Chapter IX.

Otago Witness, Issue 1947, 18 June 1891, Page 33

Chapter IX.

Helen's Home. T is strange how a sort of intuitive knowledge comes to us sometimes of things actually hidden from our sight. For it had more than once dawned on Julia Bingham's mind of late that there was a mystery, a secret, connected with Helen Drum-

mond, the natnre of which she naturally could not understand. Her mother always treated Helen as a daughter, and yet there was a certain reticence in Lady Ennismore's manner when Julia once'asksd her if there were really any relationship between Helen's family and their own. " She is the daughter of an old friend of mine, my dear," Lady Ennismore had answered, after a moment's hesitation, and she made no further explanation. Helen herself always declared that with the exception of Miss Drummond, with whom she lived and whose adopted child she was, that she seemed to have no one else in the world belonging to her. " Aunt Margaret will never talk to me about my father, so I suppose he must have been a ne'er do-welJ," she had once eaid, in her lively girlish way to Julia, and this idea had troubled her young mind very little until she had learned to care for Franois Eoche, and Lady Ennismore had so unaccountably insisted on their separation. And something in Julia's manner now added to her misgivings on the subject. But before Julia could make any reply to her anxiou3 questions, a gentle rap came to the bedroom door, and the next moment Miss Sinclair's good-looking face appeared, at the sight of which Helen indignantly turned away her head, as she felt almost sure that it had been the governess who had told Lady Ennismore of her meetings with Eoche.

"Julia, dear, it is time you were going to bed," said Miss Sinclair, "so you had better bid Miss Drummond good night." " I want to talk to Helen a little longer, Miss Sinclair, and I want something I left in the drawing room," replied the young girl, rather hesitatingly. A Not to-night, dear, you can get what you want to-morrow ; come with me, now," continued the governess' even measured tones. " I hear you are leaving us early to-morrow, Miss Drummond," she went on a moment later addressing Helen, whose face was still steadily turned away from her. "Well, I hope you will have a pleasant journey." But Helen made no answer. There was indeed a choking sensation in the poor girl's throat, and her eyes were dim with unshed tears, and she knew if phe spoke she would break down, and she was not going to give Miss Sinclair the opportunity of bestowing any false sympathy. " Come, my dear, then," said Miss Sinclair, with a smile, drawing Julia's slender arm through her own, "as I see Miss Drummond is a little upseb we had best leave her."

But Julia pulled her arm away from Miss Sinclair, and going up to Helen flung both her arms round her neck.

" I will see him and tell him," she whispered, " and I will see you in the morning before you go ; good-night, darling Helen." Helen was too much agitated to make any reply, and thus the girls parted ; Miss Sinclair seeing her pupil safely in bed before she left her. And the next morning before Julia was up Helen had left Brackenford and started in the first train for Scotland, escorted by Lady Ennismore's maid, and Cox, who was an old family servant. s

No one in the house knew that she was going so soon but Lady Ennismore and these two attendants. But Lady Ennismore rose in the dusky November morning to see her off, leaving her lord enjoying his sound slumber, and Lady Ennismore's own eyes were wet as she gave her parting kiss on Helen's tear-stained face.

"Give my love to Aunt Margaret," she whispered, " and — and don't grieve, Helen— you shall soon return.','

But Helen did grieve, and the long cold journey seemed a very dreary one to her. Miss Drummond lived in a small lonely house in the Western Highlands, in view of the sea-green waters of Loch Etire, and here Helen's childhood and girlhood had been entirely spent, except during her frequent visits to Brackenford. Miss Drummond was a well-educated woman, and she had done her best for the child she had reared. It was a strange household — Margaret Drummond, the mistress, cold and reserved in manner, grey-haired and grey-tinted From her complexion to her gown ; and Helen Drummond, blooming, fresh, and beautiful, who delighted in gay colours and gay words, and who was merry even with the sedate woman whose very smile was sad.. These two, and one old servant who had lived with Miss Drummond ever since Helen could remember, were the only inhabitants of Ardleigh House, as the quaint old residence Miss Drummond had rented for 19 years was named.

