LOST—A PEARLE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XVIII, Issue 6261, 10 December 1881, Page 3

LOST—A PEARLE.

BY MRS. OEOJiOESIIKLDON. Autbo- of "Sibvl's Influence," "The Forsaken Uride," " Brownie's Triumph," &e. CHAPTER XXXVIII. TIMELY lIELI , . I'KAKI.F. appeared trnnt.ly surprised upoi receiving Lady Fennelsca's message, and ai instinctive fc.r oppressed her that something OTS wrong, although hi-1- worst surmises dii'l not approach anything so tcrriMe as thr ordeal through which she was about to pass. Hit eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed "with excitement, and when she entered the parlour, Adison Cheethnin caught his breath on beholding the vision of lovT-li-uess and inwardly vowed that he would li:'.ve her, no matter who or what opposed. IVarle did not see him when siie first entered the rurim, but she saw at r.nce that something had happened to dis!ur'> her iadvnliip's serenitv exceedingly. With tlie colour rising higher in her checks;, she. approached h.;r and ask, ,1 - •• l)i,l you send forme. Lady IVnnclsea V " ..^V ••Ves, I "did." she answered, with" som,' asperity, for 1 Varle's loveliness only served to make her mure aiwy ;unl pitiless. "I sent for you that .' iniLrht aseertain whether you an: acquainted with this gentleman or not," and she waved her hand pompously toward the spot where her visitor sit, hungrily devouring with hio eyes the beauty of tiie unconscious girl. With a low exclamation of surprise, not unmixed with fear, L'earle turned and confronted him. The next instant her face had blanched to the whiteness of paper, the old hunted look returned to her eyes, and she sank strengthless upon a chair. '•11... you know this gentleman?" Lady l"e:i:ie'.sea asked ncuiii, while anger and ma'.i v -lowed in tiie oji-s tixed s>, sternly and iv:r.-,r^ilessly upon the fair, sweet, but ho;r -r-.--.r":'.u:i face. IY.irle was t°o overconv to reply, and nil■•-.■!>• I,owed her head in token of assent. '•l'.ksire to be answered when I ask a qi:,:>!;-,;i." nor ladyship said, with tightly compressed lips. " Do you know this—this ni::uV" Si:e longed to say "this person," but something in those peculiar eyes opposite prevented her. '■ Yes, madam," came weakly from Pearle's pale lips. ■ - 0h '. you do, do you? Won't you please repeat his name to me ? I fear 1 do not know how it should be pronounced," returned the vindictive woman, with a scornful glance at the card she still held in her hand. The poor giri glanced appallingly into her employer's face. She saw that she knew all; but there was no mercy depicted there. ••His name," her ladyship repeated, peremptorilv. \ "I refuse to utter it," IY.-u-k- answered, I proudly, though she shuddered involuntarily. ••That is respectful, surely." was tiie sarcastic retort. "Allow me to ask what relationship he bears to jou." •• Madam, he is nothing to me," and the grey eyes began to glow with a dangerous ii^lit—a. light, something like that "which Aison Cheetham had seen in them on the morning of their niatriage. alter their return from tiie church. •■You may as well own to the truth," Lady Fennelsea said, sternly: "your agitation betrays more than you are aware, of. perhaps. 'This man cl.-iirns to be your husband, and now i cminand you to tell me truly whether your name is really Mar.aiut Melfert. as y u have ied me to i eiievo, or Mrs. Adison'Cheet—(Jhe.-thaui, as he states." Acain IVarl,- shuddered—the name pirticularly as she had he.-itatii.L'iy and u'ingerlv pronoun jo-! it, had the niM.-t ~l>n..xious sound to her. never could—she never would answer to it. No mural obligation i.ound her to the man. and she then and there resolved to throw o!i' the yoke that was so -jailing to her. She knew that he would persecute' her as long as he had any legal right to call her his wife, and .-he determined to appeal at once to the courts for a dei-n-e of separation. She knew that the Kn-li-h laws were very strict regarding such matters, and she had no hope of ever being redly free, so that happiness could come again tn her—her conscience -would not. in" faer, allow her to could a: k-att sock protection from further ]"v.-vseeutif".i. and she would do it and bear the scand.il, rather than sutler as she was now suti'ernig. Lady Fennelsea "s cold glance marked her drooping lids, her pale face, and quivering lips as she sat thinking this, and what she considered the guitly shrinking of the girl for having been detected in her deception, only hardened her the more. " You arc- detaining mo—l await your rcplv. Miss— Mrs.