“BALDOVIE.”

South Canterbury Times, Issue 6246, 19 June 1890, Page 4

“BALDOVIE.”

UTSRATUBE

A TALE OF CRIME AND MISFORTUNE.

Mrs Carmichael looked at him attentively for a few seconds, and then, with an abrupt change from a tone of sympathy to one of stern disapproval, she said : * Are you aware, Mr Culross, of what should be your first object at present ?’ He had been on the point of saying that his first present was to get hold of Will Carmichael, and—well, he had no clear notion of what whs to follow, or what ought to follow, and he said, under his breath ; ‘I shall be glad if you will instruct me, Mrs Carmichael’ ‘lt should be to secure your daughter’s happiness.’ ‘ The Lord kens I have no wish but that—and he kens how much I would give up to do it.’ * Then why do you keep away from her ? Why do you refuse almost to speak to her ?’ . ‘ Because I am afraid of telling her what I am afraid to tell you!’ he answered vehemently. She looked at him steadily, and he met her gaze with eyes in which there was- an expression of sullen resolution to say no more. ‘ I do not see how or why there should be anything in ycur thoughts which yon might not reveal to me if it concerns Mrs William Carmichael.’ , ‘ I don’t want to upset her or you. ‘You puzzle me, Mr Culross, for I can see nothing more distressing in our position than what is plain to us all. However, I shall wait until you are prepared to give me and your daughter your confidence; meanwhile she is to remain at Braeside until she has completely regained her strength. Then she can either come with her child and live with us at Baldovie, or or remain with her grand lather at Braeside until her husband returns, as you and she may consider the best course for her.’ ‘ She had bettrr bide where she is,’ he responded gloomily. ‘Perhaps so; but she must come and stay with me for a little time, at any rate ; and, as soon as she is strong enough I propose introducing her to the friends ol the family as Mrs William Carmichael’ ‘ You are very generous—very generous,’ he said abstractedly. She was inclined to be impatient with him again for his apparent inattention and dogged adherence to some preconceived notion which would not permit him to realise that everything requisite ior his daughter’s comfort and honour was being done, whilst he alone was making the young mother miserable by his eccentric, if not unnatural, conduct. ‘lf you think so, Mr Culross, I shall expect you at once to try and comfort your daughter by making her feel that you attach no blame to her.’ ‘ I never did,’

‘She thinks you do, and you must contme somehow to remove the impression, since it is a false one. I reallv cannot see why you should be so exasperated at her union with ihe sou of John Carmichael’ ‘]t is not that,’ was the answer, which sounded like a groan, as he turned his head aside.

‘Then what can it be?’ she exclaimed, in perplexed amazement at the skipper’s manner. He sot his teeth together and lifted his eyes to hers. ‘ It is that you don’t know the worst Mrs Carmichael, and Jess does not know the worst ; and I am not the man to tell you or her. Let the thing come out, as it must come out. Will Carmichael has done a mischief, that living, or dead, he can never remedy.’ ‘ But what mischief ?’

* I say no more ; only be advised, Mrs Carmichael, by one who wishes von well, and make no fuss about presenting Jess to your friends. There if no need for it; and it will be better in the end.’

He knitted his brows and closed his lips to indicate that ho had spoken his last word on the subject, ior the present at any rate. 4 She regarded him for a few seconds with an expression of alarm as well as

surprise. ‘Either yon know something about Mr William, of which we are all ignorant, or you are acting under some misapprehension which is placing you —to say at least—iu an unfavourable light.’ ‘ I cannot help that.’ ‘'But if you do know anything, it is your duty to tell us.’ ‘ I say no more,’ he repeated doggedly, as he rose to his feet. She saw that it was useless to argue with him, and came to the conclusion that he was influenced by some perverse sense of wrong, which rendered him temporarily incapable of looking at things from a common-sense point of view. She therefore proceeded to explain quietly now Jess and her inlant son were to be provided for. ‘ I shall see that she is paid such an allowance as the fortune of her husband entitles her to ; and should our worst fears be confirmed —should it be proved, that he is dead, and that be has left no will, she will inherit such portion of the property, as the la w provides for the widow and child so circumstanced. The amount will be considerable, I believe ; but Mr Dalgleish will look after her interests as he does after mine. I trust that is satisfactory to you,’ A grim smile passed over his visage at her reference to the possibility that Will Carmichael was dead ; it declared plainly that he did not believe it. But when she finished he spoke respectfully, although with evident restraint. ‘I do not want to interfere between you and Jess, You have been a good friend to her, as I have 'said. But if she was to ask my counsel, I would tell her not to touch anything that belonged to him.’ ‘ I cannot agree with you, and I hope your daughter will not. I trust ehe Will take the position she is en-

tilled to without hesitation. And now that everything has been explained to ; you, Mr Culross, I ask—£ beg of you — | to promise that you will try to over- ! come your unaccountable dislike to i William, and treat her with the kindness and sympathy she longs to have ■ from you, and which she needs so much just now,’ ‘ I’ll try.’ ‘ I cannot tell you how much pleasure you give me by that promise, for 1 know that it will bring happiness and health to Jess. Thank you, Mr 1 Culross ; I am glad I came to see you, 'and will be still more glad if you will i come to see one whenever you are so disposed, or when we know more about the strange circumstances which have drawn us sc closely together.’ This expression of satisfaction produced an apparent effect on the man. He nodded as ha would say * All right,’ but he looked as gloomy as ever.

He escorted her to the carraige, which whs waiting near the Royal Arch, and during their progress she urged the necessity of trying to cheer and console Jess. He only showed that he heard her by occasional monosyllables. But when she had driven away, he stood looking on the ground, and gradually he became conscious that he had been cruel —very cruel —to his child in her time of greatest trouble, although be had not intended to be so. He the fact that he had allowed the wrath roused against Wifi Carmichael, by the information received irom Feuerheerd, to overpower his affection for Jess, and that he had been, in a sense, venting upon indignation intended for toe man, who, he believed, had betrayed her. Mrs Carmichael was right; he had been cruel, and he would try to make amends at once.

[To be Continued,)