CHAPTER XXL POOR HELENA.

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 44, 5 April 1884, Page 4

CHAPTER XXL POOR HELENA.

How little the two waking occupants of the lonely lighthouse across the ocean, as they were talking so fondly about her, dreamed what cruel influences were conspiring to work Helena Yerrington's sorrow and ruin, Mrs Inchbald, as the reader has already inferred, although of strong prejudices and momentary passions, was a woman of weak character and little force or discrimination, and just the person to fall completely under the influence of a wily nature like Franz Hartmann's. Exactly how he managed it, he himself could not have told. A few covert insinuations, carefully -dropped hints, but most of all, mysterious looks and gestures, in which none could be more gracefully proficient than this adroit Frenchman, had completely undermined the lady's confidence in her young companion, and entirely destroyed the cordial friendliness which had hitherto existed between them. Helena herself might have helped along the result by her frank confession of a desire to retreat from the engagement, thus piquing the shallow pride of the purseproud mistiess. Be that as it may, the result was one series of petty humiliations and annoyances, which Helena bore bravely, the deeper misery within her own heart helping, perhaps, to deaden the sting of these leaser evils, Avhich at another time might have made themselves intolerable. Hartmann was most discreet and circumspect in his behaviour tow ard the companion while in his mistress's presence, nor indeed had Helena any reason to complain of his persecutions or obtrusive attentions at other times since their final understanding. But the busy brain of the man Mas not idle, nor had his plans changed. He cane into their London rooms one day in high spirits, assuring Mrs Inchbald that the fates had surely conspired in their favour, for he had been able to secure, at the most astonishing bargain, the services of a first-clas.s coach and drher, A\ho would take them by easy journeys through the most romantic &cenes of Scotland. Mrs Inchbald looked languidly pleased. "I suppose it would never do to go hurrying off to Paris without first having seen a little of Scotland," she said ; " so the sooner it is accomplished the better. Besides, I am tired of these London fogs. But I was really in hopes you would let me off with a very brief glimpse, Hartmann." " You must set Miss Yerrington to reading up to you the Scottish poems. That will waken your enthusiasm, I am sure," returned Hartmann, with one of his most brilliant smiles, and not at all displeased to know that these smiles took effect, and roused a little weak, gratified vanity within the lady's shallow heart. Helena sighed softly. To visit Scottish moors and lakes had been a romantic dream of hers. How little &he had thought to go with such a heavy heart and listless interest ! "Shall you take both Desire and myself, Mrs Inchbald?" she asked. "Perhaps you wonld prefer that I should remain behind." "I should think madame would need the attentions of loth— of all of us," interposed Hartmann, looking at his mistress, and not at Helena. " You are so delicate, po easily fatigued, and some of the rides may be tedious." " Of course I shall," responded she, as promptly aa if she had not the moment before been asking herself if it would not be a great saving of expense to drop Helena, and make companion and maid both of the lively little Desire, who had been introduced by Hartmann. " Miss Yerrington is very fond of making us understand how ready she is to leave me." "I should suppose she would see the propriety of allowing the proposal of such separation to come from you," said Hartmann, coldly. Helena made no reply, only bent her head meekly, and went on plaiting the lace ruffle that was to adorn Mrs Inchbald's morning cap "'Vhen she presently left the room, the courier said, in a tone of the most respectful interest : " I do not exactly understand Miss Yerrington, madame. When I have watched her a little more, and feel competent to decide justly, I shall make known to you my opinion, and give my advice. I am thinking of your interests, you may be sure — only of you. How indeed could I help it ?" And here he laid his hand on his heart, and dropped a low sigh, and looked so handcome and gallant that poor, silly Mrs Inchbald felt her heart flutter with something very like a young girl's flattered vanity, although she had laid by her widow's weeds a dozen years before, and he was even more years than that her junior. But they started upon their journey immediately. Under the circumstances it would have been one delightful experience of unalloyed content. The weather was superb, the roads in fine condition, the scenery about them wore its loveliest dress. Hartmann was certainly a talented