The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1885-08-22 00:00:00

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.I

OA.THERINES MISTAKE;

OR,
A SECRET FOR YEARS

CIIAPTER Vl.--( COntinued.)

I returned to my room, and cleansed my face of
the blood which had welled from a deep cut on my
Cheek. It was an unsightly wound, and my cheek
ltnal eye had swollen up most visibly. It was im-
Possible to return to the drawing-room that night, for
Mr. Ingestre's brutality would have become too
Widely known. I shall carry the scar to my grave.
buring the next hour I occupied myself in making
11P a bed for Cie on my dressing-room couch, deter-
!lining that she should take up her abode in my
feorns for the next few days, not knowing to what
length,,, her father's rage might go. I then went
'downstairs to inquire after them.
, Benson, the coachman, led me, with his lighted
•lantern, to the place of their concealment—an old
barn in the rear of the stables. There I found them,
bet not alone. Maxall was sitting on a truss of
clover, swinging his legs, and contempl.ating the
brother and sister with a contemptuous smile on his
lisPs. They were nestled together on some straw,
ng down on the ground, and Ross was vainly try-
ing to hush his sister's heartbreaking sobs.
"Pont cry any more, Cle, darling; it will make
'Oll ill. Papa is sorry enough for what he has done
1)7 this time; don't go and grieve him more by
'getting ill."
" Ah, au I" laughed Maxall; "the &sir papa is
sorsa
s_ sa no doubt. Why, I left him singing love songs
(k) Parana Drayson, and flirting like mad."
"Hold your tongue, Maxall, or I'll kick you," said
Ro
, ss, angrily; and, in saying it, he caught sight of
...e. "Oh, Miss Wace, lam glad you have come; she
luat cry so dreadfully."
i, lalaxall started, and looked round, the sneer gone
4ons his lips, and a very commiserating expression
'ea them.
"Poor dear child," he said; "how can you wonder
at it? Mr. Ingestre is a brute."
"YOu have no need to say a word against him,"
,ed ROSS, his passion fairly up; "he has always
ren good to you; and if you wern't the shave of a
fellow you are, I'd-knock you down for not owning it."
t 'flush, Ross. I want you to carry Cleland to my
°°nl ; no quarrelling, now."
121 don't want to quarrel, Miss Wace; but Maxall
.448 a knack of saying nasty things of the Squire, and
"-and' feel asif I could fight all the world now."
t Instead of obeying this pugnacious desire, he took
IP his sister and took her to my room, where for two
'curs We were occupied in bathing her frightful cuts
11.13!Id bruises. As long as I live I shall remember the
slY_llt of that good brother bathing tenderly, with
rs as well as balsams, the wounds the cruel hand
c' his frenzied father had inflicted.
. This morning, after a sleepless night, I awoke to
"ilid the poor girl in a burning fever. I dared not
sea,
s sal for a d• ' octor as the nature of her complaint was
O
lObvious. Therefore, on my own responsibility,
s,administered a cooling draught, and by daybreak
.atie fell into a ouiet slumber, from which I was only
nrsxious not to disturb her.
.; Mr. Maxall was the first to ring at my bell. He
alcinired after Cle from Mr. Ingestre, who also pre-
/ tited his compliments to me, and desired to know if
W, as coming down to breakfast that morning.
.returned an answer to the effect that I did not
pend doing so, nor should I leave my room the
