A DAUGHTER OF MIDIAN.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXV, Issue XXV, 22 December 1900, Page 1146

A DAUGHTER OF MIDIAN.

Serial Stery. (PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

By

JOHN K. LEYS.

Author of “ A Sor« Temptation,” “ The Thumb-print,” ” The Brolcaa Fetter,” “la the Toils,” “ A Million of Money,” etc., etc. COPYRIGHT.

PART HI—MR MITCHELL’S SECRET.

CHAPTER XX. WHAT THE NEWSPAPERS TOLD. For all that night and the greater part of next day Sybil Grant lay in a half-conscious condition. The doctor, who had been sent for, saw at once that her mind had received a violent and painful shock, and lie thought it best to allow it to recover its strength gradually, without forcing it. It was in the late afternoon that Sybil opened her eyes, and saw the queer, outlandish features of Miss Dalrymple bending over her. Miss Dalrymple’s cheeks we.e thinner, her cheekbones more prominent, her nose redder than ever, for she had been crying ami the tears were scarcely on her bony cheeks. Miss Grant looked at her and smiled. Then, as remembrance came back to her, the smile faded away. For some minutes she lay still without saying a word, while Miss Dalrymple sat down by the bedside and watched her. At last the patient spoke, in a voice curiously thin and weak. “You heard what he said—about m.x mother?” “Yes. my dear. But 1 wouldn 1 mind. Perhaps it isn’t true.’ Sybil smiled faintly. The weak but well-meant attempt at consolation was so like Miss Dalrymple. Where are the newspapers- the newspapers Mr. Mitchell gave me?” she asked. “Well, really, now,” began Miss Dalrymple, looking vaguely round the'room, as though she half expected to see them jump up from some- " “Miss Dalrymple, you know perfectly well where those papers are. 1 see it in your face. Please get them for

me at once.’ “But Dr. Paterson said you were not to see anything that might excite you. and if he asks me whether I have carried out his orders, what am I to sal to him?” While Miss Dalrymple was saving this she was slowly unlocking a drawer, from which she took three small newspapers folded together. “Give them to me.” said Sybil, shan’t read them now. but I must have them.” She took them and put them under her pillow. It was not until she felt strong ■md able to control herself that Sybil opened the. papers. There were three of them, all published in Sydney, and issued within a few weeks of each other. In the first there was a report ~f the finding of the body of a miner named Grant in his hut. He had been shot through the heart. Suspicion rested, it was said, upon Grants wife, who had apparently absconded, and the police were in search of tier. There hud been frequent quarrels between the deceased. who wasa man of unrestrained temper, and his wife: it was supposed that she had shot him in a fit of anger, and then, horrified at what she had done, had Bed. taking her two children with her. The second paper described the arrest of Mrs. Grant, who had been found in a poor lodging-house in the outskirts of the town. She denied that she had had any hand in her husband’s death, saying that she had fled from home during his absence. There were several circumstances, however, that rendered her story improbable. and she was fully committed for trial on the capital charge.

The third newspaper contained merely a short paragraph stating that Mrs. 'Grant, the woman who was charged with the murder of her husband. had died in prison about a week before the day fixed for the trial. Sybil laid down the papers with a sigh of relief. It was not certain, after all. that her mother hud been a

murderess. The incriminating circumstances were not mentioned, so that it was not possible to judge of the