She had gone as a stranger, and in the sparsely peopled district in which she lived she remained one for years and years, seeking no acquaintances, and living a life of extrem3 seclusion. But as sbe paid her way and was known to be generous" in times of need, she had become respected by her neighbours, and some of them were quite ready to be on friendly trems with her. But no — Miss Drummond received all advances civilly, but coldly ; and as Helen grew on from childhood to her lovely girlhood, Miss Drummond discouraged even more strongly than before all sociability with those around her.

But. Helen was never dull. She had pets of various descriptions, and made the, old

garden round the house gay with flowers ; and would loiter among the moss-grown walks there singing softly to herself, or vaguely weaving romances for the years to come.

"She's blithe as she's bonny," the old servant said one oay to her grave-faced mistress, as the two elder women stood watching the young girl playing with a kitten on the lawn.

" She's young," answered Miss Drummond with a sigh, and Elizabeth understood what her mistress meant, and sighed also, knowing too well, though the girl did not, that a shadow already lay across her life. But no suspicion of this had dawned on Helen's mind at this time. She had started on her last visit to Brackenford with a light heart, but she returned from it in a very different mood. It was late before she reached the little Highland station which was nearest to Miss Drummond's house ; and here she found a carriage from the village inn awaiting her, as Lady Ennismore had telegraphed to Miss Drummond to expect her. A dark drive on a November night did not tend to raise her spirits, and weary in mind and body alike she at last reached Ardleigh House, where she found Miss Drummond ani Elizabeth both standing at the open hall door anxiously awaiting her.

Miss Drummond kissed her silently by way of welcome, for she was a woman of few words, and then bade Elizabeth look after the comforts of Lady Ennismore's servants, who had received orders to see Helen safely in Miss Drummond's charge before they left her, and were consequently obliged to remain all night at Ardleigh. Then Miss Drummond led the way into the old fashioned though somewhat picturesquely furnished dining room, or rather general parlour of the house, and here supper was laid out for the weary girl. " You will be both tired and hungry, my dear," said Miss Drummond, pointing to a seat at the well-spread table.

" I am tired, but not hungry," answered Helen, and as she spoke her aunt fixed her grey and penetrating eyes on the young face whose every expression she knew so well.

And in a moment she saw the change. This was not the satne light-hearted, merry girl she had parted with a few weeks ago. Something had happened to Helen, and a startled, almost frightened look stole over Miss Drurnmond's face. " And you left them all well at Brackenford ? " a moment later asked Miss Drummond.

" Yes," said Helen languidly. "I was afraid when I got Lady Ennismore's telegram that some of the children had taken ill, and that she was sending you away in such haste to be out of the way of infection."

" No, they are all well," replied Helen, turning away her head, for she was conscious that Miss Drummond was looking at her curiously.

"Then — but never mind now— unfasten your cloak, Helen, and sit down and have some supper, and you can tell me all the news afterwards."

Helen tried to comply with Miss Drummond's request.'" She seated herself at the table, and made an effort to eat something, but it was only a poor attempt. Suddenly she laid down her knife and fork and rose from her chair; and went up to where Miss Drummond was sitting. " Aunt Margaret," she said, in a broken, agitated voice, taking Miss Drummond's slender hand spasmodically in her own, "I want you to tell me something — to, to answer a question." "What is it, my dear?" replied Miss Drumraond gravely, looking anxiously at the girl's eager, excited face. "It is this — is there anything against me 1 Anything I do not know ? Any disgrace, I mean about my birth — was my father " Miss Drammond's grey-tinted complexion grew svery white as she listened to these words, and Helen felt her— hand tremble in her own. She was silent a moment, and then she said in a faltering voice : "What has put such a thing into your head, child ? Why do you ask such foolish questions 7

"Something happened at Brackenford that made me think so ; Lady Ennismore's manner was so strange." " Lady Ennismore is a very true woman, Helen ; a very true friend of yours." . "Yes, yes, I know — and yet she sent me away at a moment's notice — sent me away because "

" What was the reason, my dear ? " "Because," and Helen blushed deeply, " because there was a young man there — a Mr Roche."

