CHAPTER XIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 204, 21 May 1887, Page 7 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XIII.

ENTKAITED. Several months hnd passed since Ralph's disappearance, during 1 which time Morna had remained with Dr. Laybrook, having visited the Grange only once, and then to 'remain but a few hours. She could not make the place seem like home. At every step she was? reminded of tho loved ones lost ; everything she saw gave her pain by association. The new year had dawned, and the • month of January had passed. All efforts towards the finding of Dr. Ashmore had ceased, but the story had not grown old. It was still a subject of earnest conversation in public places and private, and the mystery attending it made it interesting. A very few there Avere who once in a great ■while whimpered tho names of Jonas amd Tom Crandal in connection with the affair, but in the minds of the sober, thinking class they had censed to be thought of as having beon in any way engaged in the business. It was th«ught that ho had either been killed and robbed, or that he had in some way made himself ieared by the smugglers vho infested the coast, and . they had put him out. of the way as a measure of self-preservation. There had been one other disappearance Ih Wallingham that afforded subject of much conjecture, Mortimer Rivera's old drunken clerk, whom everybody had felt great sympathy for, and whom many had loved, notwithstanding his enatie course — Darnley Werter— hnd gone from the place. He had finished up the business he had to i do ; had furnished the la.st copy demanded at his hands, and had then disappeared. Men of reliability said they had seen him in London, at Lincoln's Inn, looking the same as ever, only sober. Really, the people of the town could have spared a belter man. He was becoming useful : and had he kept st»ber and attended to bu-nne^s ho niigltt jfcsye had very much of Rivera's business i<i trusted to him. Further, there were questions continually arising in relation to old contracts, conveyances, sessions of court, which he alone could answer ; and now that he was gone, the good people were perplexed. "Why did he go?"' Everybody asked the question, but nobody answeied it intelligently. A few said the poor follow was homesick — lonesome w ithout his old master. Not a soul in Wallingham dreamed of asking the steward of Dale Abbey if he could tell. Tvhe truth was : In a moment of great temptation — moved, too, by a great dread — the poor wretch had consented to forge a deed of guardianship, and to for^e Mortimer I&vers's name thereto ; but he had not the courage ; he had not the heart to stand up in court and make oath to the validity of that deed. And he clearly saw that such a call would surely be made upon him should he be within reach. Pet haps, too, Jomas Crandal \\ ished him away. February had come, finding our heroine still at the good old doctor's, in Wallingham. One afternoon a .servant informed her that a gentleman wished to see her in the front drawing-room. She went in, and met Jonas Crandal. He was dressed in plain, deep black, and his manner was modest and subdued. The look upon his face, as he greeted her, was really kind and sympathetic. She could not know that he had practised that very expression before his mirror ; but such was the fact. " Morna,'' he said, after he had motioned her to a seat, and had seated himself —the name on his lips as he spoke it neither startled nor offended her— " Morna, I have ventured to call upon you, hoping that I might per.Miade you to give me your help in settling the affairs at the (i range. Do you realise that, thus far. since your father's death, not a tiling towards a settlement has been done ? T nave thought that, under the peculiar circumstances, it might be more pleasant for you if I were to turn iover the old home to your caic and supervision entirely. Then you can retain such servants as you plea.se, and make your own /arrangements for paying them. What do -you think of it ?" She was rejoiced beyond the power of her tongue to tell. For the time her troubles were forgotten. The thought that the dear old Grange would be hers, to rule and govern as she pleased ; that she could care for it and pay the servants was happiiFyin°\ '"Of course," pursued Crandal, before she could find words for reply, " the Abbey is yours, to claim it for your home, if you wish ; but 1 have—' "0, no, no ! I don't want to live at 'the Abbey. I love the dear old Grange, •where I.wasI '.was born, and where — " "Never mind, dear lady," said the Reward, as her voice broke, and her tears burst forth—he spoke softly and kindly. JflJ f I understand all you feel, and you have may keenest sympathy. I will .not detain you now ; but will you set a day when you will come out to the Cove and help me to arrange the business ? It need not take us a great while." Morna spoke quickly, and with interest. She said she could come at any time. He should name a day and an hour that would ba convenient to him. " Then, suppose, if it be fair, that I ©orae over to-morrow morning, after breakfast, and drive you out ?" Morna had [her own horses, and a convenient carnage. There was not snow enough for sleighing, and she preferred that her groom should drive her over. With & smile she said : " Really, my poor ponies need the exercise ; and, moreover, it would be entirely