LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET

Otago Daily Times, Issue 419, 24 April 1863, Page 6

LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET

By the Author"1 of•**Lady Lisle," "Aurora

.Floyd," &c.

(From the Sixpenny Magazine.)

(Continued.)

Of course Clara Talboys was far from discovering the drift of. these melancholy lamentations. She recommended Mr. Audley to read hard and think seriously of his profession, and begin life in real earnest* It was a hard, dry sort of existence perhaps which she recommended; a life of serious work and application, in which he should strive to be useful to his fellow-creatures, and win a reputation for himself. Mr Audley almost made a wry lace at the thought of such a barren prospect. " I'd do all that,'' he thought, " and do it earnestly, if I could be sure of a reward for my labor. If she would accept my reputation when it was won, and support me in the struggle by her beloved companionship. But what if she sends me away to fight the battle, and marries some hulking country squire while my back is turned ?" Being naturally ofa vacillating and dilatorydisposition, there is no saying how long Mr. Audley might have kept his secret, fearful to sneak and break the charm of that uncertainty which, though not always hopeful, was very seldom quite despairing, had not he been hurrisd by the impulse of an unguarded moment into a full confession of the truth.

He had stayed five weeks at Grange Heath, and felt that he could not, in common decency, stay any longer; t=o he had packed his portmanteau one pleasant May morning, and had announced his departure.

Mr Talboys was not the sort of man to utter any passionate lamentations at the prospect of losing his guest, but he expressed himself with a cool cordiality which served with him as the strongest demonstration of friendshin.

" We have got on very well together, Mr Audlej'." he snid, " and you have been pleasad to appear sufficiently happy in the quiet routine of our orderly hou.-ehoid ; nay, more, you have conformed to our little domestic re<ru!ati 'lis in a manner which I cannot refrain from sriyiiTZ I take as an especial compliment to myself."

Robert bowed. How 'thankful he was to the good fortune which had never suffered him to oversleep the signal of the clanging bell, or led him away beyond the ken of clocks at Mr Talboy's luncheon hour.

" I trust as we have got on so remarkably well together," Mr Talboys resumed, '' you will do the honor of reneating your visit to Dorsetshire whenever you feel inclined. You will find plenty of sport amongst my farms, and you will meet with every politeness and attention from my tenants, if you like to bring your gun with you." Robert responded most heartily to these friendly overtures. He declared that there was no earthly occupation that was more agreeable to him than partridge shooting, and that he should be only too delighted to avail himself of the privilege so kindly offered to him. He could not help glancing towards Clara as he said this. The perfect lids drooped a little over the brown eyes, and the faintest shadow of a blush illuminated the beautiful face.

But this was the young barrister's last day in Elysium, and there must be a dreary interval of days and nights and weeks and months before the first of September would give him an excuse for returning to Dorsetshire. A dreary interval which fresh-colored young squires, or fat widowers of eight-and-forty might use to his disadvantage. It was no wonder, therefore, that he contemplated this dismal prospect with moody despair, and was bad company for Miss Talboys that morning. But in the evening after dinner, when the sun was low in the west, and Harcourt Talboys closeted in his library upon some judicial business with his lawyer and a tenant farmer, Mr Audley grew a little more agreeable. He stood by Clara's side in one of the long windows of the drawing-room watching the shadows deepening in the sky and the rosy light growing every moment rosier as the day died out. He could not help enjoying that quiet tete-a-tete, though the shadow of the next morning's express which was to carry him away to London, loomed darkly across the pathway of his joy. He could not help being happy in her presence; forgetful of the past, reckless of the future. They talked of the one subject which was always a bond of union between them. They talked of her lost brother George. She spoke of him in a very melancholy tone this evening. How could she be otherwise than sad, remembering that if he lived—and she was not even sure of that—he was a lonely wanderer far away from all who loved him, and carrying the memory of a blighted life wherever he went. In the sombre twilight stillness she spoke of him thus, with her hands clasped and the tears trembling in her eyes. " I cannot think how papa can be so resigned to my poor brother's absence," she said, " for he does love him, Mr Audley; even you must have seen lately that he does love him. But I cannot think how he can so quietly submit to his absence. If I were a man, I would go to Australia, and find him, and bring him back; if he was still to be found among the living," she added in a lower voice.

