SPENCER CARLTON'S LOVE STORY.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 13, Issue 1061, 29 June 1869, Page 4

SPENCER CARLTON'S LOVE STORY.

(From 'London Society," for March.) CHAPTEB IV. It was just three years from the time that Spencer first brought his wife to England that his mother received a letter from him, saying that they intended to join her in London the next day. " I do hope wo shall keop them at home now, Laura/ she said, as she gavo her daughter the letter to read. " They must be tirod of this restless, wandering life." " I should think so, mamma. I wonder whether if they had had children that would have kept thorn quiet ?" j Their visit was, upon tho wholo, rather more satisfactory than usual ; Spencer soomod loss depressed, and Blanche loss devoted to gaiety. But it was almost tho end of the season, and London was thinning fast. The few who remained were very much occupied by a splendid fete that the Duchess of intendod to give to somo foreign royaltios who had boon in England during the summer, and were now .about to take their departure. There had been considerable discussion between Laura and Blanche as to tho probability of their being invited, and when at last the card of invitation came Blanche was in an ecstacy of delight, and insisted on carrying off Laura at once to choose now dresses.

They fixed upon some to which Laura repeatedly objected on account of their peculiarity, but Blanche overruled her; and when the drosses were sent homo Blanche put the wreath upon hor hoad, and hearing her husband's step on the stairs, called him in to admire it.

"It is very fantastic, at all events," ho ropliod, indifferently. " "Where is it to be worn ?"

"At House. Don't you romomber ? The Duchess gives hor ball on Monday." Sponccr had been too much engrossed with business for it to havo mado any impression on him.

" You have got my invitation all right, I supposo ?" he said, as ho loft tho room.

"Of course," said Blanche, pettishly. "How tiresome Spencer is about never lotting me go out without him ! I should like to give him the slip some day." " I am not sure that it would bo a bad thing," said Mrs. Oarlton, " for I should like Spencer to bo left for once, convinced that we aro equal to taking caro of you." " Are you going to the ball at House to-night ? I hoar it ia to be an early affair, so if you dine earlier I should like to know," said Spencer, one day, as he stood, with his hat in his hand, wanting to go out.

"We must dine at seven. "Will that do for you?" replied his mother.

" I shall be in time. Don't wait dinner for me," he called oiit, as he ran downstairs. Blanche was in such a restless, oxcited state that Laura wished more than once that the invitation had never come, or that they had declined it.

"You havo not put on your finery," said Spenco r, looking at his wife when she came down Jo dinnor that day.

"Of course not," she said, with a loud laugh. " Fancy dining at homo in a gown trimmed with beetles and butterflies 1"

" Oh, Blanche I do you think Spencer is deaf?" said Laura, putting her hands up to her ears. "He really is not."

Hor husband looked at her attentively, and took her hand.

" Come upstairs with mo, Blanche. I want to speak to you," ho said, vory decidedly.

Sho made some little resistance, but soon, hanging down her hoad, followod him out of tho room.

" What can this mean, mamma?" said Laura, looking after them in dismay. "Is not Spencer going to allow Blanche to havo any dinner to-day ?'*

"I suppose ho only wants to spoak to her for a minute," returned her mother, uneasily. Spencer's conduct with regard to his wife was so perfectly incomprehensible to Mrs. Oarlton. In a few minutes ho returned, saying, that he feared Blancho was going to havo one of her bad attacks of tic, and that he had given her tho medicine prescribed for it, and had persuaded her to Ho down and try to sleep. " Surely she will bo well enough to go to this ball, that she has set hor heart upon ?" said Laura, in dismay. " Certainly not ; and of course I shall stay at home with her." "We had better all do that," said Laura, disconsolately. "How very provoking! only I suppose it would bo too uncivil. Shall I sond Blanche's dinner upstairs? Surely sho had bettor have some 2"

" My dear Laura, do let me take care of my own wife. She wants nothing but sleep, and the medicine I have given her is for that purpose. I particularly beg that no one may go near her."

Both Mrs. Carlton and Laura felt that they could not say any more, and the dinner proceeded in silonce. Soon after Spencer went up-stairs, and half an hour later came down-stairs, saying that his wife was fast asleep, but that as he was going out by-and-by to get some medicine for hor, he had locked the door of her room, to provent her being disturbed. " You don't mean that you have locked her in?" said his mother, in a tone of horror. "My dear Spencer, it is so very unsafe — in case of fire, or even if she should want anything." " There is not much danger of fire tonight, and she will not want anything^ as she will sleep for hours," said her son, impatiently* " I shall probably be at home before you go out, or, if not, just after. So you may be quite happy about her." Laura did not feel at all happy as she went up to dress. She did not believe in Blanche's illness, and thought it ( a scheme of hor brother's to prevent her going to House. She could not bear to^ think of him so changed, and dressed hastily, without any pleasure in the anticipation of the evening. Just as she was leaving her room, she was startled at hearing a laugh behind her, and, turning round, saw, to her amazement, Blanche, in her ball dress, standing before her. "Is this not a good trick?" she said, still laughing. "I heard ' Spencer go out; I know his step ; and then I dressed myself so quickly, for my hair was plaited before." " How are you now, dear ? Spencer said one of your bad attacks of pain was coming on. Has it passed away % asked Laura," looking perfectly bewildered, and then, after a moment's hesitation, added, "And he said that your door was locked." " I expected that," said Blanche, laughing, " and so kept my eyes tight shut, that he might think mo fast asleep. He forgot the key in his dressing-room door; he locked the outside, but, of course, this opened both."