—,' : and she stopped as if she really did not know how to address her. Her sarcastic tones Loaded l'earle to the verge of desperation. .">he arose and confronted tlie stern-visaged woman. There was now no shadow of fear on the lovely face, no sign of shrinking in her manner, but, instead, an air of resolution and scorn that made her ladyship wonder at and almost quail before her. ''.Madam." she began, with something of hauteur. "I repeat—this man is nothing to me morally ; legally, I am bound to confess he has a hold upon me." "You acknowledge it, then—you are his ■wife—you do bear his name." "' I am obliged to acknowledge it, but I was duped, cheated, and forced into it in the most monstrous manner," Pc-nrle answered, with a shudder."' "You were married to him then?" continued her inquisitor. " Yes, madam." '"In the presence of witnesses?" "Certainly.'' "You went to the altar voluntarily with him and took upon yourself the vows which bind a wife to her husband ?'' ■'Xo—a thousand times no," burst forth l'earle, indignantly, and unable to bear with her patiently ; she must justify herself. " 1 told you I was duped, cheated and entrapped into this hated marriage. I was to have married a good, true niau upon the very morning that I was driven into this union ; but he," making a slight gesture to indicate Adison Chee-ham, '"frightened me with threats; he cheated me with forged documents, which seemed capable of working the ruin of tiie man I loved ; and, to save him. I sacrificed myself; I appeared to submit to the only alternative ; I went to the altar with i.:m, I stood before the vicar at this man's s:-k and was bound to him irrevocably ; but I took no vows upon myself, I uttered no word to perjure my lips or my soul, I would not oven sign my name as his wife upon the church register. I did this in order to purchase the proofs, as I believed, of my promised tu,Land's dishonour, that I might save him Jro!:i tiie consequences ; and within an hour from tlie time tiie fatal words were spoken that bound me to him, I found that he had basely forged those proofs in order to carry Out his nefarious purposes. In my misery, I vowed I would never remain in his presence wit single hour, I would never live out the lie with which I liad apparently perjured my- , self, and I (led from him and from all whom . 1 loved. I determined to hide myself from the world where I had hitherto been known. ami to live out my miserable life alone." I'earle stopped to regain her breath, for she , Was nearly exhausted with her excitement. ' .. " !> oil had no right to do as you have done ; "you were so foolish as to allow yourself to !»e deceived, you should have been Milling to abide by the consequences ; you have ruined your character by leaving jour husband and living separate from him, wiien you might have been honoured as the wife of a respectabh; man," said Lady Fenuelsea, coldly. l'e;:rle made a gesture of disgust. "Madam. I Lave at least preserved my self-respect by) tlie course I have pursued, whatever tlie code r 'i honour may be in the circles which you , ":•»yi r i'-'H-.nt; evfcpjjirinciplc of truth and virtue : *"flf :?Zr9SA-T'i\'blta against sentiments you , JRk ance," she said, in tones of scorn. "Really, Miss Melkrt, or whatever I ', should call you, your manner is extremely insolent for one occu].;. ing the position you do c in my family. However, u,,,1 el - the cireum- , stances, I shall overlook it, |, ut j \ voa \,\ ' advise you, it you value your l-..\.,,,. u ,-eputa- , tion, to yield submission and to your husband, who really appears to-,,,. v respectably situated, and who says ~,, ( .. I]J give you a good position in the world. ' Hi I not Pearle been so utterly ; shev.-ould have laughed aloud with amusement at the absurdly patronizing speech, and the woman's affectation of superiority. Her lip curled disdainfully as she replied : "Lady Fennelsea, it is to be regretted that your advice should be unavailing, but I would rather be houseless, homeless, and as clcsti-+-ite as a beggar in the streets, than to humiliate myself to tolerate this man s presence for one'single hour." Adison Cheetham gnashed his teeth atulioU at this resolute and spirited speech. Lady Fennelsea hearing it, turned to him with an expression of horror. "I fear you have taken unto yourselt rathei 1 refractor}' wife," she said ; then turning icata to Pearle, she resumed, with increasing severity: "It is useless for me now to

