Lady Gwendoline's Secret.

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume I, Issue 109, 22 April 1911, Page 2 (Supplement)

Lady Gwendoline's Secret.

The Story of a Family Secret and a Great Wrong.

BY

AGNES M. & W. J. ROWE,

. . . Authors of . . . *’ The Lady of Kileen,” “ A Shadowed Life.” “ Hls American Wife.” “ A Heritage of Shame,” etc.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A V.IFE'S DEVOTION

“Ax the trial of my darling drew near. 1 seemed to gather new strength for the ordeal. In open defiance of my father I visited Maurice in prison and helped in every way to try and secure liis release. Not even to tho lawyer who worked hard in his defence would Maurice allow our secret to be revcal“Mr. Payne kpew we loved each other, and that against my father’s wish we were betrothed; and his deep sympathy for us both led him to be very kind and considerate to me, and obtained ns many interviews. ■‘Although at first he was very hopeful. towards the end I could perceive i;c was rather anxious and downcast. “I would not advise you to be too sanguine. Lady Gwendoline,’ he said; ‘law is a ticklish thing to handle, you know, and though we are doing our best to clear Air. Dysart, you see we have no proper evidence that the writing is not his. Now, if we, could only prove he had an enemy and could manage to allay suspicion, create a doubt in the jury’s mind, I might still save him.’ “Then in a flash it occurred to me about Stanley’s words and threat; even his conduct, lately, the nay in which he had managed to worm himself into my father’s good graces, recurred to me with double force. But though those things seemed ’io important » clue to me, and the lawyer himself was inter- < ste l at first, still, on seeing a specimen of the secretary’s handwriting, the hone speedily vanished. “I became almost distracted as the lime drew near, and still we were as far off proving Maurice’s innocence as •it first. While my father's heart seemed so hardened against the nephew u horn he considered bad brought dis'■.ace on his family name, that he toidd not raise a finger to assist him. "Stanley Beaumont adopted another method; he knew now I loved Maurice, and as if resigned to the inevitable. pretended to feel sorrow for uiv trouble, and wished to act the part of friend or brother to me. 1 About the same time, too, I made a discovert- which, under other circumstance* would have been a cause of great delight and joy to both my husI’.and and myself; but owing to the present trouble I thought wiser not to tell my beloved. In the not very distant future 1 saw that I was likely to become a mother. Yet how could I share this great io.v with Maurice? 1 foresaw he would ba only more disturbed and anxiotjs about me if he knew, and kept telling myself that when he. my husband, was once more a free man would be time enough to reveal our new happiness. “Simple, trusting girl that I was, I did not foresee the difficulties into which my present condition might lead me. Indignation at my father’s treatment <•1 Maurice cau-ed me to still further creep into my shell; had he not been sc stern and severe I would have told him all; as it was I kept silent. “You can fancy, dear, my trouble and anxiety as the trial of my husband approached and still nothing turned up tc clear him. 1 cannot go into all the damning evidence they brought against him ; sufficient to say that everyone was convinced that he signed the cheque ■ it was his writing they were sure, and he could not gainsay the fact that he was alone in the house, with ■•. he cheque hook in bis care.whilo rny uncle and secretary were from home. "To my horror the very time when I most needed to keen up and support mv husband in his, trouble I began tn I ail : my health was giving way under the strain Julia, my faithful maid, iias the only one who suspected the tiuth. and she shared my secret "My father was not at home during these weeks so I lias free to keep my own apartments little di earning, simpleton that I ivas that a keen, more piercing ©ye oven than iny parent’s watched my every move.

‘'The day of the trial T was unable to leave inv room, so could not see my poor boy for even a moment. I knew how he must have longed for a smile, one encouraging glance from me; while the fact that he was not aware of my dclicat'' state, must hstvc made it harder for him to understand why I had not visited him ’atelv.

‘‘His letters, however, said nothing like this - he was only disturbed lest I should be over anxious and make myiclf ill on his account, and expressed his thankfulness at not seeing me in court; it would onlv unnerve him, he said.

‘ How can I toll you. Ida, the misery and suspense of those three da vs? Even now when I look back I wonder I Jived through it without becoming a raving maniac. T could not pray, dare not think what tho end would be ; but wandering about the house like one demented. going from window to window. straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of the telegraph messengers who brought word how things were [ roercssing *

•‘The housekeeper now suspected part nt mv secret, hut what cared I that she kept the other servants from seeing mo. nm.l seemed terrified and nervous of the consequences of what she considered a voung girl’s infatuation and fol’v.