strength of the case against her; but at least she had not confessed herself guilty, and she had not been proved guilty. Many a bitter tear did Sybil shed in secret, many a time did she wish that she had never left Italy. When she was stronger, she said to herself, she would go back there, and try to find work as a teacher of singing though in a land of musicians her chance of being able to make a living in that way was but small. For virtually she gave up the struggle in which she has been engaged. She had yearned to know who she was, what was her parentage, and now she wished that she had remained in ignorance. The dreadful story which had been made known to her seemed to her a justification of Mr. Mitchell s conduct ‘in hiding her away from the world. Was there not a curse upon her from her cradle? What was left for her but to go away somewhere and hide her shame? Ami there was one filing that made this eliding to her dreams peculiarly bitter. Whenever the image of Ronald Keith came before her eyes a hot blush rose to her face, and a sharp pain pierced her heart. For she felt sure now that lie loved her. and that if all had gone well—if she had been able to establish anything of a claim upon Mr. Mitchell, or if he had been good-natured enough to continue to act as her guardian—the young man would have asked her to be his wife. From the first day that he appealed at the Castle Sybil had known that lie admired her. ' But many did that. That was nothing; but gradually, day by day. the young man’s passion had grown’, till it found utterance, if not in plain words, yet in looks and tones that could have but one meaning. And Sybil knew that she could love him. Who could have helped it? she asked herself sometimes, despairingly. Was he not young. handsome. goodnatured, and if not rich for a man til his station, richer by far tnan a penniless girl had any right to expect her husband to be? His voice sounded in her ears, as she sat alone in her great solitary bedroom, and she told he self that that dream too had come to ai. end. No man of high honour, no man in such a position as that ol the Hon. Ronald Keith, would wish to marry a woman who had been born of an nneonvietid murderess, or one whom the world might speak of as such —or if he did. it could only be from base, mercenary motives- And there was little chance that Ronald Keith would be tempted in that way. Whatever Mr Mitchell might have thought it right to do for the orphan daughter of an old friend, he could not be expected to give a dowry to a girl who had come into his house to spy upon him, and had detied him as she had done.

By this time Mr Mitchell’s guests had departed, ami winter was not far off. Sybil had said something in a tentative way about leaving the Castle. but her host had cut her short, saying that there was time enough to make a change, and that she was welcome to stay for the present. So she

remained where she was. not without a feeling akin to shame, for she knew that if her purse had not been nearly empty she would not have remained much longer under the same roof as Alexander Mitehell.

As a rule he took very little notice of her. and the little household fell into a dull routine very unlike the gaiety of the autumn. Once only did Mr Mitchell refer to the past. He asked her one day to return to him the Australian papers he had given her- She went obediently to her room to fetch them, and as she stood with them in her hand before returning to the dining

room, the question occurred to her: What reason could Mr Mitchell have for keeping these newspapers? What importance could he attach to them? Why was he not content to leave them in her hands?

A vague feeling of distrust, for the first time since the revelation of her mother's fate had lieen made to her, fastened itself upon her mind. It struck her that if at any time she wished to investigate the matter, these records might be of the greatest importance to her; and she resolved that if she possibly could keep them, sue would not return them to Mr Mitchell. What should she do with them? Who would keep them for her? The question almost answered itself—the Professor! He eou!d be trusted with the secret. In his hands the newspapers would be safe. Sitting down at once she scribbled a hasty note to Signor Zueatti—a mere line, saying that the newspapers revealed the miserable secret which she had been so anxious to penetrate, and begging him to keep the papers carefully till she should send for them. She then made up the papers in a parcel. and going out to the stables, she found a groom who she knew was devoted to her service, and made him promise to put the packet in the post office at Inveroran that night. Donald looked at her with a curious, questioning gaze, as if he would like to 1 know why she did not put the pareel in the postbag in the hall, but he set off to do her bidding without venturing to say anything. Then Sybil went back to Mr Mitehell, and said “I remember now that I sent those papers to a friend of mine.” The laird darted a look at her full of suspicion, but Sybil bore it without moving so much as an eyelid. “A friend, do yon say? Man or woman ?” “A man, as it happens. Why do you ask?” “Well, write and get them back at once. I want them, do you hear?” “Why, of what importance can they be to you?” asked Sybil, with an air of great innocence. Again the look of suspicion shot out from under the laird’s shaggy eyebrows. but he said nothing except—“l did not say that they are of any’ special importance to me. But they’ are mine, and I choose to have them back. Will you write for them at once?” “Oh. yes, if you wish it,” said Sybil indifferently, at the same time making up her mind that she would ask Signor Zueatti to write her a letter stating that the newspapers hud been accidentally destroyed. In fact she did write such a letter the very next day, justifying her conduct to herself by the plea that after all the papers, concerned her much more closely than they concerned Mr Mitehell, and that if they were his legally. she had the best right to them morally. Before the Keiths left Inveroran there had been some talks about books and reading: Sybil saying half-laugh-ingly that she had not seen even the outside of a new book since she cross-

