Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 October 1900 — Wedded for Gold [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Wedded for Gold

BY BERTHA N. CLAY

-CHAPTER XXlV.—(Continued.) “My lady,” he said, “I beg your pardon; I must make bold enough to ask you to interfere. Sir Owen —he will go out riding this morning. That is all good and fair, my lady: but he will ride the naw hunter Plantagenet, and he is no .more fit for it than a child.” “You had better tell him so, Martin,” /replied Lady Chevenix. “My lady, I have told him, over and • over again. The more I tell him* the more he will go.” Lady Chevenix looked helplessly at •Felix. “Mr. Lonsdale,” she said, “will you go . and try to persuade Sir Owen not to r ride that horse? Tt is a highly mettled animal, and he has never ridden it yet.” He might as well have appealed to a rock. All that he said, Sir Owen laugh-,-od to acorn. -*

■“Something happen to me?” he cried. ' "Yea, I know what it will be. I shall 'Come home cured of the ‘blues’.’ I am ..’igsing to gallop dull care away, and ■ Plantagenet shall help me.” With a heavy heart Lady Chevenix to-entered the house, and Felix went back to his writing. Violet retired to her own room, to while the time away .with a book. The sunny hours of the beautiful day "wore on; no cloud came over the smiling /heavens; yet there was a faint wail in the summer wind which to the weather--wise heralded a storm. The shadows lengthened, and Felix had not left the library. He had completely finished by six o’clock, and on going in search of Sir Owen was told that he had not yet returned. Lady Chevenix was in her room. He. would have been glad if he oeuld haTe gone home then; he did not cere to remain for the long formal dinner u*d the Jong formal evening. Still he was unwilling to leave Lady Chevenix until her husband returned. ; The first bell rang, and he went to his room. Sir Owen, he was told, had not returned, and her ladyship seemed anxious about him. After a little while Felix went into the drawing room, where Lady Chevenix sat, dressed for dinner, .looking superbly beautiful in a dinner •dress of blue velvet and a suite of pearls. She--turned to him anxiously. “-Sir Owen has not returned,” she said. “I have told them to keep back the dinner until he comes.” He saw that she was terribly ‘anxious, end did his best to cheer her. Seven o’clock struck, and then half-past, and ;■ Felix persuaded Lady Chevenix to take . gome dinner. They sat alone at the stateMy dining table, where the silver plate and the richly cut glass looked so brilliant—the table where Lady Chevenix bad undergone so many humiliations. It was but a farce; neither of them could oat. •Eight o'clock chimed, and no other /sound broke the summer silence. ■“I cannot sit here any longer doing •nothing,” said Lady Chevenix. “1 am quite sure now that something has hapjpened.” Her words were prophetically true. "Even as she spoke they heard a confused aolse at the grand entrance hall—the rush •f many feet, the cries of women and the deep voices of men. - Felix never forgot Violet. She rose -from her seat, and stood hesitating for •«ne moment, pale as death. Then she •turned to the door. But Felix was before her.

"Sit down, Lady Chevenix,” he said. • "Ton must not go out. there. Let me see • what is wrong.” 'He placed her in a chair and then • opened the door. There was a rush of rterrified servants, and women’s voices eried: “Oh, my lady—oh, my lady!” A crowd of men stood round a litter, and on the litter lay Sir Owen. Felix pushed them aside. "rs he dead?” he asked; and the answer was “No." “Thank heaven for that!” he cried. Then he uttered a little cry of dismay, tor Lady Chevenix stood by his side. '“What has happened?” he said. "Tell me the worst.” “Sir Owen has been thrown from his horse; and Martin says the horse fell on him!” cried a dozen voices. They carried the baronet into a spaxflous, handsomely furnished bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the lamps lighted. They laid him on the bed of down, and the faithful servants wept over him.

