THE SPY; OR A FATHER’S ATONEMENT.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume I, Issue 6, 9 February 1867, Page 4

THE SPY; OR A FATHER’S ATONEMENT.

CHAPTER V, CONTINUED. He paused abruptly, and his heaving chest ■and quivering lip palpably betrayed the inward struggle at his heart. ■“About this time,” he resumed, “Jchance rthrew .in my path a young girl, lovely in her virtue, divine in her simplicity. With all the wild devotkn cf my lawless spirit I loved her, :and she returned my passion. There was no bar ef rank to separate us. Her family held no loftier station in the world than mine did, but when I proposed for her hand in marriage I was refused with scorn. The epithet of mountebank was flung with a burst of ribald daughter in my teeth. It was a keen jest, and it pierced my soul. I meditated revenge, nor did I turn aside until I had it. A love like ours was not to be crushed by the cold will of ethers. We often met in secret, and at length I persuaded her to marry me without her parents’ consent. But the time came when she must either publish her shame or declare herself a wedded wife. I need scarcely say which alternative she chose, but her pitiless parents were furious. They declared the marriage to be one of fraud, contrary to the laws of France, and of no effect. Their persecution did not end there. I was dragged to prison, and. my name soiled with a felon’s taint. .

“ Oh, heavens! ” exclaimed Adrien, starting from his chair in fear.

“Havepity on me, Adrien!” cried Le Sage in a tone of remorse. “ I have consecrated my life to your welfare; have pity on me! ”

Adrien fell at the old mau’s knees, and ■covered his face with his trembling hands. “ Whatever human affection dwells in me is for you,” said Le Sage. “ Listen, and do not make a coward of me.”

“ Go on," said Adrien, in a low voice. “In the courtyard of the prison,” resumed Le Sage, “ several workmen were employed in excavating a well. One day the loosened earth gave way, and two men, both fathers of families, were embedded in the hollow cavity. The governor of the prison, who was present, offered conditional pardon to whomsoever would descend and rescue thorn. I scarcely heard the words; I saw only a welcome death.” “ And you -avedthem? You were pardoned, dree ? ” exclaimed Adrien. ■■ Alas ! boy,” returned Le Sage, “it is no easy thing to cross the threshold of a prison. I was conducted before the lieutenant-general of police. My liberty was granted me on two conditions; the first was that I should for ever assume an impenetrable disguise.”—“ And the second ? ” inquired Adrien. “ Heaven keep the knowledge of the second for ever from you!” murmured Le Sage inwardly to himself. “ Seek not to know the rest,” he said aloud; “ I may not disclose it to you. From that time I built all my hopes upon a future that should realise the fulfilment of an act of justice. I never lost sight of my poor wife whom my wilful love had destroyed. Desolate and alone, she died in giving birth to a son. Adrien can you rest jmur head upon my breast, and say that you forgive your father ? ”

“ Father cried the youth, falling on the old man’s neck, and his face shining with blessed tears.

Yes,” said Le Sage, tenderly, “ I feel that I ■am worthy of that sacred name. I have made my affection for you an altar where all gifts are purified. The revelation I have made will mot steal from me your affections, and your face will never wear contempt for me. I shall still have something to cherish and live for.” “ Father,” said Adrien, releasing himself from the old man’s embrace, and gazing earnestly into his face, “ what years of martyrdom have been yours! ” “ True,” replied Le Sage; “ my ambition was blighted whilst I was yet on the threshold of manhood. For more than twenty years it has been my punishment to hide myself from my fellow men; my existence has been forfeited to those who granted me the privilege of fulfilling my duty towards you. It rests with you, my son, to redeem me from the fetters of my merited bondage, with you to transmit from my father to yourself his untarnished name. It is now your turn to

descend into the well and rescue me. All my hope is centred in you; you must now be my refuge, and give me back my dignity and honour.”

