CHAPTER L.

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 11581, 13 October 1900, Page 2 (Supplement)

CHAPTER L.

LADY PA.CTON. Before Arlay slept that glad »igh% she wrote a Full account of what had transpired to Philip, and begged him to return to her just a 9 soon as possible. 'We are all co happy that we want you here to share it with us," she said, 'and when you do come, the reunion will be complete — perfect. ' A few days brought a reply, as fond j and tender as the most exacting heart could wish' ; hut Philip said he could not return just yet. He hoped it would not take him much longer to complete his business. Ho supposed he could run up to London for a few hours, but that it wou'd be better for him to remain until he had settled everything to h:s mind. Arley, though disappointed, strove to be content and to make the best of it. She was so sure of her happiness and his truth, luat she could afford to be patient for a little longer, she thought. Annie Vane and her husband were telegraphed for at the. earliest Dossible hour the next morning after Wil's return, and not many hours elapsed before they were on the spot to greet him. Mias McAllister and Ina were also sent for to come and rejoice with the happy household ; and it did not seem as if there could he a more blessed family on earth than that which gathered around toe hospitable board in Mordaunt Hunse upon that day. Lady Hamilton sat by the hour and feasted her eyes upon the face of her idoKsed son Sir Aathony got up a dozen times during tho day to go and take him by the hand. 'I cannot feel quite sore, even yet, that it is true, unless I touch you, to assure m>solf that you are really flesh and blood,' be would say, tremulously, as if ta apologise lor the act Lalv Elaine was content to simply sit by her lovei's side, where she could look at him and listen to his voice ; hut her face \v&* onun more the radiant faco of tha Lily of Mordannt. ArW, growiog every moment more buoyuut und Hire the bright girl that she was when wo first know her, flitted about Hire it lightsome fairy, performing little office? of lo7e tor the dear ones about her, and attending to the comfort of the family generally, for no one elflo seemed ctvpable of doing it, so absorbed were th^y in tho returned wanderer ; wliiln Eildio Winthropo fol- ] lowwl hor from room to room, feeling I almost us if slip was an odd one and left oat in the cold, and he wished to make it np to her by bhowing her all the attention iv his power. Once, when they were passing through the hall together, Arley put ' her aim about hU shoulders nnd gate him uu L'Cdt'Hie hug.

'Isn't it beautiful, Eddie, to have everybody so happy once more ? And when Uncle Philip comes ' A soft kiss dropped froui tremulous lips upon his forehead told him better than words what that coming would be to her. 'Yes*-* he assented, with a little sio;h, half of content, half of sadness, as he thought of those two lonely graves in the distant churchyard ; 'it seem 3 almost like heaven, but,' he added, with a flu^h and a fond glanca up into her facj, I never thought anybody could grow so lovely as you do.' 'Thank you, little flatterer,' she returned, laughing ; 'it is all because I am so happy. Happiness is a great! bsautifier, il is said. Bat, Eddie,' ,-h." a«ked,'suldenlv, 'how is the invalid limb?' 'Oh, it i 3 ever so much better ; there is no soreness at all now. That last wash that the surgeon gave me has done it a great deal of good.' 'I was thinking,' Arley said, speaking very tenderly, for the boy was exceedingly sensitive about his lameness, 'that 1 would like to take you to Monsieur Roulins and have that new foot fitted to yon, so that you can get used to it a little before Uncle Philip comes and give him a pleasant surprise. Beside?, there is to be a grand wedding very soon, to which we are invited, and I shall want my boy to make as fine an appearance as possible.' j The boy wound Lis arm about her waist with an impulsive movement. ' How good you were to say that I j might always stey with you and Uncle | Philip — how I love you !' he said earnestly. j 'Why, Eddie I' Arley cried, deeply 1 touched by this manifestation of feeling, 'It was not because I was good at all, I shall even have to confess to being a little -selfish about it, I wanted you, for I began to love you that day 1 when I first met you in the art gallery. Bust come, I want you to go to the conservatory with me, to help me cut and 1 arrange some flowers — we must deck thn whole honse to-day in honor of our guest, aud then by and by we will steal away for an hour or so, and go tosee Monsieur Loulins.' * * * Ina Wentworth's wedding day drew near, and when Wil heard of it and ' that Lady Elaine, Arley and Annie had been chosen to act as bridesmaids — for Ina said she would have only those whom she loved about her, when Bhe took her, marriage vows upon her — he declared that if Sir Charles and his fair bride-elect did not object, they would make a double wedding of it, for he did not intend to stand upon ceremony, but claimed his wife at once. All seemed to be pleased with this arrangement ; even Lady Elaine did not demur, though it gave her very little time, and so it was decided that there should be two brides ■ instead of | one upon the ninth of December, the day set for the ceremony . Philip was notified of this decision, and wrote that he thought he should be 1 able to get through with his business so as to return the day before the wed. ding, and though Arley was growing 1 very impatient, she was still very happy, 1 and so busy and interested in the happiness of others around her, that the ' days slipped very quickly by. Eddie was provided with his new foot and found that he was not nearly so awkward with it as he had expected to be at first. Arley was greatly astonished and no leas delighted, when, on the day that they went by appointment to get it, he walked a little way down Oxford Street with her, and scarcely limped. She had aa errand at her lawyer's office — which was only a short distance from Monsienr Roulin's rooms — .which was no other than to commission the good man to settle an annuity of a hundred pounds upon goo<l Jane. Collins, and Captain Bancroft's destitute .widow. Lady Elaine had already made the same provision for them, ami thus those [ humble, bnt whole-hearted people *vere made comfortable for the remainder of their lives. The day before the double wedding — the day set for Philip's return — arrived, and all through its long hours Ar'ey watched for her husband with almost feverish impatience and anxiety. But he did not come. Lato iv the afternoon there came a telegram to her. saying that, to his great disappointment, he had missed his train, but ho would surely bo with her early in the morning. I This was a 'great and unforaoen trial to the young wife, and }">r a while made her sad and depressed. 'It ia too bad, Annt Arley ; I am ho sorry,' Eddie said, glancing ruefully at her overcast face, and slipping: iiU hand I within hers to bliow his sympathy*

