LOST—A PEARLE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XVII, Issue 6273, 24 December 1881, Page 3

LOST—A PEARLE.

BY MRS. GEORGE SHELDON. Author of "Sibyl's Influence," "Tho Forsaken liride," "Brownie's Triumph," &c.

CHAPTER XLII.

I>K. .MDRDOCKS LOVE FOR ALICK. "I do desire that you would live with us," Alice Renau said to Pearle, " and I shall .always cling to you as a dear friend. lam very much alone in the world. Only Amy and I are left of all my family, and aside from the pleasure I shall take in rearing my l'ttle daughter, the future holds • ut very little to tempt me." "Ah ! her husband is dead then. She was once a wife,* thought Pearle, glaneingsorrowfully at the delicate woman who seemed to be so friendless.

"But," Alice resumed, heaving a deep as if she was crushing some burden back into her heart, " I suppose [ mast talk business with you a lit-tie. It is necessary for ine to understand where to begin life again. You say that Dr. Ashley allowed you to store my household goods over his stable?" "Yes, he was very kind in many ways. He said he would care fur them, and very gencrouslv re'used to accept any remuneration for Ids services." Alice coloured at this. "lie shall not go unrewarded, however," she said, a little proudly ; then asked some"what anxiously, "MioS Melfert, did you, among other things, notice a little foreignlooking chest or trunk ?" "Yes, I noticed it particularly, 011 account of its peculiar appearance."

" Did you notice its contents?" " I merely opened it—the key was in the lock—to see that it was in proper order to put away. I took possession of the key, as 1 did of all of them, and have them in my trunk at this moment; and," she added, with a smile, "lam very, very happy to have found their owner."

" You found in thatchrstpaekagesofletters, old account books and bundles of papers," Alice asked, not seeming to head her last remark.

" Yes, I noticed that it contained old books and papers —1 did not examine them— I did not like to do anything," she said, with heightened colour, " which .savoured of curiosity. The position in which 1 found myself was, to say the least, peculiar, and I felt that I, a stranger, had no right to pry into family matters, which, perhaps, it were better for both Amy and myself that I should know nothing about." "You were considerate, Miss Melfert," Alice said, with a grateful glance, then added, sadly, " you would have learned something of my history had you done so, and it could have done no real harm ; still there are some things in our lives which we would prefer to keep locked within our own hearts. But what I was thinking of particularly was this : that chest i elonged to an uncle of mine who came from Australia a few years ago. It has a false I ottom which contains documents of great value to me, for they represent quite a handsome fortune, which is invested in different u:i It is doubtful if you would have discovered this, even if you had examined the contents, but if you had only known of it, there would have been 110 need of your toiling for bread for either yourself or my child. But I am glad to know the box is safe," she concluded, with a sigh of satisfaction.

"I know, of course," Pearle returned, "that there must be ample means somewhere —your style of living jiroved that—but, madam, your mother was too ill to uive me any information regatding such matters ; the servants knew nothing, and so there remained only two things for me to do when all was over —cither to send Amy to some charitable institution or take charge of her mjself. The first I could not do ; the second I was glad to do." Ah ' if you had sent her away to such a place. I should never have seen my child again," the young mother exclaimed, drawing Amy to her, with a passionate gesture. " Jfo;; she added, with a sob, "what a life mine has been !"'

Tearle looked at her, a great pity shining in her eyes. She saw that some mystery shrouded her life, but of what nature she could not even guess. She was drawn to her more and more : she was gentle, refined and well educated ; she must have been very beautiful when in the bloom of health, for she was lovely now, though pale and wan from illness, and there was an unmistakable air of gentle breeding and good blood about her. She had not referred in the remotest manner to her husband, and once when Mrs. Murdoek, while caressing Amy, asked if she resembled her father, her lips grew white and stern, her gentle eyes almost fierce in their expression, as they answered briefly, "no," and then instantly changed the subject. They saw that it was very painful to her, and they never referred to it again. Dr. Murdoek, although still delicately

attentive to her ever3 r want and need, had changed very perceptibly in his manner toward her since the restoration of her reason. Before he had been tender and affectionate, treating her more like a beloved and petted child, or younger sister, than an\"thing else. Now, when in her presence lie assumed a defence and courtesy, such as he would have bestowed upon any patient who was a stranger to him ; while his fine face had suddenly grown grave and thoughtful, ami almost iu expression. His mother noticed all this and wondered at it; her own manner remained unchanged —indeed she seemed to love their beautiful charge, and to watch over her even more tenderly thuu before. 44 1 suppose we shall not be able to keep Ma 3' —Alice—J hardly know what to call her —with us much longer," she said, the same da 3' that the above conversation with Pearle occurrcd.