"The blow came about noon ; I was watching the Jrivg with strained wild, anxious eves, when T saw Stanley Beautrout gallop up or: horseback. Not all the women together could hold me back th< n : I knew it was the end. that ho tr night news of my husband’s fate, and. wrenching myself from the detaintng hands, llew to the hall just as tho secretary entered.

“‘News!' I cried. AVhat is it? Is he roJcnrad ?’

'‘Stanley was taken aback at my appearance and strange manner. Tt MX’ined as if ho was reluctant to toll me the truth, was trying to break it gentlv.

‘Tho vonlict!’ I cried again: then seeing a telegram in his hand tore it fiom him

“1 ho words seemed to float before my eyes, bnt with an effort I pulled myself together and read: "Guilty: sentence seven years.”

‘‘What happened after I know little of That I fell senseless at Stanley’s feat and was carried by him to my chamber I heard afterwards from Julia". For weeks then I am told I lay between l.fe and death. All that really occurred

during that period I have only this day discovered through the confession of my poor maid.

“1 became a mother the night of my husband’s conviction; my father was sent for instantly, and thinking to save the honour of the family (for he was led to understand from Stanley that Maurice had betrayed me), arranged with the secretary to remove the child, :.iy fine boy, from me quietly. The doctor, being a stranger and well paid for his services, consented to save the family from disgrace by Concealing the birth Poor Julia, simple young girl that she was then, was made the unconscious tool.

“She had been with me day and night in my illness, and Would scarcely allow another hand to touch me. They brought in no outside help, the better t > keep the secret, and one day the baby took some childish complaint which Julia did not quite understand. Her hands were already full with me, still unconscious, and so when Mr Beaumont suggested that the earl wished the child sent out to be nursed she ivas rather pleased than otherwise to be rid of the responsibility, never for an instant suspecting the truth. "That night she was a little surprised to find that the neatly-dressed nurse who came to remove the baby was her r.ii n sister Surah. Somehow the maid’s heart misgave her at this ; she did not feel quite satisfied 'over the matter, for Sarah, to say the least, was not all that she ought to have been, and her name had more than once been mentioned with that of Mr. Beaumont. On acc cunt of this the sisters were not the Lest of friends, and now to poor Julia’s horror she found her relative would give no information as to where she was taking the child.

“ It’s no use questioning me, I am simply obeying orders; if you want to know where the place is you had better ask Mr. Beaumont.’ “From that hour the maid saw her mistake. When she dared to question the secretary or mv father she lias told never to mention the subject again under the penalty of instant dismissal; while she was only allowed to remain as maid to me on condition that she tried to convince me the baby was born dead. The alternative was a hard one; die ivas devoted to me, so chose to remain and keen the secret. Needless to say she neither saw nor heard about the child again, and what was more mysterious still the nurse, her sister, disappeared the same night, and could not be traced bv her family.

“Meantime, while being conveyed to Portland as a convict my poor Maurice managed to chide bis guard and escape. He had learned of my illness, and could r.ot bear the thought of not seeing me < nee again before going ' into exile. Knowing nothing of my real condition, or the fact that he was a father, he made his way into the grounds of Dysa't House. A cab was waiting down the drive bv the lodge gates, and thinking it strange the vehicle should stand there instead of at the door, he contealed himself among the trees to see who would -inter.

"AVliat was his surprise on waiting some time to sec a side gate open and a mar followed by a nurse bearing a young baby in her arms come towards him. It was an unusual hour to choose For such a journey; then again whose c’lild could it ba? AVhat were they leaving the castle at such an hour for? Who were they? A strange feeling, an unaccountable dread that all was not light came over him. Could it be possible that what he had for some time suspected about his darling’s condition was true; was it possible she was a mother, he a father, and this the child?

