The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1885-08-15 00:00:00

ItIGA'VTLESEIL4ED:I-.
OATHERINE'S MISTAKE;

A. SECRET FOR YEARS.

CHAPTER /.—(Continutd)
8/0227ay March, lst.—A day of rest and tran-
qqillif
-Y. Went to church in the morning, and after

;;11‘v1ce inspected the tombs of the Inle-Stre family.
e finest is that of Edward Maxall, the brother Mr.
14:4`4gestre spoke of as having died in Jamaica of the
9-Pox ; this, with the date, is recorded at the
b°ee°4 of the monument, as also the fact of its having
t,QII placed there by his sorrowing brother, George

vai Observed on the walls a plain marble tablet, with
" Helen Ingestre" on it in large letters,
liadruY cut. There was nothing beside the name to
.th rate more concerning her, and I inquired of Ross
kes reason of it. He did not know, he said; it was
Illether's tablet, he thought.
.His father cut the
4-"ale.and painted it fresh every year; he was always
.thTh2g it wanted painting. He did not often go to
; but whenever he did, on coming out, he
1y said the letters were not black enough—no
e could see them. From this, and the fact of his
tev
er allowing the mention of her name in his pre-
tetie-
z, Ross argued that she was much beloved, and
Vylamented at her death.
it4gain and again I looked at that name—" Helen
,aSestre ;" it had a fascination for me that I could
,ut resist Who and what was the lady whom he
•
,cied ? the mother of his children? Did he love
,r? did she worship him? Ah, can any woman, I
der, love him now, with all the growth of his
hull upon him, with the simple freshness of his
Zaahood gone, the dark stains of his misspent life
Vthering like shadows about the head that is whiten-
n with years!
,A lonely and sorrowful man—and he knows it. I
;1111 read the knowledge in his face. He has no
'easure in his children, for, though he loved them
1/assionately, they bring no solace to his heart. How
ttiaatt they, indeed—mistaught, savagely-reared things?
a eir mighty passions setting themselves in array
einst him, and he fearing, even while he fosters
Ife.ra in his bosom. And this is George Ingestre!
"is hard indeed to reconcile him with what I knew
and loved.
1140nday.—Mr. Ingestre returned home to-day.
c)ss and his sister had gone down to the lake to skate
au hour or two, and I was just preparing to fulfil
Promise of joining- them, when the master walked
V° the room I was about leaving. He slammed the
0r violently, and marched up to the fireplace with-
Word, merely kicking the poor cat from the rug
the other end of the room.
t,:eillen he turned a very black and sour face upon
en
and inquired after his "brats"—were they
" ?

" Perfectly well and happy," I said.
..1," ! he has forgotten all about this, thtn ; but
not." And he pointed to an ugly bruise on
lip.
Was much shocked, and said so.
lo," 133' Heavens! if I had remained a moment
"ger in the house I should have killed him!"
b " can believe it," I returned, for I thought his
titrlatality of speech demanded a little correction. He
eci up instantly at this.
then you know I am rather hot-tempered,
•

I said I believed so, from what I had seen and
Atil2,llen he commenced tramping the room round
liaa' across, and lashitig himself into a frenzy. What
Ivis_" I seen and heard, he should like to know ?
,Llat confounded tales had people been poisoning
ears with? He supposed I had been in the
th'age collecting all the gossip, and scandal, and lies
D,Aat could be gleaned up about him ; and there was
nt•
S, Heaven knew. He supposed I had heard he
• as profligate a scoundrel as the country side
boast. He supposed I had heard he was
ta.P,,a1137 drunk seven days in the week (for people
that) ; and he finally supposed I had heard
Cte enough to make me leave the house, like all
tiae rest of the fools he had got into it to teach his
Eellghter and check the servants. I was going, then;
„Icas prepared for it. Directly he saw me, he knew
kouas much too good to remain in ids miserable
th4se a week;7too much of a lady, indeed, to tolerate
n
• inanners of his horrible children and self. So I
• going, in consequence of lies, and rubbish, and
Tage gossip.
_ta;, rnade no reply to this. I did not see that it
for one. Nevertheless, I was the least bit
tallsed at it.
Are you going, Miss Wace ?
d; Yes, sir; with your permission, I will go and
ess for dinner."
jt 9"
o u—n—lfm—l mean, are you going to leave my
Ilse
_ •