“ Speak, father,” said Adrien, with a glow of manly pride, “my life is in your hands; use it as you please.” “ You must not seek to fathom my actions,” said Le Sage; “you must follow me blindly, throw yourself into the tide, and float with the current. Our Great Father’s hand will guide you.” Doubt not my trust in him and you,” said Adrien,* firmly. “I am about to transform you into a brilliant cavalier,” continued Le Sage. “ See how faithfully you can impersonate the character. To-morrow, at the hour when the high and noble of this gay city take their stroll in the gardens of the Tuileries, a carriage will be waiting for you. Two footmen will be placed at your disposal, and you have only to command. Mix with the glittering throng, for I give you full and free licence. Should you fall into danger 1 have taught you how to use your sword; so defend yourself.” Solemnly, but with deep humiliation, the father that night blest his son, and fervently prayed that Heaven would accept his atonement, and not require the sacrifice.

The afternoon sun shone brightly over Paris when on the following day a superb carriage with livered lacqueys and coachman drove to the door of Le Sage’s quiet home. Adrien quickly decended from his room,' and with a light bound sprang into the vehicle. “ The gardens of the Tuileries, by the Pont de Tournant! ” shouted the footman; and they dashed rapidly out of sight. “ Heaven permit me to redeem my father’s honour! ” murmured Adrien, as he was whirled along. “Heaven preserve the life of my son!” gasped Le Sage, as he silently followed him from the house, and disappeared in the intricate turnings that led to the gallery of the Louvre and the Quay St. Ncholas. The carriage stopped at the Pont de Tournant, where Adrien descended and mixed with the giddy throng. He was no longer the unobtrusive student of medicine, followed by an elderly man of somewhat homely exterior, but the gay and light-hearted gallant. Who could doubt that he was not of noble lineage ? His ostentatious equipage, his dress of richest velvet, adorned with costly lace and glittering gems, his diamond-looped plume and jewelled sword, all bespoke a princely income. The women turned hastily to gaze upon the handsome cavalier that had dropped like some rich star from Heaven amongst them. The men invited the stare of their companions to him. But “ Who was he ?” was passed from lip to lip. No one knew. A venturing remark was made that possibly he was some wealthy gentleman from the provinces. The ladies, however, frowned the suggestion down : “ Impossible!” they simpered universally; “ any one can see by his air that he belongs to the Court.” The unconscious subject of these remarks passed thoughtfully on, little dreaming that he was the lion of the hour. The esplanade sand the Place Royale had become deserted, and the Tuileries gardens were the resort of the beauty and fashion of Paris. Le Cerf, in his penetrative mind, had singled out this spot as the track of the miscreants, fully believing that coquetry ahd assassination worked hand in hand together. His first thought was to discover who were the habitual loungers of the place, and when he launched his son into the vortex he dispersed four of his most expert agents about his person with strict injunctions never to lose sight of him for a single moment, whilst a numerous band of subordinates were scattered in various disguises through the crowd.

Adrien pursued his way through the winding paths of the gardens, filled with a vague hope that he might meet Cecile. He peered wonderingly at many a face, radiant with youth’s bloom, but ever turned aside with a vexed look of disappointment. The sun had already left a remnant of its departed glory in the clear sky, the promenaders were slowly leaving the grounds, when Adrien fancied he saw, a few paces distant from where he stood, Cecile’s companion step into a splendid chariot, which instantly drove rapidly away. He was about to pursue her, but a moment’s reflection proved to him the falacy of the idea. As he stood watching the cloud of dust made by the carriage-wheels, a voice near him remarked in foppish accents, “ Parbleu, the young Marquis de Betagny’s carriage will burn the pavement.”

“ Who is the lady ?” inquired his companion.

His mother, I believe,” replied the speaker, “ who is just come up from the country to pay his debts.”

“ Lucky dog!” laughed his companion. “ I wish I had a mother!” and the two gallants passed merrily onward.

