The Haighs of Hillcrest.

North Otago Times, 26 July 1906, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Haighs of Hillcrest.

(Copyright.)

®| THE ROMANCE OF A CIPSY ClfiL'S CORSE, j® Ov HEDLEY RICHARD?, Autlinr of "Time, the Avenger," "Diana's Inliyrituncc," etc. PART 8. CHAPTER XXII. THE STORY TOLl) BY THE DIAKY.

It was the afternoon after Lotties ; ivalk to Cnrston, and her memor- , Able interview with Miss iNcvillc. < <ho had told Miss Rhodes all about it, and that lady had advised her o , wait, a few days before she saw Miss N'cville again, though Lottie was ■strongly disposed to see her at once, tiid try her utmost to induce her to peak. Tlmt she could throw some liirht on tile matter the girl was convinced, but she.allowed herself to be persuaded to .follow Cousin Sain.li s ndvice. Still, she was restless ami anxious, wandering up and down the room, as it was a cold, wintry afternoon, and she had not cared to CO out. Baby was nsleep in the room that had been made into a nursery, and Annis was seated by the side oi his col. "Really. Lottie, how very restless van are !" said Miss Rhodes. "1 cannot settle down. I wish 1 Imd gone to see Miss Neville: I am convinced she could throw some light on the matter." At Hint instant the door was opened. nnd a maidservant appeared., "If von picnic, mn'nin, there s a net-son from The Poplars-she's Miss Xi-viHe's servant-wishes to see you she suid. •■Show h«r in here at once, exclaimed Lot lie. impetuously. _ Scarcely a minute elapsed beiore the old seevant enterex the room, and curtseving respectfully, she said: "If you please, ma'am, my mistress lias sent you this, and sho would like to sco you, if so be you think well to come, after you have read it." "I will come. Is it Then Lottie paused. , •. "The mistress said you d find what von wanted to know in that pnrivl. said the woman: then with another curtsey, and a "(!ood day. ladies, pile departed. Lottie looked at the pnrcel which wns fairly bulky, and (•iilling the siring, unwrapped the brown pnper, revealing a hook with a red-leather back, which bore the word "Diary." Below it was ft parchment envelope., on which was written, in a fine Italian hand, the words: "This envelope is not to be opened until you have read the djar.v. "Dorothea Neville. Laying it on one side, Lottie opened the diary, and seating herself near to Miss Rhodes, she read aloud : "My father died to-day-October I, 1820— and almost his last words were to curse the Haighs of Hillcrest It was very awful and I said something oi the kind to Isobel. my eldest sister; but she told mo that curses were too good for them-they had cheated my father out of his Inheritance. Rupert, my brother, the oldest of us all—who is married, ami lives in London—told her to be quiet nnd not try to train tho child in evil. Wo Nevilles were ns much to blame as tho Haighs, who had got Ilillcrest. "I'm afraid his words didn t do me much good, ns I wns indignant at hearing myself called ft child, and hastened to assure him tlmt I wns seventeen years of age. "'A great age, truly. Why you are just ten years older ihati my little Margaret,' hp said, with a smile, nnd Tsolvl and Matilda—she was the next to me in age, but there was a trap of eight years, and Isobel was two years her senior-told me to go out. of the room ; they had things to talk about that. I was too young lo hear. Four days later my father wns buried, and we three Miss Nevilles were left alone at The Poplars, as my brother returned to London. Isobel was sedate and dignified enough to frighten any ono away who had visions of marriage with any of the Miss Nevilles, and Matilda' was a copy of my elder sister; but I was different. I had what they considered an unwholesome longing to mix with my inferiors. "June 3, 1823.—T0-day I was twenty, and .1 told Isobel that the curate had asked me to bo his wife. "I shall never forget the storm of indignation that my words aroused, and it was augmented when my sisters discovered that I loved him and had said 'Yes. 1 " 'Whatever you have said is of no consequence,' snid my eldest sister. "You are it-Neville of Hillcrest, and can only marry your equal,' she added. " 'But we have lost Hillcrest, and we arc not likely to meet anyone in that position.' " 'Then you must remain unmarried as we have done. Listen, Dorothea ; you have never heard about tho past. You were only four years old when we left Hillcrest, and not remember it; but .Matilda and 1 can. Our father got into dillicultics nnd borrowed money from a man named Benjamin Haigh. He had risen from a mere working man to riches, and he seemed only too glad to lend his gold, and never bothered about the interest, which, ns our expenses were heavy, was never paid. At last, when you were about four years old, Benjamin Haigh demanded both principal and interest; and as our father couldn't pay tho money, he foreclosed the mortgage, and we bad to turn out, leaving Hillcrest to this Haigh. " 'All that was left was my mother's little fortune, which wassafely invested, and a few hundred pounds with which my father bought this house. The blow killed my mother, who was buried'within a month of our coming hero. Now, you see, that being a Neville, whose ancestors fought at tho battle of Hastings, you cannot mate with a plebeian, and I know this curate's father was in trade, 1 said my slstor. " 'But I love him/ I urged, •' 'Then you must pluck liim out of your heart, because I shall not let you marry him,' replied Isobel; and Matilda agreed with her. "The next day my lover was dismissed, and I believe my sister Induced the vicar to send him away, and in his place there came a middleaged man with a large family. In my heart I rebelled, but 1 had always submitted to my sisters, and at last I began to think that perhaps they were right, so my love-dream ! faded. "August 5, 1829,-Years have pas,scd. I am harder, and inclined to think that only the great of the .earth should woo a Neville. ' "May I. 1833.—T0-day ■ my brother's' orphan daughter, Margaret, has come to live with us, Sne is only nineteen and very lovely. Poor Rupert is dead. He has not ,left a penny behind him ; so my sister took Margaret who was his only child. Her mother died many years ago. "What a gulf there seems between us I More than the difference of ■years should make. She is bright and happy as a summer day, and she doesn't seem to understand our gloomy ways, and tries to tempt me to be as gay as she is, but I cannot throw off the restraint of, years. Once she almost stole my secret from me, but I am glad I did not tell her that a Neville could have so far forgotten herself as to love a man whoso father had been In trade.