"I have no intention of doing so al present, sir."
Oh and he threw himself into an easy chair,
Cvn glared at me with a sort of satisfied ferocity. I
`4 one thing more to say, and I said it as briefly as
fne°4l.d. I spoke of Ross's deep contrition for his
h":11It; his acute suffering, and great anxiety to ask
Os father's forgiveness.
" Miss Wace, tell me what I ought to do."
" I cannot think of offering advice," I returned.
" And why not ?"
tip
Jecause in such a case as this the offended parent
Rst be the fittest and only judge." •
e scowled, kicked the cat again, and rang the bell
Violently.
,I,seized this opportunity to leave the room, glad
yi so, for Mr. Ingestre's moods alarm me, although '
snow
4,an no outward sign of fear. He is a violent
• otv..,but not mad, and that idea is a most ridiculous
lie
may
well afford to laugh at it.
arch
7 th.—l resume my narrative, after the lapse
week. I have been too unwell to leave my room,
Ll:a bad cold, attended with fever, confined me to my
vrtinent, and I left it for the first time to-day.
taelr• Ingestre has been very solicitous that I should
e rnedieal advice, and in many ways prove that
-sae PPreciates my services in his behalf, by not
'ng to lose them.
Cleland has been both a torment and a comfort to
itie,4 her train of dogs and herself persisting in attend-
°n every meal I took ; the former making a
41vstling place of my bed, the latter hanging round
eOO neck, and almost killing me with the messes she
atiri'c'eted for my cure. The girl has a most lovable
s,h' affectionate heart for those she approves of; but
pre she dislikes, she can be odious.
sr`ess sent me up flowers every day from the con-
!atory, for which I thanked him this morning in
be.,4,2n. He blushed, and tossed back the sunny
ii curl which always lies on his white forehead.
l'ashLana glad they pleased you," he laughed, and
off to tumble about with his black setter
ii" There was very nearly a row—l beg pardon, I
41 a quarrel—about those flowers,'' said Cle, after
flo:as gone. " West does not like the hothouse
,ers cut, the old humbug!"
(Insh, Cle!" A
fo 41, lid he went and told papa, and papa called Ross
301 (I think the old gentleman was a little jealous,
Of eitist know, Miss Wace, because Ross had thought
°ing it, and he hadn't), and forbade him to send
11ew4.,1137 more. Ross said he would ; then the squire
stio„lnto one of his passions, and swore the door
ed be locked. Ross didn't say much, but he had
'htorr,eadful headache all the day after, for papa
to Ced finely when he said he should just ride over
.dicz °,Wtrioor and cut some at Fenton's there ; and he
lietratde,to Lowmoor to get them before breakfast.
011 °flt let him think that you know it, please. I
ArA, t°ld you to show how lie likes you, and tries to
Naarent himself from getting into a shind—l mean a
Thtel With his father."
ISs„,e,re is to be a dinner party to-morrow. Mr.
tall,"re asked me if I should be able to preside at
I declined doing so, on account of my weak-
lookei annoyed, and was planning to
thi
11g.the entertainment, but I would not permit such
,
.that:t„.l,.t there are ladies coming. Wh&is to receive
•
tan °llia be in the drawing-room before and after
r, if he wished, I said,
'eSsi,,,do wish it, then. And will you be good
of ei 6,[1 to look after that girl Cle, and keep her out,
y t ? for she is not fit for civilised beings to look
ilile although wonderfully improved in the short
You have had her in harness. I can never
lite4;lently thank you, Miss Wace, for the many
sitiott4nt ehanges you have wrought in my poor
'44t-jeL, I make no parade of the gratituJe I feel,
CUt
•thert his acknowledgments; I cannot bear
to Iv e should thank me. Would he do so if he knew
Dak,mhoai he oweLl his gratitude? I have indeed
i (Alt of his remembrance, and wish to take
inllyug from him but his money, and that, I can
1'4)111, seem to abhor myself for
or receiving. It is
nouse is, in this short time rendered more
by the strict rules and regulations I have
n and enforced. I have reduced the number
t'aletn::ll,ts, for they were suileriluous, many of
aettite rule the rest with a rod of iron. They
114 N it, and like me none the less that I can be
11 their delinquencies, when thrust too visibly
r ray
thtt4 . notice. lam far from being a happy
ti_fTer;
,this house; God only knows how keenly I
feer I feel that I am doing good in it, and
tw_en nio-la,g is the balm I hold to my aching heart
s 6 Piteously calling out fog rest and forget.;
. .
•
CHAPTER VI.. . .
bt.&1.114) A FORESHADOWING. ,
ho -a5 Mr. Ingestre's ward arriveae.froin,Celn7.
Seventeen years of .age,: rather
io .s.lkhCkfk .figure, with a dark Creole fat&
are small and regular, the eyes fine, but.
ititheir expression, and the mouth is very
ot • F_
I
40140_ 4„ "6 manners are easy and well-bred; but,
Ito ling e4448°11,, I 'was not prepossessed inhis favo'ur.
(14e 4 e introduced him to Me as his ward and
t}lt ha Maxall Maxall,
4,4„ that' Cleland's pretty face was like a
env,: 'lou,z/ th .
At b +.4114,,h . the whole time of his presence in the
134`e spol,e% e'never once addressed a word to him.
ee, and her, she instantly turned her shoulder.
Once Only, I eatteit essiot

