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Author Of "called Back," "dark Days," "a Family Affair," Etc.

Author Of "called Back," "dark Days," "a Family Affair," Etc. image
Parent Issue
Day
12
Month
July
Year
1888
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

[TOLD BT PHILIP BRAND, M. D., LONDON.] [CÜNTINUED.] CHAPTER IV. That a man of Carriston's rank, breeding and reflnement should meet his fate within the walls of a lonely farm-house beyond the Trossachs, seems incredible. One would scareely expect to find among such humble surroundiugs a wife suitable to a man of his stamp. And yet when I saw the woman who had won hlm, I neither wondered at the conquest, nor did I blame him for weakness. I made the great discovery ou the inorning after my arrival. Eager to tasta the f reshness of the morning air, I ros betimes and went for a short stroll. I returned, and wliilê standing at the door of the house, was positively startled by the beauty of a girl who passed me and entered, as if sh were a regular iuhabitant of the place. Not a rosy Scotch lassie, such as one would expect to find indigenous to the soil ; but a slim, graceful girl, with delicate classical features. A girl with a mass of knotted ligbt hair, yet with the apparent anomaly, dark eyes, eyelashes and eyebrows - a combination which, to my mind, niakes a style of beauty rare, irresistible and dangerous above all others. The features which fllled the eiquisite oval of her face were refined and faultless. Her complexión was pale, but its pallor in no way suggested anything save perfect health. ïo cut my enthusiastic description short, I may at once say it has never beeu my good fortune to cast my eyea on a lovelier creature than this young girl. Although her dress was of the plainest and simplest ddseription, no one could have mistaken her for a servant: and much as I admire the bonny, healthy Scotch country lassies, I telt sure that mountain air had never reared a being of tbis ethereally beautif ui type. As she passed me I raised my hat instinctively. She gracefully bent her golden head, and bade me a quiet but unembarrassed good-morning. My eyes followed her until she vanished at the end of the dark passage which led to the back of the house. Even d uring the brief glimpse Ienjoyed Of this fair unknown a strange ideaoccurred to me. There was a remarkable likeness between her delicate features and those, scareely loss delicate, of Carriston. This resemblance miy have added to the interert th girl's appea.-auice awoke in my mind. Any way, I enteivd our sitting-room, and, a prey to euriosity and perhaps hunger, awaited with much impatience the appearance of Carristou - and breakfast. The former arrived firat. Generally speaking, he was afoot long before I was. but this morning we had reversed the usual order oí things. As soon as I saw him I cried : "Carriston, teil me at once who is the lovely girl I met outside. An angel wlth dark eyes and golden hair. Li she staying here, like ourselves?" A look of pleasure flashed into his eyes - a look which pretty well told me everythin g. Nevertheless, he answered as carelessly aa if such lovely young women were as common to the mountain side as rocks and brambles. "I expect you mean Miss Rowan, a uiee of our worthy landlady. She lives with her." She cannot be Scotch, wlth such a face and eyes." "Half and half. Her father was called an Englishman, but was, I bslieve. of French extraction. They say the name was originally Rohan." Carriston seemed to have made close ioquiries as to Miss Rowan's paren tage. "But what brings her hereí" I asked. "She has nowhere else to go. Rowan was an artist. He married a sister of our hostess, and bore her away from her native land. Some years ago she died, leaving this one daughter. Last year the father died, penniless, they teil me, so the girl has since lived with her only relative, her aunt." "Well," I said, "as you seem to knoir all about her, you can introduce mebv-and-by." "With the greatest pleasure, if Miss Rowan permite," said Carriston. I was glad to haar him give the conditional promise with as Jiuch respect to the lady's wishes as if she Had been a duches. Then, with the liberty a close friend may take, I drew toward me a portfolio, íull, I presumed, of sketches of surrounding scenery. To my surprise, Carriston jumped up hastily and snatched it from me. "They are too bad to look at," he said. As I struggled to regain possession sundry strings broke, and- and beholdl the floor was littered, not with delineations of rock, lake and torrent, but with images of the fair young girl I had seen afew minutes before. Full face, profila, three-quarter face, five, even seven-eighth face, all were there - each study perfectly executed by Carriston's clever pencil. I threwmyself into achair and laughed aloud, while the young man, blushing and diseomflted, quickly buddled the portraits between the covers, just as a genuine Scotch iassie bore in the plentiful and, to me, very welcome breakfast. Carriston did favor me with his company during tha whole of that day, but, in spite of my having come to Scotland to enjoy his society, thnt day, f rom easily guesed reasons, was the only one in which I had undisputed possession of my friend. Of course, I bantered him a great deal on the portfolio episode. He took it in good part, attempting little or no