The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1885-08-01 00:00:00

CALL RIGHTS BIISERVED.)
CATHERINE'S MISTAKE;

on,
A SECRET FOR YEARS.

CHAPTER IV.

AFTER SEVENTEEN YEARS.
Trm
br next Morning at eight o'clock a message was
n might up to me from Mr. Ingestre. It politely ex-
ruessed a wish to see me as soon as convenient, for
siness called him to Lowmoor at ten.
was up and dressed, and followed thel maid to
• breakfagt-reom. She threw open the door, an-
tiounced, and closed it after me. You know who I
115ren,, and know therefore that the man who stood
h. Lore tee
was no stranger. I had no need to look at
h,!s ieatures. I knew them. I had no need to scan
• ellaraCter in the turn of an eye or lip. George
• s ne•estre stood before me; and I knew him, as
'ernaps bnot many others do.
Re was standing in front of the blazing fire, his
eterculean figure carelessly supported against the
alarble chimney-shelf. His head was bent, and he
iis :as looking with a smile into the upturned face of
daughter, as she clung with both hands to his
4u1;17(1* A noble-looking boy sat in an arm-chair on
e feetother side, playing with a large black dog at his
Mr.lngestre came forward and led me to a seat,
2€4.oglsing for his absence the previous night, and
e discomfort of my arrival.
I am afraid your opinion of Redfern hospitality
not be a favourable one, Miss Wace; but trust
ale, it shall be my strict endeavour to remove an
impression which, I assure you, on my honour, is
finet Merited. You have had an interview with my
j'aughter, I understand, so it only remains for me
n introduce my lout of a bey. Come here, Ross, and
rtake your bow. Th2re he is, Miss Wace; Ross Inges-
Esquire, aged fifteen years and six months, stand-
five foot nine in his socks, and as great a dunce at
slessons as ever inherited six thousand a-year and a
genci old name. Be candid, Miss Wace, and tell me
what you think of my son and heir?"
•roliveas deeply agitated, but my self-control is great.
, leer this voice again—to be called upon to praise
It"a beautiful boy—to know that I must look in his
ace as I answered!
, I do not remember my reply, but I think it
Pleased him for he burst into a laugh, strangely new
to
ine—boisterous, even coarse, it sounded. The boy
Lussed back his shining, brown locks; his bright,
ndsome face coloured, and he spoke out in an in-
nred, indignant tone.
You're always at that game, pa. I wish you
"culdn't, you know; it makes a feller feel so precious
awkward. I'm not a dunce; and you're as proud as
a peacock when old Dawson gees telling everybody"
"'the boy stepped, and his pink cheeks turned
Scarlet
"That Ingestre is the cleverest boy in the school,
ttn,d beats his masters at classics!" cries his father.
• 'Yes," put in his sister, half-breathless with the
tnteiligence ; "and he thrashed Nat Austen, the head
°3;,„.toce—a great fellow trained to fight."
'lever mind, Ross, my boy, I'll redeem your
;‘,dracter with Miss Wace. You shan't suffer in a
s'AVB opinion, if I can help it; I know the value to
/1311? set upon it too much. Now, Cleland," turning to
„s daughter, "what have you to say to Miss
eb. ?
t 1,." Why, that I want my breakfast; and I should
k she does, tee."
fr," Jove, Miss Wace, your pardon; I quite
egot ; there, out of a mouth of a babe and suckling,
tl,Bt4lid. rebuked. Out of the way, dogs! Ross, ring
aue bell instantly, and kick the setter out of that
;lair. After my grand promises, Miss Wace, to keep
e mi famishing for your breakfast! But, there, I am
etting old, and my memory is going, I believe. Cle,
'tnn't laugh at your poor old father, I beg."
h."WhY, you know you were drunk last night,
re, dear:, said his daughter, with all the coolness
14'aginable.
toi think he did not hear this, as he was begging me
en take the head of the table, and pour him out a
Pf tea, "hot, sweet, and strong." He seated him-
'eel in an arm-chair opposite, and, between the inter-
of v
tio eating and drinking, gave me various direc-
ns for my future guidance.
-;:rrie servants are a lazy, insolent set," he -sa-id.
t let them get the upper hand over you
reet it, to use one of their own expressions; for
1,,e.V Will, if they can. The cook and the butler Par-
ins are the greatest rogues. The consequence is,
i'eY are always fighting and lying about each other.
1.P.1.1 may probably be induced at first to credit Par-
big 01 of the two, for he is a rank hypocrite, pretend-
to read the Bible when he ought to be doing his
e"in, and singing psalms when he knows there is a
e.(7chman near to hear 'em; but it is only cant, and
,e `-", is the honeste,st thief of the two, I fancy. Keep
th4l in order, if you can; and, if you can't, pack
aue,.'n, off, and we'll get a fresh supply. You have my
f„ °ri tY to do anything you choose. After break-