ed the border. On this Mr Ronald Keith had promised to send her a box of books as soon as he gut baek to town. And on a dreary November day the box arrived. The very smell of the uncut leaves was delicious! And what a pleasure it was to take a peep into each—to taste a crumb off the edge, as it were before taking each of the books to its place on the shelf which had been prepsired for them. The books were nearly all novels of modern life or stories of adventure, with two or three volumes of travels, and one of critical essays. Sybil sat down at once, and dashed off a letter of thanks straight from her heart, without w’aiting to think whether her expressions were conventionally proper or not. “If you only knew what pleasure you have given me—if you could have seen my delight as I dug out one treasure after another, and saw before me the means of escaping from this dull neighbourhood for a few hours in the most delightful company, you would at least be convinced that you have not spent your money for nothing. Thank you a hundred and a thousand times. Remember me kindly to your sister, and believe me always, yours gratefully, Sybil Grant.” It may be imagined that this little incident did not make it any easier for Sybil to forget the Honourable Ronald, or dull the emotion, so full of pleasure, so full of pain, with which she remembered his name. One day not long after this Sybil had a letter from Mr Blackwood, the Glasgow lawyer who had interested himself in her case, and had promised to have inquiries made in AustraliaHe said he had ascertained that there had been some extraordinary fluctuations in the shares of the Lone Gully Mining Company at- an early period of its history, and the explanation given to him was that there were ugly rumours afloat as to the validity of the title to the Company's property. To stifle these rumours the directors had submitted their title to the inspection of a gentleman well known in mining circles, a Mr Louis Durant: and he had stated his conviction that the title was perfectly good, ami that the shares formed a sound and desirable investment.

This declaration, evidently bought and paid for, had not. had the desired effect in raising the price of the shares; but they did rise by and by to their present high price, simply by virtue of the large dividends which the mine had paid, almost from the first. There had not been time yet. he added, to get an answer to the queries he had put to his friend in Australia, but he would not fail to let her know as soon as he heard from him. This letter reminded Sybil that she was forgetting her friends. In the days when she had felt convinced that Mr Mitchell was concealing from her her parentage, and secluding- her from the rest of the world for his own ends, she had welcomed and felt grateful for Mr Blackwood’s aid. But now that she was convinced that Mr Mitchell had had a natural and proper motive for his conduct, she felt inclined to wish that she had never seen Mr Blackwood, or at least had never consulted him professionally- She felt a delicacy in telling him to stop all investigations, yet she could not let him go on taking trouble, and perhaps incurring expense on her account, in a cause that she had herself abandoned. After thinking o-ver the matter, Sybil came to the conclusion that her best plan w’ould be to write and tell Mr Blackwood all that had happened to her since she saw him. She wrote him a long letter, telling him how Mrs Martin and she had mutually recognised each other, and how she had been forced to confess to Mr Mitchell that she was not Sidney, but, Sybil Grant. She went on to say that Mrs Martin was acting as housekeeper for a retired doctor at Perth, and was

ready to give her evidence when required. And finally she told him of the newsimpers which Mr Mitchell had shown her. and the destruction of her hopes. Having said all this, she intimated that while she was very grateful for what he had done for her. she did not think that there was much use in pursuing his inquiries further. Nothing but disappointment could come of it. Mr Blackwood’s reply was frank and straightforward, like himself. He admitted that he thought the explanation Mr Mitehell had given was reasonable, and that there did not seem to be a prospect of any adequate result for the labour and expense of investigating that side of the case. But he supposed that he was right in presuming that it would be some sort of satisfaction to Miss Grant to have her identity formally declared in the presence of witnesses. Sybil thought this advice good, so she wrote to London for her little cowhide trunk, and had it forwarded by rail to Perth station. Then she fixed a day when she knew Mr Mitchell would be in Glasgow for Mr Blackwood to meet her in Perth, and together they called on Mrs Martin. The old lady was more frank and outspoken than they had expected, and readily signed a declaration as to Sybil’s identity. She recognised the trifles which Sybil had found in the cowhide trunk, begging for one of them, which she said belonged to her, and reminded her of ol<l times. As to the other things, she said that most of them, ineluding the broken workbox. had belonged to Sybil’s mother! “Mrs Martin.” said Sybil, suddenly hiking up into the old woman's face, “you don’t believe what they said—that my poor mother did that awful thing?”

