A THORNT IN HER HEART.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XVI, Issue 5358, 18 January 1879, Page 3

A THORN T IN HER HEART.

BY BERTHA M. CLAY. | Authoress of 44 A Bitter AtODoment," 44 A Nameless Sin," 44 Xiovo Works Wonders,'' Ac.

CHAPTER 111. LOXGING FOR LOVE. "Dead!" Lady Hilda Dunhaven repeated the word with more of wonder than sorrow. It was a new word to her. She had seen little enough of life, but she had seen even less of death; she hardly kuew what it meant. She had never seen death ; she bad but a faint notion of what it meaut. She said the word over and over again to herself as she went up the great staircase ; it was but fancy, yet it seemed to her as though from every corner she heard the whisper of that one word—"dead." What was death like, she wondered, as, white, coid, and shuddering, she hastened to the room Miss Darwin called her own. For once in her life that lady was roused from her apathy, and the sight of her emotion was almost more wonderful thau the fact of the death. Miss Darwin's face was pale, her eyes dim with tears, her voice broken with emotion. " Your father is dead, my dear," she cried, taking the girl's passive hauds in her own, and Lady Hilda repeated the word " dead." " Poor child ! you do not seem to understand it." 1 ' No," she replied, " X do not understand it. 1 have uever seen death. How was it ? —tell me, Miss Darwin ?" She stood before her calm and still, her young face white with fear and wonder, but no realisation of what had happened. "There is so little to tell, yet it is all so dreadful ; the poor, dear earl must have been dead when we went, Hilda—only think of ft. He took luncheon at usual a"t one o'clock, aud Stephen left him reading, with a bottle of claret just opened; he was the same as usual; he told Stephen that he must not be disturbed, he had some writiug to do. At seven o'clock Stephen went to speak to him, and found him dead in his chair—not only dead but cold." She stopped abruptly, aud Lady Hilda repeated the word in tones of wonder. "Cold—d*ad and cold—poor papa 1" "He must have. been dead for some hours," continued Miss Darwin ; " of course, I seut Stephen at once for a doctor, but all the doctors on earth conld do him no good." The wondering eyes looked fixed at her. "Why did he die?" she asked, slowly. " What killed him ?" Her lips were white and stiff, her voice sounded strangely in its unnatural calm. "He died of heart-disease, my dear; Dr. Hudson says that he has consulted hiui several times about it; everything has been done for him. You would like to see him, of course ?" " See him—he is dead you say." "Certainly he is dead; but you would like to look at him, would you not ?" " I do nnt know—l should be frightened, 1 think, Miss Darwin," she answered. "Just as you like, my dear. You know, of course, what a great difference this will make in your life. I have sent for Lady Darel and Mr. Leonard—Lord Dunhaven he will be now." Lady Hilda looked at her with wonderiug eyes. "Lady Darel! Who is she? Who is Lord Dunhaven? I do not understand in the L ast." Miss Darwin sighed. "Heaven forbid," she said, "that I should say one evil word of the poor dead eail—but he might have trusted you a little more, his own child. He forbade me ever to talk to you about family affairs." ".He did not love me," said the girl, sadly. " No, he did not—he wanted a son, and it seemed as though he could not forgive you for coming in the place of a son. A quiver of pain passed over the girlish face. MUs Darwin continned : "Mr. Leonard Darel is the late earl's noxt-of-kin and heir; ho succeeds to the title and estates. He will be the thirteenth h.arl of Dunhaven ; Havendale Park, Fairoaks and this house all go to him—he takes your father's place." " My father's place !" murmured the girl, sadly ; " who is Lady Darel ?" Miss Darwin looked up with a little more animation. " Lady Darel is the young earl's mother, she replied ; "and I have heard that she is considered one of the proudest women in England." '•Why should you send for her?" asked Lady Hilda. " What shall we do with a proud lady here ?" " My dear I had no choice in the matter," said Mis 3 Darwin —" these are your nearest relations." " My nearest relations I yet I have never seen them, and they have never, perhaps, even h<ard cf mo." Miss Darwin shook her head wisely. " Ah, my dear, you have been of more consequence to the world than all the world has been to jou. Your life will all be changed now.'' " Why?" asked Lady Hilda, suddenly. Miss Darwin smiled. " You do not know that you will have : your mothers fortune," she said ; " you I have never heard of it even ?" ' "No," replied the girl, calmly ; " no one has ever spokeu to me of my mother ; I did j not know that she had a fortune." | " She had a very large one, aud ib ia sure to be yours now," said Miss Darwin " Lady Darel will, of course, take you under her charge ; she will bring you out, you will take your proper place in the world now." "My proper place?'* said Lady Hilda. "Do you mean to tell me that liberty, fortune, pleasure, are all come through my lather's death? It is horrible even to think of. How shall I take my place in the world ? X know nothing, i can do nothing, f have had no training, no education." " You are not very complimentary to me, Lady Hilda ; 1 have done my beet." " It has been a very poor best," said the girl, sadly, " for I am quite ignorant." "It will not matter," was the answer; I "money is everything; if your mothers , fortune comes to you, you will bo more I sought after than the wisest and best edu-

