THE BAD DESMOND BLOOD.

Wanganui Herald, Volume XVII, Issue 5237, 15 December 1883, Page 4

THE BAD DESMOND BLOOD.

— <•>- By Rett Win wood.

■Laurel Deane climbed the rickety stairs for the last time. The place was a shabby tenement house in the Latin Quarter of the city "of Paris. Her knock elicited a feeble invitation to "come in " The room Laurel entered was long and low, with two small windows looking down upon long stretches of glittering roofs. A veritable " sky parlor " in all save its dingy shabbiness. The sole occupant of the apartment was an old man, who lay in a mean bed, with his face turned to the wall. He did not look up onstir at the sound of the girl's light, quick Btep. "How do you find yourself to-day, MiDesmond ?" She inquired, :" No better." "I am sorry. I leave for America in the morning, and am come to say Good-by, I hoped to leave you on the road to recovery." " It is another sort of road I have set out upon. " . The sick man turned as he spoke. Laurel saw his face for the first time— a thin, ghastly face that had changed for the worst within even a few hours. " And so you are really going back to your native land?" he added, paying no heed to her start of recoil. c "Yes." " You are poor and friendless — what will you do there ?" > ."Take up my life-work," Laurel answered, bravely. A brief silence. The bleared eyes were searching that eager, hopeful young face with pathetic wistfulness. Drawing a deep breath, Mr Desmond spoke : " You have been a great comfort to me, child. I shall be utterly alone when you are gone. It is sad to die in a strange land without a single friend to receive your last sigh." He suddenly stretched forth his hand. • ' Don't go, child. I cannot give you up. Wait until all is over. " Laurel's eyes filled. She had a tender, sympathetic heart, and it was full of pity for her lonely, friendless old man. She had seen him for the first time on one of the public Btreets where he had fallen down in a fit. He was a countryman, and looked a decent person ; that was enough for Laurel. She had had him taken to a public house, and watched beside him until he recovered. Since then she had been very kind in many ways, giving him all the time she could spare out of her busy life. r "Do not leave me," Mr Desmond urged. " The end is near — nearer than you think. It will only detain you a few days. You will be rewarded. All I possess in this world will be yours when I am gone." Laurel could not forbear glancing about the shabby room. It could not well have been more meagrely furnished. Besides the bed, it held only two chairs, a table and a small, brass bound chest. Poor man ! Instead of being made richer by his death, she would be compelled to pay the expenses of his burial perhaps. It was not this thought that made her hesitate. For Twelve months she had been j studying French under the best Parisian instructors with the expectation of teaching j the language in America. Her means were wellnigh exhausted. When her passagemoney was paid, she would have fifty dollars left with which to begin a new career. . But it seemed heartless to forsake a dying man in his need. Laurel resolutely began removing her hat and shawl. " I can sit with you an hour," she said, drawing a chair to the beside. " Then I must go away for a while to countermand my orders for to-morrow. " " You will remain ?" "Yes." Nothing more was said upon the subject. The sick man did not even thank her. Laurel listened patiently to his complainings, administered the medicine at stated intervals, and prepared a bowl of savory gruel by a neighbor's fire, the ingredients of which were purchased with her owm money. As she rose to go, Mr Desmond looked at her steadily, and said : " Make no change in your arrangements until you hear from me again. It may not be necessary, after all. There, now, do not wish to be questioned. So she returned to her own cozy quarters in another street, not far away, and sat down to think. It would be a relief to carry out her programme as at first arranged, and she did not* disguise the fact in her self-comings; Where the means were coming from for a longer tarry in the "French capital was a problem to puzzle a wiser head. A ring at the door disturbed her reverie. It was only a boy with a note from her sick friend. "Good-by," it said. "I shall never forget your kindness ; but it would be selfish to keep you here when you are longing to be away. I appreciate the sacrifice you would have made, but cannot accept it. You must take passage on the Asia to-morrow, as you intended. Ruel Desmond." Laurel was greatly disturbed by this note. " No," she said, without a moment's deliberation, "I will trust in Providence, and remain to close the poor man's eyes. Resuming her street wraps, she went hurriedly back to the dingy attic. No voice responded to her knock, and'she pushed open the door. ■ The room looked the same as before, only sick man was gone from the couch, the brass bound chest from its place in one corner. The occupant of the next room had a I singular story to tell. The moment Laurel's back was turned, Mr Desmond had sent for some strange man who was with him perhaps half an hour. Then the two went away in a carriage, -taking the chest with them, but leaving the few sticks of furniture for the concierge. " He may not have been so badly off as he pretended," was the concluding remark. "He walked down-stairs and climbed into the carriage without assistance. " Laurel felt hurt aud astonished. But Mr Desmond's abrupt disappearance left the way open to her. She would return immediately to her native land. Two days latter, as she sat upon the deck of the Asia, gazing dreamily into the deep • blue sea that seemed to heave and pant like a living thing as the waves splintered against the ship's brow, a step sounded near, and the steward stood beside her. 11 Are you Miss Laurel Deane, please ?" he said, in a hesitating tone. "That my name." " You have a friend on board who wishes to see you. Be good enough to follow me." . A friend ! Itscemedimpoaaible. Startled and curious, Laurel arose and accompanied the steward to the cabin. He did not pause there, but was passing on to one of the staterooms beyond, when Laurel detained him, saying, in an excited voice : " I think there must be some mistake. Pray tell me who it is ? You can inquire if yon do not know the name already." At that instant a feeble voice called to her from beyond the half-open door. " Come in, child, You have no reason to fear one who loves you so well." Laurel staggered across the threshold. It ■was Ruel Desmond who lay pallid and panting in the narrow berth.

