The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-06-05 00:00:00

ATHERSTONE GRANGE,

BY THE AUTHOR OF

" Allan Thornton," "Effie Baird," "Almost a
Criminal," " Leonora's Legacy," 4-c.

-4
CHAPTER XIII.
AFTER MANY YEARS.
The baby finger of the giant mass
Of things to corne.--SuAKEsPEAnz.
PIERCE ATIIERSTONE rallied as men will rally from the
very edge of the grave, and, by the time that the New
Year chimes were sounding from the belfry of Lining-
ton Church, and men's hearts were full of good wishes
for one another, and of plans and projects for the year
that lay before them, he was once more sitting by his
library fire, and moving about the old house in his
accustomed fashion.
More feebly than before, and with thinned and
Whitened hair, and a furrowed face that told how the
blow had struck, but with no trace of sorrow in his
Manner and voice. Mourning was ordered for the ser-
vants, and notices of the death of the heir of the house
Were sent to various papers, setting outsiders wonder-
ing at this sudden announcement of the death of a man
'Who had been for weeks in the grave; and cards, and
visits of sorrowing condolence; but real curiosity, came
thick and fast to the Grange.
The latter were received by the rector and his wife,
Who spent most of their time in their cousin's house
While he lay ill, and who vouchsafed no information
Whatever about Leonard's death. Mr. Atherstono had
heard of it suddenly, and the shock had upset him,
Was all he told anyone ; and by the time the squire
Was able to see his friends himself the curiosity had
somewhat died away.
As soon as he thought it prudent, Mr. Carson intro-
duced the subject of the letter he had received. His
Client heard of it without any apparent emotion, aL:cl
-discussed it with perfect calmness."
"You think it is true, I suppose ?" he said; "and
that this woman and her child have really gone
abroad"
"It is quite true. I have been to Birmingham, and
verifed all the facts. I have seen your son's grave,
• and the tablet his wife has erected to his memory.
Ent pardon me, perhaps you would rather I did not
Speak of these things.'
' "Go on, Carson. Nothing you can say can affect
0 now. I should like to hear all you have done.'
"I made every enquiry I possibly could about Mrs.
Atherstone, and I have heard but one opinion of her.
think, in adopting the course you have followed, you
have lost not only a son, but a good, affectionate
daughter, one who would have been a comfort to your
declining years, and a credit to your name and house.
You must forgive me' if I speak too p!ainly. You
asked lo know all."
"I do. Pray go on with your raptures. *Don't
lorget this actress, this painted puppet, robbed me of
ray only son, and made the end of my life lonely and
Wretched. Is that part of her marvellous good-
tess ?"

_
• Standing face to face with death had not taken an
iota of the bitterness out of Pierce Atherstone's heart,
though it had robbed him of the power of showing it,
maybe, and he went on—
" What else did you hear of this paragon, Car-
son? This shining light of her most honourable
calling?"
"Simply that she was a good wife, and tender
laiother ; an honest-hearted, honourable gentlewoman,
'lxeeping herself pure and stainless in her walk through
life, and bringing up your grandchild to follow in her
lootsteps."
'"Ay, to go upon the stage. She has begun early.
She is an infant prodigy, I hear, the baby star! BAh !
lily grandchild! An Atherstone ! It makes me sick
to think of it. Go on, if you have anything else to