"I'm afraid not," he answered, briefl\\ and turning his face from the light ; then, with a quicks-drawn breath, he asked, "lias she spoken of any plans ?" "Xo; but Miss Melfert says slie is wealtli3 T —that she has quite a fortune." " Yes," he said, with something of sharpness in his tone.

"I am sorry, George. I have grown to love her very dearly, and X -would be glad to have her with us alwa3*s, :? Mrs. Murdock continued, with gentle plaintiveness. George Murdock made no reply to this, but sat resting his head on his hand in gloomy silence. "Of course," his mother continued, " I do not mean that I am soriy that she has recovered the use of her mental faculties ; but I wish she hadn't so much money. I shall "be very lonely if she goes awa3* from us. I wish we could persuade her to stay, and I should really love to have the little one chattering about." Still no answer from her companion ; he sat like a statue, so ominousty still, that she glanced at him with something of surprise, not unmixed with anxiety. But her mind was full of their charge, and she went on : "There is something rather strange about her past life, don't you think so, George? I wonder what kind of a husband she had—if he is dead, or if not, what has become of him."

George Murdock bounded from his chair with a suddenness that startled her.

"Mother, I arn going out; I have an errand in the city," he said, in a strained, unnatural voice.

He walked half way across the room, stopped suddenly, then turning, came and stood behind his mother's chair.

"Mother," he began, and startled by his tone, she looked up at him, and saw that he was very pale. She was upon the point of remarking upon it, but something restrained her. "Mother," he repeated, "I think with you, that there is some mystery connected with May's—Alice's life, bat on no account would it be best to seek to ascertain the nature of it."

"Certainly not, my son."

"If—if she chooses to confide in us, well and good ; if not, we will respect her silence, and —and care for her just as tenderly as we have always done, as long as she will stay with us. I know that she intends to make a home for herself somewhere—l heard her tell Miss Melfert so—and when it comes to that, it it must, we will help her to find a pleasant -one." 1 1

His hand rested on the back of her chair, and she felt him tremble with the mighty effort that he made to speak calmly, while she saw the great drops of sweat shining on his forehead.

"You will miss her as well as I," she said, adly. "Mother, don't !" he cried, sharply, and growing white about the mouth. "George!" Her eyes were opened at last, and she scanned his face with sorrowful surprise..

Without a word he turned and walked abruptly from the room. "Poor boy! I never dreamed tliat he would learn to care for her like that —she was like a little child in her helplessness," Mrs. Murdock said, weeping over the discovery she had made.

Pearle remained with Alice and Amy until late in. the evening j indeed she had spent

most of the time in their rooms since her interview with Adison Cheetham, for she 3tood in continual dread of meeting him again, as Dr. Murdock told her he was still at the hotel, and haunted the halls and public rooms constantly. She had had an interview with Lady Fennelsea, and that worthy and highminded dame had settled with her, when she had also undertaken to t;ive her good advice. M;3s Camilla took ua pains to conceal the malicious joy she experienced upon learning that she was to be dismissed, and kept throwing out spiteful hints and insinuations throughout the interview.

Pearle paid not the least attention to the ill-mannered girl, which only served to irritate her a hundred fold : but when Lady Fennelsea remarked in her condescendingly patronizing way that she, "trusted Mrs. Cheetham would now realize the necessity of redeeming her character, and yield the obedience that it was proper that a reasonable wife should yield her husband," the outraged girl could contain herself no longer.

"Lady Fennelsea," she said, with proud dignity, "I would not forget for a moment that J am a lady, notwithstanding yourslurs and innuendoes, but I cannot refrain from telling you that your vulgar patronage is disgusting, and I l elicve you will yet live to realize and regret it," with which parting shot she bowed herself from her ladyship's august presence, leaving both mother and daughter speechless from astonishment for the lirst time in their lives.

