CHAPTJUR IV.J " ' ' •

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 11825, 23 November 1901, Page 2 (Supplement)

CHAPTER IV.

. harked fob his'ph&'y* I , , Tie visitors at Villagto that spring used *q comnitrnt a great deal upon the appearance of the two Indies in deep mourning, nbo u&ed regularly. to! come down to the beach about noon, with a

maid carrying a tiny baby in long clothes. The one was a lady abonl seven and thirty, and tbe other a widow, who scarcely looked her age — eighteen. Mrs Gray and Mrs Harlsy they were called at the hotel : bat further information'it seemed impossible to obtain, in spite ot inuendoes: bribes, and even reaaiks straightforward in their rudene.°s. • These tw--» wetv. of course, Gladys and Mrs Heathcui*, vbo ltal been easily persuaded to &6>pl an incognito in order to seenre then.rdves fr.»m being followed by Lawrenre Weyville. Exquisitely lovely iades3 looked Gladys in her sabls rotas ; and more than one of the, male visitors to the pleasant re.?ort left his heart at the feet of that sad-eyed diviaity, wil'u exquisitely - rouaded form and finelychiselled features. Bat, though she was kind and polite to all, she plainly showed that her heart was buried in the grave of tbe one who had loved and left her so soon. 'Married much to? early,' was the comment of every 'one who saw her, ♦A wife; a widow, dn& a mother before nineteen! Why, ithe child's life is wrecked V And so, indeed, it seemed, though, her eyes were bright and her smile that of an angel. Lounging listlessly tno evening in her parlor, oa tfie &st Jioor of. the Hotel Anglais, Gladys, gazir.l4 ovpp the shining, sea, was surprised l»y tbo sodden entrance of her raothor, in a state of wild excitement. Her hair ws^ dishevelled- as she sprang from the bed wh.c-re .'he had been resting ; her «?v«3 were timid in stony horror, her clicks and lips were deathly white. Gladys stared at her in astonishment and fear. What new calamity had overtaken them ? What neir dread was creeping round her heart ? 'What iB the matter, mother,' she cried, rousing hsr-ytf tsvm ber recumbent posture. 'Yju frighten vie.' For answer tin wretdied woman flung herself on ber knoea \>y the Bide of tbe couch, and, babying be; face ia her daughter's lap, vr^n bitterly. There was ny pretense aboat tbie grief. It was tiue,.BiQcere, terriUe. How strange was the change ! Bat a few short mouih.- age Gladys bad laid her weary head on b^r mother's bosom and weyt awayber sotiow. Now the positions were reversed. Aod the young widow — stricfc n with a life's sorrow, after but a few honra of joy — was as tender and loving as, the mother bad been, acd more so. 'Dear — dear uu,iUer,' she cried, 'tell me your sorrow ? Lot we comfort 3011!' !' cried Mrs Heathcote, raising to her child's f. fnca -distorted with terror aud gba-jia, as it seemed, ; 'there can be no comfort for rut- 1 Read this ! Ob, the vinei— tl c traitar ! And to think that I ' behr-vfid in hia , and you knew his character better tLaa I !' She held out a letter to h*r daughter anishe spoke. Then, as Gls-Jjn tpok it and commenced its perosai. she buried her face in her daughter's lap again. The letter ran thus : •BsAfe Aukt : — No doubt you will at once agree with mo tbnt lite-afc 'the Lodge- wit boa fc you ami- Gladys is jnot a very gay one. Time hae be*?a heavy on my hands, and, baticg 1 exha'jated the beauties of the farmyard and tbe fields and the county lanes, I hive set to wctfk'to find o«t ell. tbe beauties «nd mysteries of the ■oil Image. ■ I have beep ticbly re\vard«d,' »a< the enclosed copies of corfwn dootftneuts- .will prbvo r« ll yoa. at ot>oe. Wh«re I found' ihc originals, yonr onh cormtfoa 'kensa vt\\i tell yon jtmt I v.ny os w*-ll add fHsrt as good'luck or ill lncfe tviU har«'sfj. I know the young ra»?i '-altaded to wei'i andean produce h?m ( 'ftt any iiaomenfc'. Uflderstand t'.ife bnce for all.- The" first sigbt of Gladys ■decided' nic that, 1 by fair means or fot\. «hd rrtnst'be 1 mine. I know not for YF&a(; mysterious reason' she -was spirited' "a to a k v abroad. You gave •flhie>-as f a'vause ; I doti'C believe a word of it, my'rlbrtr-smat. <So I tell you 'plainly t&aft unless -Gladys '^hcCrtn^^aniy wiff iO'ffl-.irVsl T^rV-i-i* f4.it is, say, witbni evk ••ft«sHibt»-~t shall' jblazoa your story ta'the world- ' It- Will 'rnof'oniy be commercial' ' 'rcriii (for |( 'a iglance over-'yojar' ptpev? 'tells me that" you have overrun tho •os-'nstabla' pretty Jfreely), but shame snd disgrace. Sir George Amweli wdulS' scArc'fely ' have anything to say to n' woman with Bb*dh J a history ; aud, - as ■ for sooifeWr, your icareer would be ovor.'-^y ; pntVforisilence ie-^Gla'Jys, nothing more ' •less. I give 'yvu one'-W/k' 'to decide 1 At the end of that lime the-.pHj^rs, or rather copies, veil; bv< placed io 'the bands hi Sir George, md tb** whole story pttblisbed to tbe wild. ' - LaWiiskcu' Wi:i\ r iLue. M