" A strange expression, a look that was almost a look of terror, came into her face. Mr Blackwood, who had heard the question and was waiting for the answer, noticed it as well as Sybil.

“No—no! Not that! They never found her guilty. But—what am I -saying'? Eh? She must, have been guilty. The police said she was. and they ought to know. It’s what they're paid for. But she’s dead, poor thing.

So we’ll say no more about it.” “1 see you don’t think my mother killed her husband." Sybil said gravely. “How do yon know it was ever said she did such a thing?” demanded the old woman fiercely. “Mr Mitchell told me. He showed me newspapers with reports. "The more fool he! The more fool he!" Then catching the young lawyer’s eyes fixed on her with something of surprise and questioning in them, she suddenly became silent. Not a word more would she speak. Only, when Sybil repeated: “1 believe my poor- mother was innocent, and I believe you knew it too, Mrs Martin!” the look of confused terror came agaiu into her wrinkled face, and as long as Sybil and the lawyer remained with her the shadow of fear lingered in her eyes. CHAPTER XXL THE TWO SISTERS. “Mr Blackwood,” said Sybil, as they sat together in the railway carriage on their way back from Perth, “I am quite convinced now that my mother was innocent of the crime, and that that old woman knows who the guilty person is.” "I must say, Miss Grant, that I am privately of the same opinion, but I don't see how we can prove it.” He would have added that after such a lapse of time it could not be a matter of great importance to determine the guilt or innocence of Mrs Grant, but fortunately he remembered in time that he was speaking to her daughter. “I will prove it!" eried Sybil, clenching her hands in her excitement. "I will never rest till I have washed this stain away from my mother’s memory.” Blackwood said nothing. He sympathised with Sybil, but seeing that her mother had been in her grave for a. quarter of a century, and that her very name was forgotten by those who knew what she had been accused of. he thought that it would be a waste of time ami money to set herself to find evidence for her faith in

her mother's innocence. She might rest content, he thought, with her own belief that her father had died by the hand of a stranger, and had not Iteen shot down bv his wife.

But it was easy to see that Sybil was brooding over the terrible story which she had learned from the Sydney newspapers; and as Blackwood stole one glance after another at the beautiful face opposite to him, he told himself that if he wished to win her gratitude he could not do better than strive to -ferret out this mystery. Gratitude was not exactly what he wanted, but he did desire to stand well in Sybil's good opinion.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Miss Grant.” he said suddenly. “I will write to my friend in Australia, and tell him to let the lame Gully Mining Company alone and set himself to discover who killed your father. He will be able to search the newspapers of the day, at all events; and perhaps he may come across some official who remembers the case.” “Mr Blackwood, why are you so kind to me?” said Sybil, turning her splendid eyes full on her companion.

"I used to think that I was friendless; but surely no one could have a more considerate and generous friend than I have in you. What you propose is what I should like above all things. But do you think it is quite fair to take up so much of your friend’s time? You know I have no prospect of being able to pay him anything for his trouble." “Don't you worry about that. Miss Grant,” said the young lawyer, cheerfully. “My friend is pretty well otT. ami has next to nothing to do. so that it is really doing him a favour to ask him to take up the case- It is indeed.”

Sybil laughed and shook her head, in a way that meant that she did not believe a word of what had just been said.