dwell upon the inexcusable deception thai you have practised upon me and my mnoceni family ; of course now that I have discovered it I can no longer consider you a fit com panion for my daughters, a suitable governess for my children ; consequently I could, under no conditions, allow you to remain longer in my service. I trust, however, that you nrav 1)3 led to sec your folly, and repent of it before the patience of your husband is ex- ■" hausted. I .shall deem it advisable," she concluded, swelling with importance and indignation, "to warn my friends and acquaintances of the deception you have practised '■ upon me, that they may also avoid becoming ( . the victims of your duplicity." . Upon concluding this annihilating speech, Lady Fennelsea arose majestically as if to , leave the room. Rut Pearle. feeling desperate at the thought I of beintr left alone with that man. and with- . out a friend to protect her from his power and ~ fell designs, placed hprself in her path. l n " Your ladyship," she began, pleadingly, "you are n mother—you have daughters, anil ,' j you ouyht to feel for one persecuted and , wronged aa I am and have been. I appeal - to your sympathy and to your protection unI til I can communicate with my own friends, , j and thru I will relieve you of my presence immediately." In her eagerness and despair she bent ! toward tlie stately matron, her flushed face j raised beseechingly, her lovely grey eyes fixed . I upon her immovable features, her hands clasped, and outstretched imploringly. Lady Fennelsea drew back haughtily ; the ' exxeeding beauty of her despised governess only seemed to harden her already hard heart still more. ' "Miss Melfert, you are extremely presuming to suggest any such thing; it is not I to be considered fora moment; my daughters i must not be contaminated by pernicious inj fluences. Come to me in half an hour and I J will settle with you, and you will please vacate your room immediately." This was uttered in the haughtiest accents ; then, -with a withering look of contempt into the beautiful, despairing face, and a cold bow to Adison Cheetham, she swept from the room. The closing of the door after her sounded like the knull of doom to Pearle ; for one moment she buried her face in her trembling hands, while her heart was lifted in a silent appeal to the Mighty One in whom she trusted, and then she, too, turned as if to leave the room. But Adison Cheetham, who had been watching her intently, sprang before her and barred her way. " I've been made a fool of long enough," he said, through his shut teeth. "Yon cannot leave this room until you consent to leave it to go home with me as my wife." Pearle raised her head and turned upon him her scornful, defiant eyes, while she / moved a step or two out of hie way. She j had not spoken to him once, she had scarce looked at him, but now she was prepared to light him upon equal ground and defy him to the last. lint before she could reply to him the door behind him was suddenly and somewhat violently thrown open, and a kindly though excited face looked in upon them. It was that of the gentleman whom Pearle had encountered during her walks, attending the invalid imbecile lady. An expression of surprise swept over his features as he saw the couple within, so defiantly facing each other ; then addressing l'earle, he said, " Pardon me, lady, but it is quite important that I hare a moment's speech with you." " The lady is engaged, sir," Adison Cheetham began, insolently, and with an angry scowl at the intruder. lint IVarle, her heart bounding with thankfulness for this timely interruption, glided quickly to the young man's side, and de-libci-att-ly taking his arm, said, " Cfrtainly, monsieur.'' Her hand tightened over his arm almost convulsively, and he could feel that she was trembling in every limb. Me hesitated an instant, and seemed somewhat surprised at her act. " Help me," she whispered, appealingly, ami comprehending at once that she was in some deep trouble, and that this sinisterlooking man was the cause of it, he led her without a word from the room, and closed the door upon the discomfited and batiled husband, who cursed in no moderate manner at being thus baulked at the moment u hen lie thought tlie game was all in his own hands. CHAPTER XXXIX. UNRAVELLING THE MYSTERY. While the incidents related in the last chapter -.vere transpiring, another strange scene was being enacted close by. When Pearle went down to read to the ladies in their own room, she left Amy sleeping. She was better to-day ; still Pearle did not feel quite free from anxiety on her account, and had persuaded her to lie down and have a nap. She awoke soon after Pearle went below, and (hiding herself alone, ran into the adjoining room, whore Fred and Clara were studying. The maid, with whom both Pearle and Amy were great favourites, coaxed the little one to allow her to dress lier, promising to take her for a little walk afterward. She was as witching a little fairy as ever drew breath, and the maid Has vastly more proud of her, a friendless waif though she seemed, than she had ever been of cither Fred or Clara, as she strolled with her through the grounds and noted the glance of admiration