Ve of the day. I left him to imagine the reason.
-41:1,3_7 next visitor was Ross, who breakfasted with
tr;' °Y the side of Cleland's bed. He had ridden to
-si;Wnloor and back that morning to get a book he
Ought would please her, and now it lay in its gay
ser on her pillow ready to meet her waking glance.
W
e conversed in whispers until we saw her lashes
,t4ll4,„l,:v.ering, her parched lips open, and emit a heavy
IA" Then she sprang up, and flung her poor
en,l'lded arms round us both, stifling us together in
1,0,7, embrace. Her sleep had comforted both mind and
a uY, and the sting of her grief had passed. She
aaa ,
horu smile with her old archness, and thank Ross
saiisterously for the present lie had ridden twelve
? before breakfast to buy. She wept over my
sea
slotred cheek, and kissed it tenderly, blaming herself
.th4te.bitterly that the mark should ever have been
Res, said little' his spirits are not so elastic as
Das'a, and several times I saw his face darken with
, ill. Non at the slightest reference to her suffering or
ate.
hs-bcilllngo also came to inquire after "missy." He
- troullniFht a letter for her, with many apologies for
/ 7:ing me to deliver it.
. Ism ,ad nay suspicions instantly, and I asked if it
, laao_irn. Portant she should have it now. He did not
he had been told to give it—that was all.
- nY Whom?"
:Mr. Maxall."
, st,alhhe negro looked at me boldly; but I knew the
' is,„" Ci..lied
e*. I did not give the letter. I locked it in
.7 .
Minutes after, Domingo was at ray door again
,ri•
lilete for me from his master.
. „ ... contents were as follows :
Mr. air. Ingestro presents his compliments to Miss
"see, and be
hat occurr gs to express his profound regret for
ed
W
erlielt last night, and the extravagant display
Pres.en Y his passion urged him to commit in her
the h, ce• NO words are able to express his horror at
• htlue sult offered to that lady' who so generously, so
h 4flelY Undertakes the superintentlence of his
onsehold
laot to • He implores her pardon--entreats her
' overi remain callous to his sincere rapentance—to
00k What has passed, and to trust him for the
, are
, that , When he solemnly pledges his word of honour
W. such 111 ascandalous in kis scene shall not occur again
.
„Will She 5 W. generously accept Mr. l.'s apologies?
, Ills ,„;s: give up any idea she may entertain of leaving
hial i,4,e,tched household? and will she kindly admit
Pardsua ner rooms, in order that lie may implore her
and that of his little girl in person?"
. k ~.trePly was brief :
kast :Pa Wace accepts Mr. Ingestre's apologies, but
' q ki;3-`811!ne. the honour of an interview, as the state
i Noss-L.B health is by no means strong."
oat / "'"'PS I had no right to prevent his seeing her,
' Seeelacollld not do otherwise. A few minutes after a
~ M'r Missive arrived:
. tIS eat •I- Presents his compliments to Miss W., and
• ri. -tell, i
~S aim ely obliged by her gracious acceptance of
I
i'alighte°gY, but insists upon an interview with Hs
teels her; whom he loves passionately, and whom he
, ek11.13" as injured barbarously. Miss W. must b
aware e
isid a i re Mr. I. is miserable until lie has kissed his
• o thsnsundred times, and implored her forgiveness;
;latsin qbt aS long as this breach remains unhealed, his
lt g boy i 5
Dialer .alienated from his society, and bestows
'let 6it cannot possibly be so prized. Mr. I. is
a„
stl"n