face as she did so: He was cracking a walnut at
dessert, and I saw him curl his lips in and show all
his white teeth from end to end, while he shivered
the nut in atoms between his fingers. I knew by that
look the ward had mischief in him.
The visitors yesterday I need not enumerate; but
the evening did not pass off so well as the host
anticipated, I am afraid. In accordance with Mr.
I.'s wishes, I had taken, as I imagined, the safest
prwaution with regard to Cle's detention up-stairs,
knowing full well that with her intense curiosity to
see the "ladies," she was not to be trusted in their
vicinity. But to my great astonishment, her father
rushed up to my dressing-room just before dinner,
and begged me to keep "that little vagrant" under
lock and key, as she was then engaged in scaling the
conservatory, and attempting to force an entrance
into the drawing-room that way.
I hurried out instantly, but to no purpose; she
set up a peal of boisterous laughter, leaped lightly
down on to the garden wall, ran all along it, and
disappeared over the stable roofs. I closed the
window and went away, thinking her safer out of
the house than in it. I feel now that this was great
culpability on my part, and I blame myself bitterly
for all that, came after.
I was in the drawing-room alone, when the four
ladies came in after dinner. Two elderly, two young.
One of the latter I thought handsome; pink com-
plexion, blue eyes, and blonde hair, :made her look
pm etty enough, combined with her white shoulders
and pale blue dress.
They were none of them very affable to me, and
all stared rudely many times. It might have been
my dress, for I wore a Spanish lace, with mantilla.
Dare I confess to you that I thought it might, per-
haps, recall some old, old memory to his mind? A
weakness, an impulse I could not resist, compelled
me to don that dress. I reCeived as a just punish-
ment of this weakness the fact that its indulgence
proved fruitless.
The gentlemen, thirteen in number, trooped in, and
above them all towered Mr. Ingestre. His eye darted
round the room, fearing, or rather expecting, that I
had shrunk from the performance of my duty. It
alighted on me, was satisfied, and turned away.
Ross and Maxall came instantly to fill the empty
seats at my side. The latter was evidently anxious
to make my acquaintance, and approach a little
nearer to intimacy than he had been able to do yet.
But I could neither listen nor reply to him. I was
watching the host, whose mellow laugh, frank smile,
and brilliant eye, had an old spell in them, and I
longed of all things to know whether the charm
existed for others as well as for me. _