' ated of women ; you will have money an ra'ik ; no one could desire more." Money and rank ! The words seem t mingle strangely with those other word: "dead and cold it was like some horribl jingling rhyme; she said them over and ove again. Neither she nor Miss Darwin thought c going to rest at stated intervals. Joa brought them strong tea, and there was great deal said about "keeping up," and no breaking down. They sat and watched through the long silent night. Miss Darwin talked inces santly, and her one subject was the larg fortune coming to Lady Hilda, aud all i would do for her. She explained to her tha nothing belonged to her, everything to th new earl, aud the girl's mind was bewilderec between the novelty of death and th< novelty of the coming fortune; she wai lost. "I may have money," she said to herself I shall prize money ; but if I had beer offered my choice, I would far rather have had love; love seems to me the mos' precious gift on earth." She fell asleep with all these ideas all ttruggling for pre-eminence in her mint —her father's death, the coming fortune and her one great longing for love. It was not strange on the next day to fine the gloomy house even more gloomy, witl the darkened windows and closed doors with the awful presence of the King o Terrors. Lady Hilda would fain have gonf to the sea, would fain have listened to whai tbe waves had to say about ber new life but Miss Darwin assured her that it musl not be done ; that if Lady Darel should com< and find her out, she would be seriously dis pleased, aud Lady Hilda was compelled t< yield. Another long, silent day passed, and or the morning of the next they came. Lad} Hilda was alone in her room ; she heard thf sounds that announced the arrival; sht heard the subdued voices, the hushed foot steps, and she waited in a fever of suspense, It seemed to her hours before Miss Durwir came for her ; then that self satisfied ladj looked as though she had been roußed fron her calm. "Come quickly, Lady Hilda," she said " Lady Darel has asked to see you, and w< must not keep her waiting." " What is she like ?" asked younj girl, eagerly. Miss Darwin raised her hands and eyes ii wonder. "Like no one 1 have ever seen. She is magnificent, but proud as a queen—proudei than the Queen of Sheba herself, and sc beautifully dressed." "I have never seen any one beautifullj dressed in all my life," said the young girl, with a sigh. Then holding Miss Darwin's hand tightly clasped in her own, she went to the large, bare, ill-furnished room, called, by courtesy, the drawing-room. At first her eyes were dazzled; she saw a tall, handsome woman, of queenly presence and fair, blonde beauty, Buperbly dressed, her white hands shining with jewels—a lady who looked up in haughty surprise as she entered, but neither moved nor addressed her. There were a few moments of awkward silence, then Miss Darwin said : " Your ladyßhip expressed a desire to see Lady Hilda—she is here." Then the arched eyebrows were raised, »nd the proud eyes rested in silent wonder. "Lady Hilda!" she repeated, in a tone surprise; "I beg pardon—l had no idea," ind the proud glance fell with significant neaning on the shabby dress and worn shoes. "Lady Hilda," she repeated, " pray excuse me ; I was so entirely unpre)ared for—for thiu kind of thing." She waited a few minutes before giving ler band to the trembling girl, then, bendiiug her head, she touched the pale face vish her lips. " I am very sorry for your trouble," she aid, " but really, excuse me, is it possible hat 1 am speaking to the late earl's laughter ?" The proud face said so plainly she could iot believe the shabby, untrained girl I cfore ier was a daughter of oue of the noblest ouses in England. Lady Hilda read the bought. " You are surprised to find me badly ressed, aud without any manners," she nd, calmly. "It is not my fault; lam an arl's daughter, it is true, but I have envied he fisher girls." "You speak freely," said her ladyship; ' that is not good manners. I must see bout getting you some decent dresses at nee. What could the earl have been thinkjg about?" Her face flushed suddenly as ttiey heard he sound of footsteps. " That is my son," she said, " Lord Dunaven." Her eyes added plainly, " What rill he thiuk of you t" The door opened, and a young man ntered the room. Despite her fears and imidity, Lady Hilda looked at him with ntereet—she had seen so few young people a her life. CHAPTER IV. " MEN DIE AS TiIEY LIVED." Half an hour had elapsed since Lady tilda first stood trembling before the roudest woman in England. In a few urried words she had introduced