The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-10-23 00:00:00

ATHERSTOIVE GRANGE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"Allan Thornton," "Effie Baird," "Almost a
Criminal," "Leonard's Legacy," ST,

CHAPTER XLI.
THE LITTLE RIFT,
It is the little rift within the lute
That, by-and-by, will make the music mute.
—TENNYSON.
LW', darling, I have something to ask you."
Is was Graham Carson who spoke, walking in the
Woods by Atherstone Grange, with the birds singing ,
Overhead, and the sweet spring flowers springing up
Under his feet, and the soft blue eyes of Lillian Ather-
stone looking up into his face. The Atherstone eyes
Were a marked feature in the face of the rector's daughter
but their expression was very different from the eyes
that gleamed down from the canvasses in the drawing-
room of the Grange. Her brothers had the d irk
eyes of their mother's family ; all but the dead sai:or,
Who had inherited the blue eyes and del;erreined spirit
of the race. Lily's eyes were like Beryl's in colour,
but not in expression—there was a hard, defiant look
about the heiress now and then, which bad no pace
In Lily's gentle face.
Matters had been arranged between Mr.
Carson the elder, and the rector about the marriage
of the young people, and it was to tak.e place on the
same day as the other wedding; a brother clergyman
and intimate friend of the rector's was to perform the
ceremony, and Norton Atherstone would give his child
away on the same day that his eldest son stepped into
a fortune and position which was incended to have
been his by its last possessor. Lily was proceeding
with her preparations with all the girlish delight that
is so enjoyable and so evanescent, and a pretty house
in the suburbs of Leamington had been provided for
the couple. Mr. Carson had been very liberal, and
the rector had met him with equal generosity. The
business at the office was hencelotto to be "Carson
and Son," and the senior partner would retire as soon
as he could get rid of the business in which he was
actually personally engaged. Things looked very
bright for them, and they were proportionately happy,
until Allan Temple's letter came to Graham Carson,
telling him he was in England.
Two days afterwards Graham presented himself at
the Rectory.
"What's the matter, my boy ?" the rector
asked, after the first greetings. "You look out of
sorts."
"I am a little. I have made a hurried journey.
Where is Lily ?"
"In the garden."
In the garden he found her, and would have carried
her off for a walk then and there, but that she insisted
on his eating something first. Half-an-hour after-
wards found them strolling leisurely through the
Woods towards the Grange.
"I have something to ask you, my darling," said
the young man, again.
"Ask away,' she said, archly. "1 shall say yes,
Whatever it is."
"I don't know that, dear. lam going to make a
Strange request—a most unloverlike one, Lily."
" What is it ?"
" I want to put off our marriage for a little
while."
Truly an unloverlike request, and she stared at him
in wonder—he had been so urgent to her to hurry it
on, and had never rested till the time was fixed. She
could not understand him now. He looked troubled
and anxious and his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere,
even while he was speaking to her.
"Why ?" she said in alarm. "Has anything
happened, Graham? Do you want to part from
Me ?"
He took her in his arms, and let his caresses answer
her.
"My darling, my darling," he mermured, "how
could you let such an id.-2a enter your head? l'art
from you! Only with my life, my sweet Lily. No,
dear. I would, rather that our marriage came off
either before or after the day fixed for the other wed-
ding. And business has come into my hands which
Will occupy me incessantly and painfully before then.
Will you let it be a little later ?"
It shall be whenever you like," she replied, with
evba• so little pique in her tone. " But Noel and Beryl,
What about them? They will be so disappointed."
"I don't think they will—at any rate not on that
account—they will both understand it when the time
comes. Will you trust me, darling, that it is no
caprice, and not judge me harshly if I am distant and
Seemingly cold sometimes. I have a thousand busi-
ness worries on hand just now that are driving me
nearly mad."
"1 would trust you anywhere, anyhow, Graham,"
said the sweet young voice, and the blue eyes echoed
the assertion; "but will you n)t tell me what tins
business is? Is it anything to do with Beryl and my
brother ?"
"Yes." ,