She saw at a glance that his houra wore numbered. The gray shadow of death had already settled upon his face. " The fatigue and exertion of getting here j were too much for me," he said, feebly extending his hand. "It has hastened the end. I hoped to reach my native shores, but it is not to be." Laurel stumbled over the brass-bound chest in trying to reach him. It stood right before his berth where ho could sec it with* out x'aisiug his head, " You have been rash and foolish !" she cried. "Why did you leave Paris? It would have been no hardship to remain to nurse yon." He looked at her with a tender smile. I am content. You are with me, dear child, and there is nothiug left to desire. Do you know why I am so fond of you ?" "No," she answered, slowly, in a wondering tone. "It is not because of your goodness, though you have been an angel of mercy. But your eyes and smile remind me of one who was very dear to me in my happy youth. May God bless you, Laurel, for brightening the last hours of a friendless stranger. " A brief silence ensued. When he spoke again, his words had a feebler sound* "lam going fast. Take this key, child. It unlocks the client beside yon. I leave it as a dying legacy. Let them bury me in the deep, and when the blue waters have closed over me for ever, do you come back and examine the contents of the chest. Promise me. " "I do," Laurel said, through her falling tears. " The chest and its contents are your own. I could not leave them to one more deserving, I have only one word of caution to add. Beware of the Desmond blood ! It is false and treacherous." He turned weariedly, a sort of spasm convulsing his face. "Kiss me, child. God bless you. Now call the captain aud mate. I wish them to hear my last instructions. They will be your witnesses should trouble arise in the future. " A moment later the little stateroom was filled with grave, anxious-looking men. Laurel sat holding the dying man's hand until it grew cold and icy in her clasp. What followed seemed like a dream. She tried vainly to conjecture what had been Ruel Desmond's history, and why he had quitted Paris so secretly to follow her on board the steamship. It was all very strange. He had never spoken in her hearing of friend or relative. Had he been that saddest of human beings — the last of his race ? When the solemn rites were over, and the sea had received one more among its dead, Laurel returned to the deserted stateroom alone. Her tears were falling as she threw back the lid of the chest. It was full. Quite at the top lay a folded document, to which had been pinned a slip of paper containing some penciled words addressed to herself : " Read carefully my last will and testament, which you will find hei'ewith ; and may heaven guide and keep you." Laurel's eyes were so blinded she could not make out a word of the document, so she put it aside for a moment to examine the further contents of the chest. She found several pieces of rich silk and velvet, some yellow old laces, a pile of papers whose import she could not comprehend, and quite at the bottom of the chest an ebony casket with a key in the lock. Laurel started back with a cry of irrepressible amazement as it flew open. Reposing on the black velvet cushion was the most dazzling array of jewels she had ever beheld — diamonds, rubies, pearls, amethysts, and in the centre a great yellow topaz that seemed to glare at her like a living, human eye. Like one in a dream she picked up a necklace of rose diamonds and suffered it to slip through her fingers in drops of flckering light. " How beautiful !" she murmured, in a bewildered tone. ' ' I thought Ruel Desmond a poor man ;but those jewels would purchase a prince's ransom." When she picked up tho will the,measure of her surprise was complete. It was dated two weeks back. Besides the jewels, there was a bewildering enumeration of houses and lands, bank and mining stocks, deeds and mortages, the sum total amounting to half a million. And this immense fortune was left unconditionally to Laurel. • ' It's all a delusion, " cried the girl, hysterically. "I have been poor all my life, and struggled hard to keep the wolf from the door. I can't believe that liehes have fallen so unexpectedly to my lot." Appended to the will was a clause that Laurel did not observe until later. It ran thus : " I have quarreled with my relatives, and shall give, them nothing. They are a bad lot and deserve to be punished. To deprive them of the fortune they covet is the bitterest revenge I could take. " This paragraph gave Laurel ample room for thonght. Who were these unknown relatives the dead man has disinherited ? Perhaps he had misjudged them. They might be poor and deserving. Had she a right to keep this immense wealth when a fraction of it might bring happiness and comfort to the suffering 1 "I will hunt them up and judge for myself," she decided. "It is a duty, and I have nothing else to do." Fortune favored the plan. The first daily paper she took up on arriving in New York, contained the following advertisement : " Wanted : An intelligent, agreeable young woman who 'is willing to go a little distance into the country, and be nurse and companion to an invalid. Address, "Mrs CyriI DtSHOND, Fair Haven." Laurel could not be sure this lady was one of the family she wished to find. But she answered the advertisement at a venture, and received a favorable reply. A queer adventure befell heron the way. The " little distance " proved to be nearly a hundred mile 3, and the journey must be made by water. When Laurel went on board the steamer in the gray dusk of early evening, she noticed a pale, handsome man, with a singularly refined face, leaning against the railing. He gazed at her earnestly, and involuntarily raised his hat — then colored at his own audacity. "I beg your pardon," he said, in some confusion. "For a moment it seemed as though I was greeting an old friend instead of a stranger." Laurel passed on, full of vague wonder. Oddly enough, she had experienced the same feeling, though there was not the slighest reason for believing they had ever met before. The look of sadness in the man's dark eyes haunted Laurel's dreams that night. Suddenly she was awakened by a shrill y succession of screams and cries, and a quick hurrying to and fro. In a moment she was dressed and outside her stateroom door. As she paused there, bewildered by the roaring, crackling sound that filled her ears, and nearly suffocated with smoke, one of the crew rushed past. Laurel attempted to seize the man's arm, but he drew roughly away. " What is the matter ?" she cried. "The steamer is on fire !" he answered. " Quick ! Save yourself !" Laurel never knew how she gained the deck. A fiery glare of light flashed suddenly ia her face. The heat was intolerable, and her heart sickened as she caught the muttered groans, cries, prayers and curses that arose on every side. Then a hand fell upon her shoulder, and the handsome stranger stood there, hastily binding a life-preserver about her slender figure. " Thank God !" he uttered, huskily. " I feared you would be lost. I had hunted everywhere. Are you willing to trust your self to me ?" " Yes," she answered simply. No need to describe the scene when the gallant steamer, burned to the water's edge, went down. Later, Laurel found herself drifting in the dark, with only a few frail planks between her and a watery grave. But she did not despair, for the sad-eyed stranger, who seemed a host in himself, was still beside her. Few words passed between them ; but once he stretched out his hand, and, warm and sympathetic, it grasped her own. " Are you afraid ?" he whispered. "No," she replied. "It may be death 'or life. God alone knows. We will meet the issue together, whatever it may be."

