The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-02-06 00:00:00

CALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

CATHERINE'S MISTAKE,

A SECRET FOR YEARS.

CHAPTER LVI.

EXPLANATIONS.

CLELAND returned -t-o—i-lie.i;;Se—and found Madame
Bernstein awaiting her. They were both filled with
dreary presentiments of evil in store. Cleland but
half understood what had passed before her eyes that
day; all she comprehended was, that her father had
not committed the crime he had been on the verge of.
All beyond was a mystery to her; and now, sitting
alone with the baroness by the firelight, in her
father's study, she implored her, through her tears,
to tell her what it meant—who was that strange dark
man and how had Miss \\race known her father so
long ago?
Madame „Bernstein was also very unhappy—un-
haPpy because Lina was feverish and ill with the ex-
citement of the day; unhappy because of Catherine's
strange flight, and the wretched discovery that
George Ingestre was really dead and in his grave.
Still, she dried her tears and assumed a cheerfulness
of manner, when she found that Cleland's sorrow was
only aggravated by the display of her own.
"I wil: tell you, my dear, as far as I know and
have been enlightened to-day; but I must go back
many years, and begin from the very beginning, or
You will not understand how I came to know any-
thing about your father's and uncle's affairs. Do
You think you shall be tired, my child, before I have
done ? " _

_ .
"No, oh, no! tell me, and I will promise to listen."
She laid her head down on the baroness's knees, and
the lady stroked her hair tenderly, while she con-
tinued thus : _ _

"You know my father was your grandfather's
steward, and we, his family, lived at Westwood
Farm, thus becoming very intimate with the young
gentlemen up at the House (that is, here, at Redfern;
it was always called 'The House' by us). They were
fine, handsome boys all of them; but, my dear, your
grandfather had committed a heinous sin.by them.
They could not inherit his property, ner even bear his
name lawfully, for their mother was not his wife,
although she was always called Mrs. Ingestre.
Nll, one after another these fine boys dropped
into their graves. Two. were drowned, one died of
fever, and the fourth was flung from his horse; and
the father, beginning to take it as a judgment of
Heaven, married the mother, and a very few months
after George Ross was born, the heir of all his pro-
Perty. Edward Maxall was his senior by about four
Years, and it seemed hard that the younger brother
shoull stand before him. But still there was no such
thing as jealousy between them, for they were both
noble-hearted, open-handed fellows, and loved each
Other dearly.
"Sc. all the children not born in wedlock died but
Edward, and then his father said he should share the
Jamaica plantations, and his brother possess the
English estate. So, when they were young men, the
two went out to the island together, the younger in-
tending to return home soon. I went out a few
months after, for a Mr. Clive, a planter out there,
Who had come over to see Mr. Ingestre on business,
fell in love with me, and at sixteen I was a wife, and
living abroad with my husband. The two Ingestres
lived at Kingston, lat Spanish Town; still, we kept
°P our old intimacy and correspondence. George '
did not return home so soon as he intended, but that
Was no wonder, for the life in Jamaica was an
alluring one to both—courted, flattered, and every
luxury of life at their command.
'Well, my dear, not very far from me resided a
family which I perfectly well knew hal great attrac-
tions for one of the Ingestres. The father was a
native Spaniard, the mother a Spanish creole ; and
they had one daughter—a graceful, lovely creature of
fifteen er sixteen, not more, but quite a woman, I
remember. I knew very little of them personally;
but my black maid used to tell me there was a
certain creole gentleman the father favoured, and the
daughter would not listen to. / could guess the
reason; for more than once I had seen George In-
gestre waiting at night in the cinnamon grove at the
end of our street, evidently watching for someone.
But it was no business of mine, and soon after that I
left with my husband for St. Domingo, and remained
there about eighteen months.
'When I returned, the small-pox had broken out
ainong the neg,roes on the Ingestre plantations. It
raged like a plague; and the next I heard was that
both the young men were down with it. Edward
kaxall was reported dead, and, as I heard, buried
two hours after; for the loathsome disease made this
necessary in that climate. I was living at quite the
°PPosite side of the island then, and all communica-
tion with the infected portion was strictly forbidden
°Y government, so we heard very little of what was
going on.