Sfce heaved a deep sigh ; then she turned to him with a smile. k I was so sure that he wnnH come that it seemed very hard to this,' she said, touching the telogram ; 'but I will try not to cloud the happiness of any one else, and the few hourg that will intervene will sooa slip away. '£ will imagine, 1 she aided to herself, 'that to- norrow will be my own — my real wedding day, also, and that Philip will then come to claim his bride,' and she exerted herself ail the evening to make everything bright and pleasant for those around her. v Ji<«i as the family were ahout to flppavat>j for the night Arley and Lady Elaiiv were standing together with thei) arms twined about each other, and Sir Amhony went up to them and laid a hand upon the shoulder of each. . 'The Lily and the Rose ct Mordaunt,' he said, smiling fondly upon them, 'two of the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed in this world of ours - t Heaven bless you both ! I love you both n I most as if you were my own daughters.' Morning came — a beautiful, cloudless morning — a perfect day sucti as gloomy Lyndon rarely knew : and there were sweet voices, radiant faces, and busy hands and feet in Mordaunt House. At. nine o'clock' a carriage drove I rapidly down the street, stopped before' the door, and Philip Paxton, strong, wp!l fla.l never handsomer, sprang to th«» ground. A figure that moment suddenly dis* appeared from the window above the hall, and when he entered the vestibule below, a lovely vision came gliding down the stairs to greet him. It was Arley, in a dainty white wrapper, with simply a bunch of roses in her belt. Pbilip'e heart gave a great bound at the sight of her, and his eyes were as teuder as a lover's, as he bent to look into hers. 'My darling,' he said, gatherin/her close in his arms, 'at last I have you ; we will never be separated again while we live ; and you are wearing tbe roses that I love best in the world 1 Do yoa know why I love them ?' he asked, touching them tenderly. 'Perhaps for the very same reason that I wear them,' Arley answered, •What is that ?' he asked. 'Once, when we were at Hozelmere, I gave you % crimson rose, and you called me the 'Ro3e of Westworth/ Do you remember V 'Yes,' he answered, 'and I never see a crimson rose without thinking of it, and I have always loved it, because those dear hands fastened one above my heart that evening. But,' he added. •I shall give you a new name toxday.' Arley looked up with smiling inquiry. 'Wait,' he said, 'uati! after the wedding, and then 1 will tell yon what it is ; but whatever it may be, to me you will ever be the 7 brightest and sweetest rose that blooms ' 'And I have a little secret for you alsoj when all this confusion is over,' Arley replied. 'But come and have your breakfast. I ordered it prepared for you, for I was sure you would be here about this time. I will pour your coffee with my own hands, and then I must run away to dress. I ought not to have waited until now.' 'Why did you, dear ?' Philip asked. 'Because, you know,' she returned,, with a shy glance, *I uid not think it woold do to have ray bridal finery crushed by such ruthless arms.' At eleven o'clock the bridal party from Mordaunt House passed, with 'stately step and slow,' tip to the altar of St. George's Church. Aunie Vane and her husband led thatrain, and took their station at the right. Philip and Arley came next,, an! passed to the left, while the two brides and grooms arrayed themselves in front. I The two maidens .about to plight their troth wore the eonventionarwhite satin, with exquisite veils of rare old pomt — one the gift of Lidy Hamilton, tbe other of Lady Herbert— and fairer 1 brides the 'sun never shone on.' The ever appropriate orange blossoms graced fair Ina Wentworth, but Lady Elaine wore nothing but white lil.es upon her bosom and gracefully drooping among th*> folds of her veil. It was Arley'a idea ; and Wil, when he saw his gentle briilf-el-ct co-ne forth from her hand?, ihaaued her with shining eyes. Annie Vane's dress was of corded silk — a very delicate shade of pink, the | effect of which was enhancud by an exquioite set cf diamonds, her father's gift to her upon hor own marriage — while sbe carried in her hands a basket of pink and white azaleas. Alley was especially lovely in creamwhito silk, with rich cim->on toses at her throat uiul in lj. r belt, ami a basket oi beautiful b'udii lodes iv htr hand.

