A DOUBLE LIFE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXV, Issue 9184, 13 October 1888, Page 3 (Supplement)

A DOUBLE LIFE.

BY HELEN CRAiMPTON DALE.

CHAPTER XLVIII. THE STOKY OF THE PAST. ■ " Hush, hush, micjnonne!" muttered Fi- : fine, huskily. "I haf only done my duty J to one who lifted me out of sorrow and ' suffering, and I did hold my peace because - of that. Oh, how coot I speak—how coot , I, petite, while that poor maniac lived, and $ my poor Mees Rose's vair life was bound up in my child ? Meester Dane told me last night what my moothair did confess, else [ I would have taken death rather than she I should haf learned whose hand struck that , tair-able death-blow to your father !" 1 Floy shivered and looked away. [ . " It is true, then ?" she murmured, r huskily. "She did commit the murder?" " Old, it is true!" answered Fifine in a [ hushed voice, " but God will not hold it r murdair, Mees Floy. It was but the act of a • brain diseased, and she neffer knew, neffer - realise that she had committed a crime, i You haf heard my most miserable story, , Mees Floy—heard how I came to be lifted [ out of sorrow and suffering after my j droonken, dissolute husband died—and how my moothair did call me to Darkendale L after your moothair was separate from your i father. A leetle- daughtair—born two - months after my husband's death —had . joost come to me when that message arrife, i and I did not mention it, because I hoped to be with my moothair as soon as a letter . coot have reached her. Therefore I did I send no reply. , "Money had been forwarded to me to i journey to Darkendale, and joost when my baby was seven months old I took ship for America, and arrife there after a long and stormy passage." " I did for nothing waif; but. journey 1 straight to Darkendale. It was after nightfall when I reached it ; Meester Tree.-seel- ' yong was in Boston ; the sairvants, by ■ Heaven's own willing hand, had been allowed to go to a ball at Baymouth, and my ' moothair was alone in the house, save for ' one leetle inaid who aided her in the nursery. ■ "Oh, Mees Floy, it was Heaven's own goodness that sent me to Darkendale that night, and how vair soon we knew it; for, while iny moothair ami I were walking ! alone, there vair sooden rang out an awful ' t shriek from the nursery, where, but a moment since, I had hoard the maid romping with her leetle charge. We rooshed in--1 stantly to the room, only to find it empty, ' the window wide open, and, on the rockery 1 below it, so far, far down, a dark, still ! heap that told us all. "How it did happen we shall neffer know. It was a warm suimnair night, and the moon joost rising over the sea. We can only conjecture that tho leetle maid , had taken the child to the window to watch the beautiful silvnir lie'nt upon the ! water ; that perhaps the child sprung from her arms, and she, in trying to catch it, lost her balance. No ono but God knows the real truth ; but there, on tho rockery, so far down, they both lay. The maid's nock had been broken in the fall, and she was past hope when we reached her; but the child, badly injoor about the head, and its leetle body covair with blood, was still living, although we hoped for nothing but its speedy death. " We were wild—we were like madwomen —recollecting what might be the shock of this to poor .Mees Rose. With that weak diseased heart the shock would kill her— that was all we could think of, and to save her was our one aim in making the change. " No one had seen me in Darkendale save the maid now dead ; no one knew of the existence of my child, and it seemed as though fate had opened a path for us. It was easy enough to do the rest. I took the lectio baby that we thought was dying and disappeared ; my moothair took my Cicerly in its place, and that night, when the sairvants returned, they were told only of the accident to the maid, and despatched at once to notify the authorities. " Fearful and almost beside herself lest any should notice the change, moothair kept the child wrapped up in her arms and announced that as the infant hail had sooeh a tair-able escape, she would nevair again trust it to a living soul, and from that moment she buried herself in tho nursery, dreading only one thing—the end of the week when Meester True-seel-yong should return. " But God who