grass. There was some dispute about the description of marks seen, and in the midst a carriage came up to the gate. It was very dark outside, but several people carried lanterns, and one being raised to the carriage window, a voice in the hall proclaimed, "There's a lady inside!" "Is it her?" cried another, and the cry was repeated. Some even said "She's come back!" I was near the hall door as they approached, and soon recognized Alice and Mr. Brown. "It is my daughter," Mr. Ainslie said aloud. I took her in my arms; and, the parlour being full of gentlemen, was about to lead her upstairs, when, to my utter astonishment, I beheld facing us on the lower landing the old Squire ! Pale, half dressed, wildly excited; but more apparently with delight than any other feeling, he extended his hands towards us, crying, "Come at last. I knew you would come, Carrie, my dear, I've wanted you so long." Alice ran up and kissed him, she only understood that he looked to her for comfort. Nanny Cargill was standing petrified with surprise. Mr. Ainslie and Merton Brown ran up and supported the old man, who evidently had scarce power to stand. A chair was handed to the landing and they placed him on it. Alice knelt, stroking his hand and looking pityingly in his face. I stood at the foot of the staircase, like Nanny, utterly amazed, when one of the elder men cried: "Good Lord! He thinks it's his daughter! And she's like her too!" "Like Miss Helen? Oh, not a bit!" said another. was. "Like Miss Helen's mother, Miss Caroline that She went off with Captain Dalziel twenty years ago, and there was just this hunt for her." "I remember it well," said Mr. West; "she went to a party at Mrs. Prendergast's. Mr. Wainwright sat up all night expecting her home, and when he found how it was, he took an oath he would never ask her to come back. A rash oath, but he kept to it; and it is plain it cost him dear." Grant's course, as Witham was known not to have sailed and was probably now in the hands of the police. When they had gone I went up to the drawing-room, and persuading Alice to take off her pretty dress and go to bed, I lay down on the sofa till five in the morning, when I took Nanny Cargill's charge over her sleeping master. CHAP. XLVIII. THE HEART ON THE LIPS. I had not been quite well since the excitement occasioned by Harry Markland's letter. Hurrying about London in the warm season, and the anxiety attending recent occurrences, had kept up the feverishness of my nerves, and I was alternately sensible of great restlessness or languor. All through this dreadful night I had had to fight against a tendency to stupor which continually asserted itself. Whether it may have tended to blunt the poignancy of my feelings I cannot say; they were keen enough. When I arrived at my own house I felt almost incapable of speaking to Barbara. I heard and saw, but it seemed that I scarce could reflect. Her presence worried me. She spoke of making me some coffee, and it reminded me to tell her there were many people coming, so she must make plenty. I told her also to have my dining-table placed in the hall and as many chairs as possible. So I was rid of her. Mr. Mainwaring would be the first to arrive; I felt almost sure of that. What would he look like? Oh, to think of the glow of happi ness over his handsome face when I parted from him. Wheels already! yes, Mr. Mainwaring alighting. In a moment he was in my parlour. Not pale, he was flushed; but there was that look on his face I knew so well, and it was even more distressing to witness now, for that something of the resolute will to conquer He was borne upstairs to his room still hold- suffering was wanting. "This is very dreading Alice by the hand. Poor Peggy, a well-ful," he said; " you have no news for me, I intentioned but very unfit nurse, was in so see-no hope!" sound a sleep that even their entrance failed to arouse her. Alice gave her entire attention to soothing the invalid, until, Mrs. Cargill having administered some of the medicine prescribed by Dr. Meredith, he fell into a quiet sleep. A stillness fell over the assemblage downstairs after this startling appearance of the old Squire. Voices spoke under breath, and it was agreed there should be a meeting at Fairclough in the morning. Mr. Ainslie said he would provide a carriage to meet Mr. Mainwaring at Marsham station, and bring him on to me there. It seemed best, and as he might be expected to arrive at half past eight, I engaged to be at home before that time. Merton Brown left with the rest, he said he should for the present make it his task to trace 66 Nothing-nothing yet," I answered. He had come away from some entertainment, his dress told that. Sinking into a chair he gazed at me, as silent I stood before him. When he commenced talking he spoke rapidly, almost wildly. Surely he had had enough of such misery before, he said, and this had come upon him more overwhelmingly than anything yet. I was powerless to speak word of comfort, so truly was I overcome by the sense of his grief; but tongue-tied as I felt, I knew that to have me to speak to was probably a relief after the long journey he had had, with such intense anxiety at heart and only strangers around him. He seemed indeed scarcely to expect reply, scarcely to address me; but from the fulness of his heart outspoke the bitter feelings roused by | nothing now; but I hope, for I pray. Pray this heavy and sudden stroke. too, and you may find hope." "Child, to be so weak that I must love somewhere! Shall I have this weakness all my life? Most men have some safe channel for affection, I think. My mother? Oh, loving her has cost me too dear. It cost me very nearly honour; it has cost me this. No, she would ruin me again. "That girl seemed to cling about my very heart; to claim the support it was happiness to give. That was it, I suppose, the happiness tempted me! What shall I do with myself? Perhaps if I