When the rector came forward in his robes to perform the ceremony, request- , ing the parties to join their ri^ht hands, Philip quietly reached clown and took Arley's in a strong yet tender «la8p ; and when Wil and Sir Charles repeated tho solemn marriage service, i she saw hi* lips moving also, and knew that he was renewing his o.vn vows, while the solemn look upou his face told her that never again, while lifa eliould last, would he swerve from his allegiance to her. She felt doubly sure of it whoa, after they had entered their carriage, its curtains drawn close, to return to Mordauut House, he drew Her again into , his arms, aud murmured : j 'My darling, I feel as if to-day were our real wedding day.' And then she told him how the same thought had come to her the night before, when she had received his telegram. 'It was the handsomest bridal party that I ever saw, 1 the Duchess of Blftdesboro said to Sir Charles' mother, when, after the grand breakfast wa3 over, she went to congratulate her upon the acquisition of so sweet a daughter ; and maDy of the other guests were heard to echo tbe same sentiment. When at last it was all over, and the huppy couples had departed nj.on their journey, Philip led Arley away to the liulo rooii over the hall, where he had seen her when he alighted from his carriage that morning. 'I want you to myself fot» a little while,' he said ; 'and I told you that I should give you a new name to-day — shall I tell you now what it is V 'If you wish, Philip,' she answered, thinking it was perhaps some foolisf^ pet name that he bad thought of. 'Wei!, then, you are no longer Arley Pflxton, wife of an humble barrister ; henceforth you will be known as Lady Paxton, Baroness of Ellmsford.' 'What do you mean V she asked, with wonder-wide eyes. He then told her of the death of his three cousins and his aunt, ami that he was thus left the only heir to the large estate of his uncle, x with an income j which would enable them to live about as they liked during the remainder of their life. He said that he should give np !>is business in the city to his clerk, for bis estate would be all the care he should wish for, and thus th°y could reside in the country during all tbe pleasantest, portion of the year. He told her ih&t he had been to Elmsmore during all the past weekfc, attending to having th^s house and grounds put in thorough repair, aiid having some refurnishing done which he thought a certain dark eyed lady would like — this had been the business which bad required his ioimediate attention upon leaving the hospital. 'Now I have confessed, anr 1 . will proceed to take your deposition — you said yon had one to make,' he concluded. 'Yes Pnilip,' Arlef said, regarding him earnestly- 'It is the secret of my birth.' He gave her a startled look, 'Yon have discovered — you have discovered who you are!' he said. 'Yes, and' — growing- a trifle pale, while she watched him closely, for she meant to t«>st him a little further — 'could yjn bear to learn that though I have been educated to fill a high position, and perhaps am fitted to fill one, that my parentage was not such as would entitle ms to it?' He never hesitated an instant, but drew her close to his heatt. " My darling," he said, and there was a note of passion in his voice ; " every one has a sort of pride in his or her antecedents, bat I believe I should rejoice to learn that you were of the humblest origin, so that I might prove to you how I love my wife, and how prond I am to give her a po3ition which she is so worthy to fill. Dearest, I do not care ,vbo you are, or to whom you owe your being, since I have won what I most care for —your love and trust. She lifted her head from bis breast and stood proudly before him then. She was almost regal in her beauty. •• Philip. Philip,' she cried, and there was an exultant ring in her sweet voice, *' I am Lady Alice Warburton, eldest daughter of the Duke of Mordaunt. and Elaine is my own fli9ter, but oh, I am far more prond to be the wife of Philip Paxton, and to know that be loves me for myself, ihaa I am of my noble birth.' He did not speak for a fall minute. Her tidings had amazed him, stricken ■with dumb, and, if the truth had been known, he was more sorry than glad to learu of her exalted position in life. 'How cau that be possible?' he asked at last, in a very grave tone. Of course the story uad to bo told all over to him, but we know it, and will not linger upon it. ' How wonderfnl it all is !' be said' when she had reluted ererythiug ; ' and

with a blush of shame mantling his cheek, ''how I schemed and pbtted for the Mordaunt fortune ! I imde gold my idol, and lost everything — sacrificing even ray good name and self-respect to achieve my ignoble purpose. But when 1 1 came to my senses and realized my sin, how strangely I have been dealt with I I have not only regained your love, the uio3t precious of all thiuga to me no?, bat fate has seemed to hurl me into fbe very lap of luxury end heap honors upon me. How I bless that sweet sister of yours for the rough kindness which, like a mirror, reflected my moral deformity aad vilene3s, and led me to draw back from the precipice over which I was about to plunge, and recover the ho:ior and. manhood which I bad so nearly lost. My beloved, how much we both owe to the lovely ' Lily of Mordaunt I THE END.