The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-05-29 00:00:00

THE HEIRESS

ATHERSTONE GR,ANGE,

BY THE AUTHOR OF
-1.6111 an Thornton," "Effie Baird," "Almost a
Criminal," " Leonora's Legacy," 4-c.

CHAPTER XII.
STRICKEN DOWN.

But hushed he every thought that springs
From out the bitterness of things.--Wouoswon.Tn.
I:
OR, don't mind me," Mr. Atherstone replied. "My
uUsiness can wait a few minutes. I am in no
hurry:,
"Thank you," said the lawyer, turning over the
Da_ pers with a rapid hand. "I won't keep you long.
tsere, Turner, answer this, and send the boy over to
Charnford's about that bill of sale."
"Very good, sir."
The clerk closed the door, and the lawyer went on
flitting each envelope open with a thin paperknife,
tad mastering the contents of each at a glance, as it
leelned.
The squire watched him dreamily, thinking angrily
and bitterly of the business he had come there about,
a,nd admiring the orderly way in which each successive
uocument was either consigned to the waste-paper
basket, or folded neatly and laid aside for further con-
flideration.
At length he came to one at the post-mark of whi3h
be looked attentively. "Birmingham," he muttered
Under his breath; "and addressed to me. What's
going on, I wonder? I've seen that hand before on 0113
Of the forbidden letters."
Which he had. Mr. Whiffin had twice directed a
letter to the Grange, thinking that a strange hand
Ought ensure them being opened. It was many years
ago now, but the lawyer had one of those unerring
alernories which are sometimes such a boon to their
Dossessors, and a terror to everyone else.
Be hastily opened the envelope, and the eertificate
f the death of Leonard Atherstone fell out. He picked
411 p with a startled exclamation he could not repress,
and his client looked up.
'What is it?" he asked.
"Something I should have had a month ago."
"Bad news, I fear."
" Not for me. It concerns you more nearly, Mr.
Atb_ erstone."

"Me-
"Just so."
"Ah, another letter, I suppose, directed to you as a
stibterfuge ! I won't answer it, Carson, not a line,
though they sent one by every post in the twenty-four
ours for a twelvemonth."
"This letter requires no answer."

" How so ?"
," It is merely an official document. Mr. Atherstoue.
~eur son will never inherit the Grange, nor mourn in
Ills empty home itslost inheritance. You will be spared
411 Y reproaches from him for all time to come ; and the
19.10wledge that he is walking the earth in poverty, a
:ving memento of your injustice and cruelty, need
'rouble you no more."
"What do you mean, Carson? Are you going
"No, I never was wiser. I am speaking too strongly,
Derhaps, but in any matter where your son was con-
e'erned I have always felt strongly. as you know."
Ido not understand you. What has happened?
"Ilat is that paper ?"
"It speaks for itself," returned the lawyer, handing
It to the squire. "You need be in no hurry to sign
that will now."
Perhaps Mr. Atherstone guessed what it was, wan
PrePared in some way for its perusal. He turned his
tace away, and his hand did not quiver in the least, as
e read the announcement of the death of his only
Child. He had been dead a month, and'he had been
thinking of him with bitterness and reproach in his
heart while he was lying cold in his grave.
Mr. Carson busied himself with his other papers,
That his client might read the bitter news unobserved.
When he looked up he was alarmed at the ghastly
pallor of his face, and hurriedly went to his side.
"You are ill," he said.
"No it is nothing," was the reply, in a husky,
broken voice. "It was the surprise, the shock, that
as all. As you say, there is no hurry to sign that
PaPer now. If you have sent for your old lady, send
tier back for the present. You have not told Mrs.
. Carson, I presume ?"
Mrs. Carson never hears anything about office
tatters, unless they immediately concern her," the
LaWyer replied.
He did not live in Bath-street. An elderly widow
Woman kept the house there, and cleaned the offices.
he lawyer's house was in the Royal-crescent, and a
WIT nice, well-appointed house it was.
" Ah, then you needn't say anything to her. Keep
the will. I shall have to revise it. I may think of
B,?ree fresh way in which to get the guardianship of
„sc,§ child, I'll go home now. This has shaken me a
-

