CHAPTER XXXIX

Taranaki Herald, Volume L, Issue 12439, 17 December 1903, Page 6

CHAPTER XXX IX

CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES. When Mr Dalton turned so abruptly and left Mr Tressalia and E'tljtha he was indeed terribly excited. He walked rapidly to a remote portion of the park, where, out ol the sight and sound of every one, lie paced back and forth under the trees, muttering fierce imprecations upon some one, and gesticulating ia a wild and angry manner. "I must get away from here at once," he muttered. " Whatever could have possessed them to follow us here ? Of course, she cannot know anything, a' :1 what special interest can she have in my daughter V But I'm terribly afraid some unlucky remark or question will expose all — Editha is so charmingly ingenuous," he went on, with sarcastic bitterness; "and I have lost enough already ; I will not be balked at this laic day. I ha-ve fought fate all my life, and now I'll conquer or die. We will get out of this place in--tantty ; and since they are French, they will not mind, perhaps, if wo take French leave." A half hour more Mr Dalton spent by himself, giving vent to his anger and vexation, and then, in a somewhat calmer frame of mind, he went to seek Editha to rctxirn to their hotel. He was obliged to search some time, for the throng was immense, and it was no easy matter to discover a person once lost sight of. Rut 'he found them at length all together, Madam Sylvester and her brother, Mr Tressalia and Editha, standing" by one of the fountains, as if they had just risen from their seats and were contemplating retiring from the place. Madam was standing by Editha, her arm lightly clasping her waist, and talking in her gentle, charming way, while the young girl's eyes were fixed upon her face in a look of earnest admiration. "A very touching scene,"' sneered Mr Dalton, as he came in sight of them. "A clear case of mutual affinity that is remarkable under the " circumstances. My daughter seems to possess a power of attraction in certain directions that is truly wonderful.'' He stood looking at the group for a few moments with a darkfrown upon his brow, and as if undecided whether It was best to advance or retreat. He seemed at length to decide upon the latter course, for he turned, and was lbout dipping away, when Editha espied him, and called out : "There he is now. Papa, come here, please ;" and she went toward him, drawing Madam Sylvester with her. "I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Madam Sylvester." she said, with a sweet smile, and all unsuspicious ' of the tempest raging: within Mr Dalton \s bosom. It was done, and there was no escape now ; but it was a very pale face that Sumner Dalton bent before madam, nnd the steellike glitter of his eyes rtpelle J her, und made her think of Editha as a poor lamb in the clutches of j a wolf. i "She does not look like him ; j she must resemble her mother ; but she has hair and eves like--" j wab madam's inward comment, but which was broken short off at this point with a regretful sign. . But the next moment shehad turned to him again with her I'.sual graciousness. j ' "Mr Dalton," she said, '"I have been telling your daughter how , disappointed I was to find her , gone so" suddenly from Newport. I had only just become acquainted J •with her, to be sure, but I hud j promised myself much pleasure in , my intercourse with her." Mr Dalton bowed and •smiled, and mechanically repeated something stereotyped about "mutual pleasure," etc., and then turned to be presented to Mr Oustavc Sylvester,, but not before madam had noticed again that :;tee!-like glitter in his eyes. ' "My dear," she said to Editha, I "I have not yet asked you where you were stopping .-"' "At the Grand Union." "That is capital, for we have all ' secured rooms there also, and I hope we shall sco much of each ! other." I "I hope so, too," Editha said, heartily, and thinking how all her life she had longed for just such a friend as she thought madam would be. "JTow long do you remain ?" she asked. "I am sure I cannot tell. As long as papa desires, I suppose, i\s I make my plans conform to ' his as miuh as possible," and Kditha cast an anxious glance at Mr Dalton, whose strange manner :->h<; 'had remarked, and was somewhat troubled by it. He was sustaining rather a forced conversation with Mr Gustavo Sylvester r>ut his manner was nervous and his brow gloomy and lowering. "You are looking better than when I saw yVm at Newport," madam said, with ,m admiring glance at her beautiful companion. "Vns, 1 think 1113' health is improving," Kditha answered ; but she .sighed as she said it, and a look of pain crossed her face. Speaking of her ill health always reminded her of its cause, !

