KATE HOWARTH'S DEVOTION.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XLIII, Issue 2283, 5 February 1912, Page 2

KATE HOWARTH'S DEVOTION.

Copyright.

By the Author- of “The Heroine of the Mill," Etc. PART 6. CHAPTER Vl.—(Continued.) “Now, you stop here, you women, «aid 'Lady Northenden. “ I am going to have some fun by myself. Come along, Honourable Master George, as I must call you. Do not be afraid. It will be something to recollect as long as you live.’’ Freddy looked as if he would have preferred remaining by the side of his humble mother, but this strongarmed woman pulled him along. He accompanied the lady to the right wing of the house, where he saw footmen in livery in one great room going and coming with silver salvers and bottles and glasses. He could discern an open archway from beyond which came the sound of many voices, mingled in increasing iin an 1 confusion. We will enter that room. Forty or Bfty gentlemen sat round the great mahogany table, in different stages of, shall we say, “ jollitj.” The aost was purple-faced, though still a young man, and was undoubtedly as seriously afflicted by potations as anyone there, A few gentlemen, notably mill-owners, were perfectly sober, and seemed more amused at their neighbours than anything else. “ That’s a most excellent story of yours, Barlow ! Splendid idea that of Iv'ng down beside a donkey in Bolton Churchyard, and tailing the moon to be a ghost ! Splendid !” and here the speaker—Lord Northenden himself —paused that he might r.wnllov,- a large glass of sparkling wine just filled by the obsequious Wogan. “But it’s nothing, Barlow, and gentlemen all. to a little adventure of mine. I remember it now,” he proceeded solemnly, as a kind of semisilence came over the room. “ It was the night my poor brother George ” Here he raised his handkerchief to his eyes to wipe away some real maudlin tears. “Poor George ! It was the last time ha came home before he went away on the trip on which he died. Well, I was saying gentlemen all and this is a good story being true Barlow—there was thunder, lightning, blue a d all that sort of thing, ’•ni r;- a d, pnd there he lay on the Poor a little terrier licking his face, ard woman—the woman— What l' ont the woman, Wogan 7” “ What woman, my lord 7 Was there a woman in the story 7” Th? latter words were spoken very BigniflcnHtlj. “ Was there a woman ? No, no ; of course not —at least not in that part of the story. Well, the long and the short of it la this. Somebody had to go for a doctor. My horse was brought round. I Jumped on his back and flew —all but —down the avenue. How the thunder pealed and the lightning flashed. Heavens ! I can realise it now. It makes my blood run cold. It seemed aa if I were riding through het' Itself ! The sky appeared to open and shut, and then all the artillery on earth appeared to explode about your very tars. Well, the animal was thoroughly frightened, panting from fear, and sweating from the same cause. All at once, just as I got to’ the Canal Bridge by Broad Marsh Bottom, there came a peal that made the earth reel again, and at that instant I saw —a face —a horrible —blue death-like face of a woman —and — Heaven and earth ! Gentlemen, there it is—the same face ! No, no, I am not mad ! There is the face—the face of my poor brother George. Help 1 Help 1 Hide me, ’'gentlemen ! It’s not real ; it’s coming to —Ha, ha, ha, ha !” and with a horribly unearthly laugh, Lord Northenden reeled forward to the spot under the archway where Freddy stood in amazement. The boy was too much frightened to move, and so the nobleman, with a look of intense horror on his countenance, came nearer and nearer, until with his blood-curdling faugh upon his lips he fell writhing in the agony of an epileptic fit at rfie feet of the youthful intruder. CHAPTER VII. THE DARK FACE AT FREDDY’S WINDOW. Mr. Wogan had been on several occasions to Halshaw Moor to elicit particulars- regarding the young boy whose appearance had disturbed the new Lord of Northenden on these distinct and different occasions. ; The parish clerk could not provide him with conclusive information on the subject nearest his heart because in his position as Registrar of Births, Deaths, and Marriages, he was conscious of not being infallible. He could discover recorded the birth of two hoys to John Howarth 'and Nelly his wife, and against that there was a set off of one death ; and yet he believed that John had lost two boys about the same time, and that, to say the least of it, was puzzling. Mr. Wogan turned his mind to the father of the family, and immediately determined to become acquainted with them. He entered the little shop one night when John was on duty and purchased some tobacco —(the little tradesman sold almost everything). After a long conversation about London and the wonders to be seen there the cunning butler hinted that that was the only spot for people to bring families up successfully. “ Now, there’s that youngster, your nephew there ” —• indicating Fred, who was peering from the glass door of the parlour. “ Nephew !” echoed John, in surprise. “ Where’s my nephew ?“ “ Ain’t that your nephew there, that upset Lord Nor’den’s horse ?” “ Nay, sir ; that’s my own boy — heaven bless him !” returned the weaver glibly, perfectly conscious of

