HIS ONE MISTAKE.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XVIII, Issue 1157, 27 June 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

HIS ONE MISTAKE.

By BERTHA M- CLAY.

CHAPTER Xll.— (Oontintjed.)

It was characteristic of her that she did not give one thought of the grandeur of the future ; she never said to herself that if all .went well she should one day bo Lady Carsdale or Countess of Waldrove. She never remembered it ; Bhe never said to herself that she should be mistress' of Eoseneath Abbey — that she should have jewels, carriages, horses, all that wealth could purchase and luxury invent ; she only thought of the time when she should win his love — when he should go to her and say : " I married you, dear, for honor'Bßake; I love you for your own." God speed the time, for she loved him very dearly ' — loved him so well it was hard to be parted from him. "It was so strange," she thought to herself, " that he should never suspect her great love for him." He never appeared to think that it was in the bounds of possibility for any love to enter into the matter. She would hope, and wait, and pray. " Wives have prayed for many things," Bhe said. "It will not, surely, seem strange if one prays for her husband's love." Lord Carsdale felt inexpresibly thankful te leave Budeswell and its associations behind. He had done his duty — carried, it, perhaps. a xittle to excess ; but then every man dpes that, or should do. The glow of satisfaction that comes from duties done was still warm within him, yet the relief was great. Ailie, in hex way, was graceful and refined, beautiful and clever; she was ignorant of many things — the little niceties of etiquette, the great charm that arises from a perfect knowledge of society, were wanting ; but she was never vulgar— her words and actions did not jar npon him as Hetties did ; besides which, he had really a good-tempered, kindly liking for her, as people often have for those whom they have saved from great dangers. The rest of the family were intolerable ; it was certainly a relief to get away, to leave the gloomy atmosphere and return to the scenes long familiar to him. Every mile that he travelled brought him a deeper sense of happiness and security. He was received with open arms at stately Boseneath. Lord Waldrove had peculiar ideas of hia own ; one was that it was not wise to be too severe with young men ; he fancied that treating them with kindly indulgence won their confidence ; bo when his son returned, after a long absence of some weeks, he merely said to him : " Ton have been to Paris, then, my boy ?" " Yes," was the reply ; " and from Paris to Switzerland. lam very glad to be at home again ; there is no place like home." The earl was delighted ; to love home was a virtue in his eyes — one that covered many holts. " Tour mother seemed to think it strange that you did not come straight back from the doctor's ; bnt I told her, after a long spell of reading, you would naturally require a little holiday/ His conscience reproached him; a keen, sharp pain almost stabbed him as he thought how he had deceived this indulgent, kindly lather : his lipa quivered with pain. Then he said to himself it was all for honor, for honor's sake; he had no cause for regret ; lief ore now, kings had given their crowns, men had poured ont their lives like water for honor's sake ; he might easily bear the pain of having deceived those who trusted him most and loved him best. Boßeneath has been for long years one of the most beautiful and celebrated mansions in England ; there is no book descriptive of English life in which a vignette of Eoseneath does not find a place. It stands on the brow of a hill, and is said to look over three counties. The abbey itself existed before the reign of Henry the Eighth, who, after destroying it as a religiouß house, beautified it, and soon after it came into the possession of the Waldroves. The great beauty of fehe place was the, quantity of roses that grew there. Through the lanes and the meadows the hedges were covered with wild roses; the walls of the abbey were covered by them; they climbed the windows, the towers, the turrets, beautiful roses of every shade ; in the gardens they abounded ; there were white roses and red, the lovely gloire de dijon, maiden's blush, musk roseß, damask roses, and moss roses ; the air for miles around seemed to be perfumed by roses. The abbey was a grand building, gothio in ■tyle, with gloriously arched windows, with tall towers and fine gateways. The rooms were all lofty, large, and light, They were furnished with the utmost magnificence, the Earl of Waldrove being one of the wealthiest peers in England. ' The grounds around the abbey were magnifioeni; ihe park, the pleasure-groundß, the terraces leading from the abbey to the smooth lawn below, terraces on which the loveliest flowers bloomed, while stately cedars shaded the lawn. The deep, clear waters of the lake shone between the trees; antlered deer browsed under the tall tiees. There were long ranges of conservatories, ferneries, hothouses—all kinds of ornamental grounds, beautifully laid out. The trees that surrounded Koseneath Abbey were a fortute in themselves ; their &ge was not lightly knowo, but they were the finest oaks and elm* in England. Sjme of the oak trees were large enough and" hollow enough to form email room*. There, to this day, they show a 1

superb, massive oak, in which they declare King Charles slept more than once.

The family matched the mansion ; they were among the oldest and most conservative in the land. The present earl— Stephen, Lord Waldrcve— was a good-tempered, easy, indulgent man, only firm and severe where his family honor was at stake— then he had no pity, no mercy ; and Lucia, his wife, was, if possible, more uncompromising than himself. To them the earth and all that it contained had been made for the Waldroves ; they considered themselves second only to royalty; they were proud to the proudest degree; either of them, father or mother, would rather have Been one of their children dead than married beneath them. In their children this exaggerated sense of honor existed, although it took with them a different shape. It was to this family, prouder than the proudest, that Vivian, Lord Carsdale, was to introduce the danoing-master's daughter as his wife.

