CHAPTER XXIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 158, 26 June 1886, Page 7

CHAPTER XXIII.

TOO LATE. What fear is this, which startles in our ears ? Romeo and Juliet. The conclusion which I drew from these sentences after a closo and repeated perusal of them was to this effect : That Mr Pollard instead of possessing Only two sons, as was generally supposed, bad in reality been the father of three That the eldest, born in all probabilitj 7 before Mr Pollard's removal to this country (he was an Englishman by birth), had, by some act of violence or fraud, incurred tho penalty of tho law, and was oven now serving out a torm of imprisonment in his native land. That this ton had a daughter innocent mid virtuous, v horn ha desired, to commit to the care of her grandfather ; that he had evon sent her over here for that parpose, but that Mr Pollard, taken down with the illness which afterWards ended in deith, had not only failed to be on hand to receive her, but that, surrounded and watched by his wife and joih, who, in thei: «elfi*h pride, wore detei mined to ignore all chum* of kinship on the piitof one they despised, he had nob even had the chance to take such me mures for her safety and hippinc*-- as his love and regard for her lonely and det-olato potion seemed to do mand. Tnat the will, « ho»c concealment in his desk he had managed to describe had been made In recompense for this nogU-et, and that by it she would roceive that competence and acknowledgment of her lights which tho h-ited of her unscrupulous relative? wou'ti oi herwise deny her. And this \\ i« the will I had weakly given Up. and it wto upon the head of this innocen*" chili that iho results of my weakness must fall. When I iirsf recrgjn^ed this fact I felt stupefied. Tnat I, David Barrow?, should be the cau-e of misei v a-id loss to a guileless and pure soul ' I could not icali?e it, nor belie\ c that conseque< cc s ±o eeriou- and irremediable could lollow upon an act into which I hid b;en beriayed by mere cowardice. But soon, too soon, the nutter became plain to my 1 sax what I had done and v. a- ovcrwnelmed, for 1 could no longer donM that the real will had been de? r royud arc! that the one which had boen returned tw i.i" wa* a substituted one perhaps the vet'j same which I had seeuauionjr tiie papers ot Mr PoilardV desk. j The IP?'-.' nt my remorse wa? a*i imme- ' diate detc imnation ot my p r irt to search out the you q girl, left in this remarkable manner to my c re, and by my efiorts in her behalf Uo »\hai I c mid to remedy tho ! great e\il v hici'. thiough my in&trume i talitj T , had bcfaiL:n her. Tue p .rp^M; \\ is no sooner takon tha- I prepared to c ry it out S— cruld j hold no dut y to\ me no'-v paramount t j this I wa- a :arr>'M - , and my child lingered solitary iuu mcc.red for in a strange pl.ee I took the iir-t train the next morning for the tv ciry ..; rhc c is-t-wind." The hiir ..t w inch I arrived at number , Cbaile---trePt, v. as one ot deep agitation m me, t trul thought co continually upon \v\j journey ot the young wait 1 wa a seeking. Would she be the emiijdimont of i.-genuou-oc-* which her giarM- ' father h-td bvidea'.lv o^'.revtd her to b, ? ' Should I rind her ior^;vin<£ and. tiactabie ; or were t'iu fxpecta~io.it> I hf.d fourud fal^ ] In their en. tract or and. founded rather upo'i | Mr Po'lard = wishc? than any knowledge ; be had ot her di-position and at-quire-ment? ? Tne hDu=e v.-a=, as far as I co-ild jucf^o from tne ex erioi, of a most respect .0.-; charao r cr. an x thy lady who £iii?\\e.i.'ii :.i v some'vlnt ' r-pi'iont jumtnoni v, as o .c o: i tho?e no t ;vu iuz Jiigent-lookincr pci-oti- i who in.-!)ir^ confiiencj at hr-t glanco T. my inquine- as to w'luthor there wa^ living in her )i'>u«-> a yon v" E.igli-h lady by the name of (rr..c3— 1 art not like to venture upon thai n* l\>liard. theie being some I phrase- in ihe t immunication I have shown you which le! m ; t ' think that Mr Pollard j had changed in^ name on coining to thi^ i co'inr -y,— .