A COUNTRY SWEETHEART.

Otago Witness, Issue 2105, 28 June 1894, Page 39

A COUNTRY SWEETHEART.

By BORA RUSSELL, Author of "Footprints in the Snow," "The Broken Seal," "The Track of the Storm," " The Vicar's Governess," " The Last Signal," "Hia Will and Hers," &c.

[AiiL Rights Reserved.]

Ohaptee XXX. John Temple Leaves Woodlea. MINUTE later Henderson and Mr , Churchill entered the room. i Henderson's face was flushed a dusky red, but Mr Churchill's looked pale, angry, and determined. He gave a quick, sharp glance around, and then advanced towards the squire, who gravely held out his hand, which, however, his tenant scarcely touched. "I've come on unpleasant business, Mr Temple," he said quickly, and then he looked at John Temple. "You mean about" began the squire in faltering tones. 11 1 mean about my daughter, sir ! This gentleman," and he turned to Henderson, " has come to me this morning with a fine tale. He eaya wj girl is living in London, and that your nephew has placed her there ! " For a moment or two no one spoke. Mr Churchill was looking indignantly at John Temple, and the dark flush on Henderson's face had deepened, while his eyes also were fixad with an angry scowl on Temple. " John," said the squire in a firmer voice, after a brief silenoe, " you hear what Mr Churchill says; is this charge true or false 1>" John Temple looked slowly round at each man in turn. " I decline to answer any questions on the subject," he said in a clear, firm voice. " But I've a right to ask questions on the subject, sir I " almost shouted Mr Churchill angrily. "This girl, my daughter, disappeared from her home, and nothing has been heard of her since; and now I hear she is writing to you in a way that if ebe isn't married to you she ought to be ! " , " I admit your right to ask questions, Mr Churchill," answered John Temple, still firmly ; '• but I have no right to betray the secret sof others. And if this spy," and his eyes kindled, and he stretched out his arm in the direction of Henderson, "has already told you bo much, he had better tell you more." " You dare to call me a spy, sir ? " cried Henderson, in a voice hoarse with passion. " Yes, and something wowe ! " answered John Temple fiercely. " Because this young lady rejected your insolent advances — advances which were an insult to her from a man like you — a man who had betrayed and broken another woman's heart;, and then, as I believe there is a God above us, murdered her I " For an instant Henderson turned ghastly pale, as this terrible accusation reached his ears, and then with a scream of rage he sprang forward, and struck John Temple a violent blow on the chest. But be bad met his match, for the next moment a swift hammer-like blow from John's clenched fist hit his brow, and he reeled back, and striking his head as he did so against the sharp corner of the writing table, he fell heavily on the floor. Mrs Temple gave a cry, end both Mr Temple and Mr Churchill ran forward to his assistance. They lifted up his he-id, but he was seemingly unconscious, and a sadden fear darted into the squire's heart. " He — is not dead 1 " be said falfceringTy. " What matter if he is," said John Temple,still fiercely, and then without another word he turned and left the room, while the others raised Henderson on a coacb, and Mrs Temple violently rang the bell_for further help. In the meantime John Temple had gone to his own rooms, and for a moment stood there, panting still from his recent encounter, thinking how he should aot. But bis hesita-

tion was very brief. He wonld go to May ;• in her hands alone now lay the coarse of their future lives.

" If she loves me as I love her we shall not part," he thought-; " the world is wide."

This was his decision, and he quickly acted on it. He pulled out a portmanteau, and was thrasting into it some things that be would require, when a rap sounded at hia sitting-room door, and the next moment Mrs Temple, pale and excited, entered the room.

In a second she saw the preparations "for his departure. " You are going away ? " she said quickly. " Do you think I would stay ? " he answered scornfully. Mrs Temple made no answer; Bhe stood there looking at him, and a strange revulsion of feeling swept through her breast. " I—lI — I do not want to drive you away," she said.

" Yet you have done so," answered John Temple, looking up at her, for he was kneeling on the floor, packing his portmanteau, " but for you this never would have happened."

Mra Temple's tall form swayed restlessly, and her pale handsome face quivered.

" I hated to think," she eaid with sudden passion, " of you degrading yourself co."

" I have not done so," replied John Temple, rising to his feet, and looking at her steadily.

" You have ! This girl should have been nothing to you — nothing I And if in some hour of madness you had been betrayed into any folly, if you had trusted me I would have helped you, if I could."

" I have been betrayed into nothing," answered John coldly ; " whatever I have done was by my own will."

Mra Temple began walking restlessly up and down the room, and then she suddenly stopped before John.

" You came here," she began ; " you took my boy's place "

" You kuow how deeply I grieved for you," said John Temple. "In everything I wished to consider you."

"Yet you made love to this girl — this girJ, a farmer's daughter, whose brothers were playing in tlie fatal game when my boy was killed I On aof them may have been his murderer — was, I believe; and thia ia how you showed your consideration for me I" " Mrs Temple, thiß is unreasonable." 51 What is she to you 1 Answer this question at least, " Is she your wife 1 "

"As I told them downstairs, I will betray no one's secrets without their leave."

" If she is, you need never bring her here ! You heard what your uncle said about your marrying her — but I will not receive her here."