" But you cannot go to the ball now he has forbidden it," said Laura, in some uneasiness at her flushed cheeks and excited manner. " Besides, you have had no dinner ; you will make yourself ill."

"Shall I? I don't want any dinner. I shall get supper there. And now I am going — going — gone," she said, putting her cloak round her ; and running down-stairs she jumped into tho carriage, which had just driven round, without waiting for Laura or Mrs. Oarlton.

Laura, in great distress, stopped her mother, who was coming out of the draw-ing-room already dressed, and told her what had happened.

" Never mind, my dear ; I shall not stop hor going. I think it a very good thing to break through Sponcer's morbid fancy. Let us go at once, before ho comes home. He can follow, of course, if he likes."

With considerable misgiving Laura followed hor mother, and they were jßOon in the string of carriages that were going at a footpace to House.

Blanche looked more beilliantly beautiful than ever, and a buzz of admiration followed her aa she walked up the room. She danced very well, and many paused to watch her as she and the young Duko of waltzed together. Laura thought she seemed in wilder spirits than usual, owing to her having played this trick upon her husband, but wished occasionally, as she caught the sound of her voice, that she would not talk and laugh so much louder than was her wont.

As Laura went up the room to return to her mother, after she had been dancing, she saw her brother coming forward to meet her. "Como with me, Laura," he said, in a low voico. " I want you to go and speak to my mother." j He was veiy pale, and there was a stern look in his countenance that frightened her. <( l had no idea that you were here, Spencer," she began. " Probably not," ho said, bitterly. " I am come to try and repair the wrong you have done me this night, in bringing Blancho here." "She came to my room dressed, and said she was woll, and mamma thought she had better como with us. What could I do ?" she pleaded. "All you can do now is to get her away. If you will go down and get into the carriage, I will bring Blanche down. I have called for it." "You don't really mean that you are going to take Blanche away, now she is quito well and enjoying herself so much ?" Somothing very like an oath escaped him as he stamped impatiently on the ground ; and Laura, now really alarmed, did not dare to make any further remonstrance. His wife had not seen him enter, and started violently as he came up to her. "I am going home, Blanche. You ; must come with me," he said, taking hold of her hand. She resisted at first, swaying herself backwards and forwards without speaking. j Several people turned round and looked on in surprise. Spencer's dread of a scene increased every moment. He looked at her fixedly, and said something in a low voice, which seemed to have its due effect, for she made no further resistance, but, hanging down her head, took his arm and walked quietly away. "Shameful !" J" tyrannical 1" " what a brute J" " how can she bear it 2" was murmured on all sides ; but he did not appear to hoar it, and walked quickly away. There was a flight of steps from the ballroom to the corridor which led to the cloakroom. On this staircase was a largo window, which had been thrown wide open to admit more air. As Spencer Carlton led his wife down those stairs, she suddenly disengaged herself from his arm, and, looking furtively round to see that no one was near, darted on to the lodge of the window, and, with ono spring, throw horself out. Her husband uttered a cry of horror, which echoed through tho house, and was heard above the strains of the musicians, the noise of carriages, and tho sound of the feet of tho dancers, and then foil heavily on tho floor, porfectly senseless. " What had happened ?" "Mr Carlton had dropped down doad, and his wife, in her terror, had jumped through the window," was the impression of those who hastened to the spot. CHAPTER V. Spencer Carlton was raised from tho floor, and restored to partial consciousness, while search was mado for his unhappy wife. She had not fallen far, and was only partially stunned, aB the window through which she had sprung opened upon the roof of a room which had been built out below and had been turned into a kind of balcony for flowers. Her arm appeared to be broken, othorwise sho seemed to have escaped without any other serious injury. Sovoral gontlomon went to her assistance, and two of the servants attempted to lift hor from tho ground and carry her through tho window. But she moaned so pitifully that they were obliged to desist. At last, ono man, more powerful and more detormined than the rest, took her up in his arms and laid her on a sofa, near to tho placo where Spencer was still lying. Tho sight of his pale face seemod to quiet hor ;at once, and she crept to his side, and i began to stroke his hands, crying quietly all

the time. A heartfelt ejaculation of thanksgiving escaped him whon ho opened his eyes and saw his wife, whom ho imagined to havo been dashed to atoms, alive and by his side. The arm which hung powerless by her side required immediate attention, and Mrs. Oarlton directed that she should be camod to the carriage, while Sponcer and his sister followed.