“I cannot be deceived,” mused Adrien; “ and yet I must be. Cecile and her companion have resided in Paris for some months. Mystery seems to crowd on mystery., It was but yesterday I pressed my loved one’s hand and heard her voice, Her presence gave back to my heart, and like the radiant beams from a shining star, seemed to open a pathway up to the heaven of nrp iove ; but a dense cloud now shuts her from me.”

He loitered in the gardens until the misty twylight threw a dusky pall around the richhued Autumn foliage; and the withering leaves, stirred by the faint breeze, fell like the warning whispers of perished hopes into his soul. Arrived at the Pont de Tournant, he threw himself into his carriage, and with gloomy thoughts, contrasting strangely with his gay attire, returned to his quiet home.

CHAPTER VI. In one of the obscure quarters of old Paris is the Rue des Orfevres. At one end of the long, narrow, and dirty street within the shadow of the church of St. Eloi stood a quiet fashioned mansion, built in the reign of Francis the First. At the period of onr story the tanant of this house was an Englishman, of apparently retired and studious habits. There was an air superiority about the house of Doctor Wolfing, (contrasting strongly with the usual inhabitants of this locality.) which consisted of a young and beautiful girl, who passed as his distant relative and ward, and a female of middle age, who acted in the seeming capacity of housekeeper to the young lady.

The doctor himself was a man of sinister aspect. His dull dark eyes, which seemed to have lost their fire, wandered furtively beneath his heavy, sullen brow. His thin grizzled hair was cropped short round his small head, and his pale bloodless lips were compressed over large glistening teeth, while his features had a prematurely dried-up look about them. Doctor Wolfing had started in life as a surgeon in the north England, but the commission of a heinous crime, in which he was a supposed accomplice, compelled him to seek refuge in London. There, with a blighted repute • he led a precarious existence for many ye.;:--'. At length the death of a distant cousin, who had not only remembered him in her will, but had also constituted him guardian to her only child, gave a suddeuturn to his fortunes and tinged his circumstances with aglow of prosperity. He brought his charge to London, where, for a time, he lived in comparative ease. His days and nights were chiefly passed in a secret laboratory, poring oyer the study of chemistry, until at length he.made a discovery by which the sourse of immense wealth suggested itself to him.

The system of Gall and Spurzbeim had been already propagated, and his subtle brain conceived, as a means of developing the science, a horrible idea. He suddenly quitted London and took up his abode in Paris, accompanied by his ward. He soon after selected a Madame Roland to act in the capacity of housekeeper and companion to Cecile, and eventually he used her as a tool to work out his nefarious scheme.

On the day following the events narrated in the previous chapter, Cecile was seated in her room alone. Since the morning of her interview with Adrien she had not left her home. Madame Roland had endeavored by every specious means to persuade her to accompany her in her walks, but without avail. Cecile was no longer the weak, pliant girl, but the strong and resolute heart, and with this new feeling came a new strength. The memory of Adrien filled her thoughts with sweet bodement s. Her life no longer seemed aimless and monotonous. But around and above all arose a ghastly suspicion, like the shadow of a skeleton, intangible and vague. Beneath the bland smiles of Madame Roland she detected the leer of perfidy; in her guardian’s glistening teeth and hueless lips she traced the tiger’s brutal nature without its courage. She longed to escape, to be free, and for that end her whole energies were bent. She dared not accompany Madame Roland in her walks, lest she should compromise Adrien, and draw him into some fearful snare. Therefore she had determined •to remain within doors until an opportunity presented itself to elude the vigilance of her gaolers. In vain Madame Roland tempted her in honeyed phrases respecting the fashions, her health, and a hundred other allurements, until she was completely baffled, and retired from the charge", dismayed and vexed at Cecile's obstinacy. “ Mo, no,” said Cecile, to herself, as Madame Roland withdrew from her boudoir, “ I may be wrong, perhaps unjust in my thoughts. Heaven grant it may be so! but until the mystery that hangs over this house is cleared away, no human power shall shake my resolution. I have been the dupe of your dark designs, I will be so no more.” (to be continued.)