1 the fact that ” the man from the big I house was there for pumping him dry,” as he said to Nelly on their retirement for the night. ” Oh, well, I thought he was your nephew.” “ Nay, the only person who could make a- nephew of him is my brother Dan, the dyer at Radcliffe,” returned John ;i- and he no sooner said so than he regretted having given the information. Mr. Wogan was not the man to neglect any source of information. The following day he drove into Radcliffe to find the dyer. Lady Nor’den, he said, wanted a complete set of hangings re-dyed, and could Daniel undertake the job. Dan could undertake the Job, but it was not in bis line. Her ladyship had better send the things to Scotland if she wanted them well done. The butler thanked the honest tradesman for the information, all of which he knew perfectly before, and proceeded : ” Howarth —Howarth ! You’re no relation to my friend John, in Halshaw Moor 7” “I am that,” returned the merry Dan. “ Jack’s my own brother and as good a lad as ever broke bread.” “ I agree with you there, and if you will only walk up to the brig, we’ll have a glass together for his sake.” Dan spent the best part of two hours at the inn beside the bridge, and whatever information was gleaned from him by the astute butler must have been of the most pleasant nature, for that gentleman was well . pleased with himself all the way home, as anyone could see ; for his wrinkled face was wreathed In smiles and he had a good word for even the humblest toiler that he met or by whom he passed on the road. After his return, the chief domestic was closeted with his lord for a considerable period. The apartment was the library, which occupied the back portion of the left wing—a part of the Elizabethan mansion which had been an j ancient tower belonging to a yet more ancient period of English history, and had been altered to the needs of the new building by simply throwing forward a windowed section to give an appearance of uniformity to the noble facade. This apartment, with its low ceiling, was a great favourite with the old lord who had so lately died. Two old embrasures in the wall had been fitted up with French windows opening upon a kind of hack lawn or paddock, surrounded on every side by high walls lined with hedges and therefore sacred to the use of the head of the house when he chose to be alone. Those windows opened outwards and within the immense thickness of the wall was clearly discernible ; for velvet-cushioned seats seven feet in length, faced each other ; there. ! The news that had been so pleasing to Mr. Wogan appeared to have driven his lordship nearly crazy. For a brief period he stamped and swore and raged round the room in a really terrible manner. In vain the butler tried to soothe him. He suddenly astounded the man by stopping right in front of him and hissing out these words : i “ Wogan, you devil, take care how you act with me ! You know too much, curse you ! Why the deuce did I not make inquiries myself 7 Be silent, you knave—silent as the grave, or it will be worse for you. Do you hear me ? Remember, be silent, and above all let no hint reach the ears of my wife. And now, quick, my horse ! I will ride this humour off, or heaven knows what will become of me.” | The expression on Wogan’s face was not a pleasant one, and it was perhaps a good thing for the peer that he did not catch a glimpse of It. j The servant soon had the horse at the door, and Lord Northenden strode away in the direction of the Hall. The sound of his spurs clanging on the tesselated pavement gave encouragement to an eavesdropper who had been concealed in the private plot of ground described. This person who had heard much of what Wogan had to tell and the paroxysms of rage that followed, was no other than Sophia, Lady Northenden. She crept in at the window, and sank, pale and nerveless for a moi ment on the seat. Then suddenly she rose up, every muscle of her great frame evidently working under the influence of some passionate resolve. “So at last I have penetrated something of his lordship’s secret. I ought to have suspected something of this before. I have him now completely in my power, but I must not j he too fast,” cried the peeress fiercely, j “ He will spoil this as he has spoilt [all,” she continued. “I must take this thing in my own hands. Our I safety, our all depends upon discrej tion and courage. Fool that he is j to let a servant know so much ! but that man must also be swept away, as well as any person that may come to know the affairs that concern us alone. Let me only once get him In mjr power, you will see how surely if slowly, I will destroy him, no matter how noble he may look and the strong manly hands of the woman clenched In the fierceness of her resolve, while her dark eyes appeared to expand with the wild fire that glowed in their depths. The great lady as she soon was called in Halshaw Moor, drove up that afternoon in a smaller carriage than the old travelling chariot and without the companionship of Mrs. Scree!. She alighted at the little shop, and had quite a lengthened, condescending chat with the comely chandler's shopwoman. “ It is the habit of English ladles in some quarters to know as much as possible of their poorer or humbler neighbours. Very goot. That is the tasl'i of which I am going to try and acquit myself ; and indeed, Mrs. Howarth, if they are all half as nice i and agreeable as you, I anticipate ; a great deal of Measure from my visits.” Nelly did not know exactly what , to say to this. The great ladj was