that everywhere followed her. They walked about for half an hour or so, when, drawing near a rustic arbour, they heard a deep, rich voice singing a peculiar ballad. Amy, a dear lover of music, stopped to listen ; then, witli one chubby finger upon her lips and her other hand outstretched to the maid to enjoin silence, she stole on tiptoe to the entrance and stood, shyly, looking Vfithin. A moment she stood thus, and the maid saw a look of mingled recognition, amazement, and terror creep into her large, blue eyes ; the colour faded from her little face, leaving her as white as a snowflake ; then, with a wild scream, she darted inside the inclosure, and the ne'it instant was sobbing and laughing, and talking in the strangest and most unintelligible manner imaginable. The girl hastened after her, but before she could reach tile spot she heard a piercing shriek from some one there, and when she at laststood in the doorway, a strange scene presented itself to her. A pale, beautiful woman was lying back in an invalid chair, wholly unconscious, her white face outlined against tlie rich, dark velvet, in striking contrast to it ; while Amy, quivering with excitement, was clinging to her in a passion of tears and sobs, and calling out, ".Mamma. — mamma — you've been gone so long ; pkaee, please kiss Amy." A gentleman had sprung to her side, and was regarding the unconscious woman with great anxiety, while he strove to unclasp Amy's clinging arms from her neck and put her away ; but she refused to be moved, only clinging the closer, and begging in the most piteous manner for "mamma to wake up and kiss lier." The woman was the one whom Pearle had met so often of late in lier rambles, and the gentleman was her attendant. "Take her away," he commanded the ' : maid., and she took Amy by main force into 1 her arms, in spite of her cries and screams, j ' and carried her from the place. The gentleman rolled his unconscious charge back to tlie steps of the hotel, where, . ' gathering her slight form in his arms, he : * bore her up to her room, while the maid bore ; ! Amy to a distant part of the grounds, trying ' 1 in vain to hush her cries and sobs. j For more than an hour the sick girl lay ', unconscious ; she would partially revive, 1 only to relapse into another and more pro- ' ( longed fainting turn, wnile both the young 1 man and the woman whom Pearle had , i supposed to be his mother, watched and | worked over her with increasing anxiety. ! ( "1 am afraid she will die—what has I i caused this ?" the woman asked of lier son., r as the invalid relapsed into the fifth swoon. . i Jle shook his head, but made no other ; reply, as he worked over his charge with < restoratives, and counted her pulse every j t other minute. i At last his efforts seemed to be rewarded ; '. i\ she gave signs of returning life, and there f was a .strange, eager gianee in the man's l '■yes, as, with almost breathless interest, he v ittil to see what would come next. s leii" t '' 1 :l long-drawn sigh the white lids at c u .., n open, and the dark eyes then ar'.,u/l o,n face to f,lcC in( i< l 'ringly, and : There vr e room - " cau>'httho'.'v.!' ri look of recognition as sh s over her it v-' f those bending so anxiously s them before, if slie had never seen seemed to change i puzzled expression n '' Where am I ?—wht|.' jl . u countenance. I at last. she asked t '• Whom ■{" queried the yt ing nearer to her, and seareUtf.,'"; 1,7 . b f nt {- I eves with almost breathless auxkji dark ? ""My baby—my darling— my' . \ pet," aud her sweet lips Quivered paWtSJ U8 |

; the weak voice was plaintirely eager am ; tremulous. ,s ™!!!? ~.- v -' ;< • ''■'''"' i Tlie elder woman was about to exclain and appeared greatly excited, but the youn; i man stopped her with an imperative motioi of his hand, as he answered the girl in i matter-of-fact way. "She is hern—l will bring her to you Drink this first, for you have been ill anc must pot a little strength." He gently lifted her head from the pillow and put a class to her lips, from which sh( drank thirstily. Whatever the mixture was, it seemed tr produce the desired effect, for she seemed tc breathe more easily and regularly, and .' slicht tinge of colour returned to her lips. Still her glance wandered inquiringls around the room, and finally settled upor the young man's face again with the same look. "It's all very strange!" she said with n long-drawn sigh. "I wasn't killed—l shall live after all ; ar« you a physician ?" "Yes, I am a physician," he answered, smiling assuringly, "and you will live ; but you must be very quiet, for you have been terribly frightened." " Frightened '." she whispered, a wild look creeping into her eyes, and a shudder shaking her slight frame. " Oh, yes, you never can know — it was horrible ! —horrible ! But my biby—l want my child, just to make sure that I am not dreaming," she concluded, and becoming greatly excited again. 