THE WELFLEET MYSTERY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXII, Issue 7431, 12 September 1885, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE WELFLEET MYSTERY.

BY SIRS. QEOROIE SHELDON, Author of "The Forsaken BrUlo," "Brownie's Triumph," " The Lily of Mordsunt," &c.

CHAPTER XLVII. ON HIS DEATH- BED. John Knight had made his confession with much difficulty, with many pauses for rest, and to have his strength renewed with stimulants. Several times he had been advised to wait and finish what he wished to say at some other time ; but he would not; he insisted that it must be " now or never." Herbert had listened to his awful story with a growing sense of horror. He had always loved his uncle John most fondly ; or, at least until that night when they had come to such an open rupture ; he had fully believed in him and in his apparent affection for him, and this dreadful tale made him almost faint and sick. Yet he strove to put all feeling save that of compassion out of his heart. "It has been a sad experience for you, Uncle John," he said, gravely, when the story was all told, and feeling that he must say something. "If I had but known," ho continued, " how irksome your life was to yon, how much you craved pecuniary independence, no one would have been more glad than I to share my income with you ; it was more than I needed." "You forget," John Knight said, a hot flush for a moment dyeing his pale faoe, 41 that you were, until quite recently, a minor. You had no right to dispose of your money until you were of age, while I, as your guardian, was required by law to account for every pound expended for you." "Then you might have charged a liberal sum for your services." "Yes; anything would have been better than what I did. But it all came from one wrong act: that playing just for once with a dangerous drug led to my ruin. I was not a bad man before that, and I might even have been a happy man, for a beautiful girl loved and trusted me in my younger days." "You mean Sylvia Houghton?" said his nephew. " ¥es ; she would have been my wife if I had been true to her and to myself."

"She ii a magnificent woman. She is to marry Sir Edward Stewart, the gentleman who rescued me at sea," said Herbert, thinking how much happier she would be with that good man than she ever could have been with his uncle.

The sick man groaned again. Sylvia Houghton's noble charaoter shamed him", and filled him with remorse. After he had dragged her down with him she had conquered and risen above temptation and Bin; and it made his own weakness and folly seem all the greater by contrast.

" A wasted life mine has been," he moaned. "I ought, I suppose, to be thankful that only mine has been ruined by my recklessnessthat those whom I have sought to injure and to drag down with me have been saved and lifted over the pit which I had dug for them." " Uncle John," Herbert said, solemnly, "I have been nearer death's door since that night when we quarrelled than I was then. I have been so near it that it was hard to tell, from one minute to another, whether I should enter it or not. Bat a woman's tender care saved me; a woman's gentle hand and calm, wise judgment drew me safely back from its threshold, and drove the dark spirit awaiting me there back into its own place. And then, when she had helped me to gain a little strengthwhen I began to realise how near to the brink of eternity I had been, she taught me the true meaning and object of life. It is not to live for our own ease and pleasure, or to see how much of mere happiness and selfish enjoyment we can get out of it. She taught me that is is bat a school of preparation—a little space of time lent to us in which to educate ourselves and others for what will come beyond the portals of death—for heaven and an eternity in the presence of One who is so pure and holy that all who go to Him must be pure and holy also. That way is open for all—for you, if you will even now make a beginning at this late hour."

"No, no; it is too late for that," John Knight said, with a sort of sullen despair. " Here 1 lie, numb, dead—my whole body dead— and consciousness animating my brain alone, and that, too, er6 long, will be chilled and stilled by the terrible power which has bound the rest of me."

"Lot us be thankful that it wa3 your body instead of your brain. Cannot you feel that it was wisely decreod, 30 that, perhaps, at last a little hope may come to you of a brighter life beyond ?"

" There isthere can be no hope,"his pale lips murmured, a look of misery in his sunken eye i. " Undo John, let me bring Miss Houghton to you. She is like an angel in the sickroom. She could help you."

" Bring Sylvia Houghton here to see me ! this wreck ! this benumbed, helpless, repulsive body !—bring her here, in all her strength and beauty, to mock at me over what I have lost! No—never !" the dying man said, with more of energy than ho had yet shown.

"She would never mock at the most miserable aud helpless person in the world. She has nothing but sweetness and love in her heart for everyone," Herbert said, and feeling almost discouraged and deeply grieved over the state of mind which his undo betrayed.

It troubled him, too, that he expressed bo little regret and sorrow for what he had done ; while all that he had said seemed to indicate that his heart was still hard and devoid of all affection. He was, however, suddenly aroused from these sad thoughts by the unexpected question :

" Bert, do you hate me beyond all hope of pardon ?'