_
I think so. There were younger and handsomer
men present in that room than he; but none whom
every one sought as they sought him—whom every
eye followed, every lip addrersed, and every face
seemed to shine on. It is true, his manner has a
subtle charm; you may despise, but still like him;
you may hate, but still admire him
[Here a page of the journal has been torn out, but
is resumed thus :—]
I felt my cheek wet with tears, and heard Ross
inquiring if I was unwell.
"Nervous and fatigued," I said, as an excuse for
my stupidity. He murmured something, and moved
away.
I saw him thread his way to his father, and touch
him on the arm. Mr. I. turned round instantly, and
looked at me. Ross whispered something, and his
father made his way towards the spot where I sat,
but gradually, not to attract attention either to him-
self or me.
"Ross tells me that you are not well; that it is
cruel to detain you here any longer. Do you wish to
go ?" he whispered.
"Not if you think I ought to remain, sir."
He made no reply to this, but remarked on the
becomingness of the dress I wore.
"I like it better than any I have seen since I left
Jamaica. I like the mantilla; it becomes your pale
oval face. Don't move," for I rose to go; I need not
tell why.
"I will go away, I am going; but I want you to
stay and hear me sing a duet with Miss Drayson, the
pretty girl with the tow hair over the way."
He moved off, and soon after led the lady to the
piano, and he himself took the harp. I suppose every
one there knew he was a fine musician, for the silence
was instantaneous the moment he sounded the first
few chords. These had just swelled into a symphony,
and Miss Drayson was open-mouthed, preparing for
her first piercing note, when the drawing-room door
was burst open from without.
Sancho, Carlo, Lady, and Countess, with a couple
of foxhounds, names unknown, bounded into the
room, leaping and yelping amongst the company in a
state of high mental excitement at the novelty of the
scene. One moment I saw the flashing of their tails
around me; the next I beheld Cleland, a dishevelled
picture of horror and distress; her hands upraised,
and her mouth wide open.
"Oh, Ross! oh, Ross! your black mare has just
foaled in the close, and Bob says---"
But what Bob said Cleland ought not to have heard,
much less repeated.
"And you must come now, if you want to see her
before she dies."
Poor Ross! his distress and confusion were most
pitiful, and he lost all presence of mind at the unbe-
comingness of this dreadful intrusion. I believe I was
the only one there not rendered completely powerless
with astonishment. I went up to the girl, took her
hand, hurried her' away, and called the dogs to follow.
I listened for a moment outside the door. The harp
took up its strain, and I drew a free breath.
"Now, Cleland, how dared you disobey me, and go
into that room ?" I could not refrain a sharp shake
of the hand I held, for I was sadly annoyed.
"Oh, Miss Wace! Now, you are angry with me.
What have I done? I didn't mean it. But I was so
sorry the mare could not live, and Bob Wants Ross to
see her before she dies. Do let me go back and fetch
him—please do. I'll steal in like a mouse, and no one
will hear me."
I was too angry to reply. I kept her hand fast,
and walked her, downstairs, determined to. take her
into the library, and there try to make her sensible of
*the enormity she had committed. We were crossing
the hall when I heard the door open and shut.
I dreaded something, I scarcely knew what; but I
clutched the child's hand, and hurried on faster than
ever. Too late! There was a heavy step on the
stairs, bounding at a tiger's speed down them; and I
knew who it was before Mr. Ingestre caught hold of
Cleland's arm, and snatched her from me. . ,
His face was shocking to look at. I could not
move or speak, or raise my hand even, when I saw
his uplifted to strike her—which he did, heavily.
She neither flinched nor cried out, but remained
mute and passive in his gripe. At that instant the
coachman came in with the carriage furs and whip in
his hand. Ingestre caught sight of him.
"Bring that whip here!" he yelled out.
The man hesitated, and looked at me. Another
command, and the whip was put into his hand.
I remember darting at it. I remember a cut like
fire stinging my face. I remember having hold of
his arm, and then lying the next moment on the
ground, almost blinded. The coachman must have
raised me, for when I could see again he was standing
by, with my handkerchief and scarf in his hand. .
The whip was broken in two, and Mr. Ingestre
was beating the child with the massive silver handle,
while she endured it without. a shiver or sob, her poor
little face buried in her hands.
I snatched the thing out of his hand, and flung it
away. He swore at, me ; but even that I did not,
heed. I wrapped my arms round the child, and he
only laughed savagely.
"That won't save her! I'll kill her next time!
Benson T tell Domingo to come to my room and bring
plenty of hot water."
There were marks of blood upon his face, and his
coat was torn. Cleland was in my arms, and so
heavy that to support her I sat down on the lowest
stair. Her arms '.ere round me; teat I saw thiit she
had fainted.
Poor creature! I would not take any means of
disturbing th,c3 lethargy into which she had fallen. I
t nought it a merciful oblivion for her. While she lay
like this, I heard a step behind me; it was Ross, and
he had only to look at what my arms held to learn all.
He did not say anything --only stooped down, and
carried her away in his strong arms; but not before
I saw that his eyes were streaming down tears upon
her poor -white face. Her black curls nestled close to
I his heart. and I knew she would find comfort there.
• (7o be eontinuedd