CHAPTER XIII.

A PBOTJD FAMILY.

The Countess of Waldrove sat alone in her beautiful morning-room— a room such as one seldom sees out of a dream or a picture. The hangings were all of superb amber satin and white lace; a few rare crimson flowers, in beautiful jardiniers ; a beautiful copy of the Venus de Milo, standing between curtains of amber brocade ; a few pictures, each one a gem ; a lovely face by Greuze, a Madonna by Raphael, a landscape by Claude, and one or two water-colors that the countess had finished most exquisitely herself ; gems of art, exquisite pieces of Dresden china, a rare Wedgewood, beautiful little carvings in ivory, were scattered over the tables ; books in rare and beautiful bindings. The Countess Lucia, Lady Waldrove, reclined on a couch of amber satin, toying negligently with a little King Charles spaniel that lay on a cushion by her side — the very picture of elegance and luxury ; the atmosphere seemed filled with it ; one could not imagine vulgar cares presuming to enter here. Lady Waldrove was a tall, stately brunette. She had been exceedingly handsome in her youth ; even now she was considered one of the finest-looking women in the peerage. Lady Waldrove wore a morn-ing-dress of white muslin, with maize-colored ribbons ; on her luxuriant hair she wore a morning-cap of rich Valenciennes lace ; a cup of chocolate stood on a silver tray by her side. Bnt the countess had little thought for her chocolate ; she was thinking of, to her, the most important person in the whole world — Vivian, Loxd Carsdale, heir of Roseneath. The door of the morning-room opened slowly, and a young girl entered, tall and dark, as were ail the Carsdales. The countess had a supreme contempt for fair people ; to her idea, fair complexions and weak minds always went together. Lady Linda, the k ldeas of the Lidiea Cars,lale, cautiously, almost timidly, entered her mother's presence. People, as a* rule, were very fearful of disturoing her ladyship's rspo&o. She looked up quickly. "Ia that you, Linda? Come in; I was just sending for you." Lady Linda went np to her mother, and bending grdutfalltf, she kissed the white, jewelled hands that lay on the little King Oaarlea dog. It was seidotn that Lidy W<ildrove's daughters, unasked, kissed their mother's face. " Good-morning, dear mamma," said Lady Linda. '• How ia Floss ?" To love Lady Waldrove was also to love her dog Floss; the one could not be liked without the other. "My dear Liada, I am not quite satisfied over Fioss — he baa refused his chicken this morning. List night I sent the most tender piece of lamb outlet, but he turned away from it. Smithson says hft eats too much, but Fioss ii too refined for that." The girl bent down and stroked the dog's silken ears. " I think, mamma, that perhaps a little exercise would restore your pet. Stiall I take him oat in tho grounds ? " Lftdy Waldrove looked quite interested. " You are very amiable, Linda," she said. " I should be quite pleased ; but that id not what I wanted you for. Smifctuon tells me your brother Vivian came home quite late last night, and I want to see him. Will you tell him so?" The girl's face flushed with pleasure. " I am so glad, mamma— it seems so long since Vivian was here. I will go at once." j If Lord Carsdale had a preference for one sister, it was certainly for Lady Linda. Ho ! always said that if his mother's training had j left any nature in either of them, it was certainly in Linda. Lady Gartrude moved, spoke, thought, and smiled by rale. No matter what he or anyone else said, they wer,e both of them charming, elegant, high-bred, amiable girls — excessively worldly, but that was the result of their training. They did think of another world sometimes, for Lady Waldrove was always religious in the country — in town there was no time for it. - Of course the one grand ultimatum was that the Ladies Carsdale should marry well; there seemed every prospect of it. Lady Gertrude had attracted the attention of Lord Rawdon, than whom no more promising peer ever lived. He had not, as the countess pompously phrased it, "declared himself," but she felt quite sure that, sooner or later, he intended to propose for her daughter. The fLadies Carsdale were not precisely beautiful; as their brother always said, they were " thoroughbred." They were both tall, with fine dark eyes, and dark hair, richly colored faces, with very beautiful mouths. They were very elegant and accomplished, very proud, believing almost implicitly, as their paints did, that the world was made for the Waldroves. , Neither of them could have loved or married an inferior in station. The Lady Gertrude permitted herself to like Lord Rawdon because he was a most eligible match. The countess had a nearer and dearer hope still. That season in town the Duke of Claverdon had requested an introduction to the Lady Linda, and had seemed very much taken with her. He had danced, flirted, sung, rode, and driven with her ; but the expected proposal had not followed. Now, to Bee Lady Linda Duchess of Claverdon was the wish nearest to her mother's heart; that was one reason why she wanted to see her son. She thought that he oould, with better grace than herself, ask the duke to Roseneath. "She would make a charming duchess,'' thought Lady Waldrove, as she watched her daughter. " I hope Vivian will be able to suggest something." She did not profess to be a very fond mother; Bhe aeldom went into K&ptureS OV6T her children ; bat her heart beat f aat and her face flushed when her handsome, lordly son entered the room. If she really loved anything on earth, it was Vivian ; she idolized him ; all her hope 'and ambition were centred on him ; she thought him the moat handsome, the most - clever, the most gifted of human beings ; as for his future, her hopes over it were boundless as the deep sea. She looked round the world of women with dreamy eyfiß ; who was there good enough for him ?— a priacess royal, perhaps, bat few others. There was jnst one girl in England whom she thought beautiful enough, good enough, and rioh enough, to be her son's wife, and that was the lovely young Lady Ethel Piarpnt, ,