Herbert started, and, glancing at his uncle, saw that his face was convulsed with pain.

"No, Uncle John; there is no hatred in my heart toward you," he said, bending over him and speaking with emotion. "Although you did me a great wrong, I cannot say that 1 hate you. Yot I must tall you that I do not consider your treatment of me one-half so culpable as the injury you have done young Walton by seeking to fasten tho crime of murder upon him wheu you knew that he was guiltless."

" Yes, yes," John Knight groaned ; " that was a plot worthy only of the fiend which possessed me ; but when he dared to say that he loved Theo Lander, after I had risked so much to win her love, it aroused all that was treacherous and cruel within me. Bert, you cannot conceive of the strength of the passion that was consuming me. I staked my soul to win her, and J. lost. I was in despair then ; I am in despair now ;" and his face was the picture of woe. Herbert was also almost hearfc-siok. He feared to say anything more or to remain longer with him, lest this excitement should produce another shock and result in death, and yet he could not bear to go away and leave him in this hopeless frame of mind.

He longed to see him repentant for what he had done, and willing to soek forgiveness from both man and God. •

"Uncle John," ho said, speaking very kindly, almost affectionately, " I am afraid to let you talk any longor tow ; I fear you have already taxod your feeble strength too far."

"The end is almost here ; what do a few days, more or less, matter ?" said the invalid, bitterly.

"A great deal, perhaps," responded his nephew, very gravely ; " but I want you to have a long rest now, and then L will come to see you again—l will come every day if you think you would like me to do ho." John Knight's lips quivered, and tears actually started to his eyes ; a circumstance which led Bert to think he might have more feeling than be had been willing to manifest.

"I don't deserve that from you Bert; but if yoa will look in upon mo occasionally, it will not seem as if I were quite such an outcast as I have folt myself to be since I came to myself," he said, in an humble tone.

Bert left him then, feeling as if his own strength had suffered from the trying interview. True to his word, ha went every day to see him ; and after awhile ho wan much gratified to find him considerably softened.

He became more gentle and patient; he spoke less and less bitterly, both of tho past and the future. Ho listened attentively to whatever his nephew said to him, and ho spoke much of the hereafter. Great interest and sympathy were manifestsd for him in Mr. Gregory's household. Theo sent him every delicacy which her fertile brain and kind heart could suggest, and no expense or trouble was spared on Bert's part to make him as comfortable as possible. He lived a month after his nephew's first visit to him, but ho would never consent to see any other friend or visitor. He watched Bert constantly while ho was awake, for the young man Teas growing stronger, and spent most of his time with him. During the last two weeks of his life ho seemed very grateful for everything that was done for him, often remarking regretfully upon the trouble that ho was causing. But not an expression of repentance escaped his lips until a few days before he died.

"What a wretch I have been 1" he said, one morning, aftsr Bert bad fed him with some nourishment, and with as much care and gentleness as a mother would have fed her child. "Can you forgive mo so far as to bestow a pitying thought upon me occasionally after I'm gone ?" " I forgave you long ago, Uncle John—as long ago as when I lay almost as helpless as you are now," the young man answered, in a tremulous voice.

John Knight turned his head feebly, and laid bis lips against the hand which was smoothing his pillow. The act showed more plainly than words could have done how Bert's assurance had comforted him.

"How does Theo feel towards me?" he asked, after a little while.

"She has only kindness and sorrow for you in her dear, forgiving heart," Herbert answered.

His uncle lay silent a long time after that; but more than once tears gathered in his eyes and rolled over his pale, sunken cheeks.

Several hours later he said, as if his thoughts had been busy with the sad past ever since be had last spoken :

"I suppose Walton is very bitter toward me?"

" No ; Guy is one of the noblest fellows I have ever known. If you had not refused to see everyone, he would gladly have shared my watches with you. It was he who contrived this rest for you. bo that your pillow might be raised and lowered without disturbing or wearying you." " Oh, I believe I am the only utterly depraved being in all the world!" John Knight groaned, at this evidence of Guy's full, free, and unsolicited pardon. A few moments later he said, brokenly : " Will you thank h»m for me for his Christian charity, and tell him that my last feeling will be one of remorse for the great wrong I have done him. I would be glad if he could forgive me, but I have not the assurance to ask it of him." " Uncle John," returned Bert, deeply moved, "you do not need to ask anyone but Christ to forgive you now. Forgiveness was granted by those whom you have injured, and all feeling, save that of sorrow and sympathy, swept from their hearts the moment you became so helpless. Try to turn your eyes and thoughts away from this world now, and look only to Him who has power to purify and redeem." " I have tried, Bert, but I can only feel that it is too late— have wrecked myself!" the dying man whispered, with a hopeless look in his eyes,

After that he sank into a state of partial unconsciousness, from which he did not rally, though he muttered incoherently about "opium," "vile drug," "destroying power." They watched over him for hours, expecting that every moment would be his last, and just as the sun was going down he turned his head feebly, as if he had caught some faroff sound.