had been so good to us so long dii.l not desert us then, for before the week was out m'sieur sent word that he was unexpectedly called West and would bo absent for a month. Instead, ho was really absent four, Mees Floy, and he so leetle noticed the child at the best of times, that he nevair remarked the fraud when at last ! ho saw it. I " We had fully believed that the real Norma would die of her injuries—and God knows it would haf been bettair so—but instead, she recovered in body only to be hopelessly wrecked in mind. " We feared to trust her to strangers, and as we could no further defer my installation at Darkendale less Mees Rose should wonder ! at my absence and ferret out the cause, my moothair took the little maniac with her when she went to live, in the woodland cottage back of Darkendale. "It was a daring game—knowing that Mees Hose would come there often to see the othair child—but we had prepared a story to account for it as my baby, should its existence be diseovair. Then, too, it was so quiet—more like an idiot the way it would crawl away into a dark corner and crouch thero for hours, for it was nevair until after tho murder that the poor creature ever knew a wild moment; up to that period her only amusement, beyond hiding away like a dog, was shooting with that airgun as though tho flight of the tasselled dart fascinated her. Tho gun was an heirloom, Mees Floy— and we kept it as a memento of my grandfather, who had owned it—-and as its discharge made no noise that would attract attention, raoothair was only too willing to allow the poor lcetlo creature to amuse herself, not knowing what was fated to come out of such amusement, or that one of those deadly darts would yet be reddened with human blood. " God alono knows just how that murdair was really committed. Moothair neffer knew how or when she escaped from the house, for she did not discover her absence until she came stealing back at daybreak. We can only think that she must have stolen out while moothair was talking to Mees Rose, and wandered to Darkendale. The shadow on the blind must have tempted her to shoot, for the dart, as you know, pierced that before it reached him and did its deadly work. " Mees Floy, when I went into the library and looked at my master's dead body, there was no mystery as far as 1 was concerned, for in the instant I beheld that tricoloured tassel I knew the truth. I would haf removed it if 1 coot, but the servants were on guard, I knew that I should be detected if I tried it, and fearful lest other clues might bo about I hurried into the grounds to search them before the arrival of the police. Thero were other clues. Close to the window I found two of the darts which tho poor creature must have dropped, and joost under the rose-hedge—a grey shawl. " if any doubt did linger in my mind, it. must have perished then, for that shawl I recognised as the one Sis always used to curl up in when she crept into her dark corner of the attic. Nothing could ever persuade her to sleep in a bed like a human J being ; it was always in a corner, always wrapped up in that shawl with the air-gun in her arms. I " That I knew the assassin but could not I speak I did know from that moment; for, | j oh, Mees Floy, how coot I kill my own j child ? I had given up my Cicerly's right to bear my name, but I had not given up the moothair's heart that beat here. " If the truth come to light Mr. Dane would not marry the daughter of a sairvant, and to loose him I knew would be her death. I was selfish, you see, for all you call me so faithful; I hold tho secret to save her, and when I learned later that Moes Rose had : not died as we thought, I knew I must hold ! it still because, horrible as it would have been to tell her of the maniac before, how much more horrible to tell her now that a darker curse had fallen ! "To get the evidence away from her was my one thought, and get it away I did. In the dead of het night I went to inv moothair's I cottage and assisted her to leave with the I maniac. She took her st ight to New J York, placed her in an asylum for the insane, and then returned to the cottage in the wood. After that —you know wha* - did happen, Mees Floy : Meeotcr Dane ,<r& my