".Inly 2, 1833.—There is a young man staying at tho vicarage, ana Margaret and he arc very friendly His nomn is Halgh, and his father Is Hcoiawl? Mi she sfeeftted

my father. Margaret says he dliln'r client him, Hint my father borrowed tho money and ouphl. to have'paid tho interest. Slin Ims' very decided opinions of her own, mul is always getting into trotiblo.with my sisters. ".Inly !10, IrtSM,— I To-day OcolTrey llaigh called to ask my sister it she. would give him luargurot in marriage 1 ennnot remember Imlf the bittor tilings she said, but I am certain that she cursed him, and ordered him to leave the.house; then she talked to poor Margaret, who delled her, and snid she was making a lot. of fuss for nothing, that the Hnighs were every bit as Rood ns tho Nevilles, and at l«sl my sister ordered her to her room in disgrace. "August !). IHM. Marly this morning I saw Margaret steal out of the garden into the churchyard. There was something so stealthy in her movements that I put on my bonnet and cape and followed Iter. The church door whs a liUlo way open, so I entered, when tho clergyman's voico reading the marriage service fell on my ears, and I was petiified to see OcolTrey Ilnigh and my niece Margnret standing in front of' tho altar, and old AJary Moms, yii pew,opener near, while tho sexton acted as father. , i . •'Whether it was owing to this indignity or to the shock I had felt on seeing the young couple. I cannot sav, but I was unable to utter tl word> and the service proceeded to tho end. At Insl, when it was all over and they weiv pronounced man and wife, I stole out of the church, feeling that it was useless to speak to them. T did not tell my, sisters anything, because 1 knew they would blamo me; so I listened to tluMr speculations as to what had become of Margaret. "That, night a letter was brought to the bouse by a man from oeaclilTo, who snid it had been given to him by a voting gentleman. but lie •professed to know nothing more about it. He snid the gcmleninn had met him on the rond, and given him half a sovereign to deliver the letter but he had got a drop to drinl;, and hadn't been (|»ilo stonily on ins le"S or he woold have brought it sooner. This .letter was from Geoffrey llaigh, saying that Margaret was then his wile. "My sister vowed if it were ever in her power she would lie revenged on him. and Matilda echoed her words, but I remained silent. "IVivmlier 7, ISSa.-The night of Margaret's wedding 1 was very rustics; iliinkim; aboul her. when suddenly I mil iced a red lighl, and getling' out of bed, I saw it came from the side of the church nearest the vicarage. Putting on some clothes I was about to waken my sisters, when ] remembered that the register of nie.rringes was kept in the church, and T reflected that if it was destroyed it might, be awkward for Margaret to prove her marriage yso williout disturbing' them I crept downstairs, and out of the house. 1 made my way to the church, and 1 conlrived by mounting on an old tombstone, to climb through the window after breaking the glass. The registers were kept in a drawer that was not locked. T turned to the page where OcolTrey llaigh and Margaret's names were inscribed, and tearing the leaf out of the book, I managed, by dragging a table under a window, to climb through. I. tried to jump down, but by sonic means I fell forward, and I suppose my head must have struck against a stone, as I lost all consciousness.