Shocked and dismayed, neither Mrs. Carlton nor Laura felt that they could speak to Sponcer, especially as Blanche continued talking and moaning as the pain of her arm increased. It was now evident that she was labouring under a temporary fit of insanity. But Mrs. Carlton could not make up her mind to speak to her son on the subject, though he now knew that the wretched secret of his life could bo no longer concealed.

As soon as her arm would allow of it, Blanche was moved to Etheridge; and then she fell into a depressed, melancholy state, and her health seemed gradually to decline. As time went on, symptoms of injury to her spine, unperceived at the time, showed themselves, and she became paralyzed. Her husband never left her, and liia mother saw with anxiety how much this protracted nursing was telling upon him.

" Surely you will allow us to help you to nurse poor Blanche," she said to him one day reproachfully. " You are fagging yourself to death."

"I am well enough, mother. I do not wish to keep you away from Blanche, but I know best what she wants. I think she gets weaker every day. That fall was a great shock to her. You have been so kind and so considerate in never questioning me about her, that I should like you to know all, and how wretched my life has been. "Four years ago, I became so madly in love with Blanche, from the first moment I saw her, that I felt I could not live without her, and used every possible endeavour to gain her affections. I was with her constantly, but she never seemed to understand that I loved her ; and at last I asked her mother's permission to be allowed to speak to her, and implore her to be ray wife."

"How could her mother allow you to do so ?" said Mrs. Carlton, indignantly.

" That is a question for hor own conscience," ho replied, with a sad and bitter smile. " Thoro was an odd kind of hesitation in hor manner at first, but afterwards she made no difficulty, and attributed Blanche's indifference, as I did myself, to her extreme youth. Now I look back, many things strike me as strange which then, in my infatuation, I scarcely noticed. Our marriage was a hurried one, as you know ; and Mrs. Ellerton would not listen to your wish that we might come to England. As soon as we were married we went to Naples, and in about six weeks one of these paroxysms came on, I laid it then to incipient fever, and rejected the notion of the doctor, who apprehended that the symptoms were those of hereditary insanity. I told Mrs. Ellerton tho doctor's opinion, when, to my horror, she confessed that ho was right, and informed me that her husband was confined in a lunatic asylum. She excused herself by saying that she had beliovod that Blanche had nearly outgrown this tendency, and was persuaded that tho climate of Italy would complete tho euro, which she affirmed it had already begun. She told me that theso attacks woro the causo of Blanche's extreme delicacy, and their leaving America. She implored me to bear with her, as she was convinced that she would gradually recover. There was no need to counsel me to be patient with her, poor darling 1 but you can imagine how heart-stricken I was, and what my life has been ever since. While it was possible, I concealed this. I heard all that was said and believed against me : how I was supposed to ill-treat ono whom it was the sole object of my lifo to shield and protect ; but I heeded it not. There was no longer any happiness for me in life, and I cared for nothing that the world might say ; for, say what it might, nothing could exceed my loneliness and misery. It grieved me most to see how you and Laura misjudged me ; and yet for her sake, and for the possible chance of a child, I bore all in silence. Now you know why I never allowed her to go out without me. It was no "morbid fancy" that made ma so careful of her. Any excitement had a tendency to bring on one of her attacks, and from long habit, and closely watching her, I had learned to detect the very first symptoms. By quiet and medicine theso attacks are under a certain amount of control, and they now seldom last many days. My conduct throughout may have been mistaken," he said, with $ deep sigh, "but I have lived this lifo for her sake—not for my own."

Mra. Carlton could not reply. She was weeping too bitterly for the son whose life had been so strangely blighted.

" Dearest Spencer," she said at length, " now you will let as help you to bear this trial. You have borne it alone far too long."

Ho grasped his mother's hand without speaking; and from that day she shared her watch over the wife that was fading away so slowly and suroly before their eyes. Blanche was now always quiet, occasionally quite rational, but she grew rapidly weaker, and it could scarcely be said to be a grief when she was laid in the old church at Etheridge ; for they who loved her knew that sorrow and danger were, for her, over in this world, and that they might think of her as at rest.

It was many years before Spencor Carlton at all recovered the bitter trial of his young life ; though, long after, tho merry voices of children were hoard once again in tho old castle at Etheridge. He was now a grey-haired, middle-aged man, and had married again, late in life. His present wife was very different to hor he had so loved and mournod. She was the daughter of tho clergyman of the parish, a kindhearted, sensible woman, without oither beauty or accomplishment. With hor ho led a quiet, useful life ; but the impress of his great grief had loft indolible traces upon him, which were never effaced.