"Let me send for your horses ?"
„."No, I'd rather be alone. I want to be alone," said
° squire., with a meaning look on his face which
allowed that he was not all heartless. "My groom is
st the Royal. Good morning. Oh, Carson :"
"Sir."
"You may as well write to those people, and get all
Particulars. I don't feel equal to it myself."
"I'll do it at once. I wish you would let me walk
With you, squire; you look sadly shaken."
"No," was the irascible answer, and Mr. Carson was
fain to let him go. He felt very uneasy as he remarlTd
, kis tottering gait, and dull, dazed look. "It has knoclso.d
Inra over, that's a fact," he said to himself. "He
looks as though he would have a fit, or something.
Someone ought to follow him. I mustn't, and he'd
know the clerk. It's a long walk from the Royal to
Ah, I have it !"
He opened the window and called, " Dick ! Dick, I
68• Y 1" and a bright-faced lad of fourteen or there-
.bouts, with a satchel of books over his shoulder,
looked up from the other side of the street.
"Yes, papa."
"I've just caught you in time, my boy. Come
here:,
The boy scampered across the street, and his father
Went out to meet him.
"Give me your books," he said, "and go up the
street till you overtake Mr. Atherstone. He's gone to
tile Royal Hotel, and wouldn't let me go with him, or
the clerk either. I'm afraid he's ill, and I want to be
snre he's safe. Go after him, and find out whether his
'servant is there, and if he's all right. I'll make it all
tight with the mater if you keep your dinner wait-
log."
The boy sped off, and his father returned to his
desk.
"I'll write at once," he thought. "Maybe he'll come
hack, and want to see the letter. Let's see, who am I
10 write to? These people flit about so, there's no
"Mowing whether they are there now. Ah, the manager
Will be the man! What's his name? Oh, Masters, I
recollect! He'll do. On my word. that Delphine
'Woman has a deal to answer for. If it hadn't been

for that serape, this marriage of poor Leonard's would
have been forgiven long ago. I wonder what has be-
Some of her, the Hack-eyed cat. She was very pretty
lt her portraits were like her."
After a little consideration he sat down and
-*Wrote :

"21 Bath-street, Leamington,
September 30, 18—

" Mr. Masters.
" Sir,—l should be much obliged for any information
You can give me about the last illness and decease of
Mr. Leonard Atherstone, whose wife, formerly Miss
teryl Joyce- is or was a member of your company.
The father the deceased gentleman, Pierce Ather-
stone Esq., of Atherstone Grange, received the in-
telligence to-day for the first time, though it would
appear that the demise took place more than a month
"I shall be glad of any particulars, which please
fOrward to me, at the above address.
"We should be glad to know whether the widow is
-Still in Birmingham.
"Awaiting your reply,
"Believe me, yours faithfully,
"RICHARD CARSON.
"—Masters, Esq., Theatre Royal Birmingham."
He folded the letter, and put it in the rack for the
Post, and then sat down to wait his son's return.
"So this is the end of it all," he mused. "No heir
to Atherstone Grange but an actress's child after all.
Nrhaps it would be as well to let him sign the will,
and let the money go to the old blood. The others
c-an sell them the place when theycome into possession
of it, and then there'll be an end of the connection
altogether. Bless me! I'm looking ahead into the next
generation, when all fogies like me will be under the
turf. Master Dick should be back by this time. Ab,
here he is. I ought to know the slam of that dom."
The outer door had been violently flung open, and
then pushed to with a bang that shook the house from
t°P to bottom, and in another moment the boy was in
the room, flushed and breathless.
"Come, papa; come quick !" he gasped, scarce able
to speak.
"Come where?"
"To the hotel."
"What for ?"
, "He's dying."
"Who? Mr. Atherstone?"
"Nonsense !" said the lawyer pulling on his coat as
he spoke, and picking up his hat. "Who told you
so F,
"They all say so, papa. Dr. Burgess is there and a
lot of people. I caught him up before he got there and
went after him. I thought he was drunk, for he was
tumbling about and talking to himself, and when he
got into the passage he just fell down flat on his face.
I told Dr. Burgess I would fetch you, and he told me
t° run, or it might be too late. And I did run, too,"
added the lad, with a boy's delight in an achievement,
"all the way from the Royal to Bath-street in two
taiontes and a half. Not bad, was it, dad ?"
'No, indeed, Dick, and now run once more and tell
7°llr mother why you are so late, and where I am
.._gorle to. I may not be home till late. I "%all have
go to the Grange I expect. Dear, dear, I was afraid
of something of the sort."
Dick hardly used too strong a word when he said
'Wing. It was more like a corpse than anything else
that the terrified employes of the hotel lifted from the