child were married, and on the same night we left Darkendale for ever. " We came to England ; we left ihe past behind us and began a new life, but I coot not forget. I coot not rest for the dreadfui fear that something would come to light if the ocean lay between the maniac and us. We moost haf her with us—under our eyes, in our care—and so we scheemed to keep the secret. " The cottage that was last night burned was erected, and moothair, old and feeble as she was, crossed the ocean and brought back poor Sis. But a change had come over her, they must haf ill-treated her in that American asylum, I think, for she began to have periods of frightful delirium, and to my hororr I realised that we must trust the secret of her existence to another, for moothair was too feeble to fill the task. It was in that hour of need that Heaven did send Martha to me, and like the true friend she is, for five long years she has held the post, neffer asking—neffer knowing, until to-day, the secret she was guarding. " So the story ends, Mees Floy, and the well-kept secret comes to light, as all human secrets must. It was not a foe who struck Meester Tree-seel-yong down, but the hand of one who knew not what she did—" " And in the eyes of Heaven, surely that is not murder !" broke in Floy, looking up with clasped hands and wet eyes. " Oh, Lord, Thou wilt not judge falsely a maniac's unconscious crime !" " Be sure He will not, Floy !" responded Neil, solemnly. "In the justice of Heaven there must indeed be a different judgment for the hand that slew him and the one that murdered Norma. God will surely not hold a maniac as guilty as he holds Archer Blake !" There was a quick, low cry as he spoke, and turning abruptly, they saw that Martha Finlay had started up in her seat, and with one hand pressed over her heart, was looking at them out of a face as white as death. " Good Heaven ! Mrs. Finlay," he began, but she checked him with a pitiful attempt at a laugh. "It is nothing—nothing, sir," she said, quickly. "Only a sharp, shooting pain, and lam better already. Don't mind me, sir, and please overlook the interruption. You were speaking of—of the murder of your wife—of the brute who slew Fifine's daughter—were you not ? and I thought— that is, I heard—that he was called Colonel Vallory, sir !" "He was so called," responded Neil, " but it was only an assumed title, Mrs. Finlay. His real name was Archer Blake." Again the dead-white pallor shut down over Martha Finlay's face, her hands pressed together so hard that the blood receded from the looked fingers, and she had just opened her lips to speak, when : "I beg your pardon, Mr. Dane," announced the voice of Herrick from the doorway. " I have knocked twice, but as you did not seem to hear, I made so bold as to enter. Dr. Sprague has sent me to say that you may all enter the sick room now, sir ; his labours are ended." " And my mother, Herrick—my mother !" gasped Floy. "Tell me the worst. She is—" "Conscious, Miss Tressylian, the doctor bade me say. He has worked over her since midnight, and you may enter the room at last." And almost before the sentence was completed she was out of the room, with Neil and Fifine following swiftly. Only Martha Finlay lingered behind, and as Herrick closed the door and left her he saw that she was sitting there still, her hands tightly locked and that deathly look upon her colourless face.

CHAPTER XLIX. "for sad times axd glad times, and all TIMES PASS OVEIt." With Floy leading, that hopeful trio descended the stairs and went swiftly in the direction of the sick room. The door of the little black-and-ainber parlour was standing open; electrical implements, vials, glasses, and even books were scattered everywhere; and in the midst of the litter, looking worn out and hollow-eyed after eleven hours of sleepless labour, Dr. Sprague stood awaiting them. He put hi.s linger upon his lips as they came in and glanced nervously at tne portiere over the door of the bed-chamber. "Not a word, not an outcry, or I will nob be responsible for the end," he said, warningly. "God has been indeed merciful, Miss Tressylian. I only hoped to give you back a raving maniac, but instead I give you—this." He lifted the portiere as he spoke and let them glance in. The silken curtains were drawn, but the sunlight shining through filled the room with a soft, subdued radiance, and there upon the pillows, looking at them with wide-open