The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-01-09 00:00:00

- [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.j
CATHERINE'S MISTAKE,

A SECRET FOR YEARS.

CHAPTER XLVI.
LOST AND FOUND.
1103 next day George Ross Ingestre was on his way to
z'edfern. It was six o'clock, and quite dark when he
arrived; but the very lights in the windows, seen so
'az off, served to raise his depressed spirits. He was
nearing home and Catherine, and how then could
- they fall?
The servants saw he had no good news to corn-
runicate, in the face he did not choose to turn away
°ln them. He threw his mufflings off, and went
straight into the warm, comfortable dining-room;
then the whole amount of his long-endured pain and
Pleasure, fear and hope—ah! and despair, too—came
forth in that long, deep-drawn breath—
'Oh, Catherine!"
, He warmed his frozen hands at the fire, and lis-
w
' ned. By this time she must know he had come. Was
that her step? No, only Domingo crossing the hall.
In a few minutes he should see her—see her standing
before him, feel her hand in his, her warm breath on
his cheek, "Oh, Catherine!"
And then the tears came into his eyes, rolled down
his face, and if she had entered at that moment, he
Would have had no voice to greet her with. But she
• did not come, and his weakness was gone.
He turned round to leave the room, and saw the
s_4ure of a man standing on the threshold of the door;
nis hat was drawn down over his eyes, and he was
booted and spurred, and splashed with snow and
trlUd.
"Who are you? and what do you want ?"
The man advanced into the room, and walking up
to the fireplace, lifted his hat from his head, and then,
'With the full light of the candelabra shining on his
face, turned it to George Ingestre.
"Have you forgotten me?" and the 'mouth smiled,
and showed a row of faultless teeth. But the dark,
'fierce eyes did not smile; they looked murder.
Ingestre staggered back, and a chair received him
aS he fell.
"Merciful Heaven! is the dead come back to life ?"
nis white lips -uttered.
The man's teeth and eyes glittered more brightly
than before; but he stood there and said nothing.
" Speak ! are you a living man?"
Still no reply.
"What do you want with me? Why have you left
torment ?"
"I have come to tell you Catherine Franchi has left
Your roof for ever. A woman came here yesterday
night, and had an interview with her—a black-haired
Woman, named Keziah Faunae. Your ward, Maxall,
left an hour after. That is all I have to say for the
Present; I shall see you again before long." And he
Put on his hat, and walked out of the room.
The next moment a horse's hoofs tore down the
avenue, but George Ingestre did not hear them; he
/aad fainted.
It was Domingo who recalled him to life by deluging
his face and shirt-front alternately with water and
tears; for the affectionate creature thought his master
Was dead, and well he might; the appearance he pre-
sented was that of death.
When he rose and stretched his numbed, tingling
limbs, and steadied his reeling brain, he himself won-
dered what had been the matter with him. But like
a dart of electric pain came the recollection, Catherine
lost!
He rushed out of the room, and met the butler in
the ball. Where was Miss Wace —Mr. Maxall ?
The man hesitated, looked down, then up, and down
again.
"Gone, sir, yesterday evening."
He waited to hear no more, but rushed out of the
house, round to the stable, and shouted madly for a
horse to be saddled instantly.
Half a dozen grooms flew to obey the order, and in
ten minutes he had cleared the park-gates, and was
riding as if for life through the village. He did not
believe she would stop there; she would, probably,
go straight to Lowmoor, and live there, at least for a
time. She had money, she would take lodgings;
and if not there, he would hunt England over to find
Where.
In all his madness and despair he could reason. For
wonder, this time it led him right.
He dashed into Lowrnoor just as the bells were
ending a merry peal; for it was Christmas Eve, and
service was being held in the churches. He checked
??is foaming horse at the top of the High-street, and
:ct it fall gradually into a walk, as he sat sullenly
Wondering where Catherine was—where he should
find her—where first look.
Where, indeed? Not far; here she was, calmly
Walking along the broad, flagged path towards him,
her thick crape veil thrown back, and her prayer-
hook in her hand.
The full glare of the brilliantly-lighted shop win-
d"7B, as well as the light of lamps, fell on her as
She passed before him. Her face was very sad, and
her eyes looked heavy with tears, as she went on,
without casting them on the splashed rider in the
road.
Fle uttered no word of exclamation on seeing her;
his heart stood still, and then went on beating with a
rapidity he thought would kill him. To see her—to
look on her again, who seemed but a moment before
se utterly, utterly lost! Ah! a man must love as
Ingestre did, to know the exquisite pain, the exquisite
' happiness of that sight—the sight of the woman he
loves, after the despairing thought that he shall never
see her again.
He pulled his hat over his brows, and, turning his
horse's head, followed her at a distance to the church.
Ile watched her enter the doors, and then saw them
Close behind her; and he turned away, to put his
horse up at an inn not far off.
He soon returned to the church, and, throwing him-
self down upon a fiat tombstone, not far from the
doors, prepared to wait there until the service was
over and she should come out.