"When I opened my eyes nonrly a month had passed. The church wns in ruins, and the vicarage burned to the ground. The shock had killed the vicar's wife, and the vicar had gone on a journey to recruit his health.

"I 'learned that I" had'been suffering from concussion of the brain, that my sisters who had boon dlsturned by the glare of the fire, had found me and carried me home on a piece of board, rather than lot anyone know I had been in tho church, lest I should bo accused of setting lire to it. "I asked about the leaf out of the register; and my sisters laughed, saying that I must bo dreaming. They know nothing about any register, "August 30, ISSW.-To-day Geoffrey Haigh has been. Ho told us that Margaret was dead,, and he wanted my sister to help him prove his marriage, as his wife lmd lost her marriage-lines. For the sake of his child ho wanted to have proof that such a marriage had taken place and as both tho vicar and sexton were (lead, and the pew-opener who had been one of the witnesses, had gone abroad, there was a difliculty. "My sister was very• bitter, saying she iliil not believe they had been married, and she ordered him out of tho house.

"July 10, 8835.—GeolTrey Hnigh has been again with the same result. t did not pity him so much.this time I am beginning to see things in the same light as my sisters do. He ought not to have templed Margaret into a secret marriage. There is no doubt that the Haighs have been the bane of the Nevilles. November 8 1887.-To-day Isobel died. I think she had something on her mind; but whatever it was she did not tell me. "January 3, 1893.—Matilda .died this morning. I am the last of tho Nevilles, except Margaret's child ; but he is a Haigh, his father's child. "February 1, 18M.-Tn-day I was putting my poor sister's things in order. Matilda had never allowed me to touch anything belonging to Isobel while she lived, but now f must sort and arrange all. Among Isobel's things I have found a page out of the register. I knew it was no dream, and all these years it has been in my sister's keeping.

"Perhaps it was better so, Geoffrey Haigh deserved to suffer ,or persuading poor Margaret into a clandestine marriage. My sister was right. The Nevilles and the Haighs could not intermarry. I see things more clearly to-day than I did years ago.

"October, 1897.-A strange man-I am almost sure ho was a detectivehas been trying to find out if my niece Margaret was legally married to Geoffrey Hnigh. I sent him away no wiser than he came. It is a pity for her son,.but the Scriptures say, "The sins of the fathers must be visited on the children.' and GeolTrey Haigh took her to wife in face of our refusal to sanction the marriage, thus adding to the wrong his father had done lo mine.

"Strange that my. sympathies should go willi them years ago T'odav I condemn them. "December 17. 1808.-A baby's hand has done what all else failed to do; it has opened m.v heart and cleared my vision. Margaret's little helpless descendant has won the victory, and ho shall retain his interitanco. Tho master of Hillcrest is a Nevfllo as woll as a Haigh, "I am sending this diary to tho girl widow of Mark Haigh, and God grant sho may defeat the lies of that woman Burton, who Is selling her soul for gold, But why should I sit in judgment on her? I, too have been doing my best to wrong tho innocent, and my prayer should bo, 'God be merciful to me, a sinner, There shall be no more mistakes; the leaf out of the register shall be sent with this diary.

"This is the last entry. ' "Dorothea Nevillo." CHAPTER XXIII. JENNY'S BOY.

When Lottie laid the diary down, she took up tho parchment envelope, and broke tho seal.; then she drew out a faded pieco of paper, and ono glance was enough to show her that it was tho leaf out of the register. There were the entries of one or two other marriages, and below them was entered tho marriage of Geoffrey Haigh and Margaret Neville. "It is all right, Cousin Sarah. Edmund Haigh cannot rob my boy now." • Miss Rhodes put on her spectacles, and having .read the extract from the register, she expressed her satisfac- * "Poor Miss Neville. • She was too good for the part she played, but her sisters wore proud ovorboaring women,"- said Lottie. "My dear, they are dead. We won t speak ovll of them," said Miss Rhodes, with unusual gentleness, The fact was tho good lady was so delighted at the turn affairs bad taken that she mid tow atawt wvw to* grwt<

!.. enemy. nml Hint wns : Kdmiind' lliiiirli, whose conduct• sho had bitterly'resented.

"You nr« right, cousin Sarah, nml, ut lull tbi! Iruili, 1, feel so happy,

now that r know that my boy will not lose his inheritance,' tlmt it almost seems like treason to Mark. Of course, I miss him ns much ns.ovcr, but our boy's future is safe." "My dear, if Mark knows what Is •going on here, lie will sympathize with your gladness,said Miss Rhodes. "Shall wo go and see Miss Neville?" sluv ndtlctl.