About money ?"
"Indirectly, yes."
"And shall you have to go away about it ?"
"Yes, dear, I shall. I am going to sea my friend,
Mr. Temple."
" Ah, the man that saved your -ife ! Is he mixed
up in it?" ?'
"Yes, very much. Why do you ask o'
"Because I don't Beryl would like t see him. I
fancy she did not behave quite well to him out in
Australia. He gave her a ring, and I think he must
have loved her very much, and she speaks quite
scornfully of him. Noel does not know, of course."
" Ah, I have seen the ring—' SPmper Fidelis,' was
not that the motto? Poor Templelias spoken of it to
me a dozen times. He did love her, Lily, dear, and
she professed to love him. I wonder what has become
of the ring now."
"Don't tell her, and I'll show you," she said. "There's
part of it," and she took the dimmed and discoloured
stone, with its simple motto, from her purse, and
showed it to him. " Patty saw her throw this out of
the window, and found it afterwards and picked up
the broken bits of the setting in her dressing-room.
I think she must be heartless, Graham dear, and I
tremble for Noel."
"She is heartless, dear," Graham replied, "and I am
afraid there is trouble coming for your brother. I
can see it and feel it, but cannot put out my hand to
avert it yet."
"Does your father know, Graham ?"
"I have told him what I suspect; what I fear,"
the young man replied; "but he looks upon it as a
wild fancy—thinks it impossible. Don't look so
frightened, my darling; the trouble that is hovering
over the Grange will not come nigh you."
Lily was frightened. Her lover's words seemed in-
coherent to her, and she thought with horror that
perhaps he was going to have a return of the mental
illness which had kept him in Australia so long. What
could this trouble be that was hanging over Beryl and
her brother? It was almost a relief to her to see a
gentleman coming across the park from the houe,and
entering the wood—a stranger evidently, for he looked
about him with interest acci curiosity, and she had
never seen him before.
Graham had, for she felt him start, and saw a look
of eager interest come into his face.
" Who is it?" he said. "I am sure I ought to know
him."
He was quite certain when the gentleman came
nearer, and yet he could not recall wherc he had seen
him; his face brought all sorts of confused pictures
to his memory of Australia and the Psyche, and the
time of his illness there; but a word cleared them all
up.
"God bless my soul said the gentleman. Isn't
your name Carson ?"
"That is my name," was the reply.
"You know me, don't you? Dr. Twist, of the
Psyche? I was very glad to hear of your safety."
"And I am very glad to see you. Did you come
to the Grange to see Miss Atherstone? She talks much
of you."
"Yes, I did," replied the doctor, dryly. "I find she
is out. I should liked to have seen her very much. /
shall come again; I have something to say to her
before her marriage, and I fear she is going to be
married soon."
It was an odd, abrupt speech to make, as though
what he had to say was not particularly pleasant, and
Lily looked at him wonderingly, thinking of what
her lover had been saying to hem, Was the unpleas int
business that was to put off their own wedding public
property? She made no remark, and Graham intro-
duced her as Miss Lillian Atherstone, Beryl's cousin.
"Of whom I have just heard the wet-thy house-
keeper up yonder speak in unqualified praise," said
the doctor gallantly, sinking hands with her. "I am
afraid I have been exploring the Grange under some-
what false pretences, Mr. Carson."
"How so?"
"I represented myself as a friend of Miss Ather-
stone's ; I think I can hardly lay claim to that title.
I knew her, of course, on board the ship, but I am
afraid I am set down in her memory as a very hard-
hearted man, with no sympathy with the afflicted
whatever. I have been told I have been very cold
and cruel to Miss Atherstone at a time of great
distress. I hope I was not; but there were reasons."
"Beryl always speaks of you and everyone on board
as having been most kind to her," said Lily,
gently, and remembering at the sirne time that Noel
remarked on the doctor's brusqueness at Southampton,
and called him an old brute.
"Does the?" said Dr. Twist, in the same dry tone
in which he had spoken before. "She is a most
generous and forgiving young lady, then She seems
very popular about here."
"Very," responded Graham Carson; and the doctor
looked keenly at him.
"May I ask you a question?" he said. "I don't
want to be rude, but I. am bewildered and puzzled
beyond measure."
"What by ?"
"The family portraits in the Atherstone drawing-
room, I think," was the somewhat curious answer.
"1 hardly expected to find so splendid a place, though
I have heard much of it; but that's not it. You saw
a good deal of the young lady out in Melbourne, did
you not?"
"I did."
"And remember her perfectly ?"
"Of course I do."
"Don't imagine I am mad, Mr. Carson; but did

