The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-01-02 00:00:00

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)
CATHERINE'S MISTAKE

OR,
A SECRET FOR YEARS.

CHAPTER XLIV.
GEORGE ROSS FIGHTS A BATTLE, AND LOSES.
INoEs.rnE was alone in his apartments at the
;Brunswick Hotel" when Catherine's letter was put
Into his hand, telling him of his daughter's disappear-
alre. Maxall told an untruth (not an uncommon
thing with him, as you may have seen) when he said
th? father probably knew of the whereabouts of his
Child. George Ingestre was on the eve of sitting down
tM) a late dinner; but he could taste nothing after such
t evil from home.

Cle ion-el—Cie run away !—the most affectionate
gni that ever breathed, run away from a parent who
loved her fondly—weakly! He did not credit it. He
believed that lqaxall had quarrelled with her in an
9ffensive matißer, and that she had left the house in
Ildignntion to seek her father in London. She knew
bl:g address, and would no doubt be there before the
tight was out. He would wait in that room for an
tour, and then start for the railway termiuus and
Izeet the next train from due S—.
So he ate no dinner, but walked up and down the
room for an hour.

To have looked at that man's face, you would not
have imagined him to be the happy bridegroom, that
three short days would unite to the woman he loved
--give to him her whom he craved above all other
blessings on earth—to him whose life seemed a vain
°Tie apart from hers; eyesight dim, unless he saw
through her vision; thought colourless, unless tinted
With the reflex of her own. In three days!
That was what he had been thinking about before
the letter came. Three short days ! And he still
thought of it, in spite of the strange news he had
ueard.
But his mind was scarcely uneasy about the girl;
abe Was so sure to come to him—certain to make her
'Way to him; she had threatened it often when he left
for London. So he waited the hour out, and thought
of those three days—of what might come after them,
of what had gone before them.
Re threw himself down in a chair at last, tired out,
iolded his arms, and looked at the clock on the mantel-
Shelf.

I Would that my pen could portray the face of that
4n, as he sat there looking at the clock, watching
'lrne as it marched toward, past and away from him;
"atching it as he let it flee past, with the precious
frreeovcrable " now " in its grasp.
It was the face of one who disdains to look back,
4nause remorse is unavailing, and who looks forward
oat
.37 to defy what Time is hurrying up—the face of a
strong man fighting with his mighty passions—of a
sinner wrestling with his sins, without avail.
The clock struck, the hour of battle was gone, and
the •
sinner's face was darkened with the conflict; the
strong passions had overcome the strong man. It is
tell that we pray "Lead us not into temptation,"
br to the habitual sinner to be tempted is to fall; the
attle is vain, the victory never won. Alas, for the
lost!

He heard the clock strike, and knew that he must
g° to the railway station. He rose to get his hat,
and put it on before the pier-glass; then he folded his
1,1,!1ns and looked at himself—his great, handsome self,
that God had moulded out of the strength and beauty
of creation.
In his might and manliness lie stood, and thought
lia
ll3w that beauty and might had served him in his
alf-done journey through the world. The smile was
a bitter one as he turned away.
"Yes, God made me comely, and I have made
myself hideous. My passions are strongcr than my
atrong limbs, and have torn me worse than wolves
could tear my flesh; they have been my enemies all
through, and now—and now lam going to do what
a madman might; but no sane man. How can I
"Pect to escape? Catherine, I will kill myself at
your feet, rather than a shadow of my guilt shall fall
upon you. But it shall not; I have taken every pre-
caution,.
Fie went out, got into a cab, and set off for the
iliatation. The train was due in ten minutes. It came;
, saw the passengers get out, from the first to the
ta.st, but no Cleland:was among them.
Ile turned away, went into a coilee-house close by,
wrote to Catherine the few words which we have
Filjen in the preceding chapter. Then he went forth
to the gas-lit street again, and cared little where his
cis
tette led him. He had felt so certain that his
tagliater would arrive by that train—so convinced
•at it was to his protection she would fly—so resolute
In the belief that her love for him would direct her to
'Where he was, if, as he imagined, she was fretful under
4nY trouble.
she had not come; and when he looked again
Zt Catherine's note, he found it was dated three days
Ock• No, she had left him—flown from, and not to
and lie walked on in a bitter, reckless mood.
las he like that old house in the fable, from which
even the rats fled, prophesying its fall?
1, Men and women were all round him, and the gas-
Ps burning brightly overhead. He saw every-
lug around him plain as day, and he shrank to think
'erne man or woman should see the misery in his face,
end jeer at it.
The thought, or rather fear, maddened him, and as
,10 elbowed his way through the crowd, in his frenzy,
'le lifted his hand and pushed a female out of his path,
Ntho was slow to let him hurry by.
She screamed and fell, and a woman whose arm she
seemed to bold staggered and fell too. They both
I.nac again quickly enough, and the tallest and slightest
f the two clung to her companion, an would have
Married her on ; but she tore herself from the young
°lle's grasp; she flew back to the insulter, aid called
by all the horrible names her foul tongue could
latter.

u /ler yellow hair hung about her white face, her
,"°'l3:let was tattered, her shawl unpinned, her speech
was not clear, nor her person steady. Tht bystanders
Saw that the woman was not sober, so twy laughed
and passed on, for drunken women have 4 right to be
Pushed out of the way.
Por two minutes the foul torrent rushed out of her
1:11911tb; then her companion, who for those two
11151:nute8 seemed to have been almost sttkined, ran
and attempted to drag her on.
Nfamma ! mamma! come away ! "
And George Ingestre, the Squire of Redfern, saw
only daughter clasp the drunken woman sound the
'Waist and drag her from the spot. Then tht woman
°.,,egati to whimper' and tottered away, haiging on
'ieland's frail arm.
2. child
thus he came to know to whose slalter his
'uud bad flown.