Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 132, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 November 1903 — A DOCTOR’S MISSION [ARTICLE]

A DOCTOR’S MISSION

BY EMILY THORNTON

*■*'*". Author of “ Roy Russell’s Rule,?’ “ GlenrOY, ” -“The Fashionable Mother,” Etc.

CHAPTER XXlV.— (Continued.) Holding her away from him nt length lor another look at her beautiful face, ha added: *’My child, you are the perfect image your mother, and to my partial eyes aha waa the most beautiful women I hare ever seen.” * These words were spoken in so low a tone that the ladies present had not caught their meaning, and murmuring in return that she must introduce him to tfca waiting duehei*, he allowed her to load him forward while she presented Mm as "my father.” Drawing close to her grace, on being tons introduced, he turned a half quizzical look full upon her, which caused her to spring up instantly as she met it, exclaiming: “Edward! Can this be my son Edward?” “My own, dear mother! then you do know me after all these years?” was the answer as he held forth his arms to embrace her. Amazed at this unlooked for revelation, Ethel and Lady Claire clasped hands in mutual sympathy, and looked on in silent wonder. After this fond greeting, the duke turned and saluted his sister’s child, whom he had never seen, after which he took Ethel'* hand and leading her to his mother, aaid: . “Now, dearest mother, let me ask for # share of your love to lie g'iven to my daughter. Lady Ethel Worthington, for to her you 6ee your own granddaughter."

“Edward, this Is a surprise, inded,” returned her grace, as she pressed the sweet girl to her bosom and kissed her bright young brow. “Ethel has already won our affections during her brief residence here, without knowing that she eonld lawfully claim them. But now, please, tell your mother who you married, and why you kept your marriage so long a secret?’’ “Before answering your question, my dear mother, we will proced to open the package left in Ethel’s charge.” . Taking the small bundle of what temed papers and letters from hie daughter's hand, the duke cut the strings and drew forth the contents. The first thing to met the a marriage certificate, setting fori that on Oct 18, 18—, just twenty two years before, in New York City, Edward Worthington, only son of Charles, tenth Duke of Westmoreland, was united in marriage to Florence Nevergail, daughter of the late John Nevergail of London, "by ReT. Henry Morris, L>. D. Next came to view a magnificent circle diamond ring which he had given to her a tthe time of their engagement and a plain gold band, containing their joint initials and the date of their marriage. The last was his wife's wedding ring! Then appeared a small locket, set with diamonds, containing the likenesses of both; and as he threw the gold chain, to which it was attached, over Ethel’s neck, he .bade her vyear it hereafter, “for the sake of her parents.” As the duchess and Lady Claire looked at the beautiful face of Ethel’s poor, young mother, they were each struck with the likeness she bore to the picture, and thought she might almost have been its original. “Now, tny dear mother and daughter, I will tell you why I have so long concealed the fact of my marriage. You., mother, can scarcely blame me, when you remember the set and stern disposition my father ever possessed. His will was law, his rule a rod of iron, nnd a child daring to disobey him was sure to be punished with the utmost severity. “When 1 was only a stripling of nineteen years I had accompanied my father to a fox hunt, and after the chase was over, on our re: urn ride lie commenced j talking about my being heir to his title I and wealth, and about the intense desire he had that when I married 1 should select a wife from a certain number of ladies belonging to-the nobility. “'Father,’ 1 replied;‘l have always expected to love some sweet young girl, and on that account solely to marry her!’ “ 'Then your expectations will meet a sudden and grievous disappointment,’ was his stern reply. -X “Wheeling his horse so that he faced ; me in the road, he extended his right hand towards heaven, and then and there took this' solemn oath: “ 'Once for all, Edward, hear me and mark what I say; I solemnly call on heaven to witness that never will I consent to your wedding any person not in your own rank in life! Neva*, boy; remember that. Never.’ “From that hour matrimony and ladies lost all charms for me. I, as you know, mingled little in society, and found iny chief amusements in study, huntiug and traveling. When about twentv-six vears old I went to America, and while in New York I accidentally met Gertrude NeVergnl], who was the daughter of Sir. Geoffrey Glendcnning. our neighbor at the hall. She. in making what they considered a plebeian marriage, had been cast pff and disowned by her proud father and all her friends and relatives. “With her hnshaud and his young orphan sister, Florence NevergaiL they had loft England; and Nevergail toon became a talented lawyer, respected, and sec rived Into the best society in New York Oky. “It was then, at their house. I first met and passionately loTed my beautiful Florence. Infatuated to the wildest degree with this young lady, I could not leave the place, and before many weeks passed I discovered that she reciprocated my warm devotion. ‘ “When ahe did confess her feelings. I aaw at once that asking for the consent es my father would be useless, so I urged a private marriage* To this she consented, if I could gain the approbation if her brother and bis wtfs. "In remembrance of their owa happy lie. brought about by a marriage solely far leva, their consent waa soon given, ted In thair presence we were united. I