"Yes, sho Ims done mo a groat service, hut I am sorry for her. That, diary -seems to tell the tale of a rcprossed life. I can imagine that sho has been full of . generous Impulses, a leal loving woman; but she allowed her sisters to rule her life too much

and finally sho grew like them." replied Lottio, "It Is a singular thing that Benjamin Haigh's son should havo married a Nevillo. You won't know old Sammy Smethurst, tho veteran of Lumsdeh. He's over a hundred years old, and ho can well remember tho time when he was a boy, and the, Nevilles lived at Tlillcrest. It.must have been this Miss Neville's father whom h'c describes as' a gentleman to mako the money fly—ono who never work;ed for a penny, but could spend like a lord. I'Yoln what I have heard him say, I believe they lived at an 'ex-

travagant rnto to the very day lien jumin Hnigh took possession of Ilillcrest," answered Miss Rhodes, "I shall call and see Miss Novillo

in the morning, and I think I had better write and tell uncle whak I have learned," said Lottio; and after locking the diary and pago out of the register in a box, sho sat down and wrote to Dr. Rhodes. Tho next morning was bright and sunny, and soon after breakfast Lot-

Ie set off to walk to the I'oplars to

mil ami see Miss Nevillo. On arriving there Susan showed

her at once into the drawing room, whero Miss Neville was seated, busy

knitting: but at the sight of Lottie she put her work down and rose slowly to greet her. "Have you come in anger?" she asked as the girl advanced. "I have come. to thank you for what, you have (lone. No one can take the estate'from m,v hoy now." Miss Neville sank back in her chair and Lottie saw that the strain, of the last, day or two had told upon her, "I'm a proud woman, but I should like to ask yonr forgiveness.. It wasn't until I saw you in your loneliness, willi your child's inheritance

in-peril, that I realized what I was

doing." "Don't, trouble about it. Wo all

rnako mistakes, and you have atoned for any wrong you did," said Lottie, "I read that diary before I sent it to you, and I asked myself why I did not tell Godfrey Haigh that I had witnessed the wedding, Then, looking back, I saw how my sister Isobel had dominated me. I nn'i not a weal; woman, but I know Ih'nt I dreaded (lie awful paroxysms of rage into which apy opposition would throw her. As I yielded to her will, I grew more like her in character, but I have never felt happy since I found that pngo out of Iho register, and I had it halfformed idea of. having it sent to the master of Hillcrest at my death. Of course, I did not know that any one was trying to steal your child's inheritance from _l|im, »or did I know your husband was dead. By some chance a paper which contained an account of your marriage fell into my hands, and that is the last I heard of the Haiglis, until Providence sent you here and gave me a chance of righting a wrong," said Miss Neville. "Do you think you will be strong enough .to give evidence at the trial and state that you witnessed the marriage ?" asked Lottie.

Miss Neville shook her head. "No, I am too old to bear the excitement. Your lawyer and a magistrate will, in the presence of wit-

nesses, have to take down my statement, then I can sign it, and after it is witnessed, you need not fear any

dispute," replied Miss Neville. "I can never thank you enough for what you have done. My child is all I have to live for, and it was very hard to see his prospects blighted," said Lottie.

"My dcai', I will pray God that life may brighten for you," said the old lady; then, stooping, she pressed a tremulous kiss 011 the girl's brow, and in another minute they parted, Lottie going through the churchyard and on to the high road. A little below the vicarage on the other side of the road stood an old farmhouse, with a garden full of ever greens and Christmas roses. Lottie had noticed it on her way to the Poplars, and was looking at it. when the sound of wheels caused her to turn round, and she saw a waggonette" with a pair of horses advancing nt a rapid rate. That they were being carelessly driven was plain to see as the gentleman who was driving them was giving more than half his attention to the occupants of tho carriage Suddenly, when they were close at hand, Lottie saw that a little child was playing in the road, right in the path of the conveyance, and she realized that in another instant he would be trampled under the horses' feet. Without a moment's hesitation she sprang forward and caught the child at the same time uttering a. warning cry, and the driver pulled up, just as she dragged the child away. "By jove, it's been a near shave!" exclaimed the gentleman who was driving "I hope you're not hurt?" he said, looking admiringly at Lottie. "No, but you might have killed the child;" and there was indignation in her tone,

By this time a little old woman had come out of the farmhouse on the opposite side of the road." "Is ho hurt, ma'am?"- she said, loking at Lottie, who was still holding the child, a sturdy boy of three years, in her arms, and trying to sooth his cries.