CHAPTER XLVII.
MOTHER AND DAUGATETI.
CLELAND had not recognised her father in the short
encounter that took place that evening, but the
woman with her had done so, and told her daughter
Whose hand had struck her to the earth.
"Never mind, mamma. He is angry with me for
leaving him; I forgive him." So sobbed the girl
When they were alone in the squalid lodgings Mrs.
Faunce had taken for them. "He has good reason to
be angry with me," she continued, "for he will never
- know why I left him. He loved me so dearly, and
was always so kind and gentle to me ever since Ross
died; -and so was she, mamma—indeed, she loved me
'very much."
"Don't tell me, child; no one ever loved you but
Your poor, ill-treated mother. Oh, Cleland! your
father has been a shocking man, to treat his own
flesh and blood as he has treated me. But you shall
make up for it, my darling, I know. When you are
one-and-twenty you will have such a fortune, Cleland,
that I need be poor and dependent no longer. You
Will live with me, and keep me from starving then,
my child, will you not?"
Here she began to weep, in maudlin fashion; but
the simple girl took her tears to be • very real. She
threw her arms round her mother, and .wept, too,
most sorrowfully.
"I will keep you all my life, mamma, gladly—
most gladly, if you will only promise not to touch
that horrid drink any more; if you will only try and
refrain when you find yourself tempted to take it.
Indeed, mamma, you don't know what a difference it
makes in you; you are not at all like a lady then,
YOU are not like yourself. Promise me, mamma—do
promise !"
The " lady " wept profusely, shook her head plain-
tively, and pressed her small white hands over her
heart. Then she sighed, rallied a little, took out a
ragged lace pocket-handkerchief, and carefully wiped
• the extreme corners of each eye. After this process
she seemed to grow better, and gave the required
Promise with melancholy fervour.
Cleland was delighted, and kissed her mother
thankfully, firmly believing the good intentions she
expressed. Then she commenced putting the untidy '
room tidy, with an awkwardness that showed how
unaccustomed she had been to such a task.
This was the afternoon of the next day, and the
two had just dined. Mrs. Faunce, as she still styled
herself, lying back, with all the grace imaginable, on
a dirty chintz sofa, watched the awkward movements
of her daughter with a languid smile, but still uncon-
scious of any shame in the fact of the poor child
labouring in such fashion for her comfort.
And when Cleland had done as much as she knew
how to do, and given the rest over in despair, she sat
herself down near the unswept grate, took the dog in
her lap, and consoled herself with its moist kisses and.
affectionate play.
The two together made a simple and pretty picture,
but its quiet beauty was soon disturbed by the
• mother, with these words—
" Cle, you are growing quite a nice-looking girl
(but you have not my hair and eyes; it is very hard
both my children should take after their father) ; I
must see about 'getting you a husband, Cle—a nice,
rich husband. I think I know one."
"Mamma, I shall never marry. I mean to remain
single and take care of you, because you have been so
unkindly treated all your life. I will try and make
the rest of it happy."
"Yes, dear child; but I think you shall marry. I'll
tell you some day who I mean for you. Hark! there
is someone at the door; see who it is."
With her thin cheeks hot and red, and her weak
hands trembling, Cleland went to the door, and
enened it wide. A slovenly-looking servant-girl
said a gentleman was below, and wished to see Mrs.
Faunce.

"Who can it be, mamma?"
And the girl's red cheeks blanched, for she thought
of her father instantly.
"1 don't know, I'm sure. Tell him to come up,
then we shall see. Is my hair smooth, Cle ? my braids
quite puffed enough?"
"Yes, mamma. Oh! do you think it is papa? Do
you think--(---" •
"No, I don't think anything of the kind. Do you
Suppose I never have any gentlemen acquaintance to
Pay me visits? Now, sit down, Cle, and don't look
so white."
In another minute the door opened, and Maxall
entered. Mrs. Faunae rushed from the sofa, and
flung her arras round his neck. He submitted with

v

a very bad grace to her affectionate greeting, and
when it was over, threw his hat down, tore off his
gloves, and turned an eye of much disfavour on the
shrinking Cleland. _
Wm little fool! to put your foot in it like this
Why couldn't you ctit till the farce was played
out? It would have made no difference to you in
the end, but now you have just gone and spoilt all
the fun. Miss Wace suspects something, and has
bolted."
From Redfern ?"