you recognise her at once when you vPturned to
England?"
"Recognise her ?"
"Yes; you did not need any one to introduce you
—to say, This is the woman you went out yonder to
fetch, did you ?"
"No," replied the young man, looking Dr. Twist
steadily in the face, though some inward emotion
sent the colour from his cheeks and lips, and left him
very pale as he spoke. "I wanted no introduction,
I recognised her at once. I should have known her
anywhere,"
"But she is very much altered. I have been look-
ing at her portrait—a splendid picture, by the way—
and she is marvellously altered from the quiet, grief-
stricken girl whom I SAW part with her lover on board
the Psyche just before she salled."
"Her lover !" ejaculated Lily.
Temple ?"
"I don't know what the gentleman's name may be,"
said the doctor, "but he was her lover, there was no
doubt of that. When a girl parts from a man with a
clasp that brings them heart to h art and lip to lip,
and there ate tears and murmuxed farewells and last
looks, there's more in it than mere friendship. lam
afraid Miss Atherstone's wealth has hardened her I,ert
as well as changed her looks."
"I fear it has," Graham Carson said. "The change
is quite startling. Of course the face is the same;
but until she recalled ono or two things that I had said
to her at Melbourne, repeating my very words, I lelt as
though I were in a dream when I looked at her.
Fashion, dress, and unlimited wealth do work
wonders."

" Do you mean Mr.

"I have been comparing her portrait with one of
the last photographs taken of her," the doctor said.
"Mrs. Wickham, at the house yonder, cries out about
the badness of the photograph. Now, it is a singularly
good one. The difference cannot be laid to the
artist's charge, I am sure."
"Oh, may I see it ?" asked Lily. "No one has
ever seen any photographs of Beryl. She says they
were all frights, and she did not bring any home."
The doctor extracted the carte from his pocket-
book, and gave it her to look at.
"It is not a bit like her," she said. "1 suppose the
light and shade are not right somehow; but in this
carte she has dark hair and eyes. The features are
the same, of course, but this does not do Beryl justice
—not a bit." _

Graham Carson said never a word, but examined
the carte attentively, and handed it back to the
doctor. After a few words more of conversai ion
about when Miss Atherstone was likely to return, and
a cordial invitation to Dr. Twist to visit both the
Rectory and Mr. Carson's house, they parted—Dr.
Twist to lose himself and stumble once more upon
Jack Blogg, and the other two to stroll homewards
with the weight of coming trouble lying heavy on both
their hearts.
"The end will come without any aid of mine,"
thought Graham Carson to himself. "That man
suspects, and is here to find out what he can. Oh,
for some proof! God help poor Noel when the truth
is revealed, as it will be."
He was very silent and distrait, and would not go
in when they reached the Rectory door, telling Lily
that he would explain to her father all that he might
think strange in his conduct. The Rev. Norton
Atherstone was much disturbed by what his daughter
had to tell him, and questioned her over and over
again about Graham's strange words.
"Trouble coming to the Grange," he said; "and
this Allan Temple mixed up in it. Are you sure,
Lily."
"Quite sure, papa."
The rector shook his head.

"I have had fears on that subject myself," he
said. "I have observed several things which
have made me uneasy. God bless me! can it be
possible?"
"Can what be possible, papa ?"
"That she is married to this man, and is ashamed
of the connection, and is trying to hide it. Such
things have been; and Beryl is not a good girl, Lily;
I have felt that ever since she came. Heaven brgive
me if I wrong her, but I fear the worst."
" Oh, no, papa; she is not wicked like that, I am
sure," said Lily, in defence of her cousin. And she,
was right. Beryl had not sinned in the way the rector
thought. How she had violated the laws of Heaven
and man was yet to be found out.