courier. Everything moved as if by welloiled machinery, and nothing obtruded to annoy or mar the general harmony. They found courteous landlords and agreeable fare, and everywhere Franz Hartmann seemed to be well known and held in high esteem. Mrs Inchbald was quite charmed, where she had been prepared only to passively endure. She always seconded Hartmann's proposal to come inside with them, and begged for his romantic stories and ballads with all the avidity of a sentimental schoolgir]. It was her seconding of a carelessly expressed wish of his to see a certain lake, situated off from the general route, that took them to an out-of-the-way, straggling village, whose one wayside inn hailed their advent as if it had been the train of a royal princess. Mrs Inchbald was so well pleased with the adulation and deference paid to her that she declared her intention of remaining several days. Nothing could have suited Franz Hartmann's plans better ; and it was here that

the catastrophe broke upon Helena with all the suddenness of ovei whelming dismay. Mrs Inchbald had taken to long strolls, accompanied only by the courier, and occasionally with Desire. Helena had given it no special thought, beyond a vague contempt for the weakness of the one, and the ambitious plan of the other. She was only too thankful to be allowed the relief of solitude, the freedom of yielding to her own sorrowful, yearning thoughts. She cared nothing for the studied coldness of Hartmann, the jealous suspicions of Desire, and was indeed fast being weaned from any respect or interest in her weak, capricious mistress. She had been left alone nearly a whole day, while Mrs Inchbald and the others were away upon the loch under guidance of an old boatman Hartmann had picked up, and out of sheer ennui had ventured to look over the one trunk her mistress had had unstrapped from the carriage, hoping to find some bit of lace to repair, or some rent to sow up that might employ her time, and thus distract her thoughts. Just as she was replacing the last article without having accomplished her object, Desire came in hastily upon her. She had come back for a forgotten shawl. When she went back to her mistress, the girl said, with an expressive shrug of the shoulders : "Ma'm'selle Helena was taken by surprise by my return. She flushed as red as the gorse bloom there. What could she be doing at your trunk ?" Hartmann heard, and drew the girl aside presently. " Now is the desired opportunity, Desire, girl," he whispered. "If something valuable of madame's could only be found in ma'm'sello's little bag, you'would be sure of being the sole recipient of the rich American's golden favours. You would be promoted to companion at once." Desire nodded, and her black eyes snapped wickedly. " I think it would help on madame's ire if you could hint that ma'm'selle's sulkiness is owing to her failure to win the courier's admiration," he added in the most suave of voices. Desire nodded again and laughed. "It is plain to see how the land lies. Man i icu, are all these rich Americans such — simpletons ?'" Hartmann joined her laugh, and went back to Mrs Inchbald, who waa resting on the shawls he had spread for her, and pretending to be absorbed in the enchantments of the scenery. "What was Desire saying so pertly?" asked Mrs Inchbald. " ISothing'of any consequence. At least, I fehall try to be sure that it is> not. She hasn't a very high opinion of Miss Yerrington." "And have you?" she asked playfully, with a silly laugh. What a profound expression he assumed. "Indeed, 1 don't venture to express an opinion, because I may be prejudiced. I ought not to allow that to impeach the poor thing's honesty. But indeed, dear madame, I fear you are too careless w ith your valuable. You have already lost a costly brooch." " What was Desire .saying ? that the girl was at the trunk ? I don't think there is anything m orth stealing there. I will look it over though when I go back. And somehow every now and then a carelessly dropped remark from one or the other of her companions kepi this thought in her mind, even though they had a lovely day on the loch, and a luxurious picnic lunch in the old ruin on the farther shore. Naturally enough, Mrs Inchbald was. very tired before the day endeJ, and was only too ready to obey Hartmann's suggestion of a frequent rest on the way back to the inn. Desire skipped backward and forward, picking Uowcrs and finding queer-coloured pebbles, but her mistress felt quite sure they never fairly lost sight of her. And though she presently darted out to them when they were almost home again, ilushed and panting like one who had taken a long run, no one but Hartmann gave any significance to the matter. They all entered the inn yard together. -Helemi was sitting in a vine-hung arbor in the garden, and did not see them until their voices