defense. Indeed, before night he had told me with all a boy's fervor how he had loved Madeline Rowan at tirst sight, how in the short spaca of time which had elapsed since that meeting he had wooed her and won her; how good and beautiful she was; how he wo shij,ped her; howhapjy hefelt; how when I went south he should accompany me, and after making a few necessary arrangements, return at once and bear his bride away. I could only listen to him and congratúlate him. lt was uot my place tü act ihe eider, and advise him either for or against the marriage. Carriston had only himself to please, and if he made a rash step, only himself to blame for the consequences. And why should I have dissuaded - I who in two days envied the boy's good fortune? I saw a great deal of Madeline Rowan. How strange and out-of -place her name and face seeined amid our surroundings. if at first somewhat shy and retiring, shd soon, if only ior Carriston's sake, consented to look upon me as a friend, and taiked to me freeljr and uureservedly. ïhen I lound that her nature was as sweet as her face. Such a conquest did she make of me that, save for one chimerical reason, I should have feit quite certain that Carriston had chosen well, and would be happy in wedding the girl of his choice, heedless of her humbl position in the world, and absence of betltting wealth. When once his wif.?, I feit sure that if he cared for her to win social success her looks and bearing would iiisura ït; and trom the great improvement which, as I have already said, I noticed in hishealth and spirits, I bel ie ved that his marriage would niake hu life longer, happier and better. Now for my objection, which seems olinost a laughable one. I objected on tbe score of the extraordiuary resemblance, which, so far as a man may resemble a woman, existed betwean Charles Carriston and Made line Rowan. The more I saw theni together, the niore I was struck by it. A strangeï might well have taken them for twin brother and sister. The same delicate features, drawn in the same Unes; the same soft, dark, dreamy eyes; even the same shaped heaiLs. Comparing tbe two, it needed no phrenologist or physiognomist to teil y ou where ona excelleJ, the other excelled; where one failed, the other was wanting. Now could I have selected a wife for my frieud, Í would have chosen one with habits aud constitution entirely different from his own. She should have baen a bright, bustling woman, with lots of energy and common sense - one who would have rattled hún about and kept him going - not a lovely, dark-eyed, dreamy girl, wbo could forhours at a stretch make herself supremely happy if only sitting at her lover's feot and speaking no won!. Yet they were a Imndsome couple, and never Lave I seen two people so utterly devoted to each other as those two seemed to be during those autuum days which I spent with them. I socn had a olear proof of the closenesi of their mental reseinblance. One evening Carriston, Madeline and I were sitting out of doors watching the gray mist deepening in tho valley at our feer. Two of the party were, of course, hand in hand, the tbird seated at a discreet distance - not so far away as to preclude conversation, but far enough off to be able to pretend that ho saw and heard only wbat was intended for his eyes and p&rs. How certain tcpics, which I muld hare nvoided dipcussing wlth Carriston, were atarted I hardly remember. Probably some strange tale had been passed down from wilder and even more solitary regions tlian ours - some ridiculour tale of Highland superstition, no doubt, embellished and augmented by each one who repeated it to nis fellows. From her awed talk I soon found that Mad eline Rowan, perhaps by reason of thg Scotch blood in her veins, was as firm a believer in things visionary and beyond Nature as ever Charles Carriston in his silliest moments could be. As soon as I could I stopped the talk, and the next day, finding the girl for a few minutes alone, told her plainly that subjects of this kind should be kept as far as possible from her future husband's thoughts. Sho promised otedience, with dreamy eyes which ooked as far away and full of visions as Carriston's. '"By-the-by," I said, "has he ever spoken to you about seeing strange things?1' "Yes; he has hinted at it."' "And you believe him?" "Of course I do - he told me so." This was unanswerable. "A pretty pair they will makel" I muttered, as Madeline slipped from me to welcome her lover, who was approaching. "Tbey wi 1 see ghoste in every coi ner, and goblins behind every curtain." Nevertheless, ths young people had no doubts al out their coming bliss. Everything was going smoothly and pleasantly for them. Cairiston had at once spoken to Madeline'saunt, andobtained the old Scotch woman's ready consent to their unión. I was rather vexed at his still keeping to his absurd whim, and concealing his true name. He said he was afraid of alarming the aunt by telling her he was passing under an alias, while if he gave Madeline his trus reason for so doing ghe would be miserable. Iloreover, I found he had formed the romantic plan of marrying her without telling her in what an enviable position sha would be placed, so far as worldly gear went. A kind of Lord of Burleigh surprise no doubt cotnmended itself to his imaginative brain. The last day of my holiday carne. I bade a long and sad farewell to lake and