" Roche 1" echoed Miss Drummond, and she started to her feet and began to pace the room with unequal steps. " Did you say Roche ? "

"Yes, he was staying there, and — he walked with me sometimes — and that odious woman, Miss Sinclair, the governess, found this out and made mischief with Lady Ennismore, I'm sure, and then Lady Ennismore sent me away. But, Aunt Margaret, do you know anyone called Roche ?

Miss Drummond gave a heavy sigh. " I— l knew someone when I was a girl — and the name startled me— you may be sure Lady Ennismore was right, Helen." " But why, Aunt Margaret ? Was there anything against my father that Lady Ennismore knew ? Do tell me, for you know you never mention him."

Again Miss Drummond sighed deeply. " My dear, your father was an unfortunate man," she said, in a low, pained tone ; " a man who caused great grief and trouble to those connected with him — but he is dead — and I do not wish to speak of him — so please Helen ask me nothing more." Miss Drummond sat down wearily as she spoke, and covered her face with her hand, as if almost overcome with painful recollections ; and Helsn was too warm-hear.' ed to grieve her with further questions. " Forgive me vexing you, Aunt Margaret, only I thought Lady Ennismore's conduct was so strangre," and Helen kissed her aunt's forehead as she spoke. "My dear," said Miss Drummond, very gently, looking up in Helen's face, "you may be certain Lady Ennismore acted for the best — the best for you Helen — but do not let us [talk of it. If you are not hungry, dear, you bad best go to bed. Your room is

quite ready for you, and Elizabeth has a nice fire there."

Once more Helen kissed her aunt, who tenderly returned it, and then went to her own comfortable little bedroom upstairs. And she was so tired that she soon fell asleep in spite of her troubles; fell asleep and dreamed she was walking with Francis Roche in the dusky plantations of the northern hills. And the next morning things looked brighter. After aIJ, if Francis Roche really loved her, he would not give her up so easily, she consoled herself by thinking. He might writs ; Julia Bingham knew her address, and would probably give it to him. At all events Julia was sure to write, and so she would hear of him. Helen therefore went to breakfast in a more cheerful mood than she had arrived at Ardleigh on the night before. The sun was shining for one thing ; shining on the wide azure-tinted -waters of the loch ; on the vast range of mountains, with the mist and sunshine coming and going round their rugged sides and towering peaks, producing wonderful effects of light and colour. And as Helen stood watching the fast-shifting,-changing shades, her aunt entered the room Not a word waa spoken of the exciting topics of the night before, nor an allusion made. After breakfast Miss Drummond busied herself in packing up some Highland honey and cakes to send to Lady Ennismore with her servants, and Helen strolled out into the storm-blown garden, in which yet lingered in spite of the November blasts, some late autumn flowers, in the once gay beds."

A quiet spot this ; far, away alike seemingly from the tragedies and comedies of the world, A quiet solemn spot beneath the shadow of the everlasting hills, with a great stillness around and above, and no discordant shout or echo to break the silence or mar the scene. But the hot and restless heart of youth was impatient even here. Helen was not thinking of the mountains nor the sky, as she" slowly paced the "ttioss-grown walks. She was thinking of her young lover and her young love; of the brief golden hours when her womanhood had come to her, and her careless girlhood had passed away. " I will never forget him," she murmured softly to herself, and a strong longing crept over her to look once more upon his face.

And at this moment Francis Eoche was also thinking of Helen. When he had gone down to breakfast after she had left Brackenford the day before he had naturally expected to see her. When she did not appear he grew rather uneasy, and presently asked Lady Ennismore about her in his frank way. " Where is Miss Drummond 1 " he asked. "She left this morning for Scotland," replied Lady Slnnismore, gravely. " Yes, never got sach aa astonishment in my life," said the genial Ennismore, lopking up from his plate of cold grouse. " Her aunt sentf orher, it seems; but we'll all,miss her, won't we, Katie ? " and he looked up at his wife.