‘‘The probability of such a thing nearly sent him mad; he no longer counted the cost of being discovered, he would ascertain what this strange drama meant, why this departure at night ami enshrouded in so much mystery? ‘‘Mau:ice rushed forward and laid a detaining hand upon the man’s arm; almost on the same instant a cry rang cut, ‘Villain! Stop that scoundrel!’ and another form appeared from the thick bushes on the opposite side of the drive, and made a dash for the figure struggling in vain to escape from mv husband. What happened afterwards has not yet become clear to Maurice: he has a hazy- recollection of a pistol being fired, that the man who came to his assistance fell with a groan, then lie himself received a stunning blow on the head which stretched him insensible: while the other man, whose face ho cannot now even recall to mind, hastily entered the vehicle and was driven off wifi, the nurse and her charge. Almost the last thing he saw was my own white sad face at the window. 1 had evidently, unconscious ns I was missed mv baby from my aide and gone to search for it, for when a little later Julia returned to the room I was still wandering about in my delirium looking for something. "5\ hen next morning those in search of the escaped prisoner found him lvjng unconscious beside the dead body of my father’s gamekeeper, they at once concluded that the pistol lying' but :i little distance from the corpse was fired by the convict to defend himself and to prevent recapture. His own loss of memory caused by the blow hindered him from telling" his story, but even had he been able to do so. it would have been pooh-poohed, laughed at as improbable, and deemed a convenient fairv tale to shield himself.

‘‘l can tel’ no more about the second Dial than of the first: all that I know i- that my husband was now accused Of murder. On recovering from brain fever he was again put on trial and the charge reduced to manslaughter through the cleverness of his counsel. Who shot the man, or why he was about to interfere is not even yet known to any of us. While my poor husband stil- too dazed and bewildered w this Last terrible charge could sav nothing hut that he was innocent : ho temombei-erl none of tho events of that f wfiil night In the result'he was sentenced to p -nal servitude for life. “I came back to health slowly bn* surelv; and as I grew stronger and could ask questions you may fanev mv feelings when, bit by bit. the terrible truth was disclosed to me. I had even then a dim recollection that I was a mother, and remembered the tiny bodv Iving warm against mv breast: I would have doubted mv darling was dead, had i.ot my poor faithful Julia told me it

was so. I need not say bow many times I prayed God would take me from this miserable world and not leave me to fight the battle of life separated from him I loved. Surely I was worse than a childless widow my life was a sadder, more lonely one than that of any other woman on earth. How or when I first began to take sm interest in life once more I do not remember; but I know that my father and I were very cool to each other for many a day. 1 felt instinctively that lie did not think I was married, but judged us both rashly and falsely'; so he never once mentioned Maurice’s name. I determined to be just as stiff and independent; let him think what he liked of his daughter, she would not be the one to undeceive him. “I began to mix once more in society, and, according to my poor dear husband’s wish, did not yet bear his name or declare myself a wife. About this time I again learned to distrust Stanley Beaumont and his pretended disinterestedness and devotion to me. I found out also that I could visit Maurice at short intervals, so. my dear Ida, von will now understand where I spent those weeks from honie which so puzzled my friends and relations. "Each time I returned I came back with a firm and more set resolution; I was now woman with a mission in life, this was the clearing of my husband’s name and the bringing home of the crime to the real culprit. This new purpose helped to sustain me, and I once more took my accustomed place in societv, waiting and watching all the rime for some sign, some news of the man (who was my enemy and whom I suspected of the crime), which would enable me to bring him face to face with his own treachery and deceit. "This, then, is my story, Ida; can you wonder that my life has been a strange one? do you see now why 1 have not accepted some wealthy suitor, why I am such an iceberg, an enigma to even my own father? Why I. lead Stanley Beaumont on. make him love me only to his own undoing ; the reason is obvious, he is mv husband’s foe, the man who has embittered and soured my whole existence, the one above all others I have good reason to hat© and abhor.” Ida Trevor laid her head on the other’s slioulder.

“Oh; Gwendoline, you must be a saint, a martyr to have endured so much ; and you really think Mr. Weyman is the baby who was stolen from you?” she asked eagerly.

“Think. I am more than sure; Julia suspects the same, she is devoted to me. and with what she knows I think proof can be easily obtained.” the other said.

“And vour poor dear husband, what of him ; is he still a prisoner?” Ida asked in an anxious tone.

Lady Gwendoline rose from her seat, and going to the girl, kissed her as she said:

"Ida, do not ask me-this; I cannot answer yet. Darling, it is not that I doubt or distrust you for an instant, but the time has not yet arrived for me to disclose this; soon you shall know the result of all my labour ; until then I can onlv ask you to be patient and trust me.”