"No; I think he is only frightened" she replied. "More frightened than hurt, Dame Burton," said the gentleman, who was evidently relived to find that the child was not injured. "No thanks to you, squire. You're the most reckless driver in the parish and but for this young lady ho would have been dead, and you'd have had to answer to a coroner's jury for what you'd done," she said, sharply. "Tut, tut, my good woman," said the squire, impatiently; then raising his lint to Lottie, he drove on.

"There, now, lovey. Uan you walk? said the old woman, patting the child's head.

Between Loltie's persuasions and his granny's, and holding their hands firmly he was induced to. toddle across the road and into tho fnrmhouso "He's tired out with tho fright and crying. I should put him to bed if I were you," said Lottie. "Yea, ma'am, I'll lay him on tha couch, Ho always naps there in tha daytime," said tho old woman; and in a few minutes ho was fast asleep. Then Lottie'rose from the rockingchair in which she had been, seated, saying she must go, "Won't you tell mo your name, ma'am? I saw it all, but I could'nt get out In time. If It hadn't been for you he'd have been a corpse .now, and my Jcitiiy, the only Iftss I evet' had, would have been hear)-broken as he's her only child, and he's tho apple of her eye," said tile old dame. "I can s.vmpathizo with her, as I havo a littlo boy," said Lottie. The woman looked curiously at her as she said:

"You don't live hereabouts, ma'am I suppose you're staying in Seacliff?" "Yes, we've como for a short time" and Lottie moved towards the door.

,"You haven't told mo your name, ma'am, and my Jenny will want to know who has done her such a service."- .

"I was glad to do It. I am Mrs. Hark Haigh," Lottie answered. "Good Heaven!" and tho woman looked aa if she had jrcen a ghost; then she controlled. herself with a.strong effort as she said; "Are you Mrs. Mark Haigh,, of Hillcrest, Lumsden?" •

"Yes, why do you ask?" said Lot tin, surprised at the / woman's manner,

"Did you ever hear the name of Burton?"- asked the ol'd damo; and Eottle saw that she as very much excited, and at the same time it (lashed across her that tho gentleman liatl called tho old woman Burton, And she asked herself if this could ho tin womoa win? Y# M to awjg

nwnv her bov's inherltanco, . "Yes, T luvvo heard tho lmrno," sho sniil; coldly. . . . ~ ■ ■■' . "I see you know thatlm the purly who was' to give ovlclonco In favour o( Mr. Edmund ITaigh, but-when. you. saved that litllo lad you did yourself a irood turn. I'm fond of my grandson, Alexander, in a way. though Im is a trifle too much of a fine gentleman for mo, and I . wis willing to help him to put a bit of money into. I his own pockets, providing I had a sharo myself, but anyone who saves my Jenny from troublo, has the-first-claim on me. You <i;ce, Jonny was my child by my second husband, lie was cousin to my first one, so I dum t change my name. I was forty-five i when' Jenny was born. She's only J thirty-two now—« couplo of years older than Alexander; his father was my oldest child; and seeing that you have saved my Jenny's heart from breaking, why, I'll tell tho truth. "And what is the truth?" asked Lottio. „ . "Tho truth Is that Mr. GoolTroy Haigh and Miss Margaret Nevillo wero legally married. I havo tho marriage lines. Mrs. Haigh' left them behind at my mother's house wnen they had to go off in a hurry becauso Mr, Haigh's father was dead." "But what about tho letters .in which he says he cannot marry her while his father lives?" askedLottlo quietly. "Mr. Edmund Ilainh wrote them. You see, Alexander thought, as we had the marriago lines, you couldn't prove there'd boon a marriage, and it would all bo easy; but Mr, Edmund Tlaigh said ho'd havo to prove there, hadn't been one, and as lie wasn't go ing to be beaten, ho wrote those.lot-

"You won't let this thing go on? said Lottie. "No, ma'am. You never considered the risk you ran when you saved poor Jenny's child,, and you might both havo been trampled to death. Tho squire drives such spirited horses, and never looks where lie is going. I've spoken to him about it before. You see, my little farm is my own, so I daro speak my mind; and now I will give you something as will repay you for what you have done." As the old dame finished speaking, she left tho kitchen, and in a few minutes returned and placed an envelope in Lottie's hand. "It's in there," sho said. Lottio drew out a paper, and saw that it was a certificate of marriage between GeolTroy Haigh and Margaret Neville.