"She is a bright, lively girl," answered Lady Ennismore, with a certain reserve in her voice, •which, however, her good-natured lord never noticed.

Bat Roche did, and he only [waited until breakfast was over to speak to Lady Ennismore on the subject.

"Am I to understand, Lady Bnnismore," he said, brusquely enough, " that you have sent Miss Drammond from Brackenford because I am here 1 "

" She is better away," said Lady Ennismore, still very gravely. "I am extremely sorry "began Francis Roche, with an angry -fiush rising- to his good-looking face. "Hush," interrupted Lady Ennismore, laying her hand gently on his arm, for the two were alone. " You must forget her, Mr Roche — and you must not forget our conversation of last night." Roche made no answer. He turned abruptly away, for he had no intention of forgetting Helen Drummond, and felt not a little indignant with Lady Ennismore. And during the day he' found an opDortunity of learning Helen's address from Julia Bingham. Curzon aided him iv doing this, as when the two young men purposely followed Miss Sinclair and her pupil in the grotands, Curzon, at Roche's suggestion walked on with the handsome governess, and thus gave Francisßoche the opportunity he wanted.

He soon heard all about the fate of his letter to Helen the night before, and why he had received no answer. Helen had promised Lady Ennismore not to see him before she left Brackenford, and would not break her word, but he heard also of her distres3, and wrote down her address in Scotland.

11 Thanks, Miss Julia; I am sure you are her trae friend," he said! "I love her very dearly,"answered Julia, and a flush passed over her very delicate face as she spoke ; " I—lI — I was very angry when I heard this morning she was gone, for they never told me she was to go so early, and last night Miss Sinclair came in and interrupted our conversation — we were talking about you."

It was now Roche's turn to flush.

" I wonder whs.t you were saying 1 " he said, with a smile and a blush " Will you tell me, Miss Julia 7 " " Oh, a lot of things," answered the yonng girl. " Did Helen — I mean Miss Drummond — say anything ? Do you think she will quite forget me, Miss Julia 7 " " I think she never will," answered Julia, softly and gravely. " You make me very happy," said Koche, warmly. " I—lI — I will not forget her ; I mean to see her again." Miss Sinclair at this moment turned round to look after her pupil, and noticing with those sharp eyes of hers that Roche was speaking very earnestly to Julia, she said smilingly to Ourzon :

" I must do my duty, I suppose, and look after that child, and not listen to your pretty speeches any longer." "The child can take care of herself,' answered Curzon, coolly ; " and I like to say pretty things to you, because they suifc you."

" Thank you, Mr Curzon."

Bat all the same, Miss Sinolair waited until Roche and Julia oame up to them, and a3 Koohe had learned all he wanted, he made no objection to this arrangement,

But during the day he told Lady Ennismore that to his great regret he should be forced to leave Brackenford the next morning. •

" My uncle, Colonel Roche, is in town, and wishes to see me," he said, somewhat mendaciously; and as he spoke Lady Ennismore looked at him softly and sadly with her beautiful eyes. " You have not forgiven me for sending Helen away," she said, quietly ; " believe me, it was the kindest thing I could do for you both."

"Well, we need not discuss it lest we Should disagree," answered Roche, smiling, <for he had made up bis mind, and was of a prompt and energetic nature. " I thank you very much for all your kindness, Lady Ennismore ; I have had a most enjoyable visit to Brackenford."

Lady Ennismore did not speak, but her eyes still lingered softly on his face, and her lips quivered, and after he left her she went to one of the windows and stood looking vaguely out on the mist-girt scene. 41 It is the sweetest face," she murmured to herself, " the sweetest nature — but all the same, Helen and be must never meet again.