In response the youmrer woman placed her hand in that of her friend, and iogether they sat in silence, which spoke more eloquently than words; while the sun sank behind the distant l.iHs Night came on, and the full moon shining in all its silvery brightness looked tenderly down upon them, casting a soft radiance upon the hair of ihe cider woman; surely this was an omen of the peace and happiness which would attend her friend’s future life, fda thought, as she gazed at that sad, sweet face which, bathed as it was in the refulgent light, wore almost an ethereal expression.

It was the face of a long enduring, suffering woman; that of a martyr whose enthusiasm and faith in' the future is a sublime gift.

CHAPTER X.W A CRUEL IMPOSITION Mrs. AVeyman was seated behind her shop counter, busily engaged in arranging certain parcels, when a tall, handsome, fine specimen of a woman enterel and stood eyeing her in a manner which seemed to the shopkeeper rather inquisitive and impudent, as she said : "I beg your pardon for intruding, but my business is important and I should like a few words in private with you.” Mrs. Weyman motioned to the assistant, who was weighing sugar near, to leave and go inside; when the woman, again bending towards her, whispered something in her ear.

The words acted like an electric shock upon the grocer’s wife; she started back, turned very pale, and then calling to the boy excitedly bad© him mind the shop while she retired for a time with the lady.

When they had been seated in the parlour a few minutes, the stranger broached the business which she said l ad brought her.

“I have called on you with reference to a baby, not your own child, adopted by you and your husband. This child who was placed in your care by a gentleman twenty years ago was a boy, and was brought to you by a younger gentleman, accompanied by a nurse. Is that not so, Mrs. Weyman?” "Yes, you are right; and, oh, tell me, have you brought any information regarding the baby?” cried the good woman, eagerly.

“I hope so, at least am anxious to right a wrong; but before going any Further. I must have proofs that the child who was given into your charge is the one I am in search of. Can you let mo see the clothes worn by the baby when it was delivered to you?”

Mrs. Weyman was all excitement now.

‘I suppose yon come from lady Gwendoline?” she said ; ‘ I showed her the garments last time she was here, and r.ow she has discovered some new clue I presume, so sent you to examine them again.”

Tb.e grocer’s wife was not looking at her visitor as she spoke, otherwise she plight have beer, startled at the expression which passed over the woman’s face at the mention of Lady Dysart’s name.

‘ You are right ; and as her ladyship has discovered a very important clue indeed, she instructed me to ask you to let her have the articles for' a day o • two.”

Airs. Weyman was rather taken abaek at this request. She and John had always decided that no one was to get possession of them, that on no consideration whatever was she to part v. ith them to a stranger. ‘‘Do you mean that Lady Gwendoline desires to take the clothes away from here?” she asked. *‘oh, onlv for a short time: you se° she wants to compare something, and cannot do so unless you let her have them at her own house: you shall bav-' them back to-morrow without fail.” answered the woman. “Are von her l.idvsliin's maid. Tyson?" asked Mis. Wevtnan. determined to ho on the ri"ht side. “Yes. that is my name,” answered tho messenger.

.Under tho eircumsf.anres the grocer’s wife decided slm could not do otherwise than comply with the request. Lady Gwendoline was a tried friend of her adopted son’s, had his interests at heart; if she could onlv assist this

dear lady to prove that Reginald was her friend’s son, that he was not lowbred or nameless, how happy she would Lc. It could not he wrong then to lend her ladyship the clothes for a day orre. Mho knew what it might bring to light?

So the parcel was neatly tied up and handed to the dark, gipsy-like woman u .io claimed to be Tyson, he:- ladyship’s maid; and who promised to take the greatest care of them

That night Reginald and Mr. AVeyinan were informed by the mother of her ladyship’s message and how she r-ad given the clothes. Mr. M eyman would have been suspicious at once, were it not that Reginald assured him it was all light. Her ladyship’s maid ivas dark and her name -yson, so there was no necessity to be alarmed.

however, was the grocer’s «ife s surprise, when, on receiving a, second visit from Lady Gwendoline 1 ext day, instead of returning the parcel, her ladyship said : , “I am sorry to trouble you again, Mrs. M eyman, but I have brought my •naid |to inspect those garments: she may Know something about them, if ° n<T * letting her see them.” lae other stared at her visitor in il!,, At last she replied : ‘Acs, my lady, I am glad I sent them; I hope the young woman did aiscover something good.” Lady Gwendoline looked astonished ; at she answered : *°u'd° not seem to understand me, Mrs. eyman; Tyson is with me to' examine the clothes.” "Tyson!” gasped the groceb’s wife, iina clutched at the table for support ; lyspn was here yesterday, and took the garments away for you to see again.”' Lady Gwendoline gazed in bewildered surprise from her maid to Airs. AVevnian.