But to return to the time that Pearle bade her new friends "good-night" and retired to her own room.

The next day she was to have an apartment adjoining theirs, as some of the guests were to leave then ; so she spent an hour or two packing her trunks, to save time on the morrow, for every moment that she could ■spare with Amy seemed too precious to be lost.

Since discovering ho'.v she had been "imposed upon," Lady Fennelsea had made a change in her domestic arrangements. It would not do to allow Fred and Clara, in their tender years, to remain longer under the digraced Inverness' contaminating influence, consequently they had been removed to the room hitherto occupied by Miss Camilla and Francita, while those young ladies, inuch to their disgust, were obliged to mount another (light oi stairs to occupy thoir apartment, the door between which and Pearie's room was now kept securely locked.

But all this was only adding one more link to the chain that was ere long to strangle for ever their disgusting and osteutatious pride of birth and position. Pearle's task of packing completed, she retired, and soon fell into a quiet and peaceful sleep. No weight of cave rested upon her now, her heart was freed from its chief burden siuce she had determined to shake ofl once for all the galling shackles that bound her, while she felt safe and content in the protection of Dr. Murdoek until her brother could arrive.

CHAPTER XLIII. " KIRE ! HELP ! In another portion of that great building there was, oil this night, a restless, impatient watcher. Adison Cheetham, with no desire to sleep, paced back and forth in his room, plotting and puzzling his brains over the knotty problem of how he was to accomplish what he had sworn lie would do. He had not seen Pearle once siuce that afternoon when tliey were interrupted by Dr. MurJoek, though he had, as the young physician hail told her, haunted all the halls auil public rooms, determined to waylay her if he could get but a glimpse of her ; and now he was trying to plan some way to outwit both her and her protectors, and if she would not go with him peaceably lie would lure her away by strategy.

Hundreds of men, women, and children lay around him asleep ; he alone of them all refushing to yield to the influence of the drowsy god, and all alike unconscious of the fell demon so secretly at work around them, and creeping so stealthily inch by inch upon them, like some ambushed enemy bent upon their destruction.

A clock somewhere near struck one. He took out his watch to see if his time agreed with it ; it was five minutes of one, and with a moody brow and a sigh of discontent he began to think it was time for him to be in bed also.

Suddenly a cry rent the air somewhere in the distance. It seemed far away and indistinct. He bent his head to listen, his checks blanching, his heart beating with great, fierce throbs. Again he heard it. "Fire! help!" It was a blood-curyling souud ; there was another moment of utter silence, and then wild cries, shrieks, and groans rose upon the still night air like the roar and tumult of a sudden storm. Adison Cheetham sprang to the door, unlocked and threw it open, and then bounded down the stairs two steps at a time. It had not been two minutes since that first indistinct cry reached his ears ; but the whole building seemed to be alive with the humanity that so lately had been peaceably asleep. Crowds were rushing aimlessly hither and thither, shouting, shrieking, and begging for mercy and help. A perfect panic seemed to have seized the multitude, and they poured forth from that mammotli building as if they had Ix-en expelled by some mechanical agency within.

"Where is the fire?" demanded Adison Cheetham of a norter.

" 111 the north wing, second floor,''was the repl>', and the man hurried on with his buckets towards the scene of destruction.

"Her room is iu the north wing, third floor," Adison Cheetham muttered with white lips. He knew well enough where her room was, for he had not rested until he had ascertained that fact.

He bounded on after the porter, and found that the fire was working dire mischief in the second story of the building. Brave men were valiantly rescuing helpless women and children from their danger, and every one from the second floor was safely conducted from the building and out of harm's way in fifteen minutes from the time the first alarm

But the less unfortunate inhabitants of the third lloor seemed to be cut ofT from every •v.cnuc of escape. The fire had broken out near the middle of the corridor, just where the stairs led into the upper store 3*, and the flames went creeping up their frame-work ; the smoke, dense and suffocating, ascended, until it appeared as if there could be 110 help for those above.

The confusion was appalling. The fire was being subdued in the second storey, but 110 one could ascend to the third, and 110 one could escape from there through that line of flame and smoke upon the stairs. It was dreadful ; and brave men felt their hearts quake with terror, their strength and courage forsake them, as they listened to the helpless appeals of those from above for them to come and save them.