unnecessary for you to put yourself to so much trouble. I will be at the Grange, God Trilling, at nine o'clock to-morrow morning." " And I will be ready for you. I like the arrangement. It suits me in every way." And with that he bade her a respectful " Good-day," and was gone, his last look being a smile, gentle and Jkindly. When left alone, the girl asked herself, Had she all along misjudged Jonas Crandal? Surely no man could have appeared to better advantage than had he during the Interview ; and, further, ho had manifested a disposition to place her at her ease, and make her lot as pleasant and endurable as possible. When she came to speak with Dr. Layfrrook and his good wife on the subject, they were much gratified. The doctor had been surprised that no manner of settlement had yet been made ; but if it could ,foe done now, all would be well. " I think after all," he said, " that Mr Crandal means well. He must be an 'honest man and methodical, or Sir William would not have employed him so long •with so much of confidence. And, Morna, I do not think your father was a man to be easily deceived. He, I know, had the most implicit trust in his brother's agent, and his him his own speaks .volumes, However, you need have very

litfcleto do'wittf the lMhy any Avayl Of course you will remain, with us till the warm spring- timo comes." "If I may- 0 lyes." " If you do not, you will leave sad hearts ! behind you." Morna kissed them both, and said she would stay. On the following morning, as soon as she had eaten her breakfast, our heroine made ready for her ride, her maid, Holen, to bear her company. Her groom and coachman was a young man of five-and-twenty — George Latham, by name— whoso parents resided on ono of the Grango farms, and whom she had known since she could remember. He was strong, competent, and faithful. By the timo she was ready the conveyance was at- the door, and she bade her kind host and hostess ail affectionate good-bye, promising that she would return on tho following day, if not before. Ah ! little dreamed they how they should next meet ! At the Grange Morna found Mr Crandal waiting for her. "Ah! I am glad you did not come before," ho said, as he conducted the maiden towards the library. "Tom left me this morning, and I shall be my own master. He was good enough, and respectful in his way, but ho was fond of offering his opinion whero it was not wanted." " Whero has he &one ?" asked Morna, with a sense of relief. j "He will go to London first." She did j not notice the peculiar emphasis of the j words " will go," but it was there. " And from London he may go to India. There is much to be done out there." They had reached the library, and before the young mistress had removed any of her outer clothing a coach from the Abbey came rattling up the broad drive- way to the door of the old hall, and presently a servant, who had been on the box with the driver, entered his master** presence. "Francis! What now? What in the i world does this mean ?" The now-comer was Jonas Crandal's bodyservant— hit) valet— a man adapted n every way to serve him ; bold, unscrupulous, and fearless, yet faithful to the man whose money he took for his services ; his name, Francis Oakes ; and ho had been a teaman in his day— probably under a revolving commission. If ever a man appeared astonished at sight of another, Mr Crandal so appeared as his valet entered the library of tho Grange on the present occasion. But Fi ancis had been educated. He was never at fault in the part given him to play. " It means, your honour/ answered the servant, with a profound obeisance, "that Mr Blackmore is at t>he Abbey, and has not a great many minutes to spare." "Mr Blackmore ! -At the Abbey ! -Why, he told me he could not possibly come until afternoon. " •' So he said, sir ; but a man he was to have met at his office in Wallingham disappointed him, and he was obliged to come over this morning, or not at all." Mr Crandal took a turn across the room, and when he came back, his face had become as a summer evening's sky when all is calm and serene, and he wag able to smilo as he spoke. " Well, really, it does not make much difference. Dear lady, I have not spoken to you of a matter of very important business at the Abbey in which you are chiefly interested. Perhaps you are aware that the Dale jewels - by far the mobt of them — have been in my charge since your Uncle William went away. In the last letter to me, written on his death-bed, he said to me that I should place them myself in the hands of his brother, and heir, Lawrence, making no provision for that brother's death. I can consent to keep them no longer. While in town yesterday, I called on Mr Blackmore— l think you have met him ?" j Albert Blackmore was one of the best and most popular attorneys in the county ; and si»ce the death of Mortimer Rivers he had taken the lead at the bar in that judicial district. Yes, Morna knew him very well. She had met him at Dr. Laybrook's, and had dined once at his own house, in company with the doctor and his wife. "Well," pursued Jonas, "I had determined that I would deliver those jewels — they are mostly diamonds — to you ; and I Avished that Mr Blackmore should be present to give me a proper voucher for the delivery. I suppose you are aware that your signature, though good enough, Heaven knows, would not stand in law. ' The girl nodded meekly. "So I thought of Blackmore. I stated to him the facts in the case, and he said he would come with pleasure. Further, if you wish it, he will take care of them for you, and safely deposit them at your bankers'. But," he went on, as Morna's face grew bright, " he told me he should not be able to come till after noon. However, you have heard my sei'vant's explanation of that." "My dear master, ventured the valet, timidly > " the lawyer is certainly very anxious to haA-e his work done, and be oft*. I think if you explain on the Avay, it will be as well." Jonas turned to the maiden in apparent perplexity, f * Morna !'