the new iord Dunhaven to the late earl's daughter, [e had looked at her with eyes so utterly idiffereut he had not even seen her ; he did ot give two thoughts to her—a schoolgirl, ■ho had just lost her father—a tall, slender, nformed girl. He noted the coarse, illttiDg dress, and the worn shoes ; he noted le general want of elegance, and uo interest woke in his heart for her—he merely owed. "I am sorry for your loss," he said, in hat he considered a proper and fitting tone [ voice ; then turning to his lady mother, e made some inquiries about business, and irgot even the existence of Lady Hilda. He was the first young gentleman she had sen—his was almost the first young face o a liich her eyes had rested, and it delighted er. She wished he would address he r J»in, but he had no thought of doing so— le old-fashioned chair on which he looked ith such contempt were more to him than .le slender, unformed schoolgirl in the iabby dress. The only emotion that passed through his liml was one of wouder that such a girl liould be Lady Hilda Dunhaven. Then the (loot had closed behind him gain, aud the strange, sudden vision of outli bad vanished. Lady Darel turned to lie youug girl. " I am sorry to find myßelf compelled to lake the observation," she said ; " but have ou no other dress, no better shoes ? lam shamed that my son should have seen you j this unseemly guise." The fair face flushed hotly, the pride of he whole race of the Dunhavens seemed to rake in her heart as it never awoke before. " I am sorry," she said, " but 1 canuot elp it. I had neither dresses nor money." Lady Darel turned to Miss Darwin ugrily. "It seems to me," she said "that you night have seen to this. You have had the are of Lady Hilda, such care as it had been." Miss Darwin was not one of those who >ear blame patiently. She told how she lad over aud over again asked for money, ur clothes, for books, for the most common lecesaarlua, aud had always been refused. "The earl must have been mad,"said Lady )arel. " What did he think his daughter t'ould belike '! I have no idea what is to »e done. 1 expected, of course, a young ady like other young ladies--not a girl itterly without culture and education." "I have educated her myself," she said, lefiantly, " and no Dunhaven could be quite lucultured." Lady Darcel looked positively relieved. ilio was pleased to hear Miss Darwin assert lerself. She srnikd more pleasantly. " We must do the best we can," she said. 1 1 will order mourning for you at once, and ve must see what can be done afterward. I vill see you again this evening. Miss Darvin, perhaps you could do some little toward rnttiug Lady Hilda's hair in order. 1 am luite ashamed of that." For the long, rippling hair would not brush mt straight or submit to be twisted in any iroper form, it always rebelled and would :url in its own way. Quito crest-fallen and luiniliuted Lady Hilda and Miss Darwin reired from the imperial presence of the jroudest woman iu England. " Aui I so bad as that ?" cried Lady Hilda, passionately, "am I so bad as she thinks— ihabby aud careless. She looks at me as •hough I came from another world. It is of 10 use, I may as well stay here until I die, Eor 1 shall never be like Lady Darel." Miss Darwiu was at a loss what to say ; ihe kuew that she had in some measure negectcd the girl, but then she comforted herself by saying that it would have been quite useless for her to have done anything olse. I'he only comfort she could give Lady Hilda was talking to her about her mother's fortune. All would be well when she had that, no one would see anything amiss in ber when they knew she was Lady Hilda Dunhaven, the heiress. So the young girl

comforted herself, but her mind was all like chaos, no clear thoughts came to it—her father was dead, all her life was to change. She had Been a face she could not forget. She was to be a great heiress. Lady Darel looked on her with contempt—all these new ideas flitted through her miad y not one was clear ; they seemed to be mixed altogether in the most curious fashion, and she said to hersel tbat they would never be clear until once more she could ait and watch the rest* less sea. Of course it would be highly improper if any one found her out, but in the evening Lady Darel would be engaged, Miss Darwin would not misß her—then she could g°£he raited until evening, then stole away to the only spot on earth where she felt at home. The face of the restless sea was to j ber as the face of an old and dear friend. I The wares saog strauge rhymes to her. "You are a great tieiress. your father i? dead; your life is all changed; tbe great lady treats you with contempt. You have seen a nice face—a face you like," they re peated over and over again without intermission ; yet it comforted her. She could think more clearly by the sound of the heaving, restless sea. She sat there until the confusion had grown clear, until she waß mistress of her own thoughts, then she weut home. But as she was hurrying over the sands she met the young earl face to face, and stood still with a sudden, frightened cry. But for the