CHAPTER XVI. The Empty Room.

Otago Witness, Issue 1602, 5 August 1882, Page 25

CHAPTER XVI. The Empty Room.

Margaret having allowed her sister time to 'cool down,' as she mentally expressed it, went up to the little bedroom where Nellie slept, for the purpose of trying to make peace. When Margaret entered the room all signs of recent emotion had vanished from Nellie's face. True, Nellie looked paler than usual, perhaps firmer and more resolved, but Margaret did not notice this. She only saw that Nellie had not been crying lately, and she was very glad to see this. 'I came up to see after you, Nellie dear,' said Margaret. 'I am afraid I vexed you downstairs ; but I am sure if you saw it in a right light you would see it was all for your good.' Then Nellie said rather quickly— ' Please, Margaret, don't say any more about this to-day. I have got a headache, I don't want to talk any more to-day. Is tea ready downstairs yet ?' ' I have just made it, answered Margaret, 'come down, dear, and get some, it will do you good.' And Nellie having promised to do so, Margaret went away, but before she returned to the front sitting-room where the tea was standing, Margaret had a word to whisper in her father's ear. 4 Father,' she said, going into the Major's study, and speaking very softly lest Nellie should overhear on her way downstairs, ' I have spoken to Nellie about her marriage, and also about you living with us, so please if she says anything to you be careful what you say. It would be fcuch a happy arrangement for us all if she would agree to it, and of course what you say will have great influence upon her.' ' Biit,' Margaret,' said the Major, ' remember, I won't have her forced into anything. If the child likes the young man it is different.' ' Of course not forced, father dear, but Nellie is only a young girl, easily influenced one way or the other, and it would be such a good thing for her to be well married.' ' Yes, but still I should not like to urge her.' ' But tell her you wish it, father, if she asks you,' said Margaret, earnestly ; and the Major somewhat unwillingly promised to do this. But Nellie said nothing to her father when she came downstairs. She was quieter than she usually was, and she sat reading, or pretending to read, most of the evening, and not till she was bidding her father good-night, when the ever exemplary Margaret was looking after the house doors, did Nellio show an unusual emotion. Then, as she kissed her father, the old man drew her closer, and kissed again her soft Rmooth cheek. As ho did this Nellie gave a little start, and a quiver. ' Father,' she said the next moment, in a trembling voice, ' is it true what Margaret told me to day— that— that— you are thinking of living with Mr Vyner when he marries Margaret?' 'Well, Margaret wishes it, my darling,' answered the Major. ' She thinks it would be best, and she thinks if you marry, my little girl ' But Margaret's step was now heard in the passage close to the parlour door, and without another word Nellie lifted Tip her head, and drew back from her father's arms.

' Good night, father,' she said quietly, and then went away, and Major Blythe ever afterwards bitterly regrotted that he had allowed her to go. Indeed, the Major determined in his own mind after she had left him, that he would shortly come to a fuller understanding with his young daughter. But during the following day he had no opportunity of doing this. Nellie was out the greater part of the morning, and Vyner spent the evening with them, and Nellie and the Major were never alone. But when Nellie parted with him for the night the Major grew more determined in his purpose to speak to her. Somehow the old man thought that his little girl's arms clung more tenderly than usual round his neck as she gave him her customary kiss. ' And I want you to give me something tonight, father,' slie said, as if she was trying to speak jestingly. # ' Well, what is it, my little lassie ? ' answered the Major, caressingly, holding her hands. ' Just a little bit, a very little bit, of your hair,' said Nellie. 'May I cut it off now, father?' ' What nonsense, Nellie, to bother father tonight ! ' eaicl Margaret, who was standing near them, by tho side of Vyner. • Father won't mind,' said Nellie, in her old pretty, wilful way, and she went and got her scissors, and, stooping over her father, cut off a piece of his irongrey hair. ' Thank you,' ehe said, and she kißsed his fwehe&d, ' I wul always keep it,'

' But why do you Vant it to-night, Nellie ? ' asked Margaret. ' I want to put it in a locket,' answered Nellie ' Thank you again, father.' 'Give me another kvs for it then, darlmg,' said the Major, and then Nellie put her arms round her father's neck, and kissed him very tenderly. '.Good-night, my darling— God bless you,' whispered the Major, and somehow he fancied that a tear for a moment wet his cheek.