.ie°ra,nt that his son has breakfasted in Miss W.'s
erese ; and he insists upon her allowing his
al
Ah "e s well."
, --swer Ni o. 2 :
tlithoss Wace's compliments to Mr.
Ingestre and
Ilsi Ugh quite aware of the facts he . mentions, 'finds
s se,
asa 'onto ifiter the resolve already made known to
gri,ll‘
ii33,,..lni_ein.ues more, and Domingo, with a broad
t_ kr7lol:d into my:hand No. 3:
IN , _
Isernenass,„_l-8 compliments, and Miss W. had better
nse,
a7nri'what she is about. Mr. I. is in his own
.1,4'4 be„st cl he will enter any room he pleases; so she
1
Ilas not make any ridiculous attempt to keep him
, SWer aso, 3
11l 4iss '
W ,
kaestre ace Will do her best to keep Mr.
115 w.„ Out. No more letters will be received by
441(1 then I bolted all the doors; but I don't fancy
1„ geStre
tried
Ise-`,Ler /Ithem. .
rfe oss left for school, I had still something to
kse 11'n•
h ertaie: Cleland had fallen asleep once more, and
• ase4reet.llPg that her slumber was sound, I rang my
il'a'Y aoorri.oell to summon one of the female servants to
se Vae aas,.. rlad I rung any other, Domingo would
4104 the :'ered ; but it did not suit my purpose to
4 easestAtrican on the errand I wanted done.
thhes e Under-housemaid came, and I inquired
'4,11(1 .‘,,,
. "ek'a it was likely Mr. Maxall was to be
lizia c; via, ,
ha' Alst 3 Vin out shooting, she thought, as she
Passed him downstairs with a gun in his
1 lealle4 she
Inust be quick and give him a note from
le %es: e,cluested a short interview.)
ItZkatp, b oil to do my bidding, and I soon heard
.1. to ad Step along the corridor. I unbolted the
trl hete !nit him, at whiclahe smiled significantly..
fe," preei,„l_B no fear now," said lie. "Mr. Ingestre is
rage, and has bolted off to St. David's
tla,ima Roe' er two—he always does that when any-
kis (leg. 8 "C)ng here. Domingo is to follow him in
,iilatS watieart With his valise. You wish to see me,
ttcl teisic? Excuse my sporting dress, but I was
out with the beagles to potter round the
tio4l / sha,unot that 1 am much of a sportsman either.'
slea.With he obliged by a. few moments' conversa-
ha;l4 y037:1-,1, Mr. Maxall, if you please. I will not
.boi's4tre th!.°llg. Did you send a letter to Mass
4etl,gosa is Morning by the' black iseryent
a ostakeia
a 41 ti a.
nge t me for a moment before answering.
orlo •
a Ile gaaa give her a letter this morning ?"
, ask/ •a- me One for ne for her."
You I had sent it?"
1 lac)l4 ask d
't
(Alla ea first who it was from ?"
h °Oli llot r
s esid se a? ePly. I was annoyed that he should
I ,e, when I had intended to question him.
se'''4C.tes th:tW in an instant the drift of his meaning.
td• he might deny nothing the black had
NI 'Veil, .
giar tta hkiss
.
Waco, I did send that letter. Was
te '0 Ler ,;, l'a doina• so? And why did you not
et hlleatise I For eheld the letter in my band.
3,!o:ste i had an odd fancy the contents would
i
mlak 1" silver Peace of mind."
dte leoc,„t something, Miss Wace. Do yo.su.
li /is 4 fe4ot, siaLe-letterS to my guardian's daughter ."
3,, at thrtaie,e met you of writing this letter ?,t all
~ -1
nil' at lm„41" I showed the superscription.
' ArsZvisli h;rctshing to do with the matter. Do
,0 g 4 11111. 1 Lo have it ?"
Ista, °Wit,. ' dop
Lhe lilitlthfirsgai Peat, I think it my duty to examine the
Nina er reo; While Cleland Ingestre is my charge,
—4° ~,,tias'avpe..ss nor writes letters without my ftslia,
sire 'at,"