floor, and laid upon a couch in the nearest room. The
doctor the boy had spoken of was Mr. Atherstone's
own medical man, who lived not a stone's threw from
the Royal, and, happening to be at home, was on the
spot in a few minutes.
"Paralysis," he said unhegnatlngiy, When he looked
at his patient. "He must have had some shock."
By the time the lawyer arrived the patient was be-
coming conscious. One leg and arm were powerless,
and there was a slight contraction of the muscles of
the face. Not enough to prevent his speaking, though
the voice was thick and dull. They could not catch
what he said at first, but the tones grew more distant
after a few minutes, and he moaned out Leonard's
name.

" Oh, my boy ! my boy !"
The doctor looked enquiringly at the lawyer, and
Mr. Carson drew hina aside and told him what had
happened.
"I was afraid of this when he left the office," he
said. "He wouldn't let anyone come with him, so I
sent Dick after him."
"Ay, I wondered to seethe youngster up here at this
time. So that poor young fellow is dead, is he? What
a sad thing !"
"Yes, very. What are you going to do? Can Mr.
Atherstone go home ?"
"I should say decidedly not. They must make him
a bed up here, and send for Mr. Atherstone of Lilling-
ton and his wife. He may rouse and get better, but I
confess I think it doubtful."
But the squire refused point blank to be put in bed,
or doctored, at the hotel.
"Take me home !" he pleaded. "Take me home!
Let me die at the Grange!"
He grew so terribly excited about it that the doctor
resolved to remove him. So a small bed was put into a
comfortable carriage, and they managed to lift him
into it, with the doctor and lawyer to support him.
The servant was despatched at full gallop to prepare
the housekeeper, and to tell the rector, and then they
set out.
The motion of the carriage made the patient so
fair..t, that the two who were with him thought more
than once that it was a corpse they held between them,
but he rallied when they reached the Grange, and was
sensible and collected again by the time they had
plaeed him in bed in his own room.
The gay party assembled in the house began most
of them to make hasty preparations for departure, and,
by the middle of the next day, the house was empty
of all save the rector and his wife, and Mr. Carson,
who had.ridden over early to see how matters stood.
The doctor's report was favourable. Mr. Atherstone
would certainly recover, he thought, at any rate for a
time; but one stroke of paralysis was generally the
precursor of others, and if any shock came to distress
him, it would most surely ensue.
"He'll have no more shocks from that quarter," Mr.
Carson remarked. "There will only be remorse to
worry him now."
"And he is feeling it," said the doctor. "It is
pitiful to hear him murmur his son's name as he does.
What a fatal piece of severity it has been!"
Remorse was a mild word to express what Pierce
Atherstone was really feeling as he lay on his sick-bed.
He would have given all he was worth—the whole
world if he had it—to have been able to have looked
into his dead son's face once more; to see the frank
eyes that always met his with such fearless honesty;
to press the lithe, warm hand, whose very clasp seemed
the grip of a generous heart. But it was not to be.
And he writhed and moaned in impotent anguish, as
he moaned out the hopeless words. And yet, with all
his agony for hit; dead son, his heart did not soften one
jot towards Berl, or grow more human towards his
little grandchild. If he could get hold of her he would
have her properly brought up, he thought, but that
was all. There was no wish to see her, no enquiry
after her welfare. He was very impatient for an
answer to the lawyer's letter, and extremely irritable
and angry when two posts elapsed before it arrived.
When it did, he grewless restless, and finally dropped
the subject of his son's wifealtogether, and desired the
lawyer to mention her no more.
Mr. Masters informed his correspondent that Leonard
had died of consumption, on the date named, and that
he had wanted for no comfort and luxury that money
could buy in his last moments. The manager added
that he was aware of the circumstances of Mr. Ather-
stone's marriage, and hoped Mr. Carson would inform
the squire of the love and devotion of the despised
lady. She was very comfortably provided for for'the
present, he informed the lawyer. She had gone to
Milhaven, with her child and her foster-father, to fulfil
a most lucrative engagement, and would be found, if
wanted, at the Theatre Royal, in that city.
(To be continued.)