.At last there was a joyful cry from without. A ladder had been raided iruin the roof of the low building, or passage, which connected the main structure with the north win<r, and all the unfortunate captives in the rooms upon that side of the corridor were soon rescued from their danger.

But those upon the other side were still in imminent peril, for the corridor was now full of llame and smoke, against which every door had been shut and locked as soon as it had been ascertained thatcscape in that direction was impossible. Pearle's room was one of these, as was also that of the Misses Fennelsea.

Adison Cheetham, on reaching the north wing, had rushed frantically up to the second floor, with the determination to run the fiery gauntlet beyond at all hazards. "If I can save her life, she will owe it to me, and then I shall win ; she cannot, she dare not defy me then," he cried, as he dashed recklessly onward. But he was driven back—he could not breathe ; no one could live a moment in that dense atmosphere. With a cry of despair he turned and rushed down the stairs again, as if his feet had been shod with wings; he sped out upon the verandah, along the length of it, bounded over the railing, and eagerly scanned the panic-stricken faces looking forth from the windows of that fated upper storey. He searched in vain, for not a familiar face did he see, and grew almost frantic with the sickening suspense. " Save my daughter ! save my children!" shrieked some one, clutching him frantically by the arm.

He turned and looked to see who it was. It was Lady Fcnnelsea. A ray of hope shot through his heart.

" W liich room are they in ?" he demanded. " J-hat one—oh, there! be quick! the llames are beginning to burst throgh the roof —oh, heavens! in a few moments it will be too late; save them—save thenj ! and you shall have any price," aud the distracted woman sank, weeping and exhausted, upon the ground.

Men were now seen on the roof, with long, stout ropes in their hands. These they let down to the windows, and the inmates of those rooms tied them around their waists and were lifted up in safety to the top of that burning building, and then carefully let

down upon the other side to that ladder, where others received them and bore them away in safety, But this took time, and all the while the fire was spreading rapidly. All but two rooms had been emptied of their occupants, and here ihe loof was so hot that the men could not remain upon it moment.

These rooms were the ones occupied by Pearle and the Misses Fennelsea, and at one of the windows there could now bo seen three white, terrified faces looking down upon the anxious crowd below.

"They are lost—they must die!" was whispered, with horror, from mouth to mouth.

"Give me a ladder,' 1 cried a hoarse, stern voice from the crowd.

'•The ladders are all in use," some one answered.

'* A ladder! a ladder ! by Heaven! I will have a ladder," and a man darted frantically out of sight.

In less than three minutes he was back, panting and excised, but with a long, strong ladder across his broad shoulders.

Kager hands were ready to place it for him, while he wet a handkerchief and tied it over his mouth and nostrils ; then, with a command to the men to "hold it firm and steady," he sprang up the rouuds with the agility of a cat.

While lie is jiscendin?, we will see how it has fared with our gentle heroine. We have said that sleep, quiet and peaceful, came to her; pleasant dreams also— dreams of home and friends, and of the bright, beautiful days when she was so happy and care-free at Ashton Manor.

Nothing of the confusion occasioned by the fire reached her, until Miss Camilla and Francita rushed, terror-stricken, into her room, calling wildly upon her to save them.

They had been awakened by the cries and confusion below, had rushed into the corridor, thinking to escape thus, bat were 1 driven «ack by the Harries and smoke, and j were only too glad to seek refuge in their own | room again. Then they had unfastened the I door leading into Pearle s room, to seek company in their misery. " What is the trouble now?'' she asked, much startled ; while, springingfromher bed, she began to put on her clothing. ** We are all a lire—the hall is in flames, and there is no way for us to escape," explained Francita, who was the calmer of the two sisters j Camilla having sunk down at Fearle's feet, clinging to her in abject terror, anil shrieking with fright. "Be quiet. Miss Fennelsea!" Pearle said, authoritatively ; " we shall all be saved, do not fear," though as she said it she grew sick at heart as she heard the sharp crackling of the flames outside her door, and saw the puffs of smoke that came in through the keyhole and over the transom.

Then she went to the window and looked out, but all that she could see was a sea of agonized faccs, and people running wildly about.