"I am glad you have given me this because it will simplify matters. All the same, we could have proved there had been a marriage, and you would, probably have got into trouble for swearing falsely," The old dame looked frightened; "Shall I get into trouble about tho letters 7" she asked ; and Lottio fancied that sho half regretted having given her the certificate. "T think the lawyers will manage it so Hint you will escape; but if the case lmd gone,on, it is very iikc-ly-you would have suffered. Why did you lend yourself to such a wicked scheme ?"

"Well, ma'am, it meant money and Alexander thought wo should be fools to let the chanco slip. I didn't tell Jenny about it. She wouldn't have heard o' it," "I wonder how an old woman like you can .care enough about money to make you do such a wicked thing, You live in comfort. What did you want the money for ?" said Lottie. "I wanted to make a gentleman of Jenny's' boy. I thought he should have a first-rate education." "The money got that way would have done him no good. Your little grandson would be happier to work for his living than with much riches', said Lottio. , "I suppose you're right, ma'am; but I've always been fond of gold, and as tho Scriptures say, 'The lovo of money is tho root of all evil.' And now, ma'am, I adviso you to put thoso papers in safe keeping as If either my grandson or Mr. Rupert Haigh suspect you'vo got it, they'll try .to steal It, and I expect them both down hero early next week. They wero going to prompt mo as to what I had to say if any one came asking questions," said Mrs. Burton. "It will be quite safe. And now good-bye, and thank you for the paper, I believe you will be happier in the end for having given it to me" said Lottie, who then left the house. "She may be right', but I'm losing a heap of money. All the same sho saved tho little lad, and ono good turn deserves another," mused the old dame. CHAPTER XXIV.

That afternoon Dr. Rhodes joined Lottie and Cousin Sarah at Seacliffo. He had got Lottie's letter containing tho newfe that Miss Neville had given her the page out of the register, and he had considered tho matter of such importance that ho had taken as early a train as ho could. He arrived at SeaclilTe in tho afternoon, and while he ate his luncheon, Lottie confided to him her morning's adventures and the result. "It's a rascally business, but we shall havo to hush the matter up for the sake of your boy. It won't do to have the name of Haigh dragged in the dust, and if the truth got known it would mean imprisonment for a good long term for Edmund Haigh," said Dr. Rhodes. "He deserves it," replied Cousin Sarah,

"He will have to go free because of the name ho bears, said tho doctor ; and Lottie nodded her head in approval. ,

For a moment there.'was silence, then her uncle said :

"I think it will be better for you to return with me to Hillcrcst tomorrow, Saturday ; then on Monday I can see the lawyers, and let Edmund Haigh know that his little game is played out."

"I was going to ask you to take mo homo. To tell the truth -1 am afraid to stay here, lest any harm should .happen to baby if Edmund gets to know that his plans are defeated. You see there is only my boy's 'life between him and the estate," said Lottie. "You are'lotting your fears carry you too far, my dear. Edmqnd is a rogue, but I hope he would .never do anything worse than he has done," said the doctor. "He's a bad man and not to be trusted," said Miss Rhodes emphatically, 1

The result o( this conversation was tho departure of the whole party from ScacliiTc llio next morning, and later in the day Dr. Rhodes saw Mr. Lowe, their lawyer, and it was arranged that Edmund llaigh and his lawyer should be asked to meet tho doctor at tho latter's solicitor's,

The mcoting took place oh the Monday, and Edmund Haigh and the lawyer's clork, Alexander Burton, who had come with his principal, were confounded when they found that their conspiracy had been discovered. Their solicitor hastened to explain to Dr, Rhodes that they believed it was a bona-fido case when lie took it up, and the clerk was told that ho need never enter their office again. As for Edmund Haigh ho, slunk home like a beaten cur, and when Grace Inquired what was the matter he told her curtly that tho marriage certlilcato had been found, and there w&s no hope of him being Haigh of Hlllcrest.

"I'm very glad. I always knew it was a legal marriage," she said, quickly; then noticing the scowl on her husband's • face, she continued; "But it won't matter so much to yomnow. Read that;" , and Grace handed him a letter. "It came after you had gono out this morning she added. Edmund took the letter sullenly. He was vexed with himself and all the world, but his face brightened a little as he road :

"Madam,-It is. my pleasant duty to inform you that under the will of your great aunt, Miss Middleham, of Mlddleham Abbey, you inherit the Middleham. estate, which has a revenue of three'thousand a year, also the abbey, furniture, plate, and carriages; horses,' 46.; -in fact with the exception of a fow legacies, you are 'the sole legatee, I shall. be pleased to hear from you, and my services are entirely at your disposal,-Yours truly, •"Thomas Furnlval, "SollettoHO the Bocoased, I .' •"I fiW