" You shall never be asked to do co, nor will I ever return. What my uncle said was worthy of him — the words of a good man, whom I most heartily like and respect — but I will trouble you with my presence here bo more."

Again Mrs Temple began those restless pacings up and down the floor. In her anger she had done what she did not wish to dodriven John Temple away — and now she was sorely repenting her own action.

"And there ia one thing I wish to say before I go," continued John Temple, " that I thank you for all your kindness to me while I have been here. I came to your house under most painful circumstances, but you overlooked this "

"Do not go 1 " broke in Mrs Temple impetuously ; "at least not yet. Let us think what can be done — what it will be best to do."

" I know what it is best for me to do," answered John Temple, who was now in the act of locking the small portmanteau he meant to carry away with him, "and that is to leave Woodlea at once. Good-bye, Mrs Temple."

He did not offer her his band, but she took it almost against his will, and held it. "1 have been so lonely," she said, in a broken voice; "so miserably lonely — and now I will be more lonely still."

John Temple made no answer to this appeal. " Bid good-bye to my uncle for me," he said, "as I do not care, in my present temper, to encounter again those two men downstairs." =-

"What if you have killed Henderson? They were sending for the doctor for him as I came upstairs."

" If I have I cannot say I shall deeply regret it, and I am ready to answer for this, as for the rest. But not he I A brute like that is not killed by a blow on tho head; and now once more good-bye."

He was gone before she could speak again, and Mrs Temple sat down and looked round the desolate rooms. She bad admired him during the last half-hour; admired his bravery and independence.

" After all he had a right to choose the woman he liked best," she thought ; " but it is a terrible mistake. A man who marrie3 a woman of inferior birth and position always repents it — and with Buoh relations 1 "

After a while, however, she pulled herself together and went downstairs, and when she entered the library she found the village doctor there, as well as her husband and Mr Churchill.

Henderson was lying on a couch, ghastly pale, with a handkerchief bound round hia head, and still insensible, and tbe doctor was bending over him holding his wrist.

Then when the squire saw his wife, he stepped back towards her and half whispered in her ear : " Whore is John Temple ? " "H9 is gone," she answered ; " and he says he will never return."

Mr Temple upon this beckoned to Mr Churchill.

" Mrs Temple says my nephew has left the house, Mr Churchill," be said.

"Then I'Jl follow him," answered the farmer sturdily. " You have told me, squire, that if be has not already done my girl justice, tbat you wish him and authorise him to do so ? "

"Most certainly," replied Mr Temple ; "I am ready and wishful to receive your daughter as hia wife."

" I thnnk you, sir, with all my heart. Will you give me the address, madam, where she is, for all this has well nigh put it out of my head 1 " he added, addressing Mrs Temple ; 11 and I'll go up to London to-night, or tomorrow at latest."

Mrs Temple went to tho writing tnble without a word and wrote down Miss Webster's address in Pembridge Terrace, which she remembered only too well, and handed it to Me Ohurchill.

"Thank you kindly, madam," he said; " and now, as the doctor's here and the squire, I think I'll go, as I leave Mr Henderson in such good hand-*, and I have my missus to consult a bib, and some busness to see about before I can get off to London. Good - morning, madam ; good - morning, Bqaire."

So Mr Churchill went away, but he was scarcely gone when Mrs Layton rushed hastily iuto the room. She bad heard a report somehow that there bad been a quarrel between young Henderson and John Temple, and that the doctor had been sent for, so she had hurried up to the Hall to see and hear all about it.

"What ia this, Rachel?" she cried, looking at the prostrate figure on the couch. " Whatever has happened ? " Mrs Temple shrugged her shoulders. "It means a fight," she said scornfnlly, "and there is the fallen one!" And she pointed to Henderson.

"But what on earth did they quarrel about ? " asked Mrs Layton eagerly. "The village beauty," answered Mrs Temple, still more scornfully. •• it seems my nephew, John Temple, had run away with Miss Churchill, and bis unole baa given bis consent to his marriage with her, so we may expect her here."

" What ! " almost! screamed Mrs Layton. " Rachel," said the gquire in grave reproof, 11 is this a way in which to speak of a most painfal affair 7 If John Temple did induce this young lady to leave her home, as you say he did, he is bound in hopour to make her his wife."

" To make Margaret Churchill his wife 1 " screamed Mrs Layton. " Why, squire, you must be mad to dream of such a thirg ! " The squire gave a contemptuous bow. " You may have your ideas, madam," he said, " and I have mine. I have told yon what mine are, and in my own house. I'll see they are respected."

Mrs Lay ton 'a face fell ; the squire might be mad, waa mad, to talk thus, but still ke was master of the house, from which co many good thing* went to the vicarage, and she could not afford to quarrel with him." "Of course I did not mean that," she began ; but with another bow Mr Temple left the room, and Mrs Layton was alone with her daughter, except for the presence of the doctor and the unconscious Henderson, who were quite at the other end of it. " Did I not tell you long ago," hissed Mis Layton in her daughter's ear, "what this John Temple was 7 — a viper, a soorpion 1 and now he's turned and stung you I Oh 1 that I should ever live to see that upstart here. Margaret Churchill indeed 1 "

"She's not here yet," answered Mrs Temple bitterly. " Ten to one if John Temple will ever marry her. Why should he ? "