3,== lived with her the happiest year of my life, under the simple name of Edward Worthington. “But, alas! our joy was but fbr a brief period, for when our little girl was only/ three weeks old, she left me for a brighter world—a never-fading heritage on high. “After her death I was inconsolable. Life for me was aim loss; so I cared not what became of me. Then Mrs. Nevergnil came with her sisterly advice and consolations, and in her pious efforts I again regained my outward composure. „ “Mrs. Nevergail, with the consent of her good huuband, then offered to take charge of my Vihfaik child, saying that perhaps at present I might not desire to announce my marrtagjd, or her existence, to my proud ami stjeru father. , "After giving the matter consideration I consented to their plan, and made up this package at that time, to be kept until this birthday. charged them to keep my secret sacredly,'and to give my little one their own name and bring her up in every respect ar. they would had she been actually their twn. “I informed then that on this birthday she might be told this story, but until I reclaimed her I desired her to remain with them. If at this date my father still lived, I should settle upon £er a suitable allowance, and perhaps visit her occasionally in New York without his knowledge. “Cine year ago he died; and I at once wroto to Mrs. Nevergail the fact, and told her that I had now inherited the dukedom, and should consider myself free to recall my child.'

“She instantly answered to the address I had given her, communicating the fact that she was a widow, very near her end, and begged me to leave Ethel jrith he» until hlie should pass away, or until, at any rate, the fifth of October. She told me she should sail for England very soon, taking Ethel with her, and said that I could hear of her at the residence of he# cousin, Mr. Rogers, at any time. I called there last week, as directed, only to hear of my kind friend’s death, and the astounding news that my sweet daughter was even then an inmate of Castle Cairn. “Gladly I repaired hither to meet at once daughter, mother and niece. May we never more be parted!” “Amen, say I to that!” ejaculated the happy duchess. “I have been lonely, indeed, without my son. Now I am off and need a son’s care and attention.” •'Which care, rest assured, shall always be yours,” again repeated the duke, as he stooped and pressed a wrarm k> ss upon her still handsome cheeks. When in the morning Dr. Glendenning called and was told the news that the poor governess was no other than Dady Ethel \VOrthington, acknowledged daughter of the Duke of Westmoreland, his heart sahk within him, and he could pnly whisper in trembling tottes: “Will this noble relationship cause you to regret our engagement? Oh, Ethel, Ethel, will this part us?” "Never!” wns the glad reply. “My father knows too well the value of a true love, and he surely will not refuse his consent -to opr union. If he does, I am of age, and have promised that nothing

shall Hand in-the way of our marriage.” Nothing diet separate them. The duke was much • pleased with Dr. Glendenuing's manly demeanor, and when he timidly asked for his daughter’s hand he smiled brightly and gave his consent. So Lady Ethel Worthington married Dr. Earle Elfenstein Glendenning, amid great rejoicings and vast displays of wealth, beauty and fashion, after which the “bounie” bride was welcomed gladly to the remodeled and greatly improved hall, a place that still bore so strange a history. Sir Eitzroy lived nearly two years after the marriage of his son, and these years wore unclouded by a single sorrow. He loved his children fondly, and was greatly beloved by them in return. He died at last quite suddenly, and was laid to rest beside his brother Arthur in the family vault. Sir Earle Elfenstein Glendenning, M. D., and his beautiful wife, Lady Ethel, were ever' regarded with true affection by all their neighbors and tenants; and when, at last; the duke, after his mother’s death, did, in his loneliness, love and Nyed a second time, a lady of rank, the Couutess Teresa Lovell, they found in the hew duchess a rare addition to their circle df dear ones, and the most happy intercourse ever existed jbetweeu the two families. > \ »

Poor Constance-Glendenning, in losing husband, title nud wealth, became a melancholy invalid. The fate of her former lover, whom she dearly loved, was so impressed upon her heart and imagination that after she heard it in all its hideousness the very name of her husband in her presence brought on nervous tremblings to such an extent that Che subject had to be banished entirely . from her hearing.' The horrible exposure of her husband's sin produced- at length another revulsion of feeling, and with deep remorse her heart returned to her early love, clinging ever to his memory, only to shed tears over his sorrowful, fate and devotion to herself, tears of unavailing regret. 80 she h«d lived and so at last she died. Just two years after tfie left Che hail she breathed her sad life away, and her last words'were; a - “Arthur, Arthur, my only love, I c'&me to thee now, nevermore to be parted.” (The end.)