and sent her thouglitb flybig over Lhc sea to Karle. j The sigh touched madam, for ' she divined its cause ; and, drawing the fair girl a little c-lovser within her encircling arm, t>he laid her lips against her ear and tenderly whispered : j "We must never forget dear, no matter how dark our lot, that One has said : 'Thy strength is sufficient for th.cc.' " Kditha started, and her lip quivered a trifie_. "Do you think it is possible to realize that under - all circumstances ?" she asked, a slight tremulousness in her tone, nutwithstanding her eilort at seifcontrol. Aladain drew her gently one side, and began vvalking slowly around the lountain, in order tv be beyond the hearing of the others. "In the iirst moments of our Wind unreasoning perhaps not," she answered, with grave sweetness. "I have known, dear child, what it is " 'To wander on without a lay of hope, To find no respite even u\ our sleep, j Life's sun extinguished in ibe dark to grope, And hopeless through the weary world to creep.' That is the way life seemed to me once, but in time I came t<> ri alize that in this world of weary toil and waiting there muse be some burden-bearers, and God meant me to be oiie of them." j "But all burdens are not heavy alike," murmured JStlitha. "No, dear ; but if Our Father sends them, we may be yes v sure that it is right for us '• o bi ar them ; and Francis Annie Ken.ble tells us : "'A sacred burden is this hk ye bear, I Look on it — lift it, l-iar it ! patiently, J Stand up and walk beneath it j steadfastly, ) Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin. ' But onward, upward, till the goal ye win.' " "Those are brave, cheering i words. If I could but have some kind comforter like you all the time, I could bear it better," Edi- , tha .said, with fast-dropping tears, : ' and realizing more than she had ever done before how utterly alone she was in the world. "IWy dear, you xorget the great Divine Gomiorter. Haven't you yet learned to trust Him ?" madam asked, with great tenderness. { "Yes — oh, yes ; at least, I , thought I had until this last trouble came upon me, which has made it seem almost as ii 'a blank j despair like the shadow of a star- i less night was thrown over the i world in which I moved alone.' j Many and many a time I have i ' felt as if I must lie clown like a weary child and wepp out the life of sorrow which I have borne and which I still must bear until the end," the young girl said, with almost passionate earnestness. "My poor child, how my heart grieves for you. Mr Tressalia hayS told me something of your trouble and I think I never knew of anything quite so sad before ; but beilive me, some good must come ' out of it. You are young, and | this sad lesson patiently learned will give you strength of character for the future, whatever it j may be. You know we are told that out of sorrow we come forth purified if we bear it rightly." "Then I fear I shall never become purified," Edith a answered, bitterly. "I cannot bear it right- j ly. I am not patient. My heart is constantly rebelling against the f unjustness, as it seems to me, of it all. Why did not some instinct warn me that Earle was my ! brother before I had learned to love him so well ?" she concluded, wildly. , j "Hush, clear," madam said, with gentle reproof, but her fine face was very grave and troubled. "We cannot understand the 'why' • of a great many things ; we know that they are, and we have no right to question the wisdom ol anything that is beyond our com- i prehension; but' I am greatly interested in this sorrow of yours and the young Marquis of Wycliffe. I know it will vlo you good to unburden your heart, and if < you can trust me, who am almost j a stranger to you, tell me more . j about it." " j' "You do not seem like a stranger to me. You are more like a dear, long-tried friend, and I can never toll you how comforting ' 3'onr kind s} r mipathy is to me," Kditha returned, with eyes full of tears . , Madam's only reply was a closer clasp around the slender waist, , and the young girl continued : "When we met you that day in Redwood library at Newport, and your hand closed over mine with such a strong yet fond clasp, and ' you looked into my «\vcs in that earnest, lender way you have, 1 could have wound my arms" about vonr neck and wept out my grief upon your bosom even then." Madam's eyes were f -i-l of tears now, but Kditha did not see them, and went on : "I will gladly tell ; on a!" .-.Nut my sad trouble, only I would not i like to weary you." "ll will not weary nic, clear." And so Kditha, won i)i~re and' <

more by this beautiiiii wo'nan :-, sweetness and gentleness, j;nu:ed into her sympaLliizing eir all h>;z story, beginning with ilio tine Earle had come a jooor boy into her uncle's emj)lo/, and en.i]iig with their final sepu.i.'u'.iou whe'i they were told that tiiey we: c both children of one father. "It is a very strange, s?A history," madam said, *vhiii {--he finished; "but the facts of tie case are so very evident fhat there can be no way of disputing thcin ; {and this uncle of yours, who: a noble man he was." "Yes ; he was mamma's brotht r, and a dear, dear uncta. Ob ;f he could but have lived, ' Hrlitha sighed. "My dear, he could not have prevented this." | "No ; but he would have comforted me as no other could liave done." "You were very fond of 1 in, then ?" "Yes ; I believe I loved hv.n better Ihan any one -n die ■'vorld. i That doe« not seem just r-ght to say, perhaps, when papa and mamma were living, but i;e was always so sympathizing aiul tender with me. He would always listen patiently and with mu-iest to all my little trials, and sympathize with me when everybody else laughed at them us tulles." "Had he no family of his own?" "No ; he was what wu call an old "bachelor," Editha replied, with a little smile ; "and be was the dearest old bachelor tnat < vr;r lived. I imed to think i ometimes that he must have loved somo one long ago, for there were times when he was very sad. But he never seemed to like the ladies very well ; lie would never go into company^ if he could help it, and, whenever I said anything to him about it, he used to tell me, in a laughing way, 'that he was waiting to be my escort, so as to frighten away all unworthy suitors." (To be continued.)