*I wa3 right, you see, dear mother,' said Gladys ; *I knew him when firsfr I saw him for what he is, a double-dyed villain, a wretch who would hesitate at nothing? for his own base ends. Marry me I Never! Death would be far preferable !' Her mother raised to her a face ashen and tear-stainei. 'Yes, yes, Gladys !' sbe cried ; «bot not shame — not shame 1 Not being driven from society and branded as — oh, read these papers and sec !' With a stony feeling at her heart the young gitl took the papers handed to her, ami, kissing the bowed head, again set herself to the task of reading. As she did 60 a terrible pallor overspread her face, her lirs quivered with emotion, and she glanced out over the sea with a vacant stare. Sich a prospect of dull, monotonous sorrow was spread out before her that she could not rouse herself. Her mother presently raised her head, to understand, if possib'e, the meaning of her, silence. The sight she saw made her heart ache. The yonng girl's eyes were strained in a wistful glare over the ocean view, a3 if confnring np tbe joys of the past, and passing through again their bitter ending; as if sbe was drinking at once the bitter cup of despair, her pale lips were compressed, her cheeks bad lost ! their color, her bosom rose and fell in wild puUations. 'Gladys !' Her mother's voice awoke her from this dream. Bat; she gave no start, no sign of any rxcitecieut. She glanced rtruund ' slowly and methodically. * Yes, mamma V 'What — what is ?our decision V gasped the despairing woman. For one instant a alight curve of scorn disfigured the lovely mouth. ♦My decision V she said, coldly. 'I have not decided upon anything yet. For that you mnst be content to wait till morning. But, tell me — I have a right to know — is this truth — this — this thing which Lawrence says he can prove against yon?' Thd woman bowed her Head. 'Yes, yes ; it 13. 'And if I consent to marry Lawrence, he will say nothing?' 'No, no 1 See what he says at tbe top of these papers ! 'The originals of these papers will be delivered to Mi as Heatbcote directly after the ceremony which makes her my wife.' ' The youig girl shuddered. 'You bad better leave me row, mother,' she said. 'I must think — think I Oh, Colin ! Colin \ my hnsbaud!' 1 And, ere her mother could rise aad j help her, tbe widowed girl tell back fa a deathlike swoon. •Oh, Heaven ! cried Mrs Heathcote, •what a punißbment is this f And yet bow can I bear ttie shame? What awful fate Was it that $ent that villain, Lawrence Weyville, to our home?' '. Gently and carefully she tended her stricken child. Then, wh?n conscious-nt-i-s returned, she and her maid undtossed her and got her to bed. She never 3poke that night ; even ; w'rieu her motherieft her'sKe only gave v silent kiss. But nexrniGi'hing the maid brought a note to Mrs "Heathcote: ; "DkJIR Mother ;~D6 not sy/eak to me again' on the sflbj'ect, even' to thank me. ; For 'the sake of' my father's memory, and yoor honor and happiness, I accepVHne livfng drfcth which Lawrence W'eyrille' offers "iltf. But let there be no talk betw^ri uV on the matter. ,' I shall «ialleavor to school mySfelf T W etfdare tfT the' horror of Bis presence;' but' if I- i: spokß' much on * the kb'jeVrt'l'^shoul^ 1 lose all courage, arid Veik irefuge id : the tfate*& which even n6w artf'inylting' We 1 to 1 erin-leW "repoSe and 'oblivion";" But ;ohe l( !tfairjg' I sf.ipa-late—i-Lawre/nee'' muW • never know of my tfarriagft" It v would be 'an msnlt to Colin to let hi& v have"'trle keeping ;of the teiiild; whb 1 is' all T have to \e- ! min^ me^iof* my darling 1 husband.' ' Two weeks later GladyS "and Mrs Heathdote leift-Tor Edgrlana y