The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-02-26 00:00:00

ADRIENNE ;
-
, -
THE SHADOW OF THE PAST

[ALL BIGHTS RESERVEN

CHAPTER X. -
ADRIENNE stood upon the gallery a few moments, en.
joying the gleams of bright sunshine that found their
Way through the crowding branches of the trees. She
pulltd from one of them a long spray of the Spanish
moss which so gracefully drapes a southern forest.
After examining the frail texture of the plant, with
its slender, pliant stems, and delicate frostwork, like
a sprinkling of fine hair powder, to which it
owes its peculiar shade of grey, the young girl wove
its tendrils into a wreath, and wound it in a pic-
turesque fashion around her head.
Resolute to take a survey of the premises alone,
and see what discoveries she might make, she des-
cended the staircase leading to the lower gallery, and
passed into the yard.
The 1 irds sang undisturbed among the trees, and as
Adrienne listened to their glad carols, her own soul
caught from them a new impulse, and her voice
burst forth in song so sweet, so full of soul music,
that the feathered warblers hushed their strains to
harken to the melody.
In spite of the uncertainty of her position, and the
hard future that might lie before her, the escaped
novice felt a sense of freedom and enjoyment that
compelled her to sing. She slowly traversed the
Carriage drive, and discovered amid the rank weeds
the remains of a rustic fountain in the centre of what
had in days long past, been a carefully kept lawn.
The basin was empty, the reservoir which had once
supplied its tiny jet of water long since dry; and w.th
a vague feeling of oppression, she stooped and lified
the broken leaf of a marble water-lily, through whica
the stream had once murmured, while mirth and
revelry filled the house now so dreary and deserted.
As she lifted her head, a voice spoke suddenly
ide her—

"I thought the worship of the Druids had long
since passed from the earth, but I now surely see
before me one of its crowned priestesses bending
above the shrine at which she once worshipped."
An expression of incredulity came into the young
stranger's face, and every drop of blood receded from
it, leaving her nearly as white as the marble lilies
over which she had lately bent. She looked quickly
around, and the pale 11,,,s unclosed to exclaim—
" Whose voice was that? lou here, Father
Eustace? Who would have expected to find you in
this out-of-the-way place r
The priest, for it was he, surveyed her with an ex-
pression of severity as he said—
"As little could I have expected to find the child
dedicated from 11.-,r birth to the service of heaven in
such guise as this, roaming a10r.3 through this tangled
Woodland. Wilful girl, what nave you done P'
While he thus spoke, Adrienne's self-command re-
turned to her, and the colour again crimsoned her
cheek as she replied—
"I have come hither to find earthly duties which
have already been too long neglected. I have ab-
jured the calling of a religieuse, and henceforth I intend
to play my pert in the world, which belongs as much
to God as to the convent halls."

_
"Poor, simple child! Tell me how you came
hither, and what is your purpose in crossing the
ocean to dwell in yonder ruin, long since given up to
the rats and its demented master ?" _

"I beg that you will refer more respectfully to M.
Lecour, for I am his grandchild, and henceforth the
companion of his declining years."
"You have come hither, I suppose, to set forth
your claims upon this old miser's wealth, for with
nothing Else at stake would any young girl bury herself
in such a place as this, with suth a man as M.Lecour."
Adrienne quickly replied—
"l hive avowed to you the intention with which I
came hither. I rebelled against the confinement of the
convent, and I sought a home and protection from my
natural guardian without any schemes with reference
to his wealth. But if you are surprised to find me
here, Father Eustace, I am not less so to meet with you
in this New World. The Superior told us you had gone
cn a mission, but she did not reveal whither you had
be n sent"

lie drily responded—
"l was sent hither for a purpose of great political
importance, and, strange as it may seem to you, your
pi% sence here can materially aid me in attaining Bucce9s.
Be obedient and docile, and I will withhold trom the
bishop of this diocese the knowledge of- your evasion.
If your presence is once made known to him, he can
stretch out the arm of ecclesiastical authority, and lay
Its strong arm upon you, even here."
Adrienne trembled and grew pale. She asked—
"In what manner can I aid you, father? Alas! I
hoped in th, se wilds to be as free as the air of heiven
—to be able to walk untrammelled upon my path
of life."

"Do tnv bidding, and you may do so, for me. I
- will Dledge myself not to interfere with the happy lot
you seetn to have chosen.-

44 What, then, is your bidding r
Father Eustace had hitherto remained in his saddle,
but at this point of their colloquy he dismounted,
fastened the bridle of his horse carefully ao a neigh-
bouring bough, and stood beside the young girl. Ho
lowered his voice as he said:
"Swear to me, mademoiselle, that you will not
betray to any human being what I am about to con-
fide to you. It is a secret of vast importance."

