The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1885-10-17 00:00:00

FALL niorrrs RIME RVED

CATHERINE'S MISTAKE,

A SECRET FOR YEARS

CHA.PTER XX.

April 1.604.—Mr. Ingestre's exploits again! you
Will exclaim—shall I never have done recording them?
If I ventured to read over what I have written (which
I never do), but a few sheets, I fancy, would reach
YOU. George Ingestre and his doings seeems to en-
gro.r.s my pen; and yet how can it be otherwise in
this house, where all, from the young heir down to the
scullery-maid, take their humour from his will—study
Ills frown, gather gaiety from his smiles, court his
notice, and wither up, I may say, beneath his dis-
Pleasure.
It is one of this man's strongest characteristics, his
Power of engrossing, not the affection, but the mental
Obedience of those surrounding him. We are his
Slaves, not in word or deed, it may be, but morally.
The whole household is swayed by this power. I
cannot say how he exerts it, I cannot even tell the
means by which he gains it. Sometimes I fancy it
.lust be by the rare fascination of his manner, when
his fierce temper is dormant; at others, I believe it to
be by that wild, savage temper itself, so boundless in
its rage, that the very ignorance of what its extremes
'flay be capable of keeps us in a species of spell-bound
terror.
So in his house he is all in all; feared, but not re-
gPected—admired, but not loved (save by his two
Children)—his favour courted, but not valued—all his
humours studied.
Mr. Ingrestre at Redfern is a sultan, and we all
Worship him with slavish adulation, knowing full well
that our poor hearts are frozen with terror the while.
I—l am as servile as the rest. Do I not sweeten his
Coffee to his taste? do I not torment myself about the
dinner that shall be to his liking? do I not labour in-
cessantly to smooth away any trouble which may
cost him a frown? hold my tongue when he storms?
talk when he smiles? take at least three parts of the
toil and trouble of his household upon my own
Shoulders? and play an accompaniment to his songs
When he wishes to sing in public, rather than annoy
him. _ .

And what do I get for my pains, for my desire to
bask in his sunshine, and not shudder at his wrath?
You shall hear. I will tell you without disguise what
our sultan did.
To begin at the beginning. Cleland, Ross, and my-
self reached Lowmoor by eight o'clock; we had the
carriage to ourselves, as Mr. Ingrestre and Ma.xall
dined that day at Colebrook, Sir John Drayson's place,
near Lowmoor. By the time we entered the concert
room, the first glee had commenced, I was annoyed,
of course, at our late arrival, as we had to disturb so
nlany in gaining our seats, which were in the front
row, close to the platform; but I think we three, at
least, were infinitely relieved to find Mr. Ingestre was
not among the singers, and therefore not likely to
notice the slight'commotion.
I did not think much of the ladies' singing, and
none of the gentlemen had even tolerable voices, ex-
cepting Maxall, who chirruped sweetly enough in his
high tenor songs. Mr. Ingestre, contrary to all ex-
Pectation, did not appear on the platform until the
very last; and then, without even bowing to the
lnurrnur of applause which greeted him, came forward
and handed me from my seat to that in front of the
harp which stood in the middle of the platform.
I had been dreading, anticipating this trial to my
herves all the evening; it had come at last. But, ah !
it was little in comparison to what came after. In
striking the first few chords, I looked up inadvertently
towards his face; it was turned towards me. I met
his eyes, and then I knew, I felt that he would do
Something he should not.
Do you know " Acielaida ? Have you ever been
delighted by the tender, wild, and passionate strains
Of the most glorious love sang ever written? If you
have, think what I suffered when he sang it in my
ears—sang it to me, for me—standing with his back
to those hundreds of faces, looking only on mine, and
Pouring out from his heart, in sweetest and most thril-
ling notes, the burning love breathing in every echo of
that strain.
Ala! never while I live shall I forget that time!
Shame was uppermost; but oh! such a cruel pain at
laly heart—such a conflict of contending emotions! I
could have killed him. I could have forgiven him. I
hated because I felt—yes, felt, that I could love him •
because that voice, that fire, had melted my heart as
It had done so often of old; because he was unchanged;
because_,'
Thank Heaven, he never knew the absurd power
nIS voice and song had over me. I never struck a
also note in the accompaniment; I never moved a '
Muscle of my face; but when the son, was ended, !
When the last passionate cry on the lovedone's name
uied away, I rose and left the platform by a door ati
the back. I found myself in a room crowded with '
People,
I Passed through, left the ball by some unknown
means, and found myself at last seated in the carriage'
and waiting for the rest. I suppose some one told or
Znided me in the way to find it. I cannot remember.'
All I recollect is, that for some blesded moments I was
alone_alone with my tears and the cruel pain at my
heart.
could not think—only feel my sorrow, and my
happiness.
Happiness! what a mockery of the word! Happi-
ness to think that a man who loved me seventeen
Years 'ago, loves me now under an assumed name
and a)... altered face; so altered, that he never once
suspects the identity of the two. You who know what
I have suffered can join in the jeer at my weakness.
I don't spare myself; but think not he can fool me
twice. I will go away—l will leave his house. Dearly
as I love his children, I will leave them rather than
that.
And so I told him when he returned home. He had
the audacity to ride back with us in the carriage, to
,seize my hand and hold it in his, concealed beneath
the folds of my opera cloak. Move it I could not, and
there he sat laughing and talking in the highest
Spirits, while I suffered a mingled agony of intense
rain and pleasure. Yes—l write the word again,
Pleasure
Here the MS. breaks off abruptly.