His lips moved, and Herbert bent over him, putting his ear close to them; but the only words that he could catch were " Sylvia—forgive." He died the next morning, and thus the misused powers of a promising life were called back by the One who had bestowed them. Those whom he had injured most followed him to his last resting-place, forgiving and striving to forget the wrongs of the past, and trusting that the Father of Love, who could read so much better than they the yearnings of that despairing heart, which at the end of life "had tried" to make its peace with Him, would be even more merciful than they. CHAPTER XLVIII. A HAPPY TERMINATION. Sir Edward Stewart insisted upon an early marriage. There was no reason, he said, why ho and Sylvia should postpone indefinitely their happiness. His beautiful home at Marlow Park was empty his estate needed his personal attention; he was tired of roaming, and, having gained Sylvia's promise to be his wife, he was eager to instal her as mistress of his mansion. So the day was appointed, and, as soon as Mr. Gregory was informed of the faot, he sought an interview with Sylvia, and bogged to be allowed the honour of giving her away. "You have no fatherto pertorm that duty," he said, " and since you have been with us I have somehow come to feel aB if you in some measure belong to us, and it would give me great pleasure to bestow your hand with my blessing upon so worthy a man as I know Sir Edward Stewart to be."

Tears of emotion sprang to Sylvia Houghton's eyes at this evidence of the lawyer's regard, and she told him that the obligation would be all upon her side, if he would thus kindly act the part of a father upon her marriage flay. " Wonders will never cease 1" Theo exclaimed, when she learned of this ; " to think of that dear, bashful, ' angular' old bachelor of ours, betraying such an astonishing amount of sentiment. But it is just the loveliest arrangement in the world; and he will get his hand nicely in, and understand just how to do it, so he will be all ready when you and I need him, Josephine," she concluded, with an arch glance at her lover's sister. " Doubtless it will be a very nice plan for Mr. Gregory to give you and Miss Houghton away, since you are both engaged ; but are you not rather premature in including me in any such arrangement?" Josephine asked, smiling, but with heightened colour. "Why, don't you ever expect to be married?" Theo questioned, demurely, but shooting a mischievous glance at Miss Houghton. "The probabilities are not as strongly indicative in my case as in that of some others whom I have the honour to know," Miss Walton responded, with quiet self-possession, but with that rich glow still upon her cheeks. Theo turned upon her with raised eyebrows.

" What won id you call 'strongly indicative,' my dear sist«r-that-is-to-be ?"sne demanded ; then with a light laugh, and not waiting for any reply, .she tripped out of the room. Thore had been considerable sly sport of late at the expense of Herbert Knignt and Josephine, and if the "probabilities" were not "strongly indicative" in their case, it was for no lack upon the young man's part to make them ao.

As soon as Miss Houghton's engagement was announced, she had arranged for a suite of rooms not far from Mr. Gregory's residence, and then advertised for a companion to reside with her until she should become Lady Stewart.

But Theo rebelled instantly upon discovering this, and begged her to remain where she was.

" I know you will not like it half so well," she said, coaxingly, when Sylvia urged that she had been their guest too long already. " You will be very lonely shut up in those apartments, with no one but a stranger for a companion ; whilo we, Josie and I, will lose all the fun of helping you get ready for the all-important event, and you know how young girls delight in the romauce of a wedding and all the pretty things that go with it; besides, If you go, it will take Sir Edward away from us entirely, and we are getting so fond of him."

Josephine and Sylvia both laughed heartily at this last argument.

" Perhaps," Josephine said, archly, " Miss Houghton may thiuk your last plea a more urgent reason for her going." Theo shot a wicked glance at her friend.

" Well," she said, "if the conditions were not just as they are, it might be dangerous for her to remain; but with this upon my finger"—holding up the first linger of her left hand, upon which sparkled a diamond of the purest water —"and with Bertie making such rapid strides towards health and strength as he has done during the last fortnight, I do not believe that she need have any fears that anyone will trespass upon her territory." Miss Honght laughed softly at this shaft, which effectually silenced Josephine, and made her white lids droop guiltily over her glorious eves. " You certainly put an irresistible temptation in my way," Sylvia returned, tears springing to her eyes. " It is certainly very delightful to be here with you, and I should be lonely in those apartments with a straage companion ; so 1 accede to your request, upon one condition."