only daughter and heiress of Earl Pierpont, of Mount Pleasant and Falmouth Park. That was the match which, from every point of view, would have exactly suited her ; but she was too wise to mention it. The Lady Ethel had but just reached her sixteenth year ; there was no hurry. The greeting between mother and son was most kindly. He kissed his mother's face without invitation, then sat down on the amber couch by her side, taking the King Charles on his knee. 11 Floss grows too stout, mother," he said, laughingly. The countess sank back on the amber satin couch with a languid smile ; she was always so unutterably happy when her son was near. " I have thought you long in coming, Vivian," she said in her sweet low voice. " I have been quite impatient to see you." " Very gentle impatience, mother," he replied, laughingly. " And what has kept you away from me so long, my dear boy ? " she asked. " I have been to Franco and Switzerland, mother," he replied. Then he suddenly grew grave with a terrible gravity, for it flashed across him what he had done 1 He, the heir of this ancient house, the son of this royal woman, had married a dancing-master's daughter I It flashed aoross him with a keenness of regreS and pain that frightened him. At that mornanc the contrast between himself and Alice, husband and wife ; the contrast between the fcwo home 3, Cacil-streec and Roseneath Abbey ; the contrast between his father, the peer, and her father, tke dancing-master — struck him with a sharp, keen fear. Wlfit had he done ?*' What could there be in common between two such homes ? Beautiful as she was, could he ever bring Ailie to this stately, haughty mother of his, and aay, " This is my wife? " He could imagine the calm scorn, the unspoken contempt in his mother's eyes as lie did so. Then he roused him-eH — it was for honor's sake ; men died for hocor, ha had only lived. A sudden idea occurred to him — "le would ask his mother what she thought r,f a pirallel case ; then he should understand better how to teil her when the ticno fima They talked for a few misiutes on indifferent subjects ; then ho said : " I heard a very strange story the other day, mother. I can giv« you no names — it was confidential, you understand." "My dear Vi-'ian, namti3 seldom interest me." ( , Unless they have titles," he replied, laughingly. " Bus hear the story, mother ; I thought it strange. A gentleman — I can answer for it thai he was a gentleman — invites a young girl to go out with him for a day's holiday " 11 How shocking 1 " cried her ladyubio, with scorn. " Pray do not say ' gentlemau,' Vivian ; no gentleman cold do such a thing." "Pray listen, mother. He did it — there was some reason given ; 1 forget what exactly. She waa unhappy, and it was to give her one day's happiness." " Very imprudent," said her ladyship, indifferently. " Yes, it was imprudent. Well, the end of the day's pleasure was, they were too late for the return train, and the girl, living with strict relatives, would have been ruined for life had he not sacrificed himself and married her. " And what ?" cried her ladyship. " Married her," replied Lord Carsdale — " married her, to save her from blame and reproach." J "How utterly absurd, Vivian t Pray do not repeat such a story ; people will think you mad for retailing it. Mind 1 Floss does not like her ears pulled." " Then you do not see anything grand or heroic in such a marriage ?" he asked. " Grand 1 heroic I I hardly understand how you can talk such nonsense. Common sense is better than heroism, and there is no common sense in that." "No, there ia not. But what should you think of the man who did it, mother ?" •' Think?" said the Countess Waldrove. "I am not addicted to harsh words, but in this case I must say tie man was a simpleton for bi3 pains. But never mind that foolish story, Vivian ; I want to consult you about the Ddke of Claverdon. I think you could ask him down for a week." "Why do you want him here?" asked Vivian. " My dear boy, what are you thinking of I What a question I— fancied I told you he liked Linda." | He looked up with a smile. " So my Linda is to be a duchess — Duchess of Claverdon. Sue will have a good husband if she marries the duke." " Yes," said the countess ; and you must not forget that if the duke marries Linda he will have a good wife." Lord Carsdale was struck again ; they were children of one mother, Linda and himself ; she was to marry a duke, and he had married the daughter of a dancing-master. " Of course," said the countess, with proud humility. " I know that the duke is a grand parti. I should like him to come while you are at home, Vivian ; and we must have everything nice for him." "Yes," agreed Vivian, adding to himself: " This would be the worst time in the world to tell my mother the truth ; even the duke might be frightened away if he knew about the dancing-master. I must wait." And wait he did.