CHAPTER XXI.
MR. KENT IS SURPRISED.

IT Was four o'clock in the afternoon of a beautiful day
in June that Mr. Kent left his office, took his way west, '
and entered one of a tine row of houses in Pimlico, in
Which he held his private chambers.
; For Mr. Kent was a bachelor, and although possess-
ing a country residence, a mother, and three maiden I,
sisters, he prefered ease and liberty in London '
Hence
-
Hence these handsomely fitted-out apartments ha i
• Street, Pimlico.
In a thoughtful mood the lawyer proceeded up-
stairs and entered his room, absently closingflie door
after him. He had moved some half-dozen paces ,
forward, when he stopped short, and exclaimed, with
great astonishment, "God bless me ! "
A gentleman seated in an arm-chair near one of the
Windows, looked up over the top of the newspaper he
Was reading, and said—
"Well, Kent, you've come at last. I have been .
down to ti e °lnce twice after you. How are you ? "
Here he rose, threw aside the paper, and held out his
hand with a frank heartiness.
"Upon my word, you are the very last person I
svhould have thought to meet to-night, and yet the one
ost wished to see. All well at Redfern, I hope ? "
"Yes, tolerably. Ross has turned invalid for the
sake of the nursing he gets: the girl is all right; and
as for Maxall, where the deuce he is no one can tell;
and the fact is, I have come up to look after him.
Haven't seen or heard anything of him these six weeks.
Has the fellow been near you? "
"To be sure; he brought me those deeds and
the copy of the, lease. Let me see, I have the date in
'.4.137 pocket-book. Yes, on the lEth of May, and this
ls the 10th of June. Do you really mean, Mr. In-
gestre, you have no idea of your wars where-
abouts ?"
"None in the least. I sent him up to London with
those papers for you, and a cheque -for a hundred +
Pounds to pay a bill with I owed at Stamford's, and
told him to be home by the end of the week. That
Was on the 9th of May, so where on earth Maxwelt is
don't know."
"Humph! you say you have no idea. Do you
uaPPen to know whether he has any friends or cora-
Panions who would be likely to induce him to play
vou this trick ? "
"Well, to tell you the truth, I don't know, and
A
s'en't much care," said the visitor, throwing himself
°lice more into the arm-thair, and taking up, but not
attempting to read, the discarded newspaper. "I
l'ather suppose that when he has spent all his own
more.l3l°ll€7 and mine too, he'll come back and ask for
I shall not wait for that, however, for I intend
ring to all the dead-houses in London, to cast an eye
the bodies there—go to the police-stations, offer a
reward for his apprehension, advertise him in all the
zl
„„ewsPapers and on the walls, arith such a faithful de-
72iPtion of his black-skinned little person that shall
ake him unsolicitous of public portraiture a secone
time.
That is what I mean to do, Kent, and when
at is done, man can do no more, I take it. About
that Westwood case; has it come on yeti,"
'No: and cannot until next term. Meanwhile, if
,f,,,usn. follow my advice, you will effect a compromise
"ith the Bernsteins—they are in London."
'-Are they, really? By Jove, I will go and see 15am-e
ringon that was, just for the fun of paying court
herOf as a German baroness. She was an old flame
brother's, you must know, when he was a
,ngster."
_Of yours, I always understood."
-Dar. Ingestre laughed.
suppose my modesty put her down to Ned."
he laugh
was not a natural one, and the news-
rr concealed the speaker's face.
And is Mr. Maxall's absence the principal reason of
04,7 visit to London, or is there any more pressing
have yet to communicate ?"
44,0. lawyer's curiosity was far from impertinent,
Ingestre evidently :understood it.
nothing beyond what I told you in my last
tit "r• I was sick of Redfern and thowslit it quite
Ile to hunt up that young rascal."
"
, you will dine with me, Mr. Ingestre, and
7 We will talk that an''' some other matters ()yap