"In that case, Miss Waco, ... will thank you to
return it to me."

"On condition you give me your word of honour
not to attempt to convey it to her unknown to me."
"Madam, your suspicion does me a gross injustice.
What is your opinion of my character, that you enter-
tain it? I was not aware that I had ever given
cause in this house —"

"Will you simply oblige me by your promise?
If not, the letter remains where it is until I read it to
Cleland."

"I pledge myself. Only give me the letter.
I did. He pocketed it instantly.
"Has Cle told you anything?" Ile asked, after a
moment's reflection.

"That is rather a wide question, Mr. Maxall."
"You know what 1 mean; anything that could
make you suspicious about that letter ?"
"She has told me nothing."
"Then why are you so suspicious of me and my
letters?" he persisted.
"I do not consider that Miss Ingestre, at her age,
should receive letters, the contents of which are un-
known to her parent or governess. While she is
under my charge I will not allow it. So good
morning, sir."
"I dare say you are right. Good morning, Miss
Wace," and he went.
I cannot help suspecting this small dark boy of
having some evil design in his round little head.
His wicked black eyes are full of it, and I read it in
the doubtful smile about his lips.
Ido not acquit myself of prejudice. I disliked him
before I saw him, and the faeling was not lessened on
making his acquaintance. He is associated in my
mind with the low scene in the " ingestre Arms,"
that wild, fair-headed woman, and poor Cle's acute
distress. I cannot help thinking that there is some
dreadful secret here; and I may as well state now
what I have learnt concerning Mrs. Faunce.

, She was the late Mrs. Ingestre's lady's-maid, and
married a baker in the village ; but they lived un-
happily together, and upon some provocation she
attempted his life. Mr. Ingestre was the magistrate
who sentenced her to six months' imprisonment in
the county gaol. This provoked her to frenzy, and
when she returned to her home she was in the habit
of speaking of him so vilely, that his tenants felt
themselves bound to take up his cause, and it ended
in her being stoned out of the place for a witch.
After this she never appeared at Redfern.
This was the history of Ke:iali Faunee, as Forrest
told it; and what can I think of Maxall and his con-
nection with her?

"Maxall knows was poor Cle's cry. " Maxall
told me, he found it all out with his prying curious
ways."
I am utterly bewildered, not only with this, but
with something else as well. I have never remarked
yet, on what struck me at first sight in this young
man—the strange, the inscrutable likeness to Mr.
Ingestre in his dark, small-featured face. They have
no features similar; in no precise point do they re-
semble each other; and yet I have seen the likeness
over and over again.
George Ingestre's house holds more than one skele-
ton, I fancy. Is it through courage or desperation, I
wonder, that he can laugh and smile, love and kiss,
all within sound of the rattling bones?

CHAPTER VII.
AN ACCIDNNT.

14th.—Cleland is quite recovered; but her usually
Ligh spirits are much depressed. She believes her
misconduct has driven her father from Lis house for
ever, for we have seen nothing of him yet. This fear,
co-pled with the annoyance Maxall's presence causes
her, preys on her mind, and she mopes, frets, and
fumes by turns. Her studies are neglected, but I
have felt it would be cruelty to enforce her attention
to them.

I can scarcely understand this abhorrence of her
father's ward. A childish dislike I could comprehend,
but not this active, overwhelming feeling of hatred
and disgust she bears towards him. If I inquire the
cause of it, I get no reply; and if Ross remonstrates,
she becomes angry; and he, not choosing to provoke
her temper, seldom notices anything, unless it is un-
avoidably thrust under his eyesight.
Maxall never retaliates; at least, not In my pre-
sence. His manner is always quiet and gentlemanly,
'slightly haughty and supercilious at times. Still, I
believe there are fiery passions below this calm sur-
face. The glitter of his Indian eyes at times is
terrible, when Cleland is particularly odious in bearing
towards him. And the creature, too, is as much a
mere animal as he can well be. He is a detestable
gourmand; he drinks to excess, he appreciates most
keenly every luxury of the senses, and has not the
decency to control his extravagant indulgence in the
presence of others. I believe no one in the house
likes him save the black, and he will go down on his
knees to serve him.