L*dy Chevenix went up to her husfbind and knelt down by bis side. She bad never professed any love for him ; 'bat, as he lay there, white, silent and helpless, a keen sense of pity and compassion for him awoke in her heart. She took his hands in lier own and rubbed (hem. “Owen,” she said—“my dear, try to apeak to me." He looked up. •“Why did you let me be tortured with doctors?" he cried. “I heard the servants. They say—oh, listen, Violet—they Mty that I am going to die!” He Uttered the last word with a scream ■they never forgot. “It is all nonsense.” he continued. “My back is hurt with the fall—that is all; it is nothing more —nothing more, I assure vou* Lonsdale, send for your father. i want to see him; he has always been kind to me, in his way. He will •ee at once there is nothing the matter; aend for him.” Felix left the room at once, and sent Martin off for his father. He went back to the room and found Violet kneeling by her husband's Side.. Her head, with «§M> golden hair all unfastened, was on (tie pillow, and she was trying to reason' with hiia. CHAPTER XXV. bapg months hjid passed since Sir OWh laid ia bis grave; and now August was coma roupd again, with its ripe fruits and ydliow corn. Lady Cheviot* everyone agreed, was a model widow. Daring the interval that had

CHAPTER XXVI.

elapsed since her husband’s death, hardly anyone had seen her. Visitors had called, but had never been admitted; they had left cards and condolences, and had each approved of the fact that Lady Chevenix kept herself quite secluded. One day Lord Arlington found it necessary to see Lady Chevenix on business; he was accompanied by Capt. Hill. She received them with quiet grace, and listened with intelligence to all their business statements; then she said it was her express wish that Darcy Lonsdale should continue to act in every way for herd, but. as he would have more to do, she insisted on doubling the salary Sir Owen had paid him. Lord Arlington was very pleased about it, and the interview ended l satisfactorily. In three weeks after that conversation Lady Chevenix* left Gars wood to spend some-months in picturesque Normandy. *■»• * * * • All Loomshire was shaken to its very center. Such news had not been heard in the neighborhood for years; there was a general sentiment of rejoicing. Lady Maude Arlington was going to be married —Lady Maude, whom all the inhabitants of the county looked upon as a princess. Whom was she going to marry? That was the question everyone asked. And the answer.gave universal pleasure. It was the hero of the Victoria Cross— Maj. Rawson. Everyone was delighted with the alliance. Lady Maude was so beloved; while the name of Maj. Rawson was known wherever bravery or valor was honored. Knowing Miss Lester’s secret predilection for hearing news that she was too proud to seek, Felix went over to Outlands a few days afterward. He had not seen Eve lately, and was anxious about her. He had heard Kate say that she was not looking well —that she had grown thin and pale. Finding one evening that he had an hour’s leisure, he thought that he couid not do better than devote it to her. Miss Lester was looking a little more cross and impatient than usual when the young lawyer greeted her. “Tell me all about Lady Maude’s marriage,” she said. “It is not often that one has the opportunity of hearing about such grand affairs.” “I came on purpose to do so,” said Felix. “I thought you would be pleased to hear about it.” She was delighted and would have listened to him for another hour, but that her keen eyes detected a dairy maid enjoying the homage paid by one of the reapers.

“Go into the house and find Eve,” she said. “I shall he with you directly.” Felix found Eve in the garden; and so intentiy was the girl thinking that she never heard his footsteps until he stood by her side. “My dear Eve,” he. said, “are we such strangers that you should be so startled by my presence? The madre told me you were not looking so well, and I am come to see.” “I am quite well,” she answered, in her sweet, low voice, “and very pleased to see you.” “You look well enough just now. ’ Yon have the color of a rose in your face,” he told her. “May I find a seat here? I have an hour to spare, and am come to spend it with you.” He sat down on a little garden chair, under the luxuriant jasmine, and began to talk to her. A sense of peace and repose always came over him when he was with Eve—a sense so sweet that he never cared to disturb it; and the same magical feeling was stealing over him now. ■\Yhen they had been talking for some time he looked at her; and then he saw how true Mrs. Lonsdale’s words were. The sweet face had grown very thin and pale, "Eve.” he said, gently, “you are not well. Why do you not go to the seaside for change of air?” "I am happier here than I should be anywhere,” she replied. His ears detected a tone of patient weariness in her voice. “Have you any trouble or sorrow? Trust me, as I trust you.” ♦ “I have no trouble,” she answered—“and heaven has been very good to me.” But long after Felix had gone away she sat under the luxuriant jasmine, and once she cried: “Oh, my love, you will never know in this world how I love you!”