"Name it." cried the girl, striking a theatrical attitude, with one hand placed solemnly over her heart, "and it shall be granted, 'even to the half of my kingdom.' " " What a dear child you are, my bright Theo ! you are the life of the house, and always doing something to make others happy," Miss Houghton said, fondly kissing the smiling, scarlet lips. " But my stipulation is this, that you two girls will act as my bridesmaids, of course, with Mr. Walton and Mr. Knight as groomsmen." " What a fate my rashness has brought upon us 1" exclaimed Theo, in mock dismay. "Are you not appalled, my Josephine? but be comforted, dear," shooting a significant look at Miss Walton's glowing cheeks, "with the thought that the trying experience will doubtless be of great benefit to us in the future.

Miss Houghton was greatly amused, but seeing that Josephine was really embarrassed by so much banter, she said, with playful chiding, to Theo : " 1 shall surely have to put a padlock upon those sweot, though saucy Hps of yours, if you use them so maliciously. Now be rational for a few minutes and help me choose what I need, from these samples which were sent to me this morning," and she drew from an envelope some patterns of beautiful silks, satins, and velvets ; and all three were soon deeply engrossed with a discussion upon the necessary equipments of a bride.

The next month was a very busy and a very happy one for Mr. Gregory's household, and one morning at the end of that time, an interesting wedding party was driven from his door to a neighbouring church, where Sylvia Houghton was made the wife of the man whom she so loved, and honoured above all other men. She looked the pure and noble woman that she was—purified by suffering, ennobled by self-conquest—in her dress ot heavy white Lyons satin, garnished only by clusters of the wild clematis. The costume was simple, yet elegant, and Lady Stewart, as she turned from the altar, was pronouucsd by the young baronet's friends to be a splendid-looking woman, and one possessing exquisite taste.

Josephine, on account of her height, was first bridesmaid, and looked superb in masses of tulle over a delicate shade of pink, and trimmed with the graceful trailing arbutus. Theo's dress was similar, only made over blue, and she looked like some sweat winsome fairy whose nature was all sunshine and gladness. _ _ Guy was like a proud young prince in his looks and bearing, and excited no small amount of admiration and sympathy as " that handsome young man who suffered so unjustly yet so nobly for the crime of another." Herbert Knight seemed almost like his old bright self again, for, as has been said, he had been making " rapid strides towards health and strength" of late ; onl> there was a much more manly and self-reliant look about him than there used to be.

Sir Edward Stewart's eyes were full of fondness and admiration as he met his betrothed at the church door, where, giving her hand one lingering pressure, he left her upon Mr. Gregory's arm, to go to his place at the altar.

Mr. Gregory performed his part in the most creditable manner, much to Tbeo's delight as well as surprise ; for, if the truth had been known, she had been rather nervous and anxious regarding the performance of his duty. ; A few moments served to make Sir Edward Stewart and Sylvia Honghton husband and wife, after whioh a select, bat very pleasant reception, was held at Mr. Gregory's residence, and then the newlywedded couple departed for their own home. Both longed for the quiet happiness ;of their own fireside, and preferred to establish themselves there at once, rather than to travel. So at Marlow Park, that beautiful estate, which always before had impressed Sir Edward with a feeling of loneliness, but which now possessed a peculiar charm for him, because the presence of a sweet, loving woman brightened everything in and around it, we must leave them with a future before them which promised to be one full of joy and usefulness for them.

When the last of the wedding guests had departed, Mr. Gregory stole out upon , the balcony, leading from the dining-room, for a rest and a quiet smoke. Guy and Theo were upstairs in a little reception - room, where Sylvia's beautiful presents had been laid out for their friends to see, and were examining them more at their leisure, before they should be packed and forwarded to Marlow Park.

Bert and Josephine were thus left to their own devices in the drawing-room. A feeling of awkwardness and embarrart* ment suddenly fell upon them, upon finding themselves thus alone ; their usual sociability forsook them entirely, and an oppressive silence settled upon them.