" I hope you will save yourself and let me go, should it be necessary." • " Never !" It was a long, long night. When the fires of dawn flashed in the eastern sky, sending long shafts of drepening light along the water, they were picked up by an open boat, almost exhausted. \Vith safety assured, Laurel's hardly strained fortitude gavo way, and all was blank for a season . Later, she seemed to waken out of a dreamless sleep, to find herself in a strange room, with a woman beuding over the couch where she lay — a woman with a beautiful face, almost like marble in its pallor, and great burning eyes of a yellow tint, that reminded one of a beast of prey. A shiver of repulsion ran over Laurel and sho involuntarily put her hands before her face. The gesture made the woman smile. ' ' You are afraid of me, " she said. " That is strange. Most persons find me very fascinating. " In the next breath she added : "You have passed through a terrible' experience. lam deeply interested. Pray tell me all about it — every circumstance — even your words and thoughts. " "It was too dreadful," said Laurel, looking up in simple wonder at the request. 1 ' Do not ask me to recall the terrors of that frightful timo." The woman returned her gaze with one of deepening intensity. " You are the person my husband saved, and therefore I cannot treat you as an utter stranger." " Your husband !" Laurel cried. "Yes. He was on the steamer and took you in charge. You stood beside him half the night, looking death in the face. You two can never be indifferent to each other after such an experience. " Laurel felt a sickening sense of loss and disappointment, for which she was unable to account. There was something in the woman's tone that made her flesh creep. " He — your husband— is he safe ?" she faltered. "Yes, but utterly exhausted . He is lying down. He sent me a telegram the moment you were safely landed, and I came on the next train . I have been here an hour. Now tell me something of yourself. Where were you going, and what is your name ?" " I am Laurel Deane, and " A cry broke from the woman's lips, and she grasped the girl's wrist firmly with one long white hand, " Laurel Deane !" she whispered: " That name ! How very strange J I wonder if he knew ?" Then she spoke aloud : " You were on the way to Pair Haven. I can tell all about you now. lam Mrs Cyril Desmoind." A sudden trembling seized Laurel. It was fate and she felt frightened. Should she go on and keep her engagement ? Mrs Desmond seemed to be weighing the same question though from her own standpoint. At length she spoke : " Of course I shall take you home with me. I see no company at Pair Haven — the condition of my health will not admit of it. I have many lonely hours when my husband ia away. Cyril fancied I should find life more tolerable with a constant companion of my own sex. It was to please him I advertised." TO BE CONTINUED.