He is no favourite of Mr. Ingestre's ; but I can see
that for very justice' sake he takes the precedence of
Ross in everything with him. There is some nobleness
of character in the guardian, which it would be well
for the ward to copy.
I found out to-day that the letter which Maxall
promised me he would not give Cleland without my
knowledge, he has been endeavouring to force upon
her. She brought it to me this morning unopened.
The daughter is like the father in this respect, strictly
and highly honourable.
"Maxall gave it to me," she said, "and forbade me
to tell you anything about it; but as I promised not
to read any letter you had not looked into first, I'll
keep my word; for I don't like dirty tricks, though
Maxall does. Take the letter, please. I won't read
it; but I'd rather you did not, either." So I put it
on the fire, and formed my own opinion of Mr.
Maxall's conduct.
"When he knows that it is burnt he will bring me
another; but I will give it to you, although I shall
get a good bite for doing it."
"A bite, Cle ? What do you mean ?"
"Oh," she laughed, "Maxall bites and pinches when
he is in a rage with me. Look here !"—and she
pushed her shoulder out of her dress, and showed me
a fearful-looking place, blue and red on the white
"He caught me in the dark passage leading to ,
my room last night; he had been hiding there half an
hour, and pounced out upon me-T.-made his teeth
meet here, and walked off -without a; word. That is
his way of taking revenge. Don't say anything about
it, please. I never do."
I was shocked beyond measure at this vicious trait
in the young man's character. I remonstrated with
the child, and inquired why she did not tell her
father. _

"Oh, I don't care to make a fuss about it. Papa
is very good to bear with him as he does. He takes
a great deal from him --much more than from either Ross
or me • and—and—it does not matter. He will
go away from Redfern sonic day, I suppose; then
I shall get peace." She heaved a great sigh as she
said it.
"You shall have it before, my ehild, if I can obtain
it for you," I said.
She kissed me affectionately, and began to cry.
" If I might only tell you that dreadful secret, I
think I should not hate him so! But I must talk
to him, and bear his horrid taunts and jeers. Oh,
how I wish that I had iiever known it! Beast
of a Maxall ! why need he have told me ?” And
then she sobbed bitterly in my arms for a long
time after.

I could not comfort her, for this secret is not
mine.

The house seems cheerless without its master ; we
have had more than enough time to breathe freely..
No one appears to know where he is. Domingo has
not returned, nor the man and dog-cart. Ross
imagines him to be staying at the Royal Hotel, in St.
David's, as he has done that before, it seems, when
something has annoyed him at home, but never has
he remained away for so long as this.
The bailiff complains of overwork and want of
orders, and the butler Parkins is very insolent to us
all. He is constantly on the watch for my presence,
does nothing when I am absent, and refuses to let us
Lave any wine. Ross wishes me to dismiss him, but
I do not feel justified in doing that; therefore we have
no wine and no waiting on at dinner.
The former deprivation Maxall does not submit to
without a murmur, for, as I before remarked, he is
not abstemious. One of the servants likened Mr.
Ingestre to a bonfire in the house. True enough,
hut the bonfire cheers and warms, though its
flames alarm one at times. Maxall enjoys himself
thoroughly. He revels in his guardian's choice
collection of books, turns over his private folios of
prints and .paintings, strums on his harp, twangs
on his guitar, and, in fact, takes great liberties
with all Mr. Ingestre's most prized goods and
chattels.
He does it in perfect fearlessness of the conse-
quences, for be knows well that the high-minded boy
and girl will not carry tales of his doings, and that
if any mischief is done, Cle will, in all probability,
Lear the blame of it.
• "Papa will be sure to say I have broken the harp-
strings," she said to me this morning.
"But you will tell him you did not ?"
"No, I shall not."
"And why, pray ?"
"Because I don't think papa likes being angry with
Maxall. He can't hit him, you know, and he can
me; he would rather be in a rage with me than
Maxall." And she went on learning her lesson.
Cle has the soul of a martyr. With all her faults,
she is a fine, noble-hearted creature.
Sunday.—Yesterday was a boisterous day, and we
feel the high winds up here terribly. A large elm was
blown down in the avenue last night, and awoke all
the household with the crash it made in falling. Cleland
found her way to me; she was pale and shivering.
She had been dreaming about her father, she said, and
in her dreams the crash of the falling treewas his own
house falling in upon him. She could not sleep; she
was frightened and wretched, clinging to me con-
vulsively, as the fierce gusts of wind took the case-
ments and shook them violently. A bright moon
shone into the room, but its light gave her no
comfort.
"it was so awful," she whispered, "to see the great
black clouds tear past it so wildly, making the room
all light one moment, and pitch dark the next." My
attempted comfort was useless. I could not lay her
fears to rest, nor soothe her disturbed mind. I believe
she did not close her eyes the remainder of the night,
but lay with them hidden beside me, fearful that she
might see the ghost of her father if she dared to lift
them up.