One fine morning in September a letter came to the office of Lonsdale &, Son which presented very familiar features to those who received it. The creamy color of the envelope, the delicate handwriting, the faint perfume of violets, the crest on the seal —each and all were familiar. “ft is from Lady Chevenix,” said Felix, as he placed it before his father—of all the letters that had been received from her he had never opened one. Mr. Lonsdale read it, and then looked at his son. “She is coming home," be announced. “She will be at Gafswood by the end of the week, and wants me to see that everything is ready for her.” Darcy 'Lonsdale rode off at once with his good news; and very pleased the household at Garswood was. Their young mistress had been worshiped among' them, and they were delighted at the thought of her return. Mr. Lonsdale gave all necessary orders, so that Ludy Chevenix should find everything ready on her •return, and should not miss any comfort or luxury. • At the end of the week another letter came to the' office at Lilford,\ asking Darcy Lonsdale to go over to Lady Chevenix at once. He went, and on his return he said to Felix: “There is a terrible accumulation of work at Garswobd. Lady Chevenix wishes me to remain at the Hall for a week—the Michaelmas accounts are always heavy—but, Felix, I cannot spare a week. Lord Arlington’s rent-dinner

\ . and many other things are close at hand. I made a suggestion to Lady Chevenix, Which she seemed very pleased with; it was-that, instead of my going to the Hall for six days, we should both go for three —that is, o’s course, if yon are willing.” “It is a.matter of indifference to me, father,” he replied. “Whichever plan suits you best, or pleases you best, I will follow.” So it was settled that they were to ffo to the Hall, and do all the business os quickly as possible there. “I shall prefer sitting np at night,” sai3 Felix. “I can always work better when there is perfect silence. A few hours’ extra work each night, and we shall soon have finished.” He little dreamed to what that sitting up would lead. They went on the Monday evening—a beautiful autumn evening, when the sunbeams fell on the gray walls and lighted up the picturesque mass of buildings. Several visitors were at the Hall. Captain Hill, Mrs. Haye, Miss Hethcote, Lady Brownson and Miss Fern —all guests whom Lady Chevenix had invited. In kindliest greeting she held out her white jeweled hands to Mr. Lonsdale and his son; but her marvelous beauty had for a few minutes stricken them dumb. • . . ■ "I am so delighted!” she said; and truth shone in her beautiful eyes. “I thought I would see you here first, away from the other guests, because I wanted to talk to you. Mr. Lonsdale, take the easy chair. Felix”—she had quite fallen into the old fashion of calling him Felix —“sit here. I did nqt see you”—to Felix —“to bid you good-by; but I aim pleased to see you on my return. There is no place like home, after all, is there? Normandy was very beautiful, but Garswood is home. Now tell me all that has been done in Lilford since I left. You were at Lady Maude’s wedding—tell me about it, Felix. 1 am so glad she married' her hero after all.”

They spent one of the pleasantest hours that could be imagined. The same idea struck both father and son. Lady Chevenix seemed to have grown young: again; her sunny smiles, her unusual laughter, her quick, clever repartee, her keen enjoyment of their society—all were noticeable. She had indeed altered; she •was like beautiful Violet Haye; all trace of the quiet, cold Lady Chevenix had vanished. Then her smiles died away for a few minutes as they talked of the terrible trial they had gone through together. Shelooked with soft, luminous eyes into Darcy Lonsdale’s face. “What old friends we are!” she said, thoughtfully-. “And how strange it seemsthat you. should have been with me when he died—that Felix should have been my chief comfort: What a riddle life is to read!”' As Felix Lonsdale wrote busily the next night there came to him the memory of a. story he had read, in which a lawyer like himself sat alone in ’the library of a country house, and the spirit of its dead owner came to tell him of some wrong he had: done in life.