mountain, and, accompanied by Carriston, started for home. Ididnotsee the parting proper tetween the young people - that was far too sacred a thing to be intruded upon - but even when that protracted affair was over I waited irany, many minutes while Carriston stood hand in band with Madeline, forting himself and her by reiterating, "Only six weeks - sbc short weeks I And then - and thenl" It was the girl who at last tore herself away, and then Carriston mounted reluctantly by my side on the rough vehicle. From Edinburgh we traTeled by the night train. The greater part of the way we had the compartment to ourselve'. Carriston, as a lover wiil, talked of nothing but coming bliss and his plans for the future. Aft?r a while I grew quite weary of the monotony of the subject, and at last dozad off, and for some little time slept. The shrill whistle which tcld lis a tunnel was at hand aroused me. My companion was sittiDg opposite to me, and as 1 glanced across at him my attention was arrestad by the same strange, intense look which I had on a previous occasion at Bettws y Cced noticed in his eyes - the same fixed stare - the same obliviousness to all that was passing. Remembering his request I shook him, somewhat roughly, back to his senses. He íegarded me for a moment vacantly, then said: "Now I have found out what was wanting to tnake the power I told jou of complete. 1 eould sce her if I wished." "Of course you can see her - in your mind's eye. All lovers can do that." "If I tried I could see her bodily - know exactly what she is doing." He spoke with an air of complete conviction. "Then I hope, for the sake of modesty, you won't try. It is now nearly 3 o'clock. She ought to be in bed and asleep." I spoko lightly, thinking it better to try and laugh him out of his tolly. He took no notice of my sorry joke. "No," he said, quietly, "I am not going to try. But I know now what was wanting. Love- sucu love as mine - such love as hers- makes the connecting link, and enables sight or soine oAer sense to cross over space and pass through every material obstacle." "Look here, Carriston," I said, seriously, "you are talking like a madnian. I don't want to frighten you, but I am bound both as a doctor and your sincere friend to teil you that unless you cure yourself oí these abturd delusions they will grow upon you, develop fresh forms, and you will probably end your days under restraint. Ask any doctor; he will teil you the same." "Doctors are a clever race," answered my strange young friend, "but they don't know every Üung." So saying he closed nis eyes and appeared to sleep. "We parted upon reaching London. Many kind words and wishes passed between us, and I gave him some more well meant and, I believed, needed warnings. He was going down to see nis uncle, the baronet. Then he hal some matters to arrange with his laT-yers, and above all had to select a residence for himself and his wife. He would no doubt be in London for a short time. If possible he would come and see me. Any way, he would write and let me know the exact date of his approaching marriage. If I could manage to come to it, so much the better. If not, he would try, as they passed through town, to Dring his bride to pay me a flying and friendly visit. He lef t me in the best of spirits, and I went back to my patients and worked hard to make up lost ground, and counteract whatever errors had been committed by my substituto. Some weeks afterward, late atnight, while I was deep in a new and clever treatise on zymotics, a man haggard, wild, unshorn and unkempt rus bed past my startled servant and entered the room in which I sat. He threw himself into a chair, and I was fled to recognize in the intruder my clever and brilliaut friend Charles Carristonl CHAPTER V. "The end has comesooner than I expectod." These were the sad words I muttered to myself as, waving my frightened servant away, I closed the door and stood alone with the suppcsed nianiac H rose and wruag my hand, then without a word sank back in his chair and buried bis face in his hands. A sort of nervous trembling seemed to run through his frame. Deeply distressed, I drew lus bands f rom his face. "Ne-r, Carriston," I said, as fimily as I could, "look up and teil me what all this means. Look up, I say, man, and speak to me." He raised his eyes to mine asd kept them there, while a ghastly smile- a phantom of humor- flickered across his white faca. No doubt his native quickness told him what I suspected, so he looked me full and steadily in the face." 'No," be said, "not as you think. Butlet there be no mistake. Question me. Talk to me. Fut me to any test. Satisfy yourself, once f' r all, that I am as sane as ycu are." He spoke so rationally, his eyes met mine so unflinchingly, that I was re joiced to know that my fears were as yet ungrounded. There was grief, excitement, want of rest in his appeaiance, but his general manner told me he was, as he said, as sane as I was. "Thank heaven you can speak to me and look at me like this !" I exelaimed. "You are satisfied, thení" he said. "On this point, yes. Now teil me what is wrong?" Now that he had set my doubts at rest, his agita tion and excitement seemed to return. He grasped my hand convulsively. "Madeline!" he whispered. "Madeliu - my love - she is gone." "Gone!" J repeated. "Gone wheref" "She is gone, I say - stolen f rom me by o : e