She turned her face away from Robert, and looked out at the darkening sky. He laid his hand upon her arm. It trembled in spite of him, and his voice trembled, too, as he spoke to her.

" Shall 1 go to look for your brother ?" he said.

" You!" She turned her head, and looked at him earnestly through her tears. '' You, Mr Audley ! Do you think that I could ask you to make such a sacrifice for me, or for those I love ?"

"■ And do you think, Clara, that I should think any sacrifice too great an one if it were made for you ? Do you think there is any voyage I would refuse to take if I knew that you would welcome when I came home, and thank me for having served you faithfully. I will {ja-frora one end of the Continent of Australia to the other to look for your brother, if you please, Clara; and will never return alive unless I bring him with me, and will take my chance of what reward you shall give me for my labor." Her head was bent, and it was some moments before she answered him.

" You are very good and generous, Mr Audley," she said, at last, "and I feel this offer too much to be able to thank you for it. But—what you speak of could never be. By what right could I accept such a sacrifice?'1

" By the right which makes me your bounden slave for ever and ever, whether you will or no. By the right of the love I bear you, Clara," cried Mr Audley, dropping on his knees, —rather awkwardly, it must be confessed—and covering a soft little hand that he had found half-hidden among the iblds of a silken dress, with passionate kisses.

" I love you, Clara," he said, " I love you. You may call for your father, and have me turned out of the house this moment, if you like; but I shall go on loving you all the same ; and I shall love you for ever and ever, whether you will or no."

The little hand was drawn away from his, but not with a sudden or angry gesture, and

it rested for one moment lightly and tremulously upon his dark hair. " Clara, Clara !" he' murmured, in. a low pleading voice, "shall I go to Australia to look for your brother ?" There was no answer. I don't know how it is, but there is scarcely anything more delicious than silence in such cases. Every moment of hesitation is a tacit avowal; every pause is a tender confession. " Shall we both go, dearest ? Shall we go a« man and wife ? Shall we go together, my dear love, and bring our brother back between us?"

MrHarcourtTalboys coming into the lamplit. room a quarter of an hour afterwards, found Robert Audley alone, and had to listen to a revelation which very much surprised him. Like all self-sufficient people, he was tolerably blind to everything that happened under his nose, and he had fully believed that his own society, and the Spartan regularity of his household, had been the attractions which had made Dorsetshire delightful to his guest.

fie was rather disappointed, therefore ; but he bore his disappointment pretty well, and expressed a placid and rather stoical satisfaction at the turn which affairs had taken. " I have only one more point upon which I wish to obtain your consent, my dear sir," Egbert said, when almost every thins had been pleasantly settled. " Our honeymoon trip, with your permission, will be to Australia." Mr Talboys was taken aback by this. He brushed something like a tearful mist away from his hard grey eyes as he offered Robert his hand. "You are going to look for my son," he said. " Bring me back my boy, and I will fr.?ely forgive yon for having robbed me of my daughter." So Robert Audley went back to London, to surrender his Chambers in Fig Tree Court, and to make all due inquiries about such ships as sailed from Liverpool for Sydney in the month of June. He went back a new man, with new hopes, new cares, new prospects, new purposes : with a life that was so entirely changed that he looked out upon a world in which everything wore a radiant and rosy aspect, and wondered how it could ever have seemed such a dull, neutral tinted universe. He had lingered until after luncheon at Grange Heath, and it was in the dusky twilight that he entered the shady Temple courts and found his way to his chambers. He found Mrs Malony scrubbing the stairs, as was her wont upon a Saturday evening, and he had to make his way upward amidst an atmosphere of soapy steam, that made tlie bannisters greasy under his touch. " There's lots of letthers, yer honor," the laundress i-aid. as she rose from her knees and flattened herself against the the wall to enable Robert to pa^s her, and there's some parrouls, and there's a gentleman which has called every so many times, and is waitin' to-night for 1 towld him you'd written to me to say your rooms were to be aired." " Very good, Mrs. M, ; you may get me sime dinner and a pint of sherry as soon as you like, and see that ray luggage is all right if you please,"

{To he continued.)