"Anything that I can say will make but little ini-
Vression on you; but I heard more, and frim those
Who know it to be true. I heard that but for his
Wife's efforts your son would have died long before,
for want of the actual necessaries of life, Mr. Ather-
stone. Her love and devotion kept him alive at a
time when it seemed as though Heaven itself were
deaf, and there was no succour anywhere. You will
do well to remember the existence of these two,
Squire. They are the nearest kindred you have in the
World."
"I am not likely to forget them, Carson," the old
Man said bitterly. "I am feeble and helpless now,
and forced to listen to all you choose to say. Have
You done ?"
"I have nothing more to tell you, except that they
are really gone to Milhaven, and nothing is said about
'their return. The engagement offered to Mrs. Ather-
stone was a very good one, and her foster-father coun-
selled her to take it, and he is gone with her."
"Then let us drop the subject, please, at once and
for ever. It is only another page turned in the history
Of my life. The hours are getting few now."
"But your will?"
" I will sign it when necessary. The doctors assure
me I shall get about again now, and when I am quite
Well I shall have some trifling alterations to make. I
shall not alter the money points in any way. Let this
unpleasant subject die, Carson. I have had enough
of it."
And as far as Pierce Atherstone was concerned it did
'die. He never opened his lips again to speak of his
-dead son, or of the loving kindred he had left behind.
• Eut time passed away, and the will lay unaltered and
neglected in the lawyer's strong-box, and Beryl Ather-
stone, at the Antipodes, was growing from a lovely
_child into a beautiful and talented woman.
Norton Atherstone and his family were -to be the
lquire's heirs, and the fact was talked of everywhere,
and believed by all but the rector himself. He had
'made up his mind, that come what would, the rightful
Dvvner of the cousin's wealth should have it when the
time came, and he never allowed his family to forget
that there was a nearer relative than themselves, to
Whom the money they heard so much about would
'come.
The engagement at Milhaven to which Beryl and
her chlid had so suddenly gone turned out a very,
good one. The good 'people of Australia had not for-
gotten Beryl Joyce, and welcomed her back with open
arms. Her position was assured at once, and for
several years she remained in Milhaven, following her
Profession, and procuring the best education she could
for her child. She never allowed her to forget that
she was a lady, and she brought her up with the
manners and habits of one; not with any thought
of ever mixing with her father's friends—for the very
remembrance of their connection with Atherstone
Grange began to grow dim as years wore -on— but
-from a sense of duty, and the knowledge that the
more thoroughly,Beryl was educated the greater would
be her chance of success in her profession.
She had not allowed her to wear herself out with
'Work as a child, as many parents of clever children do,
thereby making their children stupid nonentities for
'the rest of their lives. She had only allowed her to take
-short engagements now and then, just to keep her
familiar with the world behind the scenes.
More than one offer of marriage came to her in her
new career, for she was young, clever, and attractive
Still, but she turned a deaf ear to them all; the world
had never held any man for her since the one she had
loved and lost. For the 'future she would live only
,for her child, and well and dutifully her daughter re-
Veld her love and tenderness.
So the two, with Mr. Whiffin, beginning to grow old
now, lived on together, and took many engagements,
after Beryl the younger left school, and made money
and prospered exceedingly. The pretty girl, with her
fresh, fair face, her pure style, and her unquestionable
talent, made a tremendous success, and engagements
Poured in from all quarters. India, New Zealand,
Japan even, 'all furnished managers eager to secure
the new actress, and Beryl became quite a traveller.
In New Zealand they lost their father and friend.
Mr. Whiffin succumbed to a severe attack of fever and
ague, and was laid he the little churchyard at
Dunedin.
Then Beryl and her daughter went back to Mil-
haven, resolved upon settling there. Somehow they
dreaded England, it had been a land of sorrow to the
'elder lady, and her child was too young to have
formed any lasting attachments there. All their friends
were in the southern hemisphere, Beryl had made a
successful beginning to her career in Australia, and
she herself had a fair opening as a teacher of reading
and elocution. So it was settled—Mrs. Atherstone
would give up the stage and reside at Milhaven, and
Beryl follow her profession. She was about eighteen
*when her mother came to this resolution, and endorsed
it with all her heart.
"I don't remember much about England now,
mamma," she said; "and what I do recollect wasn't
vary nice, I think. I would rather stay in Aus-
tracia."

Beryl (lid remember a few people in England, and
Bpoke of them often. Good-nat,ured Mr. Masters, who
had been so kind to her, and Mrs. Jarvis, she recol-
lected perfectly, and one or two others, but she had no
wish to go back. She had grown into a very lovely
girl. Her cbildish beauty had developed without
%kering in character. Her face was les§ round than
of yore and her figure had developed into womanly
Perfection. Her hair was the same glossy golden
brown as when she was a child, and was very lovely
in its warm luxuriance. The colour of her eyes had
deepened in tint till they looked almost black at times,
and altogether Beryl Atherstone was raved about by the
youths of the colony as the eighth wonder of the
'World. Cheap photographs had not begun to inun-
date the shop windows in the days of our story, or the
Portrait of the Australian actress m;ght have found
, ite way to London, and figured among the um
women who call themselves actresses, and exhibi
their limbs and their shamelessness in photographic
studios.
If such a thing had been, and the portrait of pretty
Beryl Atherstone been a thing easily come by, the
future destiny of the original might havi been mate-
rially different.
Beryl's was a happy, innocent life, her future
!rued a bright one, and no thought of Atherstone
"Pam" or the possibility of its ever coming to her,
%ter entered her mother's head. If Leonard had ever
Ind her that the old house must come eventually to
Xyl, she had misunderstood him or forgotten the
; her idea was that the old squire could leave it
vit^msoever he 0...f1y!, ato the girl herself. she

iclad