A feeling of despair took possession of her. The room was growing hot and stifling ; a few moments more and she knew the flames would burst within. Even if help was sent to them, she began to think it very doubtful if they all could be saved.

" One of us at least must perish, I fear, she thought, as she counted the chances.

She had been trembling, and her teeth chattering with excitement; but now, as this terrible thought forced itself upon her, she grew suddenly calm and collected. For one moment she bowed her head in prayer, " God help us !" she breathed ; " save these two who have home, and happiness, and friends to love them; and for thy servant— thy will be done !" The next moment she turned her attention to the distracted uirls clinging to her. She put them forcibly from her, darted into their room and brought their clothing, bidding them dress themselves-, while she assisted them with nimble but steady lingers, never once making a false movement. Never in their lives had thry been more helpless ; but never before bad they been more quickly clad.

!\ arle, on glancing from the window, now saw that a ladder had been placed underneath, and this gave her a faint hope ; but just at that moment the transom cracked, the gliss tumbled to the lloor with a jingling crash, ami the flames and sinoke poured into the room in volumes.

Camilla uttered a piercing shriek, and wound her arms about dearie's form so that she could not move.

" Oh, save nic !" she moaned. "I cannot die—l am not lit to die !"

"Be still!"' l J earle said, sternly, as she wrenched her clinging hands apart. "If God wills that yon shall be saved, so it will be; if not, do not spend the little time that remains iu useless wailing." She gathered together their watches and jewels, and put them into their pockets. Her own watch, two or three costly rings, ear jewels, and brooch, which she had forgotten to remove when she fled so hastily from Ashton Manor, she put iuto a little box, and then gave it to Francita, who had been silently and wonderingly watching the strangely self-possessed girl, as she moved so quietly and swiftly about the rooms. "If you are saved, and—l am not, will you see that this littL; box is sent to the Karl »f lladclifle, of Ashton Manor, Leicester, Leicestershire County, with my love ; and— and"—the pale, beautiful lips quivered slightly—" tell him not to mourn for me, for earth's pain will all be over for me."

The girl gazed at her stupidty. " Do you understand me?" Pearle asked, giving her a little shake.

" Yes, I understood. Did you say the Ivirl of lladclifFe ?' ? she asked, astonishment getting the better of her fright for the moment. " Yes, he is my brother." " Your brother !" she repeated, so blankly that Pearlc smiled slightl}', in spite of her consciousness of their desperate situation. " Yes, I will tell 3'ou now, dear," shesaid. gentty. "I am Margaret Radcliffe, and I was obliged to go away from my home on account of trouble for which 1 was in no way to blame."

"And they—mamma and Camilla—have treated 3*oll like a slave J Camilla, do yon hear?" this is Miss Margaret RadclilFe, of Ashton Manor," and she shook her sister roughly to make her understand.

"Never mind/' Pearle interposed, and drawing her toward the window, as she saw that help was near, "we have no time to lose. God bless you, my dear girl, you have been very kind to me."

She kissed her tenderly and began to help her out of the window.

44 1 must go first —I am the oldest. I must be saved first," shrieked Camilla as she saw the act, and springing from the tloor, she rushed frantically to the window and began to struggle to get out. "No," I'earle answered, firmly, and she dragged her back by main strength. '• Franeita is tin; heavier, and whoever comes to our rescue must take the greatest burden first."

"Come—l have como to save you," said a voice at the window, and reaching out his arms to Puarle.

"No, take her," she answered, pointing to Francita, "I shall not go until they both are safe," and her lirm, undaunted look plainly told that she would not yield. With a smothered oath the man seized Francita, helped her out upon the ladder, and conducted her down the dizzy height in safety to the ground.

She did nobly, silentlj- and quickly obeying his every command, intent on getting down as soon as possible, in order that the others might be saved.

Then the brave man sprang nimbly back over the steep pathway again. The smoke was pouring out of the window now, the flames wore forcing their way into and all about the room, clutching everything within their reach, hurrying in a mad gallop towards those two girls at the window —one so grandly calm, the other so abject in her fear.

" Come," said the man again, as he reached them, and he laid his hand firmly on I'earle's arm this time.

"No," she answered, steadily. "I will not go until she is saved," and she forced Camilla toward his outstretched hand.