"Yes, clean gone, and I'm glad of it. She was a
devilish sort of woman—got such confounded eyes—
watch, watch, watch a fellow all day long. That re-
minds me, I'm so horrid dry; haven't you got a drink
of something, Helen?"
"Yes, to be sure, my darling boy. In the little cup-
board, Cle. You have the key."
" I—l am afraid I cannot find it, mamma. I have
quite forgotten where I put it."
And she looked with an imploring expression at her
mother as she said it.

"Oh, never mind," sneered Maxall ; " I can see
what sort of a housekeeper you have got, Nell. , She
was always close-fisted enough for anything.* Never
mind, ring for something presently. But you
don't ask for news, scarecrow—eh ? don't you want
to know how the dad is?"
Cleland was silent. Her hatred and abhorrence
of this creature were beyond expression. She could
not open her lips to utter a word to him. Sick and
faint, she bent over the dog, and tried to drown the
sound of his odious voice; but it continued in this
strain :

"That beast of a man, Helen—your husband—
has not got back to Redfern yet; he is somewhere
in London now. .I am so afraid this Catherine has
got wind of you somehow, or why should she have
bolted? In that case, you see, there will be no mar-
riage—consequently, no fun for us. Bali! but I hope
he'll do it, and go to gaol for fourteen years, at least,
and I shall be free at last."

"You don't suppose George Ingestre will ever live
to go to gaol ? " said the lady. "He will commit sui-
cide first, Max, and then my girl will come into a nice
little fortune, I hope."
"What, Cleland!" he exclaimed, looking over to
where she crouched. "Not a bit of it. He made his
will not many months ago, and I know what's in it.
Cle won't have much, I can tell you. Ross was the
favourite; besides the entail, he was to have had a
whole heap of money, made by the sale of the Jamaica
estate."
"Yes, but of course, as Ross is gone, his only sister
will have it."
"Oh, will she?. Then I don't think so, that's all."
"No, but Maxall, do you know—know for certain
—who will have it ? "
"Yes. He told me who the money should go to if
Ross died."
" Who ? For God's sake tell me who ? "
" Myself !" and he chuckled aloud.
"To you, Maxall ! you!"
"Tome."

Cleland raised her head and looked steadfastly at
the speaker. He had forgotten her presence, and saw
not th 2 horror-accusing eyes fixed on him. At the
next sentence his voice fell to a whisper, though; and
the conversation continued so until the room grew
dark and cold, for Cle had let the fire out. With her
face hidden in her lap, she had paid no attention to
the expiring embers in the grate.
"Then, Maxall, you have Left Redfern for good?
,(Never mind her, she is fast asleep.) You do not
mean to go back?" said the woman, rising stealthily
from her seat.

" No, I'll never go back, Helen; the place gives me
the blues," he said, shuddering. "No, we'll wait a bit,
and see how things turn out, and if they do so as well as
we expect—that is to say, if Ingestre gets transported
or commits suicide, and I tumble into that money,
why, we'll pack up and start for Italy. I can't live
here; it's no use. Oh, you're going to get something
to drink—that's right, my tongue is parched with
talking. Drink, drink, blessed drink! what should I
do without it

She had secreted a bottle of spirits under the sofa-
pillow, and brought it out, with a stealthy look at her
sleeping daughter. Then, very noiselessly, she fetched
two glasses, and placed them on the table, sitting down
after grit, with a sigh of delightful relief.
"Yes, Maxall, dear, your plan is an excellent one;
Italy is a capital place—Naples especially. But what
a good thing it was for you that Ross went off so sud-
denly- as he did. You would have had to wait--"
"What the deuce are you always bringing him up
for? I hate it. Don't do it again. How dark the
room is—beastly dark ! Get a light; I can't see to fill
my glass."
"A moment, Max. I just want to ask you what I
am to do with Cleland."
"Curse Cleland! Poison her, for what I care."
" Nonsense ! I must turn her to account, somehow
or other, now she is with Inc."

"Get a light, will you ? " And here followed some
more foul words.

She obeyed, struck a light, and lit a wretched
candle. Cle still slept, or seemed to do so; and the
two drunkards sat over their beloved alcohol and
drank on