1 he youna man's brow contracted with perplexity and there was an exceedingly anxious look in his face, as if he was pondering some doubtful question. "Go find that little girl that we have noticed so often, and bring her here," ho said in a. low tone to his mother ; and without a word she went to do his bidding. "Who is she?" asked the invalid as her glance followed the retreating form. "My mother," he answered briefly, and then held another potion of medicine to her lips. She took it as if she felt perfect confidence in him. though she "omcil to search his face curiously, and then the room as if it seemed strange to her; while all this time she appeared to be listening intently, and starting nervously at the sound of every footfall in the corridor. At length the door softly opened and madam entered leading the little white-robed fairy by the hand, and followed by the maid. Amy's eyes were red and tear-swollen, aud heart-broken sob seTery now and then shook her little form, though she tried to repress them, for she had been told that she must be very quiet if she went in to see the sick lady. As they entered, the invalid raised herself on her elbow, her cheeks flushing a vivid crimson, her eager ej 7 es shining like two stars. There was a moment of intense, painfu silence, then her lips parted with a low cr; of delight—she held out her wasted hands, and the child sprang to her, and was clasped to her bosom with an almost hysterical sob. "Mamma's pet—Amy darling, my beautiful snow-flake," she murmured fondly, ae the tears rained over her face, and dropped among the golden curls upon lier breast, " Ood is good," she went on, hugging the little form closer. " He did not let me die— He heard me when I prayed that you. my precious, need not be left to the cold charity of the world—glory be to His holy n—" The excitement was too much : the blanching lips could say no more ; the feeble hands relaxed their passionate clasp ; the flush died out of the fair face, and she lay white and lifeless once more in another swoon. Even then it was almost impossible to persuade Amy to leave her. She clung to her almost frantically, crying : "It is-it is my own, own mamma. I will not go away." They toUl her that her mamma was sick— that she need not <jo away, but she must keep very quiet, and it was pitiful to see the grieved, frightened look upon her little face, and her efforts to hush hersobs as she watched them working over the apparently lifeless form. The swoon proved to be nothing serious this time, and a half-hour later, with little Amy's hand clasped in hers, the sick one fell into a quiet and refreshing slumber. Then the young physician drew the child gently away, and told her when her mamma awoke she should coma and see her again ; and the maid took her back to Pearle's room, bavincr, however, been cautioned by the young man to say nothing of what she had witnessed until he should see Miss Melferfc, whom she told him had charge of the child. Then the doctor sought his mother, a strange glad light in his eyes, his whole face in fact fairly radiant with gladness. "It is as I thought," he said ; " that terrible shock deprived her of her reason, and now a shock as sudden, although of a different nature, has restored it." "My son, you do not mean to say that you think she has regained her reason?" she said in tones of astonishment. " I have every encouragement to believe so. You saw a change in her looks, her tones, mid we have never heard her speak as conuectedly as she has done during the last hour, =ince we have had the care of her." " iST-o, and yet her wcrds have only seemed \nother form of madness or idiocy to me. How very, very strange that she should claim that child as belonging to her." "Not more strange than that the child should appear to recognize its mother in her," "Illicitly replied the young man, then adding, gravely : " I believe we are on the verge of having a deep mystery explained. I will go at once and seek the young lady who appears to have charge of the child and relate what has occurred to her. Meantime I can trust you to watch our patient closely, and if she should arouse, give her another spoonful of that mixture in the tumbler." And this is how it happened that the young physician came to Pearle's aid in the strangely providential manner in which he did. As he was descendingthestairshemet Lady Fennelsea, who was returning to her rooms, nearly bursting with indignation at having discovered how she had been duped, and he inquired of her where he could liud her governess. " I left her in