^'.e u .ye me a look of «-uch trouble I and atr:ie'y tnat I wa=s instantly >-true!: with disir;a\. " Miss Mina-n .' ' -he e\clalracd ; then a> I bowed with staining acquiescence, continued In a tone that comeved still moro disquiet v r on l-cr face, "'bhe in/-> f »ei c ; ! but she ia go:. is sir; a v. oman took her away." A woirr.n ! I must have grown pale, for she swung -aide the dcor and a-ked <mo to come in. " We cm t;lk better in the hall," tho remarked, and pointed to a chair into v, hich I half fell. "I have a gieafc interest in thi3 young lady," I observed; "in short, I am her guardian Can you tell me the nama of the person with .Thorn aha went away, or where she can be found now ?' "No, sir," ehe answered, with the same expreoiioi of trouble. "The woman gave us no name or address, the young lady seemed too /r.uch frightened to speak. We have felt, anxious ever since she went, sir : for tho letter s-he showed us from the captain of tho *hip which brought her over, told us to take great care of her. Wo did not know *-he had a guardian or we should not have let her go. The woman seemed very pleasant, and paid all her bills, but——" " But wb*t?" I cried, too anxious to beai a moment's delay. " She did not lift her veil, and this seemed to me a suspiciou* circumstance " Torn with apprehension and doubt, I staggered to my feet. " Tell me all about this womin," I demanded; "Give my every detail you can remember. I have a dreadtui fear that, it 13 some one who should never have soon this child." "Well, sir, the came at about eleven in the morning '. '• What day ?" J interrupted her to ask "Thursday," she replied, "a week ago yesterday." The very day after the will was returned to me. If she were the woman I feared, she had evidently lost no time. " She asked tor Mtea Merriam," the lady before mo pursued, evidently pitying my distress, " and wo know no reason why our young boarder should not receive visitors, we immediately proceeded to call her down. But the woman, with a muttered excuee, said she would not trouble us ; that she knew the •child well, and would go right up to her room if we would only tell her where ib was This we did and should have thought no more of the matter, if ia a little while she •had not reappeared in the hall, and, inquiring the way to my room, told me that Miss Merriam had decided to leave my house ;

that she had offered her a home, with her, and that they were to go immediately. •' I wassomewhat taken aback by this, and inquired if I could not see Miss Merrtein. She answered ' What for?' and when I hinted that money was owing to me for her board, she drew ont her pocket-book and paid me on the spot. I could say nothing after this, ' But are you a relative, ma'am ?' to which ker quick and angry negative, hidden, however, next moment, by a sauve acknowledgment «f friendship, gave me my first feeling of alarm. But I did uot dare to ask any further quostions much as I desired to know who she was and where she was going to take the young girl. There was something in her manner that overawed me, at the same time it iilled me with dread. But if I could not speak to her I meant to have some words with Miss Marriain before she left tho house. This the woman seemed to wish to prevent, for she stood close by me when the young girl came down, and when I stepped forward to say good-bye, pushed me somewhat rudely ac<ido and took Miss Merriam by the arvn. •'Come, my dear," she cried, and would have hurried her out without a word. But I would not hare that. The sorrow and perplexity in Miss Merriam's faco were too marked for me to lot her dopart in silonce. So I persisted* in speaking, and after saying how corry I was to have her go, asked hor if she would noc leave her new address with me in case any lotters should come for her. Her answer was a frightened look at her companion, who immediately spoke for her, 'I have told you,' said she, 'that MUs Merriam goos homo with me. It is not likely she will have any lotters, but if sho should, you can send them to the place mentioned on this card,' and she pulled a visiting card from her bag and gave it to me, after which sho immediately weut away dragging Misd Mciriam aftor hor. " \nd you have that card ?" I cried. " Why did you not show it to mo at once ?" "O, bir, %> sho responded with a sorrowful shake of her head, " it was a fraud, a deception. Tho card was not hers but another person's, auci its o^vner don't even know xUis.3 Meniam " u How io you know this ?" I asked. " Have jou seen this other porson ? '•Ye-., sir," E had occision to, for a letter did come for Mi^s- Merriam only a -hort lime after sue left. So Jiinkin^ it a good opportunity to nee where sho had gone, I carried it to the address %\ hich was on tuocard given me, and found as I havo told you that it wan not the same lady at all who lived there, and that thera was not only no Miss Meniam in tho house, but that her name was not ovon known mere. " " And you saw tho lady her?,elf 'i" "Yes, sir,." " And aieyou sure it was not tho same ■ as the one who was here '.' "Uh ye.