The foregu...g was written before eight o'clock this
morning. It is now midnight; there is a solemn and
unnatural hush in the house; we are all up and
waking—waking and watching—for our master lies
on the threshold of the grave, and we know not but
that in another :ninute he may breathe his last in
this world. He was brought home this morning bleed-
ing and insensible.
Two farm labourers had found him at the foot of a
dangerous steep, called the Devil's Slide, Domingo
holding him in his arms. The dog-cart was broken
into splinters, and the groom and horse dead and
quite cold. They must have all fallen together down
the fearful steep at the side of the road, and descended
a depth of eighty feet into the wood below.
An hour after he was brought home he appeared
sensible, and looked round the group standing near
his bed.

"Ross, my boy," he said," come herc*; take hold of
my hand—not that one, it's done for. How is the
fellow, Smith, the groom ?"
"Very much hurt, sir," said the doctor, quickly.
"Does your arm pain you ?"
" Fearfully ! The pangs of death have got hold of
me. Is that Miss Wace standing over there? What's
that mark on your cheek ?-4 never saw it before,
though I have looked at your face often enough.
Where did you get it, eh? Ross, my boy, that Spanish
woman was on the pathway last night when I drove
by. The moon was bright, and I saw her great
mournful dark eyes fixed on me. I saw her, and so did
the mare; but Smith swore hard and fast it was only
a shadow across the road. I knew better, and it was
the ghostly look of her eyes that made Bess bolt. By
Jove! how the good mare went !—Miss Wace always
keeping ahead. She stood on the edge of the Devil's
Slide and beckoned. So away went Bess and I.
Heavens! how the trees crashed as we rode amongst
them."
Mr. Ingestre was delirious.

Ross will not leave his father's room, and Cle
crouches on a rug outside the door. I cannot pre-
vail on her to leave her weary post. Neither of them
have touched food to-day; they are sick and ill with
sorrow. If he should die-

Monday night.—l cannot write, my head throbs
painfully. I have been with Mr. I. all day. He
raves, and servants had best not hear his madness.
To-night on leaving his room to scratch this, I
stumbled over something outside the door; it was
Maxall on Isis knees listening,. •
nesday.—Danger is past. George Ingestre will
live; but his arm and hand are useless, and must
remain so a long time. I have left my post at his
bedside for a regular nurse to fill, as I have no wish
he should know that I attended on him in his madness.
As soon as his senses returned I left.

To-day Domingo gave me his account of the acci-
dPnt. His master was returning home from St.
David', by the road which skirts the wood known as
Biggin Hollow. When on the edge of the wood, Mr.
Ingestre drew up and told the man to get down and
see who that was standing on the path. Smith and
the ne,gro were amazed; for the moon was very
bright, and not a soul to be seen near them. Mr. I.
persisted, and Smith got down, but still maintained
he could see nothing.
"Massa hab dream, you know; nothie like a woman
in de path. So on we go--ah ! we did go !—and den
we all tumble right down—we all go down, down.
Massa say one bad word, no more. Me catch in de
tree, not hurt in least. Massa pretty nigh killed
though."
March 24.-1 have been ill. Fatigue and excite-
ment have done their work on me, and I have been
Laid prostrate on my bed. Stronger now, but not
well. I can write however, and tell you that Ingestre
has left his room. They say he is in a very weak and
shattered condition, and irritable beyond all bearing.
He complains so of the lack of attention he gets, and
says it is all owing to my being out of the way.
"What on earth did I go and fall ill for just when
I was wanted ?" Cleland, unfortunately, told him
that I had made myself ill by sitting up five days
and nights to watch him—just what I wished he
should not know.

(To be continued.)