Ib<lv," snid Edmund looking at hit 1 wife with Increased respect now thai sho; was a woman of propqrly. : haven! t seen :hor; for ten years. • She was -my father's aunt; her. younger - sister was ;his mother. 1 am called after my great aunt, butl novor' > thought sho would leavo mo anything." . ■< ' "It's a.good thing sho has done so,' I think I'll "run over to-inorrow and look aftor your interests." • "But It's so near Christmas, Edmund." "Wlmt docs that matter Ornoo. I toll you it's imporativo thnt somo one should' look after yoilr interesls, sb I'll run over, and as soon as matters can bo arranged, wo will leave here, I hate tho place, I'll sell the mill and never sot foot in Lumsdon again," ho said, energetically. "But thoro a'ro tho. boys to consider. It would do for them in the future, and you could put it in chargo of a manager," said Grace. .'-'I shall soli it. I' hato Lumsdon, arid you needn't say another word about it," replied her husband, and Grace hold her peace. Whilo this conversation was going on at the Nook. Dr'Rhodes was on his way to the Black Bull, his assistant having told him that, Mary Ann Dyson was .dangerously ill with pneumonia, She had not sent for tho doctor until tho night before, and, as ho was out In the country attending a patient, his assistant had gone. But it was a bad caso; Mary Ann's friends had been lato in calling for help. Hoaring this Dr, Rhodes proceeded . there as soon as he returned from •Hollierflold, wherb the interview with Edn\und Haigh had taken place. As tho carriage stopped at the Inn door, Jack Dyson appeared, and his manner was rather sheepish as ho 1 told tho doctor that Mary Ann was very ill.

■if you'll lead tho i way to her room I shall be able to judge for myself." said the doctor, curtly. Ho couldn't forget how this man had treated Annis. Jack led tho way aud In another moment the doctor entered a room where Mary Ann lay on the bed, and an old.friend of her mother's sat by the bedside. One glance was enough to tell the doctor that it was a serious case, and his faco was very

grave as he asked a few questions. "I'm not going to die, I suppose?"

panted tho girl fixing hoi' largo

dark eyes on him. *. "I hope not," lie answered, still speaking very gravely. "You're enough to frighten a body doctor; but I'm not going tp die. I tell you ' that. I've something to hold on for—the mistress of a public

in my own right," sho said, with an

effort. The words had been spoken with great difficulty and many a pause, and with a feeling of pity the doctor turned away, beckoning the woman who was In attendance to follow him "I shall send her something at once; but you'd better let her understand 'thore is great danger—that -she may not recover," be said. "I daren't doctor. Iter whole heart and soul are wrapped up in what she's got." "She may have to leave it all, and you must give'her a hint. Then, if sho doesn't improve you must speak plainer;" and with these words the doctor went downstairs, and the woman returned to tho bed-room.

That evening when Dr. Rhodes had just finished his dinner he was told that a messenger had just come to ask, if lie would go at once to the

Black Bull. He" had intended calling to see Mary Ann later in the evening but at this summons ho put on his overcoat and strode over in the direction of the inn.

"She's mortal bad," said the servant girl as ho entered. Without a word the doctor ascended tho stairs, and opening the door, ho entered tho bed room, where two women wore now in attendance, and Jack Dyson looking considerably upset, stood at the foot of tho bed. "So' you've come," gasped Mary Ann, as Dr. Rhodes came forward. "You've have to get me well," she said In a toiio that was scarcely audible.

"•Hush,' my poor girl; I'll do my best but you aro in God's hands," lie said, reverently. Then ho poured out a draught which he had brought and gave it her to drink, and she became a little easier.

"Doctor, I', not going to die; but I'll have a lawyer to tie my money up. Jack shall have the public if he puts nobody in my place; but I'm not going to lmve tlint Annis queen it here," she said, her voice dying away in a whisper. "Hush, my girl I Don't trouble about those things. Ask God to forgive your sins," said Dr. Rhodes. "So you think I'm going to die. Send for a lawyer, I say. Jack's not going to do as ho likes with mino. If you marry Annis I'll haunt"— There was a sudden gasp and Mary Ann went out of the world, leaving the sentence unfinished and Jack undisputed control over what she left behind her. For a moment there was absolute silence; then Dr. Rhodes said : "It's all over. May God have mercy on her I" and with these words he left tho 'room, and was soon on his way home. "A telegram for you, sir," said tho parlourmaid as he entered the house.

Taking it in .his hand tho doctor proceeded to the drawing room, where Miss Rhodes was busy as usual with her needle.