black-hearted traitor - perhaps forever. Who can teil?" "But, Carriston, surely in so short a timo her love cannot hare been won by another. If so, all I can say is " "What!" ha shouted. "You who have seen her! You in your wildest dreams to imagine that Madelint Rowan would leare me of her own free will ! No, sir, she has been stolen from me- entrapped- carried away - bidden. But I will find her, or I will kilt the black-hearted rillain who has done this." He rose and paced tho room. His face was distorted with rag?. He clinched and unclinched his long aleudar hands. "My dear fellow," I said, "you are talking riddles. Sit down and teil me calmly what has happened. But, flrst of all, as you look utterly worn out, I will ring for my man to get you some food." "No," ha said, "I want nothing. Weary I am, for I ha va been to Scotland and back as fast as man can travel. I reached London a short tima ago, and af ter seeing one man have como straight to you, my oíd friend, for help - it may be for protection. But I have eaten and I have drunk, knowing I must keep my health and strength." However. I insisted upon some wine betng brought. He drank a glass, and then, with a strange, enforoed calm, told me what had taken place. His tale was this: After we had parted company on our return from Scotland, Carriston went down to the family seat in Oxfordshire and informed his únele of the impending change in his Ufe. The baronet, an extremely oíd man, intirm and all but childish, troubled little about the matter. Every acre of his large property was strictly entailed, so his pleasure or displeasure cculd make but little alteration in his nephew's prospeets. Still, he was the head of the family, and Carriston was in duty bound to make the important news known to hun. The young man made no secret of his approaching marriage, so in a very short time every member of the family was aware that the heir and future head was about to ally himself to a nobody. Knowing nothingof Madeline Rowan's rare beauty aud sweet nature, Carriston's kinsmen and kinswomen were sparing with their cougratulations. Indeed, Mr. Ralph Carriston, tha cousin whose name was coupled with such absurd suspicions, went so far as to write a bittor, sarcastic letter, full of irónica! felicitatiou. This and Charles Carriston's haughty reply, did not make the affection between the cousins any stronger. Moreover, shortly afterward the younger man heard that inquiries were being made in tbe neighborhood of Madeline's home as to her position and parentage. Feeling sure that only his cousin Ralph could hare had the curiosity to instituto such inquiries, he wrote and thanked him tor the keen interest ha was inanifesting in his future welfare, but begged that hereaf ter Mr. Carriston would apply to him direct for any information he wantsd. The two men were now no longer onspeaking terms. Charles Carriston, in his present frame of mind, cared little whether his relatives wished to bless or forbid the banns. He was passionately in love, and at onee set about making arraugements for a speedy marriage. Although Hadelina was still ignorant of tha ezalted position held by her lover - ulthough she came to hiia absolutely penniless, be was resolved in the matter of money to treat her as generously as he would have treated the most eligible damsel in the country. There were several legal questions to be set at rest concerning certain pioperíy he wished to settle U[Kn her. The e oí eourse caused delay. As soon as they were adjusted to bis own, or, rather, to his lawyer's satisfaction, he purposed going to Scotland and carrylng away bis beautiful bride. In the meantime he cast about for a residence. Sornewhat Bohemian in his nature, Carriston had no inteution of ssttling down just yet to live the life of an ordinary moneyed Englisuman. His intention was to take Madeline abroad for some months. He had íixed upon Cannes as a desirable place at which to winter, but having grown somewhat tired of hotel life, wished to rent a furnished house. He had received f rom an agent to hom he had been advised to apply the refusal of a house, which, from the glowing description given, seemed the one abova all others he wantod. As an carly decisión was insisted upon, my impulsivo young friend thought nothing of crossing the channel aud running down to the south of Franca to see with his own eyes that the inuctilauded place was worthy of the fair being who was to be its temporary mistress. He wrote to Madeline and told her he was going from home for a few days. He said he should be traveling the greatest part of the time, so it would be no use her writing to hiin until his return. He did not reveal the object of his jouruey. Were Madeline to know it was to choose a winter ra-iidenea at Cannes, ahe would be filled with amazement, and the innocent deception he wu sttll keeping up would not be carrUd throusli to the romantic end which ho pioture 1 to himself. The day before he started for Franca, Madeline wrote that her aunt was very unwcll, but said nothing as to her malady causing any alarm. Perbaps Carriston thought less about the old Scotch widow tlian her relationship and kindness to Miss Rowan merited. He started on his travels without any forebodings of evil. His journey to Cannes and back was horried- 119 wasted no time on the road, but was delayed for two days at the place itself before