beginning to conquer her. “So nice j and homely in her manner,” she afterwards said to John ; and the | little woman also was very proud of the fact that she was chosen by the peeress as her first acquaintance, so to speak, among the poorer and humbler neighbours. “ We really ought to benefit those who live aroundt us,” said Lady Northenden, warming to the subject. “I do not really see why we should send to London or Manchester for everything wo use in a great household. When I go home this very afternoon, I will give instructions to Mrs. Screel to buy all that can be possibly bought from you.” “ W« only serve common people,” said Nelly, “ and wha* we keep would not be good enough for high folks like your ladyship.” ” Oh, nonsense,” laughed Lady Northenden. “ You surely sell things that are goot enough for the eervants 7 And you can order better If you do not haf it. I tell you Mrs. Howarth, that I shall not be content until I haf made you a regular large tradesman, with three or four assistants and your husband, poor man, no longer at the mill.” Nelly’s eyes beamed with excitement at this unexpected offer of patronage and support, and it is needless to say she was full of the subject when John came home to tea. “I can’t right make it out, Nell,” said he dubiously. ” It seems very strange that she should bother with us, and us alone. I should like to know whj the old butler has been asking the clerk all about how many children we’ve had, and how many have died. Summat whispers to me, lass, that they know something of a missing child, and that they suspect our Freddie to be it.” “How could they know 7” began Nell ; but she stopped abruptly. She had taken to the boy until now she loolied upon him and laved him as her own. So many channels for painful surmise opened up at the very thought that someone was searching for this waif, and the strongest feeling was that if they took this dearest one from her, her heart would break and the world would look very dark indeed in his absence. She determined to be on her guard, even although a peeress came dally with all her eccentric blandishments to betray her into entrusting the boy to her care. But nothing was ever said now in the oft-recurring visits of her ladyship about hoy or girl leaving home and parents to tak/o service in the house of the Lords of Northenden. The viscountess drove up rather early one morning on her way to Manchester. ” What is the matter with you 7” she asked rather condescendingly. “You look as If you have seen a ghost.” “ Nothing, your ladyship,” return ed Nelly, blushing. “ Oh, yes, but I am as goot as a witch. Something has upset you : and you must tell me what it is, if the horses stop here all day and catch cold, so I told you.” ” Well, your ladyship, it is nothing of much consequence. Only we were awfully upset last night.” “ Indeed ! How 7” ” Well, I can scarcely tell you, my lady,” proceeded Nelly. “ Your ladyship must know that my little boy Freddie sleeps in the back room, and Katey in the larger one next to him. In the middle of the night—about two o’clock it was —we were woke up by hearing the boy screaming and crying fit to break his heart. John and I jumped up at once and hurried to him, and as we got into his room we heard a fall and a voice cursing outside. My good man rushed for a light, and I looked out of the window and although it was very dark I could discern two men hurrying away down the mid passage. Poor Freddie was inconsolable and he said that he woke up like hearing a noise, and on’ turning on his right side he saw a man’s face pressed close against *the window pane, with his hand raised, as if to push the sash up. “ How very strange and terrible,” said Lady Northenden in a low voice, and looking unusually thoughtful. “ The slanting roof of the back kitchen is just beneath the window,” proceeded Nelly, “ and fnom ,that runs the party wall of the back premises. Then there is a long public passage dividing the yards of the front street from those at the back. Anybody at all active could climb and get to the window. It has such an effect upon my good man, that he’s gone and ordered iron bars to be put up in both back windows,’ and the men are now engaged on the job.” " Somebody wants to rob you of all the money you have earned. Why don’t you banfs your savings 7” “ Banks breafk so very often.” “ Very goot ; but when a robber comes ho very often takes the lives of people. It is a stupid game keepng money in the house. What are you going to do about those men ?” ” We are going to set a watch for them.” “ I hope you will catch them I am sure,” said the viscofinteßS. But as she stepped into the carriage, she said, unconsciously aloud, ” I think I can recognise somebody's blundering there.” “ Did your ladyship speak 7” asked Person, the footman. “ Yes,” she answered- ” What did 1 say 7” “ Oh, something about plundering, m’lady.” ” Plundering I” she echoed. “ Is it possible that I do not speak so blain English 7 B-l-a-sn- blundering was the wordt I meamit, and it was you I thought hlundecing just then with the steps. Drive on.” Poison was very much taken aback. As he took his sent by the coachman be muttered, “ When a fellow gets over you, there will be only one more party to tackle/’ His companion on the box did not hear the words, and both were not a little startled to hear their mistress say : “ Coachman, you must tell that man sitting bceide you, that I won’t