My maid, Tyson, here? you have made a mistake.” “Yes, maam, I was not here yesteruay, have never been before * vou have mistaken Some one else for me.” said Julia quietly. But you ar© not her ladyship’s maid! your name is not Tyson! it was not you who came to me!" persisted the grocer’s wife, whose face had grown pale.

i tr \ eS i ’V-Y narnp is-Tyson, and I ain her ladyship’s own maid: but indeed, madam, you have r.ot set eve* on me before.”

Mrs. AAevman looked for confirmation of this to her ladvship. and the expression on that beautiful face told ner something was amiss. “pie clothes! oh. where are they? to whom did I give them?” she cried in borror.

, When a little later she was'able to tej the story of how she ivas imposed on, and the parcel taken from her by a re P res ? n t’ng herself as Tyson. Lady _ Gwendoline's maid, a-niew horror nnd feenng of despair filled both their minds.

It . ivas evident that Reginald’s enemies, in spite of all these years, had traced his whereabouts, and were determined to destroy every vestige of his identity. Then again they must be cognisant of Lady Gwendoline’s private affairs, to be able to mention her name. In her excitement. Airs. Wcvman forgot that it was she herself who had put- these \vor<K into the mossenfier’s’ mouth. She could think of no other way opf of the difficulty than to consult John. Meanwhile the maid’s mind "as not idle: she was evolving a plan . 1 . e, l OWD , already began to see aaybghf. She questioned the gtocer ? s wife and learned that the woman calling herself Tyson was dark, not unlike herself in appearance, but very- handsome, with dark full red cheeks, and rather b,it not I”it© so tall. Tins was sufficient for Julia to work upon: on the way home she laid her suspicions plainly before her disconsolate mistress.

‘‘Depend upon it, my lady, Mr. Beaumont is somewhere in the vicinitv : he Jias had a hand in this, while the worn? 1■ ° 1 Pt ” h e l»’>ig him, and is still his tool, is my sister Sarah- the unfortunate dupe whom we all alongsuspected was wronged and betrayed oy this villain. She is the same woman who stole vour babv from me tho night she fled with that double-dved traitor She is still in his power, and now with him in the neighbourhood. My lady, do not despair vet: we sh-ill find your son in spite of them, and expose the perfidy of his enemies Mv brother has sworn to he revenged on Beaumont for the betraval of oiir sis ter so sooner or later all this plotting and baseness must come to light. 1 ‘ f y- e could’but get hold of Sarah, if she could only bp persuaded to reveal all she knowswhat might it not mean to Mr. Maurice and yourself It must—it shall be done • it has been, the aim of my life to baffle Jus man expose him to the world. Littie by little the 'veb has been spun, the cord grown stronger each day that encircles him; now I feel that the kev is in my grasp that a little more work and patience shall see him secure in the trap By his own acts, now he but tightens tho noose, and, oh, for the glorious moment when I shall prove the master innocent, and place mv sister’s betrayer w.iere his power for‘evil will be effe-tualiv and thoroughly checked for ever. Jins will be part of fnv restitution and may help to atone for „;+T, P o i Ihe woman’s eyes shone with, a strange fight, the alow of enthusiasm was on her cheeks as she uttered the vords.

Lady Gwendoline also became a itatel as sue listened.

"God grant you may be right. Julia, and that the clouds are about to roll and fight appear. We shall work together, dear, but whatever happens, whethei ue succeed on not, do not think I blame you for the past. You were but a girl then, alone and inexperienced • what could you do against such odds? Besides, my dear, bv staying with mo you helped me best'; what ™‘‘ kl J J; ave d ?V’ 2 V J lat " ould I know no ]cfi°i but for you?’* even n ’V S °‘ and that wmF ? ! t the elp renth hoin, our woik m.p be accomplished,” was the prayei of both those women, as w|e bv side Jiey made their wav to J.', cottage at it alney. (To be Continued.)