blue eyes, lay a pale, shadowy figure with snow-white hair" Her hands were softly folded, a smile was on her lips—she lived, she breathed, but nothing more. "Oh, doctor !" gasped Floy ; but he put his hand upon her lips and let the curtain fall. "I have given you a recreated woman, Miss Tressylian," he said, quickly, "and an untimely word now may ruin all." " Oh, sir, you mean—" "That her life begins from to-day, Miss Tressylian. Memory is a blank—she has no past, and her future will be only what you desire to make it! Her mind is that of a new-born child, or as an unsoiled leaf, upon which you may write what you will. It is a second life, Miss Tressylian—a second life—pure and spotless, born out of a dark and troubled past, that would kill her if it came back. It is one of God's wonderful mercies, but it is not alone in history. " Miss Tressylian, in such a state as that I give you back your mother, and I warn you that there- arc dangers here that may prove fatal. She will recover strength rapidly, for the brain and not the body is affected, and if you will follow my advice you will get her out of England as soon as possible. Take her where there are strange sights, strange faces, strange names. You will, of course, be compelled to remain in England to testify at the trial of that man Blake—and it may be two or even three months before that case is called—but I advise the strictest caution in every particular." "Advise us then what to do, doctor!" exclaimed Neil. "Tell us how we may avoid danger—what we must do to save her." " In the first place, then, discharge every servant in the establishment, and replace them by foreigners. You all speak the French language, and it will be easy then to send over to France for a batch of servants that have no knowledge of English, and in your re-education of her leave French out." " And then V "Let Filine Benvarde, Floy Tressylian, and Neil Dane be names never again uttered while she lives. Change them—the Crown will legalise any new name you may wish to adopt, and if you desire to save her, change them now." They did desire to save her, and so it fell out that when night came down over Oakhurst once more, it found not a servant under its roof. "To-morrow I will send to Franco for others," announced Neil, as they sat in solemn conclave. " But I must find a name first, I suppose. My mother's maiden name was Thornhurst, and I daresay that will do us well as any for a surname ; then for the other I might take my middle nameGordon." " Yes," said Floy, quietly, "that will do. Gordon Thornhurst—l like the name !" " Try and like the man too," he murmured under his breath, and by the soft rose glow that flooded all her face, she gave a silent acquiescence. "So much is settled then," lie added, presently. "I shall be Gordon Thornhurst after to-night. What name will you take, Floy ?" " Yours, nrsicur !" responded Fifine, coming forward. "She will take your name, of course; it should haf been hers five years ago !" "Fifine!" "Hush, Mees Floy—for the last time I call you that—you are Florence Thornhurst, m'sieur's wife, after this." There was no chance for Floy to answer ; for as Fifine spoke a hand reached out and clasped hers, a man's face looked deeply into her own, and so : " Shall it be so—may it be so, Florence ?" asked Neil, earnestly. "I asked it five years ago, and you refused it for Norma's sake, now will you accept it for your mother's ?" " Oh, don't, don't!" she answered, shrinking back. "It is cruel —it is inhuman! when 6nly yesterday a grave was filled ! only yesterday Norma buried." •' But for your mother's sake ?' ]

"No—no ! don't ask it—don't ask ifc ! If Norma looks upon us both to-night—" " She blesses you, mignonne, as her mother blesses you," broke in Fifine, huskily. " Ah, niy darling, so long I haf served you—now you shall serve me. M'sieur, I will answer. Send for no servants ; we will do without them until after the trial, and then, when we leave this land neffer to return, the Crown shall haf given you the right to claim that new name as your own, m'sieur, and she will gif you the right to claim her. Hush ! hush ! mignonne, you shall not deny me this. It is to save the life of the moothair for whose sake I was willing to die, and for whose sake you moost be willing to live and be happy. After the