"How Is tho poor girl ?" she asked "Sho is dead," said the doctor, gravely, as ho toro the bull envelope open. Taking out the telegram, ho read: •

"To Dr. Rhodes, Lumsden.—l havo had a wonderful escape.. I landed hot' 9 to-day; am coming homo tomorrow. Break the kews.to LottieMark Haigh, London."

"As he read the doctor's face underwent a sudden transformation. Tho sadness that had been caused by Mary Ann's untimely death disappeared, and a brightness that had not been there since the foundering of the Ocean Queon illuminated it and caused Miss Rhodes to exclaim: ; "What is the matter ? I can soo it . is good nows."

"My dear Sarah, you are right, There is news of Mark, He—"

! "Has he been saved ?" exclaimed , that lady, | "Yes, and he's coming home tomorrow. Read the telegram," said the doctor, passing it to his cousin. | "Break . the news to Lottie! I don't suppose you'll go far before i sho finds out the truth, and it won't [ kill her; joy never harms any one. ! Bless tho child, to think it's all coming right, Edmund Ilaigh's base schemes defeated, and Mark restored from tho dead I" exclaimed Miss [ Rhodes jubilantly, I "Not quite that, Sarah," said her cousin with a smile. "And now I I think I will go to Hlllcrest;" and he : rang tho bell to order tho carriage. ! 'il'm going with you," said Sarah, : laying down her sewing. | "But Sarah, don't you think it j would startle Lottie to see you at ' this hour ? It's nearly ten o'clock." I" "It won't frighten her. I guess wo , lorik as happy as if we'd come In for i ft-million, of money, She'll know it's good news, and I'm going." ' i The doctor-made no further obiec- ! tion, and very soon lie and Miss [ Rhodes were driving rapidly towards [Hillcrcst. Lottie was in the drawing room ! trying to fix her attention on the ; book sho had in her hands; but her ; thoughts would wander to the last ■ year. Thero was only one' day beI foro Christmas, and she thought of I tho last happy Christmas Day when ! Mark had been with her. Just then | the .door opened, and Lottie uttered an exclamation of surprise as her uncle and Cousin entered the room. "We are late visitors," said her undo advancing,. and taking his stand on the hearth rug, "But very welcome; I was feeling Intolerably, lonely, Why,. Cousin Sarah, how absurdly happy you look!' 1 exclaimed Lottie, as ho caught sight of that lady's face, ,

"My dear I've a right to be happy, and so'have you. "Sf.ve heard, good news from a dear young friend of mine.'!;

"I'm glad to hear that, It's good to know someone Is happy, but f fttn afraid It will be a long timer before I; shall be even contented, 1 ' replied Lottie, .v.;. V:;' "Sometlwca the unwpeoted happens, It Is quite: possible yon m&y j#.

heard my nMvs," sald'her uncle. I Lottio looked startled.« • ; I "You . don't mean-'.Hint—thai' it's j possible Mark innv bo living,'-' said ! Lottie wllh a .irusp. I "Quite possible, -dear, In fact 11 know that lie is," replied JJr. Tthodos j ■ Lottie sprang tov her foot; and i grasping Ills arm, said : - .> i "You. havo something to toll me."" 1 "Of course ho has.' That's why we j came. Mark's allvp ' and : coming I home," interposed Cousin Sarah,, quickly. • , „ ! "Allvol Undo tell mo there's no'mistake.?";said Lottie; gripping his, arm tighter, ' : , „ •; : "No, child, it's quito true. See,, tiiis is the telegram I had from him" said'tho doctor; but the paper fluttered from her hand, her grasp on his arm relaxed, and Lottio would have fallen/to the ground if her uncle had not caught her; and while he laid her on tho couch, Miss Rhodes rang for brandy. Very soon Lottio opened her eyes, and for a moment sho did not realise what had hanpencd ; then memory returned, and sho asked her uncle to read her the telegram. "To think that Mark is coming homo I It seems almost too good to bo true,"-she said with such a look of happiness. In her faco ns they hivd hot soon since tho arrival of tii". Ocean Queen was delayed. "I daresay he'll bo something of scarecrow and want well nursing, said the doctor, with a smile. Lottio laughed. "Whatever he is like lie. w : ll. bo Mark ; and after all, wo shall hav>: r. happy Christmas together," sho sa d. Soon after this the doctor and h'. f sister. depaVted, tho former teltin:; the buttler tho good news, so that before tho household rc'ircd it was known that tho master w&s alive, and would be homo the next day-a fact that caused much re-, joicing, Lottie was so happy, that in tho exuberance of her joy, .iho , whispered the good news to htr little son, who winked his eyes in i sleepy fashion, and no doubt pro- ■ nounced his mother a very foolist i young pcrspn. ' , (1507.) ; ' (To be Continued.)