. I don't know what to

cay, but if anything I can do, can atone for the folly of my conduct, name it, and it shall be done most gladly." "Thferd ie only one atonement you can offer, instant, marriage." „■ •,• " But that is impossible, at present;"

"."Whyvimpoßsible?" "Because I have just received a summons to Italy, which I cannot neglect."

" That need not prevent your marriage before you go."

" But a month will not matter much."

" Perhaps not, Major Leybourne, but I lorely mistrust you. Will you give me a written promise to marry my daughter within a month from this date." .

" But surely you can trust to my word;''

"I am afraid not. You have not scrupled to rob my daughter of her only treasure— her virtue— and that was not the act of a man who desired to have her honorably as bis wife. No, I cannot trust your word." "I never rolled your daughter of her virtue."

" Take care what you aay. sir. lam an old man, and cannot bear much more than I' have already borne during the past fevr days. Don't, in mercy don't, ■try 'to injure my daughter more than you hare done, if that is possible. How can yog aay you have not robbed my daughter ? Would you cast the blame on her? Come, sir, be a man and acknowledge the blame that is justly yours. Be a gentleman and give me this promise." " I cannot." "'"You cannot!"

" No, and to be plain with you, I will not- -I am deeply, sorry, as I have already said but cannot think of performing an act that would entail a life long hardship for myself. To marry your daughter would be tantamount to shutting myseh out from society for the rest of my dayH. The law cannot touch me, but I am willing, moat willing, to do what I can towards repairing the injury I have wrought you. Now-rdo not be hasty — bat do you not think the wisest plan for yott would be to hush up the whole affair, and to accept from me such a sum as will enable, you .to retire from 1 business. you have yourself, and what I am willing to gi^e you. you with your daughter may live in comfort and happiness together." John Bromley listened to every word. Each word fell" like lead upon his, heart, and keenly; he felt that there was no hope of obtaining justice at tbis man's hands. He rose to* * go. but suddenly a fierce revengeful thrill passed „■ through his frame, and with eyes glistening with rage he seized, a heavy walnut chair* raised it alpft,and brought it down crashing full on the Major's, face. Then he turned and fled from ithe place, never pausing in his flight until he reached his own bouse. Here ; hei entered,, rushed to his bedroom, locked the door, and threw himaelf on his bed nervous abd shattered. The strength of the blow he bad dealt the Major, and the rapidity of his flight; was unnatural in » man of bis age, and would have been impossible had he not been prompted by mai irenzv. .f . „ The Major had fallen beneath the blow, to all appearance stone dead. As Brom ley dasjbe/i fijpm -the room, he almost fell over a footman TCho had been intently listening <to all, that had passed within the room. f , This man immediately gave the alarm, and in a short space of time messengers were despatched' on horseback to feteh 1 a dbctbr, a policeman, and a "ihagistfcrate.':ii'i :ir>-'-li:- : ' '■"'■" '■ ;y ;: ' "''■■'' '"■ •"■ 'The?;,ffillo.wing which apr>etirsAnei t morning in the country paper will Bufl߀tentiy explain what took place afterwards;— ojclock yesterday morning,' th^^ahabitants of the quiet village of Blstpn wefe7fflddenlf wifch ihe app>l)ingiintflljgep€« fehat ; Major ILejfoQurnej q& to* Hill,, had been b ru j ttily niurdered' in bisiowii house. ! We are ; hmsv ±foH>e/able to state that this report Was est^erated^ the* -gallant Major still" liwsr JWidV^ir^ 11 : P^^Wfe^i 1 ' inaroalhTf 1 the 1 ' effe^ct^ an ass'auit'^wbie^' Wojild 1 *havb terminated fataiiy^biit'for the' Wpeedy; arrival, at Fox Hill House, .:dM>r>Hiiißpiftey* Mr John ißromlefeliitlierto'; a .^qutetj A reape^table: "^' ■ * • ■'.?' ' -• - " ■■j_' t : \ . ' |j- v 111 H Mil

citizen of Elstori— has been- arrested; charged with having committed the assault, and there seems no room for doubt thit he is in fact the puilty person; although, if all that is reported be true, it appears that hie was incited to do the deed through having suffered a most cruel wrong from the wounded gentleman. While gentlemen of good family and position do not think it beneath them to seduce the daughters of their humbler neighbors it is only a matter of astonishment that. we. .are not called upon to chronicle more' frequently outrages of a similar character to/ : that s which we pub; lißh in our columns^ of this day. At. the pr& l .iraizia.r r y''&i}qiiiry. which 'tWa ; held last ni#bfc, Major.^Leybourne'^-.foo'.m'an stated that be . otejrbieard' his and Mr Bromley quarreHmg,;and that his masterad cnitted the truth of : the charge which Mr Bromley brauclit 1 'against him, of having seduced his daughter. In the face of such a statement we will not be guilty of the hypocrisy of expressing a sympathy with M»jor Leybourne which we do not feel. The unfortunate man, Bromley, ■will, without doubt, have to suffer the penalties; attached., to his crime, for in spite of the provocation he received, his act was criminal, and he will justly Buffer for having defied the laws of' bis country, •"^ince the foregoing was in type, we have received the sad intelligence that Mr Bromley died in the lock- up at one o'clock this morning."