Josephine took up a book of engraving?* and began to examine the pictures within it, while Bert looked out of the window and drummed nervously upon the sill. Presently, unable to endure this state of things any longer, Josephine glanced over a& him and asked: "Shall I go and get the dominoes, Mr.' Knight ?" "A game of dominoes" had oome to be a sort of proverb in the household ; for it had often been a last resort, during Bert's illness, when everything else failed to interest or amuse him. He started and laughed. Then he turned and looked at her; the expression on his face made her eyes fall instantly. At that he abruptly rose and went over to her. ■ "Josephine," he began, in alow, earnest voice, " 1 have here in my hand a, very valuable stone. I think you may know some* thing of its history, but 1 will venture to repeat it to you for fear that you may not know all about it. I bought it nearly two years ago as a matter of duty which I imagined I owed to Theo ; but when I offered' it to her she refused it. ' Keep it,' she said, ' for the lady fair who shall truly win your heart, and be sure that you give it to her with my blessing.' I have had the stone re-set. I know it will fit the finger of he? who has 'truly won my heart.' Josephine, will you accept this ring with my love and-' Theo's blessing ?" He opened his hand and held it out befora her as he spoke, and there upon his palm, beautifully set in dull red gold, lay that glittering stone which Theo had rejected as a betrothal pledge, and which had played so important a part in unravelling the mystery of his disappearance.

She turned her eyes upon it for a moment, lifted one startled glance to her face, then dropped them again upon her book, while a conscious flush suffused bath cheek and brow.

He bent nearer to her, an eager look on his face.

" Josephine, "I love yon—will yon. be my wife he asked ; "your eyes and mine have been telling each other the sweetest story in the world during the last few weeks. We do not need to rehearse it verbally know you are dearer to me than all the world besides, and I believe your heart is mine. Give me your hand, Josephine, my queen, if you deem me worthy of your love, and let me put this ring where it rightly belongs." There was a moment of silence; then wifih her beautifal face glorified by the tenderest love which a noble woman is capable of experiencing, Josephine Walton lifted her hand and laid it beside the ring on his out* stretched palm. Without a word he slipped the diamond upon her finger ; then clasping her hand in both of his, he stooped and kissed her reverently upon her lips. " Mine" !" he whispered. " God make me worthy of the gift which He has bestowed,"

Three raontha later there was a double wedding in the same church where Sylvian Houghton had been married. Here Mr. Gregory officiated the second time, giving away both brides, who were as lovely as it was possible for brides to be in their spotless robes, mist like veils, and under the beautifying influence of unalloyed happiness. Guy had taken a fine house in St. James" Square. This had been famished in an elegant though home-like manner, and thither he was to take his bride upon their return from a three months' tour on the Continent.

Herbert Knight and his wife were to accompany them, though they were to occupy a beautiful villa in the suburbs of London, within easy reach of the city, when they should also return.

Mr. Gregory was to give up his house during the absence of the bridal party, and had consented to make his home with Theo when she should come back to take possession of her new residence.

At first he had demurred at this arrange* ment.

" I shall be like the fifth wheel to a coach —always in the way," he said, with a smile though it was a sad one—when she had pro* posed his coming to them. " I shall never allow anyone to say that of you, Papa Gregory," she said, shaking her pretty finger at him menacingly. Then slipping her hand within his arm, she added, ooaxingly : " You will come to us; won't you ? I think I could not be perfectly happy wihtout you. I have your especial nook all prepared for you, and it would maJie my heart ache continually to see it vacant; it would almost seem," she continued, in » hushed, unsteady voice, " as if I had lost you altogether." He stood silent a few moments, hi# eyes fixed on vacancy ; then he said, as if addressing someone else with whom he had been communing:

" Yes, I will go." Then he started suddenly, and looked down into her sweet, upturned face. " Child he said, solemnly, more and more you grow to look like your mother."

He bent and kissed her, while two great tears rolled over his wrinkled cheeks; then he went abruptly out of the room.

Good Mr. Edmonds performed the marriage ceremony, assisted by the rector of the church where the wedding occurred.

The reception which followed was a much more elaborate affair than Sylvia's had been, for Theo had many friends who had been pupils in the Misses Lovcl's school with her, while many of the Welfleet people were also present.

Everybody heartily congratulated both couples upon their happiness. Countless prophecies of future good and the best of wishes followed them as they departed upon their trip to the Continent, and there was not one who did not seem to rejoice over this delightful termination of the Wklfleet Mystery. (the end.] A NEW STORY. Next Saturday a New Story, entitled, "A HASTY WOOING," By Mrs. May Agnes Fleming, will be commenced in the New Zealand Herald, The title of the new story gives an indica« tion of the leading feature of the tale; but the details leading up to the startling event, together with thp consequences which subsequently resulted,, are related in a manner which only a first-class descriptive writer can accomplish. The interest of the reader is secured during the perusal of the first chapter, and to the end of the story there is a longing desire to know what is the next unexpected event which the whirligig of time brings round.