"and now, who do you think I discovered living
a beautiful little house not half a mile from me?
ne lady whom you have known as Catherine Wace,
1113' dear; but who confessed to me, in her hour of
rFeat trouble, that her true name was Catherine
.I.nges tre ; for George Ross had married her, and
tileY had lived together in that exquisite little house
at such times as he could leave Kingston without
auspicion. She had heard of the disease raging there,
and was nearly frantic when they forbade her to
leave
.the village. _ _ .

"The poor filing came to me for advice, and told
me that not only her husband but her child also was
at Kingston; for the father always kept it near him,
he loved it so passionately. I aid my best to com-
fort her ; but as to assist her in gaining the for-
bidden ground, that was impossible, for we were
closely watched. But at last some kind soul sent
u_s word George was slowly recovering; so poor
Catherine was forced to be content ald remain as
quiet as she could.
"Soon.after that I heard from my husband that
the old squire was dead, and the heir wanted in Elle,-
land. I told Mrs. Ingestre the news, aril she talked
ail that evening about the life she would lead at Red-
as the Squire's lady, and I remember well telling
of the neighbours she would have—the Draysons,
Colonel Jones, and all the rest of it. Ah, me! who
Would have thought what was coming?
" ttiWell, my dear, the very next night, as I was
sing with her in the acacia harbour (I never smell
!I white acacia now, but I think of that night), a
letter, all fumigated, was brought us by a sailor. He
had come from Kingston, he said, where the small-
Was dying out, and the letter had been given
'un by a gentleman to deliver into Miss Franchi's
°Wa hands. She opened the letter while I sat there
(for the inscription seemed in her husband's hand),
and Cleland dear' that cruel letter told that he was
going to sail for England in three weeks' time; that
their marriage had been no marriage at all, for it had
not been performed according to the laws of his
country, and consequently was not binding on him;
that he must leave her, as it was impossible she should
accompany him to his home. And then it told her the
poor little boy was dead of the fell disease, and had
ela buried in the same coffin as its uncle.
"Au, child! I cannot dwell upon that poor
creature's woe. Her good name, her child was gone,
rid she had a second coming to share her lift, of shame.
took her into my house, and from that time until
Gner little girl was born, she was not once conscious.
~e°rge Ingestre, who, as we supposed, had survived,
uld not sail in three weeks' time; a great friend and
ralpanion of his, Fernando Ponti, the creole, son of a
~P,,anish noble by a beautiful slave, stabbed him in the
°,luo: The man was hung, Cle," (here the lady
,Buticidered, and looked fearfully round the room).
,qle was hung, Cle, and Ingestre did not go to
'ngland for two months after; but he never noticed
Poor Catherine again. Her child was born, and
g00(1 husband allowed me to adopt it as my own, on
_ondition the mother should never claim it in any
way. She consented for the child's sake, and went
aWay to Europe to be a governess, she said. She has
s_uPported herself in that way for very many years
tioNv, always writing to me and letting me know she
'Was still alive. I wrote to her also, giving her a full
aCeount of Lina and all her pretty little ways; but
they never met until I came to Westwood this year."
"But, madame—my father; is he not George Ross
'ng'estre ? Did he not marry this lady?"
Cle ; it seems George died, and Edward lived,
lad this man Pond put it into his head to take his
ojdothees name, and so inherit all the property. He
80. and, you see, has had to pay the penalty.
lo therine thought she was going to marry her old
and—oh, dear ! oh, dear; what a sad ending, to
11, sure l—how could Edward be such a wretch as to
another wife all the time!"
" Strange," said Cleland, staring into the fire,
▪ tilat she should not have known the difference
.'etween the two—mistaken one for the other."
They were very much alike in person and
h annex'," was the'reply, "only George was really the
re andsdrnest and the noblest-hearted of the two. And
rinaernber, she had never seen Edward, and believed,
,b,l4;e all the rest, he was George. And to think that
'`eked creole wrote that letter, and plotted poor
atherine's ruin so thoroughly ! "
" And now who will haVe Redfern, and all my-
lather's money?"
"Ingram Ross Ingestre, his first cousin."
Cleland still looked into the fire.
„." Baroness, they cannot take me from him; I am
418 daughter ? "
" No, my child; you must be all in all to him now,
Ile has no one else."
"I will; I will never leave him."
And Cleland kept her word.