“It is so. I assure you. Can you get me the newspapers you have —or the dates would be enough, if you happen to remember them?" As it happened, Sybil did remember the date of the earliest of the three newspapers, and Blackwood said that was quite enough. He would ask his

friend to search the file after that date. The junction at which Sybil had to leave the train for the local train that ran back towards the hills was reached; and Blackwood, leaving the carriage. crossed the line and saw Sybil comfortably installed in her place. For a few moments he lingered about the door of the carriage till Sybil was forced to say to him: "Von really had better go now. Mr Blackwood. You will miss your train." “It doesn’t mutter a straw if 1 do,” said the young man. impatiently. “I only wanted to say this to you—that if there is any way by which I can serve you, even if it were at the risk of my life, I would gladly do it. It is absurd, I know, putting it in that way—but I can't think of any other way to put it.” A blush that would have become a milkmaid suffused the sunburnt features of the young Glasgow lawyer as he said this, and Sybil assured him with a smile and a warm pressure of the hand that she was well assured of his willingness to help her that she would not fail to have recourse to him in her hour of need—and that she felt infinitely grateful to him. Which matters having been satisfactorily settled. Mr William Blackwood gracefully withdrew, and, racing along the platform, up one stairway, and down another, he succeeded in boarding his train just as it was gliding out of the station.

"So he is another!” said Sybil to herself with a sigh, as she watched him disappear into the carriage. It seems as though it were my fate to have men fall in love with me when 1 would so very much rather they didn't! It does seem so horribly mercenary to accept the services of a man that you can see is half or wholly in love with you. when all the time you don't eare a straw for him. And yet it scarcely seems my fault. How can I help it? “Ami the one man I could love will never ask me to marry him. More fool I for allowing myself to eare for a man so far above me! To imagine that he would so far forget his position is absurd. And then there is that

awful accusation they made a gainst my mother. No! It is impossible!

“And I think I could have liked this Mr. Blackwood. Ido like him. He is so awfully kind! But liking is a long way off loving, at least with me. whatever people may say. He is n'ce, and honest, and has plenty of sense. If only he wouldn't fall in love with me!”

• It was dark long before Sybil reached Inveroran. and she learned to her relief that Mr. Mitchell had not yet returned from Glasgow. Most probably, she knew, he would not now be back till the afternoon of the next day.

She passed through the great chilly hall, and to her surprise saw the tall figure of a woman, not Miss Dalrymple, coming out of the dining-room to meet her. In the dim light Sybil could not tell whether she knew the lady or not, and she stood still in uncertainty. The stranger came nearer, walking more slowly as she advanced, and when she had come quite close she made a sudden movement and threw her arms round Sybil’s neck. “Sidney!”

To Sybil, who had never known a closer tie than that of a school acquaintance, the moment was one of those which leave an impression that the rolling years can do nothing to efface. The supreme feeling in the heart of each was that now, at last, she had found herself. For Sybil had said no more than the truth when she told the Professor that to be without the tie of human kinship is to be outside the great human family. It seemed to them both that they could never bear to part again.

When their emotion had a little subsided they sat down side by side and hand in hand at the great table in the dining-room, where supper had already been laid ready for Sybil. She refused to eat unless Sidney would join her, and then, after the meal was finished, they established themselves in a corner by the fire, under lee, as it were, of the lofty mantelpiece, and opened their hearts to one another.

“You know. Sybil.” said the elder sister, “I didn’t feel at all sure what sort of welcome you would give me after I had been so horrid to you at Scarton. It wasn’t till I got close enough to you to see the expression in your face after you recognised me that I bad the courage to speak. Oh, bow I have hated myself since for my rudeness, my coldness ” “Sidney, I won’t let you say one other word like that.” interrupted Sybil. laying her hand on her sister’s lips. “No wonder you were indignant with me, coming to confess that I was masquerading under your name, and asking you to help me to carry out the fraud, at least by your silence. It was a little too much!” “No. no, Sybil, that had nothing to do with my feeling towards you. That was only an excuse. My real feeling towards you was one of hatred. Do you wonder why? Because in the eye of the law you are our parents’ daughter, and I ain not my father’s daughter at all! I was born, you know, before it was discovered that the mariage between my father and my mother had been discovered to be invalid. Then —I must tell you the truth if you do not know it already—they were married over again, and in the year following you were born. I have an old Bible that belonged to my father, with the entries all regularly made. But I was jealous of you. Sybil—so horribly, unnaturally jealous! So jealous that I hid the fact from you. and allowed you to think yourself illegitimate, like myself.” “Stop, stop, Sidney! You are allowing yourself to get quite morbid about that unfortunate business. It was not our parents' fault that their marriage was invalid. No sensible person could possibly think that it is the slightest stain upon you in any way whatever. It was the sort of thing that might happen to anyone. I’ve heard of men pretending to be clergymen when they were not. even in this country. Take my advice, sis, and don’t think any more about it.”