cry, in all probability, he would not have noticed her, as it was he stood still and looked at her. " You will not tell that you have met me," she said; " I thought no one would know." He laughed carelessly. *' I might be more inter ested in the matter if I knew who you were," he said. "Do you not know me," she asked, and the thought crossed her mind that she had only seen hiin once. Yet &he should have known him anywhere and in any place. " No, I do not indeed," he replied; " ought I to know you ?" "lam Lady Hilda Dunhaven," she anBwered, and in one moment his manner completely changed ; the smiliog ind fierence became constraint; he raised his hat and bowed deferentially to her. "I beg your pardon," he said, tho yery tone of his voice had changed; "but why are you out here and alone ?" " You will tell," she replied, hurriedly, "Lady Darel would be cross; I would not like her to know." "I will not tell, as you ask me not." waa the grave reply, " but J should very" much like to know what brought you here. If you will trust me." He was thinking merely of the fair repute cf tbe Dunhavens, and that it would not be I well for a daughter of the house to be seen out at night. She thought his question was a sign of great personal iuterest in herI self. | I have been to the sea," she replied, 1 " whenever I feel very unhappy Igo there ; some people have living friends, the only friend I have is the sea." He laughed. To him who counted his friends by the dozen, the idea of finding a friend in the sea was absurd, and his laughter grated on the ars of the desolate girl. " You do not understand me," she said, quietly ; "But you will not betray me." "If you have said you met a friend by the sea, it would have been more intelligible, certainly ; as for betraying you, I hope I am a gentleman." duddenly her words recurred to him. " Why are you friendless?" he asked. "To answer that question would be to tell you the story of my life," she replied, " and that would not interest you." Yet, even as she uttered the words, a half wish formed in her mind that he would take some interest; that she would like him to bend his handsome head and tell her he cared enough about her to be pleased to hear something of her; but he, knowing that what she said was most perfectly true, walked on by her side without another word. It was so uew and novel for her to wait with any one. It was the first time in her life that she had ever spoken to a young geutleman, and the haudsome face pleased her; yet it was not a very pleasant walk; the sky had grown quite dark; there was not a gleam of light on the sand, nothing disturbed the wild, cheerless waste. They came in sight of the large, gleomy, desolate house at last, and Lady Hilda shuddered as she saw it. "You do not like Hurst Sea," he said, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. . " 1 like it as much as any one ever cares ; about the grave they are buried in," she answered ; aud the only thought her words gave him was that the earl's young daughter had a queer taste for melodrama. Another few minutes on the yellow sands, a silent walkacro9s the greensward, and they stood by the little side-door from which Lady Hilda generally went; then he raised hi-, hat and stood before her with careless grace aud negligence. Had she been a young queen, he could not have treated her with greater respect, or with groater distance. She looked in hia handsome face, longing that he should speak to her agaiu—that he would talk to her; almost inclined to cry out to him that she had never seen any one young like himself—that she was more lonely than any other creature living; yet, child as she was, pride stopped the words on her lips. He bowed to her. " Let me advise you, " he said, "not to do this kind of thing again ; it is very romantic, hut very unsafe." She looked at him with gleaming eyes. "Should you know me now," she asked, 44 if you met mc again ?" " No," he answered. "It is dark ; I cannot see your face. Now, good-night, my little-kinswoman." "Stay one moment," she said. "You are Lord Dunhaven now, in my father's place, are you not ?" " Yes," he answered, with a slight tinge of impatience. " Did you love my father?" she continued. "I have only seen him twice," was the quick reply, "aud he gave me no cause to love him." ** She raised her young face with its wonder of many thoughts. "It seems strange," she said: "he lies dead, and no one seem* to care for him. Yon have his title ; all that belong to him goes to others ; yet no oue seems to give him one thought of regret. Is it so always ?—does no one ever love or sorrow for the dead V " You ask me such strange questions," he replied, "as a rule, men die as they lived. If they have won love, or deserve it, it follows them in death." A cloud fell over tho girlish face. " Then, did my father fail to win or deserve it ?" she asked ; but he turned away with an impatient gesture. "I cannot answer your question. Goodnight, Lady Hilda." To himself he said that she was tiresome, and he would avoid her carefully during the rest of his visit. [To I>Q continued.]