*— beseechingly, " I thing we ought to go at once. There are a few old cabinet pictures that your uncle bade me give directly to you. Those can remain till another time. The diamonds are all gathered into a compact shape ; are in separate parcels, numbered and lettered, and regularly catalogued. It will nofe take us half an hour to do all we have to d© there; and then I will bring Mr Blackmore here, and he will help us in this business. He promised me he would do so, and I shall hold him to it." j Morna did not hesitate a moment. That there could be a lio in the story she had heard, had not entered her wildest imaginings. "I will go with you, sir. I Avill call Helen." " Need you disturb her !- — -0 !" he quickly added, as he caught the look of surprise she turned towards him, — " I forgot yo,ur riding alone with me. Ten thousand pardons, I implore. Your maid will very soon be ready, I have no doubt." ' Helen was quickly on hand, having only | removed her hood and cloak ; and Mr Crani dal started to lead the way towards the outer door. Morna only stopped long [ enough to speak with her good old butler, Robert Dabney — to tell him where she Avas going, and that she would probably have company to lunch ; then she followed her conductor to the coach ; Avas assisted in ; Helen then got in by her side, the steward entered and took the front seat, and in a moment more they Avere off. The distance from the Grange to the Abbey was not more than half a mile, and the spirited horses Atero not many minutes in covering it. Morna had always felt; that she should not like to live at Dale Abbey. It reminded her of a prison. Many of the apartments, especially of the modern portions, were spacious and airy, and luxuriously furnished ; yet the great, high, thick walls, with the ponderous gate at the entrance to the inner court, and the gloomy old turret and battlements, had always rendered the place oppressive to her when she thought of it, as a permanent home, as compared wtyh the graceful, i pleasant old Grange, with its beautiful

gardens, and i& bower's and' visfcas among the grand old trees of the park. ' The coach stopped at? the foot of the .granite steps that lee? up to the main .vestibule of the structure, and our heroine was assisted to alight. Then she followed Mr Crandal up the steps, to ' the vestibule, and into the hall, where he turned and spoke, still wearing the smiling, friendly look. " I have had the jewels deposited in the chamber which was formerly occupied by Lady Theresa, and thero Mr Blackmore will join us. He may bo there already." Morna signified her readiness to follow by a nod, and the steward turned and led the way up the front stairs, to the hall above. Thence he went a short distance to the right, then turned to the left, into a narrow passage, on each side of which were deep arches, with small circular loopholes, glazed, looking out upon a rear court clow, while on the ri^ht hand were small doors, set deep in the thick masom y of the wall, or partition, leading to i*ooms fceyond. Morna knew that this was one of the oldest parts of the building, and one of the strongest— the very place, she told herself, where valuable jewels would bo kept for safety. She wondered if Lady Theresa — that was her Uncle William's wife— had ever occupied apartments here. Why not ? There might be pleasant outlooks beyond some of these doors. At length the guide opened a door on the right, and ho stepped back while the lady and her muid passed on. On crossing the threshold they found themselves in a small, scantily and plainly furnished room which appeared to be an ante-room to a larger apartment beyond ; and so it proved. Mr Crandal had followed them, closing the first door behind him ; then he came on, and threw open the door next in older, moving back, as before, while they entered. Morna looked about her in surprise. She was in an apartment of moderate dimensions well but plainly furnished, with a bed in one corner, and a large old cabinet, or clothes-press, in another. Two doors were open, giving her views of two other rooms, both smaller than that in which she stood, and still more plainly furnished. In one of | them, on her left hand as she entered, she saw another bed, and a case of drawers. In the other, which was opposite to the ante- I room through which she had come, she saw a wash-stand and a small bathing-pan. There were fcwo windows in this main apartment, both on the same side, but quite small, and protected by iron bars. "Now, my dear young ladies, you can remove your outer garments, and rest. I will let you know when your presence is required. " And with this he turned and left them, and immediately after the door had been closed behind him they heard the rattling of a key and the rumble and click of a heavy lock.