Dinner will be up in a quarter of an hour; my dress-
ing-room is at your service in the meantime."
The invitation was accepted, and the lawyer and
his client discussed law and its bearings, polities and
their turnings, until the cloth was removed, the wine
on the table, and the footman gone. Then Mr. Kent
took out his pocket-book, and commenced arranging
some papers and notes, while the other watched his
proceedings with an absent air.
" Ah! by-the-bye," exclaimed the lawyer, as if a
sudden thought had struck him, "Mr. Maxall said:
something about that lady I sent down to Redfern not
exactly suiting you. Is such the case ?"
"What has he been swim: about her r
"Well, mai,. I forget; but I know he made several
complaints against her—said she was haughty, over-
bearing, andl—e-,"
"That will do, Kent. Miss Waco shall not be
abused even second-hand in my presence; she has
insults enough and trouble enough to endure every
hour of her life in my house, and I will not
allow—"

"Indeed, I beg Miss Wace's pardon," interrupted
the lawyer, with a little laugh. "I'll not abuse her
in any way; I am only glad to find she suits you so
well."
"Yes, she suits me well, Kent," returned the other,
folding his arms on the table, and looking at his
lawyer with resolute defiance in eye and lip. "Yes,
she suits me well, too well."
Then Mr. Kent looked up, and there was a few
moments' silence on both sides. George Ingestre's
voice was the first to break it, and it was husky and
faltering as Ile said:
"I wish that you had never sent her. I wish I had
never seen her! I wish that, every hour of the day I
have to pass in the same house with her. She is a
bliss and a torment to me; she is the only woman I
have loved, the only woman I have longed for as a
wife. With all my heart and all my soul, Kent, I
want her as my wife?'
There was a pause, and then 1‘1;*. Ingestro added
slowly and deliberately as though the weight of each
word had been well calculated on beforehand :
"And you must help me to get her as one."
The lawyer pushed his wine-glass away, spread out
his papers, and appeared to be much engrossed by
their contents, _ _ .

His visitor waited with marked impatience for a
look or token to show that his last words had been
understood. But Mr. Kent said nothing, and by no
sign gave evidence that hcb attached any moaning to
the energetic sentences he must needs have heard.
"Well !"
Mr. Kent looked up at this, and the other repeated
his last words with even greater emphasis.
"Ah ! and did you really come all the way from
Redfern only to tell me this, Mr. Ingestre ? Nonsense,
sheer nonsense, my dear sir; don't think of it for an
instant."
"I have thought of it for the last month, I think
of it all day long; and you know what that means
with me."___

dull rooms. I went home to dine that clay, an saw
her there. I got her face by heart and liked it better as I
threw myself more in her way, and saw more of the
glorious metal she was made of. And then liking
was no word for the feeling that grew up in my heart
for her. There it is, and there it must remain, till
the heart that it grows in is cold, Kent! It is a pas-
sion—an overwhelming, devouring passion! I hate
the dog she stoops to lay her hand .on. I envy those
household accounts she is poring over two hours in
the morning. Anything that carries her eyes, her
voice, her thoughts away from me becomes abomina-
tion in my sight. I haunt her footsteps only that I
may hear their sound. The rustle of her dress has
divine music in it. I can shut my eyes and live feii
a time in the exquisite happiness it imparts. But to
secure her for a while in the same room—alone 41.tf1
the sound of her voice—alene with her dark, queenly
self—this is beyond happiness; it is something which
has no name !" _ _ .

Here he ceased, and his trembling hand took up one
of the cigars (Garland had not forgotten. He lighted
and puffed away at it, as though the vapour curling
round his head and face imparted a trttnquill4v tco
his spirit.
(To be continued)