the reception parlour," she replied, wth freezing dignity, and passed on, while with quick, eager strides the young man proceeded to the room designated, and ipened the door just in season to relieve l'earle from the trying position in which she Found herself placed. " Oh ! thank you," she breathed, when the loor w;is shut and he was leading her toward tlie stairway ; but she was trembling so that ie feared he was going to has-e another patient on his hands. He lead her upstairs to a little private parlour belonging to the suite he occupied, ivhere he communicated to her the strange jveuts that had occurred during the last few lours. " You amaze me !" she exclaimed. " You ;ay that Amy first recognized your—your Yiend," —this with an inquiring glance, for ie had not mentioned what relationship he >ore to the invalid—"as her mother, and ;hatshc, on recovering from her swoon, recoglized the child, and called her Amy ?" "Yes ; the recognition was mutual." " I do not understand it at all. Who is ;his woman ':" "I do not know who she is," he returned, ooking very grave. " You do not know ?" cried Pearle, aghast, ind for a moment she was tempted to think ;liat the man also was bereft of sense or 'eiison. "No," he returned, sadly. "I do not vonder that you arc astonished, and the vhole thing is a tantalizing mystery. Fate ;hrew this unfortunate girl—for she does not ;eem more than that—into my care more ban a year ago." "Ah, "exclaimed Pearle, starting violently. "Yes; I will explain it all to you soon ; jut first, I would like to ask one or two luestions of you. I have been told that his little one who is in your care is an irphan—is it so ?" "Yes; or I have supposed that she is an trphan, for accident deprived her of her nother just before she fell into my hands, md I was led to believe that her father was lot living." I " You say that an accident deprived her if her mother—what kind of an accident ?" ,he young physician asked, abruptly, scarce vaiting for her to complete her sentence ; .nd the beating of the full veins upon his orelicad told how anxiously he awaited her eply. "A railway accident," Pearle replied, and he saw him start, and his face flush a deep rimson. " Will you tell me where, when, and how t occurred ?" he asked, in suppressed tones ; nd, feeling strangely moved by his manner, he related all that she knew concerning the ad event that had made Amy motherless. " Was the woman's body reclaimed?" he sked, when she had concluded, she not laving referred to that repulsive feature of he bereavement. "No, it was not ; and that is the saddest iart of the whole story. It was never disovered who took it from the morgue in iondon, and it remains a mystery even now." Liid she went on now to explain how Madame Usnau, by being prostrated by the fatal news ;

id of her daughter's death, had been unable tc identify the body until several days aftei m the accident, and had then found that it hat been claimed and taken away. >n The young man had grown very pale anc a excited during her recital, and did not seeir to know how t n brrnk the silence for severa i. seconds after she had finished. id At last he said, and his voice was almo.sl hoarse with cur t:'.n : "Strange tilings li.ip r . P'.-n in tin's w<-..-U of our-. ' I claimed thai le bod}, and took it from tlie morgue 1" "You!" cried P. arle, in a whisper o: - 0 horror ; then some thought seemed to startle 0 her, and she continued: "And—and—she She could not go on ; she half arose from v her chair, bend in;; payer]y toward him, her n beautiful face white as snow, her voice shake ing with emotion. "Yes, I claimed it," he went on, as a though she had not interrupted, "although 11 lamof no kin to her, although I had never seen her until I saw her lying dead—killed, [ f as everybody supposed, by that express t train, as it thundered on its way toward Lonn don. Sit down, my dear youim lady. You are excited, you are trembling ; but be calm k and I will tell you all about it." Pearle sank back into her chair trembliii" ~ indeed, and almost faint at this startling 1 intelligence, while iier mind went sadly I ack e to that forlorn household in the suburbs of London, into which she had gone, and where she hud closed the eyes of that stricken, j sorrowing mother in her last sleep, and then f found herself, as she had supposed, the only . guardian of a helpless orphan. And this man, who had claimed this body, -. who was he ? Madame Renau had said there a was only one person in the world who would 1 have a right to do such a thing ; could this man be the one ? No, it could not be, for ~ only a moment ago he had said lie did not know who she was. It was all passing I strange, and she was very much excited over . it. [To be continued.]