trial, mirjnonne, after the trial, and as soon as it is over I shall thank God with a full heart." ■ There is no sound to betray it—neither rustle of garments nor fall of foot—but a figure crouched at the other side of the door rises as Fifine says this, and goes swiftly and silently down the hall. The waxlights burn dimly in a room across the passage—a room where a coffin stands —the silent figure glides in, bends over and kisses the dead face of old Nichette ; then, with a last look, closes the door, and goes down and out into the moonlight. " A visitor for you—a lady." * # * * * The gruff voice of the turnkey breaks in upon Archer Blake's musings as he paces back and forth across his narrow cell, and with a sort of growl, he stops suddenly and whirls around. The light in the corridor shows him a tall, female figure in a bonnet and cloak —a figure that stands in a position that its face is in shadow, but the bonnet and cloak lend it a sort of familiar appearance, and, with a shrug of his shoulders, he says, contemptuously : " A Sister of Mercy ! More sermons and psalms—as though they'll help me ! Yes, I'll see her. But you needn't unlock the door. She can whine her hymns and the rest of it upon the other side of the bars i" The turnkey makes no response to the jeerer. "Twenty minutes, ma'am," he says to the woman as he hangs the lantern on a peg and trudges away; but she only answers with a gentle inclination of her head. Silent and immovable she stands while his footfall dies out down the long, paved corridor ; then she hears a door close, stillness falls, and then : " Archer !"—she says, in a swift, keen voice, as she whirls, and catching down the lantern holds it close to her face—" Archer, do you know me ?" He looks at that solemn, death-white face and starts back with a shuddering cry. Changed ifc is since lasb he saw ifc, its girlish freshness is blotted out and spoiled, but even in the wreck he sees the likeness still. "My God !—Martha!" " Yes, Martha—poor Martha Finlay !' she answered, with a moan, "the girl you lured from home and friends, the girl you left—with a broken life behind and a wasted life before—the victim of your wiles, the dupe of your artifice, who knew no better than to love you then, as—God pity her—she loves you even yet. " I am she—that creature whose heart and life you wrecked, but who comes to you to-night even in the guise you derided—a Sister of Mercy ! Archer, listen to me. There is no hope for you. Death is as certain for you as the rising of to-morrow's sun, and worst of all, that hideous death upon the scaffold !" "Hush, hush! for God's sake!" he answered, in a throttled voice. " Don't remind me of it—ifc drives me mad. Night and day I feel that rope about my neck, that stifling cap over my face, and sleeping or waking that awful death stands out before me with all tho horrors of hell. Oh, to escape it—oh. if I had but leaped from the window that night. Anything but the scaffold—anything, and yet there is no escape, no escape ! " Yes, there is one !" "What!" "There is one, I tell you—a quicker, easier death, and I, your Sister of Mercy, have brought it to you. You remember the ring you gave me to wear, and told me to have ever near in case of danger ?" " Yes ; my God ! yes ! Ifc contained a swift and subtle poison, and would to Heaven I had it now !" She put up her hand and let him see a massive bloodstone on her finger. "It is here !" she said, huskily. " For God's sake, let me have it!" " Wait," she answered, drawing back from the bars. " I have but one friend living, and your death will bring her peace. For me there would be certain detection, years of imprisonment, and 1 prefer death. There is enough for two in this ring, Archer, and see"—as she lifted it to her lips—"you have been my ruin in both worlds now, but— Oh, God ! it burns ! it burns ! Quick ! drink ! drink ! and—l have loved you, Archer—kiss iny hand as you die !" She thrust it through the bars as she spoke, and with a swift movement he raised ifc to his lips. * * * «• * Twenty minutes later, when the turnkey came back, he found this " Sister of Mercy" crouched upon the floor with her arm thrust through the bars, and within the cell a corpse that held her stiffened hand pressed to his lips—just as Death had stopped and taken them—in that—eternal kiss !