announced the return, when she came to her mistress promptly. " Oh, madame, let me help you instead,' whispered Desire ; "if you could only see the look she gives you when Mr Hartmann offers you an attention. The girl hides her hatred under that stupid sulkiness," "Hates me! on account of Hartmann?" x'epeated Mrs Inchbald, in blank amazement, for in truth such an idea had never presented itself. "What can you mean, Desire?" " Did you not know? Has not Hartmann acknowledged how she sought to attract him? I thought you knew," stammered Desire, in well-feigned confusion. Mrs Inchbald set her thin lips together in the cruel wrath of a v eak but passionate nature. She waved a deprecating hand as Helena came gently to remove her wraps, and said, scornfully : "Oh, pray don't trouble yourself, Miss Yerrington. I've been obliged to depend upon Desire all day, and I think she is still equal to my need." " I don't understand why, but I see you are offended," faltered Helena, her eyes filling with tears. "I should have gone if you had asked me, or if I had supposed you wished it." "Indeed! and does that explain why you have cho&en to keep by yourself for the last few days ? I must say I shall find you a very profitable servant at this rate," went on the lady, growing more and more incensed. "I asked to be left behind," declared Helena, roused to exhibit a little spirit. "I did not wish to come with you from London. I am ready to break our engagement at once." "You'd better look in the trunk before you let her go," declared Desire, insolently. Helena gave a pilent glance of scorn. Mrs Inchbald went promptly to comply with the sughestion, and returned in a few moments furious with rage. A heavy gold chain and pearl locket were missing. "I know they were there when I left this morning," she declared, "for I took this scarf from that box. Desire found you at the trunk, for she spoke of it before this loss was thought of. Wretched girl, have you ventured to steal ?" Pale as a ghost beneath her horror and indignation, Helena stood before her, not venturing to interpose a single word. " Ho, no !" sneered Desire, "my unexpected return interfered with ma'm'selle seriously. Oh, madam, if she was going away, she would have her spoil packed. If I might look— but no, that is madam's place." " Where is your portmanteau, Miss Yerrington ? This has gone so far that it is justice to us both that 1 investigate." Helena silently handed her a key and pointed to the small portmanteau, which was all she had brought from London. Mrs Inchbald's angry fingers unlocked and opened it, scattering; its neatly arranged contents upon the floor. A pair of white hose rolled into a smooth ball fell with a heavy thud. Desire fairly screamed as she pounced upon it and unrolled from it the shining links of heavy chain. " Oh, you thief ! you wicked deceiver !" vociferated Mrs Inchbald. "Desire, go

and call Hartonann. He shall see what a viper I have brought from America with me. But where is the locket— my lovely pearl locket?" " Search everything, dear madam," counselled Desire, as she flitted out, returning suspiciously soon with the courier, who struck his hands together with a stage gesture of amazement and horror. Further search had produced the locket, and worse than that the diamond brooch, missing since the London opera day, and likewise a roll of fine lace that had been bought in Liverpool and was supposed to be lost in packing the trunks. Helena stood like a marble statue, and looked almost incapable of movement, "You see— you see, Hartmann !" cried out the mistress, in shrill, discordant voice. "Here is the explanation of this young lady's lonely moods and misanthropical looks. Do you know she is a thief — a thief that I can send to gaol ?" A little cry broke from Helena's pale lips. That was a phase that had not presented itself to her mind. The icy spell was dissolved now. •'Oh!" cried she, "it is a cruel plot to ruin me, Mrs Inchbald; look into it, investigate it. Hartmann— Desire — some one has hidden those fatal evidences in my clothing to bring me into trouble and sorrow, ana Heaven knows they have come, though I am innocent." How lovely she looked to Hartmann, with her clasped hands, her pale cheeks, her streaming eyes ! Although heseemedso grave and horrified, his heart wa3 bounding triumphantly with the thought : " She is mine at last ! She cannot escape mo now !" Nothing can be more cruel than one angry, vindictive woman to another in her power. Mrs Inchbald raved like the madwoman she one day became. "Hear Her! hear her! She would throw the guilt on poor Desire — on you, Hartmann — you, who were both all the time with me, and she alone here, with the chain in her trunk ! Shameless creature ! I will not send her to gaol, as I might ; but I will not have her another instant under the same roof with me. Drive