So impressed was he by Nellie's manner, that no sooner was Vyner gone, than he spoke seriously to Margaret on the subject. 'My dear,' he said, addressing his eldest 'daughter, when they were alone, 'I want to speak to you about Nellie. I don't think the child is happy, and I won't have her teased or worried about this marriage with young ! Saunders. If she were fond of hhn, of course, I would be glad to have her well settled, but if she is not, we must just keep on this house, and manage _ without you as best we can. Nellie's happiness is and must be the first coni sideration, and I have not been satisfied with her manner these two nights.' 'She is a little unsettled perhaps,' said Margaret, ' that is all ; and I am sure, dear i father, that it is her true happiness that I also am thinking of.' 'Well, dear, I will speak to her in the morning,' answered tho Major, 'and be guided by what she says.' , And determined to carry out this idea in spite of Margaret, the Major retired to bed. • Tho night wore on over the heads of the , quiet household. Hour after hour went on to 1 join the past. Then the dawn broke, and up betimes rose Margaret, sitting down steadily to two hours work at her wedding garments 'before breakfast time. The Major came down late ; ' Nearly ten o'clock, father,' said MarI garet, in mild reproof, ' and Nellie not down 'yet— l have been up since six ' As Nellie did not appear at a quarter-past ten, Margaret went up to seek her. She knocked at her sister's bedroom door, but there was no response, so Margaret walked unbidden into the room.

She started, almost gave a cry, when she got there. The bed had not been slept in, and there was no Nellie to be seen. There was a certain strangeness too in the appearance of the room— scraps of paper, pieces of twine, a dozen little things that told some sort of packing had been going on. Then, as Margaret's startled gaze wandered around, her eyes suddenly fell on a letter lying on the toilet table. To seize this and read the address was the work of a moment. It was directed to Major Blythe, and Margaret at once opened it, and as she read her young sister's words she grew sick and cold with fear. How could she tell her father? she was thinking. How could she break this dreadful news ?

: For in her letter Nellie bade her father and sister good bye. 'I am going away to-night, dear father,' read poor trembling Margaret, ' but you must not be uneasy about me if you do not hear of me for a long, long time. Where lam going I shall be well cared for, and as you have settled to live with Margaret and Mr Vyner, I hope that you will not miss me. But I will not forget my dear, dear father ; and I hope my dear, dear father will not forget his little Nell. Some day I will come back to you, father, and till the day comes I will often, often think of you. But do not vex yourself about me ; I shall, I hope, be well and happy, and I hope that you will keep well and happy also. Give my love to Margaret. Your loving and affectionate daughter, 4 Neiaie.' Margaret read and re-read these words, and her usual self-possession seemed entirely to forsake her. Did she blame herself? No, Margaret never blamed herself ; it was not in her nature to do so, but she was greatly shocked and overcome. While she was standing thus, Nellie's farewell letter grasped in her trembling hand, she heard her father's voice calling from below. 'Is anything the matter with little Nell?' called the Major ; and, pale and even faint, Margaret went down to her father, still holding Nellie's letter in her hand. 'Is the child not well ?-' asked the Major, when he heard his daughter's footsteps approaching him. Then Margaret took her father's hand, and led him back into the parlour. 'Father,' she said, in a faltering voice, 'do not be afraid ; Nellie has done a very foolish thing. I cannot imagine how she could do such a thing, but — but she is not upstairs.' ' Not upstairs ! ' repeated the Major. ' What do you mean, Margaret? Tell me at once what you mean?' ' Sho has left a letter,' continued Margaret with great emotion, ' a letter for you, father. I have opened it ; it is a sort of farewell letter ; Nellie is gone somewhere — but, but we will find her. Father! father!' And Margaret caught her father by the arm. For with a terrible cry the blind man lifted up his hands when he heard the news. ' Gone 1 ' he cried. 'Nellie, my darling, do you say gone ? Where has she gone? Have you done this, Margaret ? ' he .added fiercely. ' Answer me— have you done this ? '

'Do not be unjust, father,' said Margaret, to a certain extent recovering her self-possess-ion. 'I, who have done everything for Nellie —I have done nothing, given her nothing but kindness and love. But I will read her letter.'

With a moan Major Blythe tottered to a seat, and then Margaret read aloud poor Nellie's farewell words. As Margaret concluded the unhappy father utterly broke down. 'My darling, my darling !' he sobbed. ' Oh, Nellie, how could you leave me— blind and helpless. I cannot try to find you, Nellie '

'Hush, father,' said Margaret, 'Do not give way thus ; you will be ill if you do, and that will only make matters worse. We must try ,to find Nellie— we must find her— and we must keep all this quiet if we can. Let us try to think calmly. What can have been Nellie'B motive for this rash, misguided step V Again Major Blythe moaned aloud. The bitterness of his blindness seemed terrible to him at this moment,

' What about this talk of marriage with young Saunders ?' ho said. ' I noticed she was not herself lately— and she may have thought, poor tender-hearted child, that we wished her to marry against her will ? In her letter sho speaks of my living with you and Vyner, does sho not ? But I won't, Margaret ! I will keep on this house if I starve in it. My child shall have a home to come to, at any rate, whenever she returns.'