Chatter Y.

And let us hurry over the few dismal days which intervened between, John Bromley's death and funeral. His creditors were hot merciful ; the house, business, fixtures, everything, save his daughter's clothing, was sold to satisfy fehe law. Mary turned for a few days shelter to a cottage occupied by an old woman who had frequently experienced her generosity. The old woman saw her coming, and planted herself at the doorway, grim and defiant.

"I am come, Mrs Thomson, to crave leave to stay with you for a few days, until I get a situation of some kind."

" Stay with me, mann ! Na, na, I let no bawd cross my doorstep."

"Oh, Mra Thomson, how can you speak so ? "

" How can I speak so ! Think ye the whole village is not crying shame on ye A. fine going on you bad wi' ye're Major, till you broke your old father's heart and brought him to the grave."

Each word of this cruel sentence stabbed her to the heart, and she turned away full of misery. i "Oh! what will become of me." wa« the wailing cry of her heart, " God have mercy on me." " Miss Bromley." Startled, she turned round, and beheld a face almost as miserable looking as her owii — that of her old /over, Santley. Mary looked at him, and burst into bitter sobbing, and he, poor fellow, cried in unison.

" Dou't, Miss Bromley, don't cry so, it almost breaks my heart to see you. I haye — '■ — " but here he lost his voice, and broke down utterly. Dear, good, honest John Santley ! thank God there are many men like you with tender, feeling hearts Recovering himself, he continued,

" I have come to tell you that old Dame Clark will be glad to give you lodgings until you can get away from this place. She is a kindly-hearted woman, and will treat you like a mother."

" Thank you, John, and may God bless you for your kindnpsa. I will go grate fully to Dame Clark's."

What were her feelings towards Major Leybourne? She had once loved him with a supreme love, but now she hated him with a hate bo violent and deep as promised to be life-enduring. She had heard what had passed between him and her father. Ail the facts had been elicited at the inquest which was held upon her father's body, and now, with a woman's logic, she regarded him as her father's murderer, and as her own ruthless enemy. Bather than go to him, rather than appeal to him for pecuniary assistance, she felt that she could endure the most exquisite torture.

At Dame Clark's she remained for three weeks in the closest privacy. Of all her former friends, not one came near her, save one young lady, who, full of compassion for her old companion, visited her stealthily in spite of everybody. The Rector would have gone to see her, had he dared. John Santley would also have gone to her, but the trial was more than he could bear, for he loved her as dearly as ever, but could not ask a woman to be his wife, who he believed to be another man's minion. Hearing, however, from Dame Clark, that Mary was preparing to leave, he went to say goodbye. But no words passed his lips ex cept, " Good-bye, Miss Bromley," ho dare not trust his voice. Only, when he pressed, her hand, he left behind a small packet, and with one last sorrow-stricken look, he left her. The packet contained money to the amount- of £10, which she retained, after an inward struggle, determining to return it some day.

.Next morning, after a tearful farewell to her charitable hostees, she tqojs her seat in the coach fop London. Arrived there, she enquired for cheap lodgings, and was directed to a boarding-house in Mile End Eoad. The people who kept ;it were poor, and riot over reputable ia appearance, but they received her in a 'kjrjdly manner, and provided her with r'e^Feshisjentg, Soon afterwards she ■retired to bed, pesolyjng to be up early nextl.roqrning/to prepare frer pl#ns fqv the. future. Up early she was, but alas ( she I had no plans to prepare, Kear relatives :she had none ; her brother was far away ; .and as for seeking. for employment, what 'could r she s ?' She^ha*! "' been a 'clever 'girl at school, but her education had been p£ .tpo superficial 9 character t;o fife bar for

the situation of governess ; beside?, who would recommend her to such a situation?. There was no hope for her, unless she chose to enter a family as domestic servant. .

Her first act wag to write to her brother, addressing the letter to, the care of a firm in Bombay. la this letter she mentioned her father's death ; the sale of the property, and her own destitute condition ; but not a single word did she write of Major Leybourne's infamous conduct. In a postscript merely, she wrote, " Never mention Major Leybourne's name to me in your letters, he has proved himself the vilest among 7tien. v How rapidly calamity follows calamity ! let an unfortunate creature suffer one Blow of misery, and ten blows will invariably follow. Mary's letter never reached the hands of Edward, but another did, which was written from Blstori by an old schoolfellow of Edward's.. /In. this latter epistle the writer narrated, in condoling terms, the circumstance of his unhappy sister's "fall from the path of virtue," and advised him .to " forget his sister and that infernal scoundrel Leybourne." Immediately after, receiving this letter, Edward disengaged himself from his situation, proceeded to the nearest port, and took ship for America It was a fearful blow to him, his pride and ambition were for the time being crushed. Did no feeling of pity take possession of his heart on account of his sister? No. In his rage he cursed her and prayed that he might never meet with her seducer, lest his vengeance might not stop short of murder. He was no exception to the majority of men, who, regardless of the pain and misery of the sufferers, think that they themselves, and they only, are the wronged, and heap curses upon the fallen, vow vows of retribution, bub never think of humbling their pride and going with works of kindnesß and encouragement to the brokenhearted sinners.

(To be Continued. J