CHAPTER L. AFTKK THE STORY ENDED. To the west stands the Piazza di Grillo, to the east glimmers the golden cross upon the Convent of St. Sixtus, and overhead the Roman moon strikes down, a sheet of silver, full on the Villa di Thornhurst—on the gardens that surround it—on the yellow waters of the Tiber, that rolls beneath the low sea-wall, and on the broad stone gallery that looks out from a screen of roses toward this grandeur of Held and flood. There are three persons standing upon ib now, a lovely, mild-faced, blue-eyed lady in heavy, soundless black silk—a beautiful lady, too, whose life must be one of sweet contentment it that happy face stands for anything, but whose slight figure and smooth brow seem strangely young for that coronal of snow-white hair. Another woman is there too—a woman whose features bear the unmistakable French cast—and close beside her, leaning over the rail and eagerly scanning the moonlighted waters, there is a sturdy little chap of six in a Roman cap and blouse. "I don't see them yet, do you, grandma ?" he says, looking up at "the lovely, white-haired lady. "And I'm sure it's time. Papa said just an hour, and it must be an hour now. Isn't it, Madame Stephanie ?" "It is vair mooch more than an hour, Mastair Norman," responds Madame Stephanie, smiling down upon him. "I am quite sure they cannot be long now, and— Ah ! I do think I see them now. Look there, Mees Grace — look there, Mastair Norman, just by the bend !" " Yes, I see them—l see them !" responds the boy, joyfully. "Don't you, grandma?" I " Yes, Norman, darling," she answers sweetly. '' There is papa rowing, and mamma—do see, Stephanie—little Flo is crowning her with roses. What a perfect picture !" Ib is, indeed; for upon the moonlit waters a pleasure-boat has just appeared— a pretty gilded toy ; a handsome darkhaired man is pulling toward the waterstairs ; in tho stern a fair-haired woman sits, half buried in rose branches, and crowning her with a wreath of blossoms there is a tiny tot of a lassie with hair like tawny gold. "They've got the roses, they've got the roses !" sings out the boy, lustily. " Oh, double life. grandma, what a lot! We'll begin and trim the room this very night!" Grandma only answers with a smile, and in silence they stand and watch the boat come in. Ib glides up to the water-stair; the occupants land, and then all three go forward to meet them. " Back at last, Florence ?" smiles grandma. " How well Gordon rows, to be sure ! You cannot imagine what a beautiful picture it was to see the boat as ib glided in." "Couldn't help it, mother, with such a beautiful oarsman !" laughed Gordon, in a happy, rollicking way, as he bends over and kisses her. "Of course big Florence and little Florence went for nothing in the picture." " Box his ears, mother !" laughed " big " Florence ; while the minute one comes forward with a branch of blossoms aad holds it out, supplementing : "Hit him wif de woses, dranl'ma dey won't hur f "

" My ! and such a lob of them !" cuts in Master Norman. " Won't Flo have a lovely birthday, though !" " I'll be free !" says Miss Flo, as though she wishes the importance of the fact to be duly remembered—" I'll be free years and one minute old first fing in the mornin'; papa says so, and he's just the loveliest papa in all the world, aint he, dram'ma ?" " He is the best, I think, dear," answers dram'ma, with a smile ; and then as it sud denly occurs to her, Flo cuts in quickly : "Say, dram'ma, when'll you be free? And ain't you dot no papa and no mamma, nor nuffin' ?" " 'Cause she has, haven't you, grandma ?" supplements Master Norman; "but it i.3 funny you never talk about them. Who was your papa, grandma ! I mean, what was his name and where did he live '!" " Norman !" says Mr. Thornhurst, sharply, as he sees a pizzled look creep over that fair old face, but Madame Stephanie, ever on guard, quickly diverts her atten tion to the roses, and folding her arm about her boy, Floy—for tiie last time we may call her that—leads him gently toward the house. "My darling, you mustn'task grandma any questions regarding the past," she says, solemnly, as they walk away. "Someday papa will tell you why, but just now— Wo are all so happy in this beautiful, peaceful home, my darling ; so happy, so happy that you must not spoil it by a thoughtless word. And then in a tender, reverent voice, with eyes upturned and her arm folded about the neck of her little son : " Lord, Thou art very good !" she sweetly says. " Oh, life ! oh, love, how beautiful!' [the end.]

On the 20th of the present month anothcP new story will be begun in the New Zealand HERALD. On this occasion the story will be by that well known and charming writer of fiction, Mrs. Georgie Sheldon and entitled, "WITCH HAZEL; or, THI2 SECRET OF THE LOCKET." It is an admirably-written story : the plot is deep, and the ever-changing scenes and characters which are introduced make ib difficult for readers to guess as to what development comes next. The story is so captivating, that when once it is begun, the reader will be constrained to follow the fortunes of the characters introduced to their close.