' We will see about all this, father, by-and-bye; but don't excite yourself now. You see, Nellie says in her letter, she hopes to bo well and happy, and that, some day, she will come back. Can it bo ? Can she have married anyone unknown to us ? But no, no ; she know no one- no, sho has probably gone to some educational establishment or other, that she has seen advertised, as a pupil-teacher. Yes, this is the most likely thing I can think of.' ' She— she knew Lord Seaforth,' said Major Blythe, slowly and painfully, 4 Lord Seaforth !' eohoed Margaret. ♦It cannot be, father ! And yet— yet, when I think of it, she spoke very sharply to roe once in his

defence, when I so justly blamed him for coming here, and allowing us to believe he was only Captain Seaforth! If I thought this, ■father ' 'If I thought this,' said the Major, rising passionately from the chair, ' blind as I am, Til force him to marry her ! I'll go to his {mother's house this very day, and learn the truth I' * But we have no proof, father ; still there is just a probability ; he came here a great deal, jdid he not, at one time ?' 'Yes, at the time of Wallace's accident, 'when you were staying 'with your friend at 'Woolwich. She has seen him since, 1 know. One day, I remember her telling me he had jtold her he was Lord Seaforth ' ; ' And you did not tell me this, father ? You did not confide in me, though you know how earnestly I have tried to do my duty to you and Nellie? The Major was silent. He felt that perhapa ihe deserved this reproof, for there were many ! things that he and his little Nellie had not tola to Margaret. ; ' Did she say anything more to you ?' continued Margaret. 'At least tell me the truth ;now, father— though it may be too late.' ' ' Nothing. I remember being uneasy when I heard this man was Lord Seaforth. But if •'he has done anything to the child he shall 'answer to me for it.' ! 'He lives with his mother,' said Margaret, j ' and his mother liveß in one of the feouth ! Kensington Squares. I know this because i Walter has dined there, and if he has induced ; Nellie to run away with him, he also will have' 1 left home. We must go to his mother, father.*' ' Let us go at once then.' ■ ' Stay, let me think — best keep this as craiefe as we can, father, for all our sakes, for Nellie'a i sake, for Walter s sake, for mine. A woman i can do a thing more quietly than a man— let , me go alone to Lady Seaforth's — she knowa I Walter, that alone will be an introduction ?' [ 'Well, if you think so. But be quick, ' Margaret 1 How can I wait here, wait helplees here, till you return V 1 Dear father, it is only a remote chance I am goingon, so you must not expect too much. Still I think we have some just cause of suspicion, at least if Nellie met Lord Seaforth, a 8 you say, unknown to me?' This parting reproof being administered, Margaret got ready to start for Lady Sea* forth's. She did not rush off in hot haste, but prepared deliberately to encounter her lady- 1 ship. As she pinned on her hat and arranged her veil, however, the probability of Nelh'B having run away with Lord Seaforth grew upon her mind. This would account for Nellie's otherwise unaccountable rejection oi James Saunders' excellent proposal, thought Margaret. No one in their senses would have" refused such an offer without cause, 'and I believe now this cause has been Lord Seaforth,' at last she decided. Margaret (ever economical) would not drivs the whole way to South Kensington, even though her father urged her to do so. She 1 went so far in the tram, and then took a cab, and drove to lady Seaforth's house. To her" surprise, when she rang the door bell and asked if Lady Seaforth were at home, the footman admitted her at once with a jaunty air and a smile.

' Oh, y're the young lady from—' (and Mai" garet could uot catch the name), said the man* 4 Come in, and I'll ring for Thomson, the maid, and she'll take you up to my lady.' Margaret immediately Baw there was soma mistake, but after a moment's consideration, aa she stood there in the hall, she determined to take advantage of it. She must see Lady Sea- 1 forth, she told herself, and as Lady Sea* forth was evidently expecting some lady, the easiest ',way to procure an interview was to pretend not to notice the footman's error. In a minute or, two Thomson the maid appeared. ' You can come up with me,' she said, ad' dressing Margaret, ' I hope you have been able to match it ?'

Then Margaret's face flushed red beneath her veilj and her very ears began to tingle. She had been mistaken for some shop-girl, some milliner's girl, she thought angrily, and she opened her lips to tell the maid her true position. But Thompson never looked round. She walked very fast, and Margaret walked after her angry and indignant, until they came to a room door which the maid pushed open. 'Go in there, ' she said, 'my lady will speak to you in a moment or two.' How degrading, how annoying, thought Margaret, who had always prided herself on looking perfectly lady-like ! But though greatly annoyed, her common sense told her that the best thing to do now was to see Lady Seaforth. So drawing herself up, and trying to look as dignified as she could, Margaret stood for the next quarter of an hour. Then she heard two people outside the door talking in reference to herself. ' You have not seen it, then ?' someone was saying. • The woman who brought it is here, isn't she ? It must match, Thomson, or it will spoil the whole effect.' And a moment later the doors opened, and a haughty-looking, fairhaired woman entered.