^ ; sho \\ as shore and stout and ■ had a trunk way of speaking, totally unlike that of the veilod woman.' " And the latter ? J fow was sho shaped ? You Lave not told me " 1 asked this in trembling tones. Though 4 I wa a sure what t ( ie an-wer would be, I dreaded to have my tours confirmed. " Weli, sir, sho was tall and had a full commanding figure, very haudrjomo to look at. She was dre--od all in grey, and had a way of holding her ho id that made an cidi- • nary s - /ed woman like myself feel vei \ i-mall a.d insignificant. Yet she was not ' a^reeab'o in her appearance ; and I am ; suie th it if I could havo .°een hoi face I ; -hould have vis.iked her still nioio, though j 1 do not doubt it wa- in keeping with her , tiguie, and very handsome." I could have no doubts as to whom thi-< ; dc^cril.jd, yet I made one linal eilort to ' provp • ty =u-pieioii3 false. " You hwe <d\en mo the description of a person iif -omc pietensions to gentility." I •cmij Led, ' yot fium the iirst you havo forborne to '-.leak or her as a lady.'' '"An iiiv jluntary evprc-3-ion of my distru~t 'md diftlikol suppose. Tnen hor drees was \ cry plain, and the veil she wore quite common." I thought of the dress and veil which my <s>ilf designate i " si-ter " had worn in tho visit the paid to my room-*, and wondero * i if they uou'd not answer to the description i of the-o. J '•What was tho colour of her veil?" 1 inquired. '• Dark blue," That .\a^ tho colour of tlio one nhich had ! been worn by my mysterious vi-itor, a j I found fiom ?üb-cquont questions put. to my nei£xhb pUr,p 'Ur, as I could no longer have the I least uncertainty n=j to who the woman was who had carried oil 2\lr Pol'ard'd grondehiM Sick at hoii^'vnd feaiing 1 f-c.ircrly kmw what, I a-ked for i he letter which h A bu> •. left for iln=.>i Men-run, and locoiviuj; il 1 <«n the hand of this ami'iblo worn in in \,ho.n 1 apficirod to have inspired a^ much co.id- I dencu as her foimt-i vi.^ito" hal ali^m T roio ifc 0,1011, and, in my c:j[>'ci>y of guardian, read what it cont lined, flero it is : ! "My Prvn Mi^s Mkrp.i vi :— The geni^o- ! man, in thu hope of whoso protection you cam; to tin-* country, is dead. Lam his | son, and naturally feeiil incumbont upon nn : tci look after your interests lam thorofoi c, I coming thoitly to deo you ; but filL 1 do so ! remember that you are not to tecoivo any one who may call, no raattei wh-it. th.m 1 name, sex, or apparent business-. If jou [ disobey me in thi-, logaid ynu may do jour I a parmanont injury. \Vait till my cud i^ brought you, and then judye for your^eU whether I am a person in whom you ca r i trust. Hoping to find you in good health, and as happy as your bercavod condition will admit of, I remain E.inca»oly your.-, " DWICIIT G.VYLORI) PoLLAJU). "Ah, he wrote a day too late '." I involuntarily exclaimed : then perceiving thp look of curiosity which this unguarded ex pres=-ion had awakened on tho faco of my companion, folded the letter up, and put, it quietly in my pocket- "Itia an unhappy piece of business," I now observed, " but I shall hope to find Mi-^s Merriam very soon, and place her where she will be both .safe and happy." And feeling that 1 ought to know something of the appearance and disposition ot one 1 so fully intended to befriend, 1 inquired whother sho was a pretty girl. The reply I received was almost enthusiastic. " I do not know that you would call her pretty, sir, sho is f»o palo and fragile ; hut if her features are not re^ulai, nor her colour good, she has something unusually attractive in hor face, and I have hcaru more than one gentleman here say, "Miss Merriam is lovoly." " And her manners ?" " Very modest, sir, and timid. She seems to have a secret sorrow, for I h.-ivo often soon her eyes fill when she thought no one was looking at her." " Do you know her history or connections." "No, sir." " Then she nevor talked to you about herself ?" " No, sir ; though co young, sho was strangely like a woman in many thin if s. An uncommonly sweet child, sir, an uncommonly sweet child." I felt the stingj of a great reproach in my heart, and, anxious to hide the depth of my emotion, rose to leave. Bui the good woman, detaining me, inquired what she should do with Miss Merriam's .trunk. "What," I exclaimed, "is that still here ?"

*' Yes, sir ; she took, as I noticed, a, bag > of some size with her, but Bhe left her trunk. In the flurry of their departure I forgot to speak about ib. I have expected an expi'esaman after it every day, but none has come. That is another reason why I felt anxious." "I do not wonder, I exclaimed. "Sometimes," she observed, "I have thought it was my duty to speak to the police about tho matter ; it would be such a dreadful thing if any harm had come to her." "I will speak to the police if necessary," said I. And determined aa I had never been before in my life, I leffc tho house, and pr >- ceeded directly to the depot, where I took the first train for S. .