CHAPTER XLII.
AN OLD FAMILIAR FACE.
They tell me she is happy now
The gayest of the gay,
They hint that she forgets me,
But I heed not what they say.
—HAYNES BA:VLF.
BERYL on the whole was bored by her tour. She did
not care for visiting places she had seen as a child,
meeting alitorts of people, who welcomed her with
effusion and gushed over her, as is the way of
simple folks when they meet anyone they have not
seen for long.
Her memory seemed singularly retentive on all
sorts of things which had happened in her childhood,
and she could recall all kinds of events which had hap-
pened in the various towns they visited. Noel could
not be with them always, but would make long sudden
journeys, and come up with
_them at unexpected
places, to Beryl's delight. She took it into
her head to go to Scotland and see Edinburgh, where,
as she said, "Mamma was a great favourite once ;"
and her devoted lover went flying down by the night
mail, to spend a long, dreary Scotch Sabbath in her
company. and return to his duty on Monday. She
was bright and lively in his company, but dull and
triste when he was away. Mrs. Atherstone attributed
it to the presence of Mrs. Dalton, and certainly that
worthy lady was somewhat of a wet blanket. She
was perfectly lady-like and well-behaved, but the rest
of the party found her a grievous incubus. They
strove to entertain her and draw her out; but alter
every effort she retreated within herself like a snail
within its shell, and grew more taciturn than ever.
They found it best to let her alone, and allow her to
enjoy herself in her own way; and she did enjoy the
easy and luxurious life she was leading in her new
position.
Beryl provided her with handsome dresses, and
seemed to study her comfort in every way. The old
lady seldom alluded to the past in any way; but she
held long solitary talks with the heiress, and she had
a certain way of backing up any assertion of hers, and
prompting her recollection of her childhood, which
puzzled, and rather annoyed the rector's wife. Mrs.
Atherstone was a plain-spoken woman, and remon-
strated with her young cousin about it.
"You really alloN7 her to occupy too much of your
time, my dear," she said to her. "You should re-
member that you are no unknown lassie now. You
belong to the world—to us—to Noel. If this good
lady were your mother you could not pay more at-
tention to her little fancies."
"I don't think I do. She deserves it all."
"Perhaps so; but if she chooses to be sulky and
silent, I think I should let her be. She worries you, I
can see."
"I can never do too much for her," replied Beryl,
her face flushing. "You can never know how
much she has done for me. Nothing can repay
her."
"I think you have re paid her amply," Mrs. Ather-
stone said; but she ventured on no further remon-
strance, only resolving that she would appeal to Noel
when he came to them next and hintthat Mrs. Dalton
might be better kept at a little distance.
Mrs. Dalton herself was perfectly aware of the feel-
rig that existed towards her in the minds of Beryl's
relations, and she spoke to her on the subject. when
she could make the opportunity.
"They are jealous of me, my dear," she said. "I
can feel it every hour of the day. I can see it in their
faces, and hear it in their voices. You must not do so
much for me, my dear."
They were safe in the privacy of the old lady's
room—the most comfortable that could be got in the
hotel, where they had put up for a few days in Edin-
burgh, and her companions were in raptures with
every nook and corner of the old city, which w.ts just
putting on its spring robe of soft green, and wrap-
ping the old ro.!ks of the castle hill in a mantle of rare
colour and brdliancy. All the hotels in Auld Reekia
—private and public—look out on Princess-street-
gardens, at the back of which rises the old town, with
its crowning beauty, and castle; and at one of the
pleasantest windows, where all are pleasant. the two
were sitting.
" I shall do as I please," the heiress retorted.
"The money is mine—absolutely! to spend as I like.
No one shall coerce me in this matter. I am determined
upon that."
" But, Miss Atherstone IP
" Miss Atherstone ! Are we not alone? Why can't
you call me--" -
" Hush ! You do not know who ma 3 be listening.
I think the walls have ears sometimes. There is no
safety for you and me, Beryl AtheA tone, except
behind our masks."
"I shall die of mine!" retorted Beryl, passionately.
"Oh ! this eternal living with a false face false
smiles, false spirits. It is killing me. I face,
when you catne, you would help me to bear it; but I
think the sight of your dear old face helps to make the
load heavier to bear."
"No it doesn't, my dear. You may not think it,
but I tide over many things for you that you do not
suspect. But I can go back, child, if you really don't
want me. 16 was your doing I came, remember
that."

I do! I do !" said Beryl, throwing her arms round
the old woman's neck. "Don't be hard upon me,
dear. Pin tortured, worried, irrplexed. Everything
seems to be going wrong—all sorts of annoyances
seem to be cropping up all around me. I don't know
why I feel so; but the fortune I have won seems to
be slipping from my grasp already."
It was a strange term to use, "the fortune I have
won ;" and she evidently spoke under a curious
excitement. But Mrs. Dalton only smiled, and drew
her closer into her arms.
"You are overdone," she said, "and have kept
your spirits at too high a pitch. Sit down here and
calm ourself. Anybody coming in now could read
all sorts of things in your pro,' y face. You know
what Lady Macteth says to her husband:
" 'Your face, my worthy Thane, is as a book,
Where men may read strange 'natters '
That's just the state of the case with yours, just now.
Bear that worthy women's advice in mind:
`_To beguile the time to like the time.'

Try and looir a little more )ike the time,' and let us
talk over the dangers that you think menace you. I
expect they will have grown from brooding over
them, and turn out to be molehills instead of