-4. I shall do myself the pleasure of making you ac-
aridted with the house, showing you the lock-ups,
u, banding over to you the keys—if I can find
lejnisthat is. Ah, by-the-bye, there is that girl, Cle
then PlP°se you will give her a lesson now and
I signified
know my intention to do so, and desired to
uDiect
Whether he had any particular views on the
of her education.
" 0
hChoose' lea really I don't know. Just as you
don't care; the three r's, I suppose—read-
riting, and 'rithmetic."
n0"1 say," ejaculated Ross, "is my sister to have
Detter education than the village brats? Do
Vathl!. wante your daughter to be a disgrace to YOU,
'Lr ?
"She
frown. Is a disgrace to me as it is," he said,
&led nig. "What with her use of bad language
stab! slang expressions, her disorderly dress and
e likings, she is a disgrace to the name of
gestre."
ne!..looked at the girl. I could not help it; for I
.`:2l-isly dreaded the outburst which I felt certain
ri:;-.4(1 follow this speech. It came, sure enough.
Crj chest heaved like an angry se,a, her face
ragesosle, and her eyes filled with tears of passionate
fer;llvim taught me to use bad language," she burst
but you? Who never cared what I learnt or
at I left alone, but you? Who allows me to go
reut dirty and ragged, and won't buy me a new
ttinS,s, but you? Yes, you, sir. Who taught me bad
telTs, and then beat me for practising them? Who
arid ,me to find my play-fellows among the grooms,
themen abused me because I made friends with
ee, ? That's you, pa. You do that, and—and you
t care for me a bit. though I'm your own
4 'lns choked her utterance; she could articulate
more' but fled round the table to Ross, who rose
eet her. Mr. Ingestre gave a complacent smile,
414,0ut one of his long arms, and intercepted her
,gut. He caught her to his heart, with these
words
kt:; My lass, I do love thee! Thou art not just- tahy
teher, dirty little gipsy that thou art. Cle, you're
ewn girl, and got a tight grip on my heart. Dry
r blue eyes, take eleven thousand kisses, and say
C'tiß,l°Ve me."
e,;410 warmly declared she did, but in words to.'lii-„rse for repetition; at these, however, he only
hea'ghed, and pulled her ear. She kissed his lips, his
LS hands, and purred over him like a young
11,74 over its mother. How I pitied the poor
gtected • ,
giri
b,e—auss looked intensely disgusted, and devoured his
,fast in silence.
a'nere, we have fooled together long enough.
Wateg,?od girl at your lessons, and don't plague Miss
Y 'learn French, papa?"
unning little hussy! Yes."
~1f11(1 music too?"
You choose."
.44,—nu Greek?"
laateicii.,';g you, no! That will be infringing on Ross's
want to be as clever as Ross. I can ride as
and eaes he can, I can skate as well, I can jump as far
brie tilmb as high; but I can't do the lessons he
gs home from Dawson:s."
arid should think not, indeed, retorted the boy,
°he o:eked better not try, that's more; for every
cs a blue-stocking—they never get married,
2d
512 t want to get married, 'tar," returned Cle,
steeoreat contempt. "Papa, do you hate a blue-
,
Pre?Tt°t '
;hin" like a white one, my girl, to set off a
~,,,•Tle,ootend ankle."
Imst we I will not be a blue-stocking. I will learn
at ROSS chooses."
N;Yenat Miss Waco chooses, if you please."
tn.. 1140...P0uted angrily, but made no reply, and sat
inie 'nig her bread-and-butter in thoughtful silence,
htctlaie r sting now and then a wistful glance at her
tt 'iere
rnek cannot resist pausing on two points which
eotezeritie with some astonishment in the foregoing
p; sation
`rst, th •
e utter recklessness which the master
rh
and 'n the bestowal of his confidence and trust
te
„..garde, secondly, the indifference with which he
rarae.,_die education of his daughter. To all ap-
"e4 I h 0 51lite am a perfect stranger to him; but within
ho,nldern „ of our acquaintance he casts upon my
ah,; u3ke whole responsibility of his large house-
entrusts to my keeping keys and stores,
wQr all he knows, and all he could know, I may
',This • anYthing but honesty.
ean 11° 1
te4 acen,to new y-acquired habit, I can see; he has
ariti Med to do this for more years than I can:
evihi follow, as a necessary consequence, all
e 111-regi7 which he complains—dishonest servants,
infleted _red household, a comfortless home, and
•or k
the
aela ildren. The unlimited power he has put
Iterattg;in_..„.its
oorfeubnewsiodret.hy people has led to this, and
140.4131:ture conducted me over the house, as he
NsitTortis for t beyond setting aside a handsome suite
1,"1, regard tozay use,.gave neither suggestion nor wish
See en anYthing. _ , .
Nei„g int° "4 trust you," he said; "so take every-
t. c 3.70!1r hands, and don't let me be plagued
atte4lail of it all. I have business of my own
hate being bored with servants'
01-4 the iu-