her out ! drive her out ! Let her find her M'ay back to London as she can. I will have nothing more to do with her." "But I shall be alone, unprotected, a stranger in a strange land !" cried Helena, in wild alarm. " Oh, think how cruel it would be !" " Who need to care ? And you may be thankful that I do not send you into prison w alls. I tell you you shall go this instant. Pack your bag again, and start !" vociferated Mrs Inchbald, stamping her foot furiously. " But it is almost night," pleaded Helena, " and we are so far from the regular track of any conveyance to London. And I have no money. You have paid me nothing yet." "Much payment you deserve! What you have tried to pilfer would more than cover all. Nevertheless " And here poor Helena unconsciously crushed the only hope she had, for Mrs Inchbald never meant to refuse her money. Hartmann saw her movement toward her pocket, |*nd stepped forward with a deprecating gesture, and to him Helena suddenly appealed. "Oh, TIartmann,you have professed much regard for me," she began ; but Mrs Inchbald interpo&ed, fiercely : "Shameless creature! do you boast of that '! You shall not beguile us any further. Hu<*h ! I will not hear another word. Gome, Desire ; come, Hartmann ; let us have our supper. And do you give the host to understand that we quit the place in the morning if he allows her shelter here tonight. I will send instructions to the London bankers to pay your paltry wages there. That is all I have to say to you." The three swept away out into the little supper-rooin, and Helena was left alone. Mechanically she began replacing her little wardrobe in the portmanteau, and then stood a moment, staring wildly about her. She was interrupted by the landlady's entrance. Her cold, Scotch face showed nothing but suspicion and angei\ " Ye'll take yerself away without making any more trouble, I hope. Ye're a bad lass, to make the leddy so angry. We've no room for ye to-night, and ye had better be stirring." Indignation lent the poor girl strength. She flew into the little room she had occupied, swept everything that belonged to her into the portmanteau, locked it, and putting on her sacque and hat, threw her shawl over her arm, took up the portmanteau, and walked out of the house into the twilight, whose deepening shades were fast wrapping burn and brae, mountain and moorland in fantastic wreaths of mist. " Surely the Lord will watch over me, and some kind mother soul will be moved to pity me," she murmured, wistfully, as she took the road which led toward the nearest town of note, through which she knew a railroad ran. Sho was a little dismayed in this hope, however, when she saw a mounted horseman ride out from the inn yard, and go clattering by the cottages of the villagers, stopping to call out to each some brief command, which vi as evidently enough to debar her from their hospitality, for at whatever place she stopped they eyed her clo&ely and suspiciously, and refused all her entreaties. "Now Iain left alone indeed to the Lord's help," muttered she, sorrowfully, as she turned away from the last inhospitable house, and paw the lonely road across a dreary tract, half moor, half woody wilderness, stretching dimly before her. t "Can I ever A\ r alk that terrible distance, and if I can, shall I be safe from harm ?" And with this thought a new panic assailed her, and sinking down she dropped the heavy portmanteau, which already lamed her arm, and burst into a flood of bitter tears. Could a more dreary situation be imagined ? She thought not. But a little later she looked back to its solitude with longing. For soon there came the sounding thud of horse's feet, and rolling wheels. Half frantic with her terrors Helena darted into the low brushwood that edged the road. She forgot that the portmanteau and the white scarf around her neck would botk betray her presence there. And it was a keen eye that was searching for her. "Miss Yerrington !" called out a commanding voice. "I know you arc there. Come out to me, please, for the haKse is restive. I have come to take you to a safe and comfortable retreat." She came out slowly, peering anxiously for the expression of his face, though the dim light left by the departed sun was scarcely enough to reveal it to her. " Do you come in kindness ?" she asked, faintly. " Heaven deal with you justly if you plan any new wickedness !" '• I come to take you to safe retreat, my poor child. Come up fearlessly into the gig with me. Do you think I could bear to have you wandering in danger all this night long, the victim of that cruel woman's wrath ?" The worn-out girl was trembling in every limb. She passed him the portmanteau, and accepted the hand ho stretched out to assist her to mount into the high vehicle, a proceeding the high-spirited horso made somewhat hazardous by his irritable plunging to and fro.