Had she recognised him she might have shrunk from going with him under any circumstances ; but his hair was dishevelled under his slouched hat, his face blackened by smoke and cinders, and with the handkerchief tied over his mouth and nostrils, he was as efTectuj.lly disguised as if he had worn a mask. "I will not take her," he cried, "you or no one," and his hold tightened upon her arm. " Do not, as you value human life, waste one single moment; I will not leave this room until I sec her safe upon the ground," and with a strength that was almost superhuman, she tore herself from his grasp and almost lifted her now fainting companion over the window-sill.

A look of despair leaped into his eyes, then he grasped his unconscious burden, and went slowly and laboriously down the swaying ladder.

Pearle was now the only inmate of that burning building ; every one else had been rescued and no one now had any hope that she

could be saved. She was nearly suffocating with the dense atmosphere, she was panting and gasping for breath. Her wash-basin and pitcher were near where she stood. She reached out her hand and dipped her handkerchief into the water, but her delicate hand was scorched, and blistered and blackened when she drew it out.

She bound the wet linen about her face and leaned still further from that fiery furnace, seeking for air—air. Oh ! if she could but breathe but a little longer.

Alas! her brave rescuer had not yet reached the ground with his other burden. A hush like that of death had fallen upon the multitude without, as with staring eyes and horror-stricken faces they watched that slight form above. Still on and on the fire-demons danced. They had reached her very feet now, her garments were.ringed and smoking, and again her hand was I adly burned as she leached down to smother the flame that had caught her skirts.

She knew that she could not live five minutes longer in that heated strangling air ; already she was gasping for breath, the handkerchief about her face was steaming and drying, and she dare not reach to wet it again.

Again she bent far out of the window, and looked down, the flame from the window beneath had scorched and blackened the ladder, in a minute more it would ignite. A thought came to her. Dare she step out upon that frail support and begin that perilous descent by herself? The height made her dizzy and faint. She might fall and be dashed in pieces ; but she must make the attempt or die where she was. There was not an instant to he lost, or she would be hopelessly enveloped in a sheet of flames. Already her feet and ankles, her hands and arms, were badly burned, and the pain nearly drove her wild.

One earnest, despairing cry she raised to Heaven, then gathering her smoking skirts around her, she crept outside the window, and swinging slowly, carefully around, touched her feet upon the first round of the ladder.

A mighty sigh swelled up from the multitude as they saw the daring act of the brave girl. Then it was instantly hushed by a great fear.

The man with his burden just at that moment stepped to the ground, and the sound of that sigh made him turn antf look back. "Oh, God!" he cried. "Water; give me water."

A bucketful was held before him. He deluged his face, and then turned once more to battle for human life.

Every breatli was again hushed, every heavy heart-beat was almost held in check as the throng watched that slender, swaying form, slowly descending, and the other springing so wildly to meet it. They could see that her strength was waning ; that every time a little foot was put down upon a round its touch was less decided and secure, and a terrible fear began to take possession of eacli heart that the hero would be too late.

No ! no ! On he went, nerved to greater exertions by what he himself saw and realized ; a step more and he was beside her. But not a moment too soon., for her strength failed, her nerveless hands relaxed just as he put out his arms to receive her.

Uttering a wild, hoarse cry he gathered her close to him with one arm, while with the other he steadied his descending steps. A new danger menaced them now. An angry flame had seized upon the ladder. The demon had been hiding and smouldering, and watching as it were in that, charred and smoking spot that l'carlc had seen from the window above, and now burst into a lively blaze, fiercely darting out its fiery tongueu, stretching up and wreathing around the slender support, as if maddened by the sight of the escaping captive.

Would it bear the double weight, as the two passed over it ? Faces blanched, lips quivered, knees trembled, but—the danger was safely passed.

But hark ! a snap ! a crack ! the ladder settled a trifle, and every heart stood still. For an instant the resolute man hesitated, and his body seemed to sway dizzily ; the next he seemed to have gathered up his failing forces, steadily and surely every step was taken, until at last his foot touched the solid ground once more

A willl, triumphant cheer burst from every grateful throat, eager arms were outstretched to take his burden, and then with a deepdrawn sigh of weariness the hero of the hour dropped exhausted to the earth. [To be continued.]