permit him to speak so familiarly of the devil.” John Howarth was not a little troubled by the thought of the midnight visitors. He felt certain that money was not their object. Everything pointed as plainly as possible to the suspicion that somebody knew who the foundling boy was, and wished to have him in their power. Then followed the thrice-unwelcome thought—’’’ They cannot want him for his good.” If they did they would come forward boldly and openly and say who they suspected the child to be, and what they proposed doing in the matter. After a few days the sense of dread that had fallen upon the little family circle began to die away. They had shared an early supper and were merrier than usual. As the children prepared to go to bed John was thinking, “ well, they can’t take i him through those strong iron bars, | anyway ” when he heard his wife say with deep emotion as she kissed the boy : “ If I lost you I don’t know what would become of me. Heaven bless youi and preserve you.” “Amen!” said John fervently. • • •* That night—or rather in the early morning— the terrible cry of ” Fire!” | suddenly resounded through the still township. “Fire !” was taken up by a sleepless invalid, and sent thrillingly through the ears of a young household, who rushed out into the night with but little preparation and . raised their shrill voices in warning ! to the inhabitants of the presence of 1 the ruth devastator —Fire. “Fire!” in the still darkness is the most terrible of cries. “ Fire 1” Fire !” echoed everywhere and at length great crowds filled the streets to hear that “John [Howarth’s shop was blazing;” and they all hurried to the broad street Ito find the ground floor a perfect furnace of fire. j Willing and stalwart arms were soon working earnestly and courageously to save the goods nearest at hand until some one thought something of the unhappy inmates of the doomed old wooden building. “Where’s John 7” cried one. “They must be inside yet.” “Eh ! they’re suffocated by this time.” “ Let’s run to the back.” “ It's worse there,” cried others, coming from that direction. Even as the people spoke, a heavy hand, armed with some kind of weapon crashed the front first window out. i “ You’re there, are you 7” cried a hundred voices, as they recognised John Howarth himself. , “ Haven’t you got a ladder 7” be cried. 1 ” They’re bringing one from the market-place.” answered a voice ; and presently four fellows came running along with the required ladder. > The fire had been burning for some little time, and had got a firm hold on the premises before anyone noticed the glow behind the shutters. The old timber was like matchwood, and now blazed furiously everywhere. By the time that John had lowered his wife —nearly insensible almost suffocated by the smoke —and his children, the floor was giving way under his i feet. j However, amid the cheers of the ; people, he succeeded, and reached the ground safely himself. His grief, it i was plain was of the most poignant description as he saw all his property destroyed before his eyes. Suddenly he uttered a great cry. “ The money’s in the old desk, I must have that anyway !" and he made a frantic effort to rush from his neighbour’s arms into the burning mass. “Up with the ladder again !” he shouted. “ I must go for that. It’s safe enough, I tell you chaps. Come, don't stand and see a chap ruined. Up with the ladder 1” The ladder was placed, and John sprang lightly up. .He entered the fiery atmosphere, and cautiously felt the floor with his feet. Evidently encouraged by the resistance offered his touch, he rushed across. The people saw something give way, and a mighty cry of horror rose up to heaven, for something dark fell from the first floor into the shop ; then a rumbling noise was heard followed by a mighty “ flam,” as the heavytimbered roof fell in, putting the flames out for a moment, and leaving the place in horrid darkness. A dozen sharp fellows took advantage of the lull to rush into the interior. They found John Howarth crushed beneath a strong half-burned beam and carried him out. Poor Nelly rushed to her husband—that very instant only had she recovered ; but they held her back—they thought he was dead. ' “ Take him in next door,” said the doctor, who had just arrived on the scene. ” He’s not dead.” “ Thank Heaven cried Nelly, gazing after the man she loved bo loyally and without demonstrativeness as is the habit of humble love; and she followed him into the neighbour’s house. Twenty minutes later she came out to loot for her children. Katey was in good care, but Freddie was nowhere to be found. She covered her face with her hands and raised her voice and wept as one who could not be comforted. * To be Continued.