he could make final arrangement with the ornier and the present occupier of the house. Thinking ha was gotng to start every moment, he did not write to Madeline. At the rate at which he meant to return, a letter poíted in England would reagh her almost as quickly as if posted at Cannes. He renciicd his home, which for the last few weeks had been Oxford, and found two letters waiting for him. Th first, datei on the day he leftEngland, was f rom Madeline. It told him that her aunt's illness had suddenly taken a fatal turn- that she had died that day, almost without warning. The second letter was anonymous. It was written apparently by a woman, and advise 1 Mr. Carr to look sharply after his lady love, or he would find himself left in the lurch. The writer would not be surprised to hear some fine day that shs had eloped with a certain gentleman who should be nameless. This precious epistle, probably an emanation of feminine spite, Carriston treated it as it deserved - he tore it up and threw the pieces to the wind. But the thought of Madeline belng alone at that lonely house troubled him greatly. The dead woman had no sons or daughters - all the anxiety and responsibility connected with her affairs would fall on the poor girl. The next day he threw himself into the Scotch express and started for her t'ar-kway home. On arriving there he found it occupied only by the rough farm servants. They seeme! in a state of wondsrment, ani volubly quesrtoned Carriston as to the whereabouts of Madeline. The question sent a chili of fear to his heart. He answered their questions by others, and soon learned all they had to commuilicate. Little enough it was. On the morning after the old woman's funeral Madeline had gone to Callendar to ask the advice of an old friend of her aunt, us to what steps should now be taken. She had neither been to this friand, nor had she refiirne 1 homa. She had, however, sent a message that she must go to London at once, and wojilti writ f rom there. That was the last hearü' oL her - all that was known about her. Upon hearing this news Carriston became a prey to the acutest terror- an emotion which was quite inexplicable to the hontt people, his iui'ormants. The girl had goni; but she had sent word whither she had gone. True, they did not know the reason for her departure, so sudden and without Iuggage of any description - true, she had not written as promised, but no doubt they would hear from her to-morrow. Carriston knew better. Without rerealing the extent of his fears hs flaw back to Callendar. Inquines at the railway station informed him that she had gone, or had purposed going, to Londou, but whether she ever reached it, or whether any trace of her could be found there, was at least a matter of doubt. No good could be gainei by remaining ia Scotland, so he traveled back at once to town, half distracted, sleepless and racking hi brains to know where to look for her. "She has been decoyed away," he said in conclusión. 'She is hidden, imprisoned somewhero. And I know, as well as if he told me, wbo has done this thing. I can trace Ralph Carriston s cursed band through itall." I glanced t him askance. Tbis morbid suspicion of bis cousin amountod almost to monomanía. He bad told the tale of Madeline's disappearanes clearly and tersely; but when he began to account for it, his theory was a wild and untenable one. Howerer mucb he suspected Ralph Carriston of longing to stand in his shoes, I could sea no object tor the crime of which he accused him - that of decoying away Madellne Rowan. "But why should he have done thisf I asked. "To prevent your niarriage? You are young; he must have foreseen that you would marry soine dav." Carriston leaned toward me, and droppad his voica to a whisper. "This is his reason," he said- "this is why I come to you. You are not tho only ons who has entirely misread my nature, and seen a strong tendency to insanity in it. Of course I know that you are all wrong, but I know that Ralph Carriston has stolen my love - stolen her because he tbinks and hopes that her Ums will drive me mad - perhaps drive me to kill myself. I went straight to him - I have just come from him. Brand, I tell you, that wben I taxed him with the crime - when I raved at him - when I threatened to tear the Ufe out of him- his cold wicked eyes leapt with joy. I heard him mutter between his teeth, 'Men have been put in strait-waistcoats for less than this.' Then I knew why he had done this. I curbed myself and left him. Most likely he will try to shut ma up as a lunatic; but I count on your protection - count on your help to fin i my love." That any man could be guilty of such a subtle reflnemant of crime as tbat of which he aecusei his cousin, seemed to me, if not impossible, at least improbable. But as at present there was no doubt about my friend'i sanity, I promised my aid readily. "And now," I said, "my dear boy, I won't hear another word to-night. Nothing can be done uut il morro w; then we will consult as to what steps should be taken. Drink this and go to bed- yes, you are as sane as I uu, but remsmber, insoinnia soou drives th stronprest maD out of his senses." I poured out an opiate. He drank it obediently. Bofore I left him for the night I saw bim in bed and sleeping a heavy sleep. [CONTINUED IN Ol'B NEIT.]

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Ann Arbor Register