Margaret did not know Lady Seaforth by sight, yet she felt sure that this was Lady Sea* forth. The small high features, and tho blue eyes, reminded her of features and eyes that she had seen before. Lady Seaforth bore a certain likeness to her son, yet the expression of their faces was so totally different that it marred the effect of the features. The haughty prominent blue eyes of the mother scarcely glanced at Margaret as she entered tho room. Margaret bowed, and Lady Seaforth made a hardly perceptible movement of her head. ' You have brought the lace ?' she said. ' I hope it is the exact pattern — nothing else will do.' ' There is some mistake,' said Margaret, trying not to seem nervous. 'If you are Lady Seaforth I wish to see you— but I have brought no lace — I have come on a very different errand.'

Then the large, haughty, prominent bin© eyes did look at Margaret. 'I am Lady Seaforth,' said her ladyship, 'but if you have not brought the lace from Marshall and Snelgrove's, why are you here ?' ' I— l wish to speak to you, answered Margaret, ' and your servants mistook me for some other person — I—lI — I must speak to you, Lady Seaforfch.-'

' What can you possibly havo to say to me V ' [t is on a most painful subject,' faltered Margaret, her boasted self-possession all vanishing away before the cold, haughty stare that the blue eyes had now fixed on her. ' I wish to speak to you — about your son.' ' My son V repeated Lady Seaforth in her coldest accents. ' I decline to speak to you on such a, subject ; I request that you will leave the room.'

' No, I must speak to you ! You mistake me entirely, Lady Seaforth,' said Margaret, eagerly. 'I am not a shop-girl ; I havo brought no lace ; I am a young lady by birth, and I want to speak to you about my sister. 'I decline, I repeat, to hold any conversation with you,' said Lady Seaforth, and she, turned to leave the room, but Margaret sprang for» ward, and stood before her, * »<? not go awjvy,' Lady Sfltf Qrtfc, she fiftldt

1 for a moment or two — not till you have heard what I have got to say, if you would save great scandal and exposure. lam the daughter— one of the daughters of Major Blythe, and your son, Lord Seaforth, used to visit at our house. I have a young sister— Nellie— Lady Seaforth do listen to me— Nellie has disappeared from her home '

4 What have I to do with such a story ?' interrupted Lady Seaforth. 4 Yoar son knew Nellie— used to meet Nellie,' faltered Margaret, 'and— and I want to know is he at home?' ' Lord Seaforth ? Certainly he is at home. What do you mean by such a question ?' ' Lady Seaforth,' said Margaret, galled to the quick by Lady Seaforth's contemptuous manner, ' I think I have some right to ask it. Lord Seaforth came to our house first under a false name. He called himself Captain Seaforth, and as my father is an officer and a gentleman that was scarcely a right thing to do, was it?' 'if your father is a gentleman, he should not have permitted such a thing to happen. But I have nothing to do with such a questiononce more I ask you to leave the house.' 'You treat me very rudely,' said Margaret, her eyes filling with indignant tears, 'yet— yet I am engaged to a gentleman you ask to dine here— to Mr Vyner, the painter.' { I know Mr vyner merely as a man of ability, as a painter— l know nothing of his belongings, answered Lady Seaforth, with unchanged cold- • He has no reason to be ashamed of his belongings,' retorted Margaret, very angrily. • But all I can say is, if your son has induced Upon this Lady Seaforth rang the bell very loudly, and in a minute later the door opened, and her maid Thompson looked in. ' Show this person out at once,' said Lady Seaforth; and what could Margaret do, but go ? Wounded and indignant, scarcely able to restrain her tears, she followed the maid downstairs. The hall door was open, and a charger with military accoutrements, and held by a groom, was pawing the ground impatiently before the door. As Margaret went out of the vestibule, she saw why the horse was waiting. Leaning against a carriage which was standing before the door of the next house, was a tall slender figure in an officer's undress uniform. In a moment Margaret recognised him —the delicate profile, the light hair— it was Lord Seaforth, and Margaret started, and half stopped. Should she speak to him ? she was thinking. But even as the thought passed through her mind, his light laugh fell on her ears. Then she looked at the lady in the carriage to whom he was talking. # She saw a pale woman with dark sad eyes, dressed in black. Where had she seen that face ? She had seen it somewhere Margaret knew, but at that moment she could not recall where. But she felt it was impossible to address Lord Seaforth while he was talking to this lady. So she was forced to pass on, having gained the knowledge, however, to take to comfort her father, that Lord Seaforth had certainly not run away with Nellie, as he was still living in his mother's house. As Margaret went home she remembered where she had seen the lady's face. It was in Vyner's studio— the face of the picture he called His Eve.

{To be continued.)