"I can only pledge you my word, father, and there
is no one here to whom I should be likely to reveal
your confidence."
"True, and I believe I may trust you. Learn, then,
that in this ruinous house a state prisoner is believed to
be detained. I have been sent hither to ascertain the
truth of this supposition: I claim your aid, and if it
successfully given, I will obtain from the bishop such
a permit for you to follow your own will, as must en-
title you to perfect freedom of action so far as con-
ventional life is concerned."
Adrienne listened in great surprise.
"A state prisoner here, father! It seems impos-
sible

"Yet I have every reason to believe it to be
true ! "

"And do you require me to be to be a spy upon my
grandfather?' she asked, with indignant surprise.
"Excuse me, father, I cannot play so treacherous a
part. He has received me in good faith, and I will be
true to him."
Father Eustace regarded her severely. He said—
"You are a silly child, and have crude ideas on
most subjects. Your duty to your grandfather is in-
forior to that you owe to me."
"I do not understand you," she faltered.
"Your conscience must he very delicate, truly.
Since I can deal with you in no other way, I mut in-
furm you of the actual tie between us. Do you re-
member the deep interest I have always manifested
in you? The free access I have always had to you,
even in your convent ?"
She faintly responded—
"l do; but to what does all this tend ?"
"Only to the announcement you feel is coming, and
from what I can see that you recoil. Know, then,
that Jam also connected with the old recluse who lives
in yonder tower—that I wedded his only daughter
without his consent:and you—"
He paused, and regarded her fixedly, and Adrienne
impulsively said—
" And lam the child of that marriage? Yet why,
Why does my heart refuse to ratify this relationship,?
Why have I been taught to regard you as a stranger,
if sou are indeed my father F"
"Because I have long since repudiated all earthey
ties. Ido not ask from you the love of a child—l
only demand the obedience due to a father. ow,
mademoiselle, will you refuse to aid me in the enter-
prise I have undertaken?"
Adrienne was too much bewildered to reply iin-
mediately. Past memories came rushing upon her in
a confused crowd, and she endeavoured to recall
some incident which could have led her to surmise
the actual relationship in which the priest asserted
her to stand towards himself. She slowly said—
" Tell me— tell me how this can be. Tell me of my
mother—my dead mother."
"it is a ..ireary tale, child, and one I do not care to
dwell on. Our marriage was clandestine: her fa, her
hated me, unknown as I was to him, because a deadly
feud had exis'ed between his family and mine for
several generations. I loved Estelle Lecour with all
the power of my soul—she died, and left me desolate.
I placed her infant child in the convent to be edu-
cated, and assumed the vows myself that I night
watch unceasingly over her. Have I not done so,
mademoiselle, until duty sent me on this errand? to
accomplish which, I demsnd your assistance as my
right. Befuse me at your peril !"
"Is this the way in which a daughter should he
claimed :" asked Adrienne, tremulously. "No token
of a father's love have I ever received from you, and
now you close this revelation with a threat."
"And one! shall certainly fulfill," he coldly responded.
"Obey my commands, and I release you from your
early destination—l Ly.rmit you to gain a foothold in
this old man's house, that you may make sure of in-
heritine his wealth. Is not that a sufficient bribe?"
"And what use will you make of your information,
if I succeed in gaining it ?"
" Nothing that is detrimental to M. Lecour shall be
done. Speak! will you aid me ?"
"Alas! I have no alternative," was the submissive

reply.
"This is M. Lecour's usual day. for confession—l
I must seek him now, but I will meet you on this spot
four days hence to learn what progress you have made
in your discoveries."
"1 left him sleeping; had you not better refrain
from disturbing him?"
" I must see him this morning. He only receives
me at stated intervals, and if I fail to visit him to-
day, he would refuse me admittance for another
month. I &rill not fail to meet you at the time and
Piave app. ‘inted, and when you remember how much is
at, stake for yourself, I scarcely think you will dare to

play me +also. An revoir."
Absorbed in thought, Adrienne's steps insensibly
I slrlekened, and she at length sat down on a fallen tree
to await the re-appearance of Father Eustace. He
must tell her more before she-could- be satisfied- that
she was really his child. An hour passed away, and
the sound of approaching steps startled her; she
looked up, and saw Father Eustace leading his horse
toward her, and his face looked sombre and disav-

pointea. As nis eyes fell upon her, lie paused, and
said— _ _

"I am glad to find you on my path again; I am
convinced of the truth of my suspicions, though I
could gain no clue from my penitent—ugh! a most
intractable old creature he is, I must say. From you
I must learn the locality in which his prisoner is con-
cealed, that I may safely carry on my plan for his
removal."
"His removal! Is it not a woman, then ?"
" No ; why should you have imagined such a thing
Oh, I comprehend—you have heard of the White
Terror, as old Lemur calls her, and fancied she might
be the object of my quest. No; mine is a flesh and
blood reality, and no phantom."
, "Father Eustace, how is it that M. Lecour receives
his son-in law without being aware of the tie existing
between you and himself."
• "We never met till I came hither. The hatred he
bore my father was transferred to me, and the curse
that broke his daughter's heart was hurled -upon her
because she wedded one of my detested name. It is
strange to me that he would receive you at all—some
.motive most lie under h's apparent kindness. But,
now you are here, make yourself useful to me, and
make sure of the old man's fortune."

Adrienne flushed deeply, and tears sprang into her
eyes, as she earnestly asked—
" Are you really and truly my father ?"
"As certainly as your name is Adrienne Darand am
I Julien Durand, the former husband of M. Lecour's
daughter, and, consequently, the father of her child.
I can bring you proofs of my identity which you
cannot question, if you insist upon my doing so."
She slowly shook her head.
"No, no; I will not demand that; a daughter of
the Church has no right to question the solemn
asseveration of her spiritual, as well as her earthly
father." _ _ _ _

"It is well that you are at last convinced. But I
warn you that M. Lecour must have no suspicion of
my identity. It would blow my plans to the winds
and at once place him on his guard."
"And if he should suspect me, what then ?"
"I will care for your safety. You shall not be left
to his mercy, if you are compelled to compromise
yourself in any way by serving me. Adieu! I must
not linger any longer—four days hence I will meet
beside the fountain."

Compelled to be satisfied with this assurance,
Adrienne walked slowly toward the house, deeply
meditating on the strango event of the morning.
(To be continued.)