fernal r,,lchlriery. By - the - bye, there's that black
fellow, Domingo; he has a faithful heart, but a queer
temper. If he is ever insolent to you, refer him to
me, or me to him, I don't care which; a thrashing is
his cure, and I can hardly expect a lady to bestow
that, although many a fair hand attempts—aye, and
succeeds, too —at that sort of thing where ho
comes from. You are not an Englishwoman?" he
said, abruptly, turning round and looking into my
face.

_
I could not return that look without the blanching
of a cheek or the quiver of an eyelid. My 'answer
satisfied him; he apologised for the question he had
asked, and said he had been induced ter think so from
my 'appearance; it reminded him so much of the
time he had lived abroad.
"Ten years of my life were passed in Jamaica,"
he went on; "my father had a large cotton planta-
tion, and myself and brother went out to take pos-
session of it. We lived at Kingston for ten years,
and then the small-pox broke out with .!'frightful
violence. It carried my poor brother off and left me,
although I had it badly enough—you can see the scars
now. The climate did not agree with me after
that, so I sold everything and came home.
"That portrait you are studying so attentively,
Miss 'Wace, is my mother's; she was my father's
housekeeper, and they had six goodly sons born and
buried before they could make up their minds to
have the knot tied. I have heard my father say, it
was chiefly owing then to his hearing the old vicar
denounce him every Sunday from the pulpit, for six-
teen years without intermission, and threaten him
with all sorts of judgments, if he aidn't mend his
crooked ways. So they went to church, and made
me, the youngest born, lawful heir to the name and
estates of George Ross Ingestre, Eeq. I could have
sworn you were one of those half - Spanish, half-
English women Jamaica grows as plentifully as she
does her roses and jasmines. I have seen nothing
like them since I have been home—nothing i—the
roses, I mean, of course."
After a tedious day's work here I sit, not resting,
but toiling over again in my mind all that is past,
knowing that even in my sleep it will be repeated in
dreams. Rest for me there cannot be in this house.
Memories which years have laid to sleep are waking
and watchful. Shadows of what is gone and what is
done walk with me everywhere. The great control
that lam forced to exert over every emotion of my
heart tells on my frame, and I suffer cruelly. My
head aches, my heart seems pierced with an acute
pain, my blood is at fever heat; and yet I must ap-
pear the calm and collected mistress of this turbulent
household.

I begin to think it was madness in me to come
here. What good influence can I ever hope to gain
over this wild and rebellious girl, whose very love for
her father and brother partakes of the ferocity of
some savage animal? The boy is a noble fellow, but
too much in the confidence of his father—too much
his companion, I can see.
And that father? What can I say of him 7—of the
man that to me was the only one in the world? I
cannot speak of the change that is there. I cannot
dwell here on what he was and what he is. He does
not remember me, that is certain. Thank God.for it !
I can help him all the better.