“It is a pleasant thought!” smiled Felix to himself; and then he was startled for a moment. A faint odor of violets floated near him, and, looking up, he saw Lady Chevenix. There was something more than beauty in her face; he knew it the moment he raised his eyes and saw her. There was love —love such as had not shone there since she had bidden him farewell. The firelight gleamed on her jeweled hands, on her marvelous face, her golden hair. She stood before him in all the pride and magnificence of her wealth and her lovea vision such as rarely greets the eyes of men. And, as he looked at her with somewhat of wonder and inquiry on his face, she sank slowly on to her knees and bent her head before him. “Lady Chevenix,” he cried, “you- mast not do that! I cannot allow it!” She laid her hand on his arnv-the hand on which shone her wedding ring.

“Listen to me, Felix,” she said l —and the sweet voice stirred unwontedly his heart and soul. “1 have waited impatiently for this hour. You are going away to-morrow; and I must speak to you to-night. Felix, will you listen?” “How can I help but listen?’ he replied. “What do you wish to say to me, Lady Cheyenix?" With a charmng gesture of impatience she laid a finger on his lips. “You must not call me ‘Liady Chevenix,’ ’’ she said. “I am ‘Violet’ to you. Say ‘Violet,’ and then I will tell you what I came for.” Ferhaps, if he had had time to prepare himself, to think matters over, to take some precautions, he would have known better how to listen and what to say. As it was, she seemed suddenly to have taken possession of him, of his whole nature. , “You make me say what you will, Violet,” he said. She clasped her hands, and laid them upon liis arm.

“I want to tell you a story, Felix,” she said. “Years ago there was a girl—young, foolish and, the world said, fair. She was vain, too, of her beauty, and expected to achieve' great things with it. She loved with ail her heart someone who was more than worthy of her love, and she promised to be his wife. But sorrow and misfortune came to him, while a wealthy wooer sought jier—one who offered her wealth aud title, houses and lands—and she—well, I am ashamed Of her, Felix. She was vain, and much Weaker than a woman; she was young, too, and not overwise. She had nobility enough, however, to see what was right, though not to do it. She was tempted by her love of luxury and comfort—she was badly advised, wrongly ‘influenced; and she, weaker than a woman, gave up her lover —the one man in the world whom 6he loved—and married the wealthy suitor. How she suffered no one knows, no one can tell. Her marriage turned out to be a most disastrous one. Then, after long years of humiliating servitude, she was alone again and free. do you think she did, Felix?” “} cannot say,” he replied in a low vofce.

"I will tell you. After those long yeara she found that she still loved the dear companion of her youth. She said to herself that he had never married—perhaps he still cared for her —and one night, when he was sitting alone, she went to him—as I have come to you—knelt by bis side, as I kneel by yours—and prayed him—as I pray to yon—‘Oh, my lost love, my dear love, forg.'ve me, and take m« to your heart again!’ ” And the lovely lead drooped until it 1 ty upon his arm. He made no answer just then. His whole soul was stirred within tin,—his whole heart touched. After a taw mln-

ntes she raised her face to his, and he *aw tears upon it. “Violet," he said, “I do not know what to say to you. You have taken me so completely by surprise. I am losD-be-wildered. I cannot collect myself. “I thought you would say 'Yes’ to me at once,” she returned, sadly, “Oh, Felix, have you not forgiven me? Tell me that first. Have you forgiven me?” He looked at her thoughtfully, watching the firelight gleaming on .her goldea hair and on her rich jewels. “Yes; I have forgiven you, Violet—l forgave you long ago.” “Quite, or was it only a half forgive* ness, Felix?” (To be continued.)