The only answer to this was a sigh. “Don't you think it is very strange that Mr. Mitchell should have given himself so much trouble about us?” asked Sybil after a pause.

“He knew—■our father; and there was no one else to look after us. after - after ”

Sybil pressed her sister’s hand in silence. It was the only time they ever referred, even distantly, to the manner of their father’s death.

“Do you think. Sid, you can have any real claim against him? You know he offered to settle an allowance on you if you would resign any claims you might have upon him.” “Yes. he did. And like a fool I refused the offer. I have come here now to see whether he will renew it.” "Oh. Si<l. do you think that is wise?” “1 am certain it Is. Think a moment. Suppose Mr Mitchell owed our father money, the debt would pass to you, not to me. He might have left me something by his will, but it is impossible for me to prove that he did make a will, or that he had anything io leave. I am helpless; and I should be a fool to refuse the offer of a comfortable income for the sake of retaining a shadowy right that is in all probability worth nothing.”

“You may depend on it. Mr Mitchell does not think it worth nothing, or he would not offer you an annuity to surrender it," said Sybil. "That is what I told myself when he first made the proposal to me. But now I see that whether it is worth much or little I can never avail myself of it. so 1 have made up my mind that a bird in the hand is worth any number in the bush.”

"I doubt whether I would accept the offer if he made it to me,” said Sybil.

“and therefore I hope it will not come into his head to make it: for if he did make it. and I refused it. I could scarcely stay on at the Castle, and I really don't know where else I could go. 1 wonder whether I should make a decent governess." she went on. after a pause. “I fancy not.”

“Don’t!” cried Sidney, with such energy that her sister laughed outright. "Be a cook, or a parlour-maid, or a housemaid, and you will be respected and well paid. Be a governess, and you will find that you tire neither treated as well nor palil as weii as the servants in the kitchen. They know it too- which doesn’t make it any the pleasanter for you in the schoolroom upstairs. In a school it is different. 1 ou are part of a system, and you are not subject to the whims of an underbred ill-tempered woman, who thinks she can prove that she is a fine lady byshowing that she can be insolent to a helpless dejiendent. Don’t do it, Sybil, whatever you do. But if Mr Mitchell renews his offer of an annuity to me, why should we not live together?” "Thank you a hundred times, Sid, but it will be time enough to talk of that when your income is settled on you. At present we are both alike—lonely, poor, and uncertain about the future. And yet 1 am happier than I have been for many a day, because I have got you to love me. Sid.” The two girls both started as tne great bell that was attached to the chain at the front entrance to the Cas--1 le tolled loudly.

"Mr Mitchell has come back by the late train after all.” said Sybil, rising from her seat on the rug. “He so seldom comes by it in winter that I had quite given him up. Should vou like to go and meet him in the hall' Sidney, or shall we wait and let him discover us here?" “I think we had better stay where we are, said the elder sister, turning’ her eyes on the door. In a very short time the door opened, anil the laird bustled into the room. "Where is the young leddie—where have you put her?” he said to the servant behind him. "I am here. Mr Mitchell,” said Sidney. advancing from the fireplace. Wel| h ' >"°"’ re th ” re - are you? The pause evidently meant —“What do you want here?” and Sidnev Grant answ’cred it at once. “You remember a letter you wrote to me some time ago, offering to make me an annual allowance on certain conditions?” “Yes— and what of that? You refused my offer. Have you thought better of it?” “Yes.” “And I have thought better* of it too.” said the laird, with a chuckle. Sidney swallowed something in her throat, and the soft hand that lay in Sybil’s twitched convulsively, but she made no reply. And Mr Mitchell, without so much as another look in her direction, fell to work upon the <•<>1(1 pie and other eatables which had been placed on the table. (To be continued.)