Franz Hartmann caughtone lo»£ breath of relief. He had not expected suoh speedy success. He chirruped to the horse, and they flew on at a rapid pace, taking the straight road which led to the distant town. For a long time there was silence between them. He was trying to hide his exultation. She was struggling with the tears that poured down her cheeks, and the sobs that threatened to break out hysterically. " Miss Yerrington," spoke he, meekly, " I hope you do not blame me too hardly. I could not. speak out against Mrs Inchbald, though I might be indignant enough at her unreasonable anger. " " I am too tired to talk," she rehjpned, in a quavering voice. " Tell me where you are taking me." " To the house of a trusty acquaintance of mine, who will take good care of you tonight." "I can thank you for one kind act if I really receive good care. I thought I must spend the night in these wilds. I s it far ?" " The roads are fair ; we shall reach our journey's end in two hours. You had no supper. Will you eat some of these cakes, which were all I could hide away ?" She accepted them with simple thanks. "I am sorry not to do bettor, but you shall have a cup of hot tea when we arrive. I am afraid you have had very hard and bitter thoughts for company. Indeed, Mrs Inchbald has been very hard. She already repents not having given you over to the magistrate, knowing, too, how strict the laws are here. You would, indeed, have fared cruelly in that case." "Do you believe me guilty?" asked Helena. " I do not know or care, Helena, because— I love you," cried Hartmann warmly. "You could not love me, sir, believing me guilty of such a crime," washer chilling reply. " Helena, you must listen to what I have to say, however you may answer it. I love you well enough to shield you with my name and life from the dark fate that threatens. You are alone, not only here to* night in this woeful strait, but in the world everywhere, without Fortune or kindred, and this affair of the robbery, in the hands of an unscrupulous and vindictive woman like Mrs Inchbald, will for ever be a sword hanging above your head by a single hair. I am the only one who can save you. ■ have told you before of my devotion. I swear to you I will be true as steel, faithful, loving. Be my wife, Helena, and escape the woes that threaten you." "I would rather die herein these horrible wilds to-night," she answered, iirmly. "I am sorry to pain you, but it was cruel to press the question now. I will not accept even this poor kindness of taking me to a roof to shelter my head from the night dews from your hands, without you understand that I can give you no hope for any other answer to your suit." There was a little silence. It was too dark for her to see his face, and the grinding teeth wero not allowed to give audible sound of their rage. "lam sorry if you suffer," she ventured again, " but it would be dishonourable to allow you to hold false hopes." "Never mind me now," returned he, at last, his voice husky, his words coming stiiHy. " Of course 1 am pained, but I shall bear it, I suppose. I will still take you to safety." "Now I can say fervently, may God bless you !" The rest of the ride was taken in utter silence. At the first sign of human habitation on the long and dreary road he checked the horse. It was a poor place, a one-story hovel, but built strongly, and somehow with a fortified look about it. Hartmann alighted ; the spent horse was past friskiness now, and Helena descended without his aid. The sound of wheels brought some one to the door, a tall, bony woman, who held a candle over her head with one hand, M'hile shading her eyes with the other. Hartmann pushed in front of Helena, and said something in a lew voice which the latter did not hear, but she caught the woman's reply. " It's no account ; the sooner begun, the sooner over. I'll make a cup of tea in two minutes. Walk in, my bonny leddy," she added, in a fawning tone that struck a chill to Helena's thankful mood. " Yes, go in, Miss Yerrington," said Hartmann. " I must find the man to look after the horse a bit. I can give him but an hour's rest before I start back again." " We have not reached the town ; are we far from it ?" questioned Helena, hesitating over the threshold in vague disquiet. " Only a couple of miles. You can be conveyed there in the morning. 1 will attend to that," said Hartmann hastily. "Don't hinder the woman, please. I'd like a cup of tea myself." And upon this hint Helena followed the courtesying woman into the house. It was dingy, close, and forbidding. Helena tried to tell herself how thankful she ought to be for any shelter at all, but in spite of all her efforts her heart sank within her. She sat down in the tall-backed, wooden rocking-chair, murmuring some thing about being very tired. The woman busied herself aboutlighting up the fire, and by the time the tea was made Hartmann and a dark, sinister-looking man came in together. The courier's face was unconcerned and even cheerful, and ho said to her, in a low voice : "It's the best I can do. It's a poor place I know, but you will be safe here for to-night, and that is the main thing." "Have you spoken about my being helped on my way to the raihoad station in the morning ?" she asked, raising her voice purposely for the owners to hear. The man turned around. Was there a meaning glance exchanged between him and Hartmann ? " Oh, yes ; oh, yes, my bonny leddy, it's all settled. We'll take the best of care of you," he said, with a readiness that was in itself suspicious, and at the same time the woman turned around with a bi'oad smirk, and gave a significant gesture. " I have walked into a trap," said Helena Yerrington, drearily, to her quailing heart. But in a moment the brave spirit rallied. "If they think I have no suspicions they will not keep close guard. There may be escape for me yet." And drinking her tea, and taking pains to eat the coarse food as if enjoying it, she assumed the cheerful confidence she was so far from feeling. Hartmann watched her closely • "Is there any use in asking you to reconsider what you said to-night?" he questioned, abruptly. "I tell, you, Helena Yerrington, the question is more mom en* tous than you think." "I cannot help it. There is but one answer for me to make," replied she, firmly, but she turned deadly pale. "Then I must say good-by; it is time forme to go." "Good-by, and Heaven reward you for the kindness as you have meant to do," she said, solemnly. He turned abruptly, and made a gesture for the man to follow him, and went out. The woman was in the little cupboard setting away the food again. Helena slipped out noiselessly, and ran out into the darkness far enough to hearHartinann's parting words.

" If you keep to the bargain, man, it is all right. You shall have your money totnorrow. Mind that you keep her locked in, and that no one sees her. I shall be here before nine o'clock to-morrow night. Then, I trow, my lady Helena will have a j less proud spirit," he muttered, angrily. And then she heard him mounting into the gig. Should she go back into the house ? Was there any chance of escape now ? No, she dared not venture when there was Hartmann and the horse so close at hand. She hurried back, and muttered something about thinking she had left a bundle, when she found the woman stirring about to look for her. And then exclaimed how tired and sleepy she was, and begged to be shown at once into her room where she was to sleep. And when she followed into the forlorn, dreary little bedroom she gave a cheerful good-night, and began to hum softly while taking down her hair. The bolt was not turned so softly but that Helena heard it, knowing that she was locked into the place. Still she sang on, the while her thoughts were rising in an agonizing prayer "Oh, my Father in heaven, only your help can save me now !" (To be Continued.)