were ten years older I might do better; might work, as I have seen men work, without thought beyond the achievement of success. Shall I hope to do this? "I wish I had been brought up as my father was; such discipline might have hardened my character. But he was loving in his home. He ruled my mother in kindness and felt pain in having to stand firm; I know he did. And he loved me tenderly. Oh, if he were now living! "It seems so long a way stretching before me to walk alone. And then to be weighted with these memories; to be haunted with them as with a bad conscience. Which is worst, I wonder? I suppose I may prove it if I go the way most men at my age would. Change one for the other; easy enough I daresay; and then rid me of both perchance. "My conscience has been light enough hitherto; yet some I know will say this only serves me right. Tell me truly what you think, Mrs. Gainsborough; have I been to blame towards her in any way? Could I have done otherwise ?" "Who should blame you ?" "It is true she was hurried into the marriage, but could I help it? She made not a shadow of opposition. Mr. Wainwright may have persuaded her, but he said he had not. I used no words of inducement; I only said it was necessary she should love me if she accepted my hand; and I believed-oh, I could have sworn that she loved me! It was weak, lamentably weak, to throw off one yoke and bend my neck to the next that offered. I could have fulfilled my pledge without that. Ab, you were very anxious I should love her, very solicitous I should believe in her. And I did love her, from my very heart I loved her. She seemed so confiding, so truthful; her love had such an appearance of reality. It seemed not to spring from vanity or self-gratulation in my subjection; I could not think it mere fanciful inclination. It seemed a sort of minor religion; so earnest, and holy, and real. And I meant to deserve it; I did deserve it if sincere affection and earnest endeavour could. "You stand there looking at me, Gainsborough; tell me what I must do, stoic or epicurean ?" Mrs. turn "You are talking very wildly, Why give up all hope? Trust in heaven. I can do 66 Pray? Do you know what it is to have the thought of prayer turned bitter to you? Had I not prayed that I might love Helen, prayed for her daily as I have done, I had not loved her so well. I seem to be punished for right doing as if it were a sin. Had I followed the instinct of my nature and taken her away with me on Tuesday night I might have shielded her; she might have become attached to me; all might have been well. But I was scrupulous; I did not think it right towards Mr. Wainwright; and see my reward!" "Oh hush, hush! you should not talk so. It is better to suffer for well-doing than for evil-doing." "Go on; speak to me. wicked. I daresay I am. nearly mad." 66 You think me very I know I am very I could almost think you believed-but you cannot. You rave so. Men are selfish and will think of their own interests first. Have you been talking the pain away?" "Poor Mrs. Gainsborough, I ought not to pain you. Forgive me. If you knew what a journey I have had. It is no fault of yours ; I know you have done your best." "You seemed to me as if-almost as if you were hard upon poor Helen." "No, I may not be that. I know that women have noble and beautiful impulses, though they may be weak and easily swayed by a strong will and a strong passion in the lover nearest them. Yet-oh, Mrs. Gainsborough, I had not thought it possible, so short a time ago that she looked love into my eyes, that she could give way. She doubtless loved him best all the time, but some fancy or impulse swayed her towards me." "Mr. Mainwaring, are you thinking all the time that Helen, my Helen, your Helen, could forsake us willingly? Forsake her dying grandfather, her duty, her love? For shaine, for shame!" "I hear it on all sides that she has fled with Grant Wainwright." "Do they say she fled with him ?" "Oh, Mr. Mainwaring, Grant Wainwright has stolen her; joined in with a gang of villains and carried her by force away." "Are you sure? Are you go willingly?" "Sure-as that I am true band." sure she did not to my own hus "You are speak He took my hands in his. ing the truth," he said; "you must know. She is true; she is true to me.' "Oh, I do pity you if you could think that she was not." He looked in my face for a moment longer, turned, and pacing the room threw himself on the sofa and buried his face in his arms. I went up to him presently and rested my hand on his shoulder, "You must not let this overwhelm you now," I said. "There is hope, and we want your best aid. Try and calm yourself. Merton and other friends will be here presently." He was pale now, but there was a softened look on his countenance. "Tell me what you know," he said. I told him briefly. I had no further suspicion to argue away. He said he had not known that Mr. Wainwright's illness preceded the event. He had heard by telegraph simply that Helen had disappeared and that he was wanted. At Liverpool he had overheard conversation on the platform which first possessed him of the idea that she had fled with Grant Wainwright. Some way further on two gentlemen entering the carriage had conversed freely of the matter; and, alighting at Marsham, it was on every tongue. Concerning the manner of the occurrence there seemed diversity of opinion; but all, with one exception, a porter at the station, who said it was the Black Band's doing, agreed that Miss Dalziel had gone off with her cousin, and that old Mr. Wainwright had fallen into one of his passions in consequence, and was dying or dead. I advised Mr. Mainwaring to go upstairs and bathe his forehead; he had complained of a racking headache. When he returned to the parlour he looked more collected. Barbara had brought in some coffee and he took it eagerly. "I wanted some at Marsham," he said; "but none was to be had. They bronght me wine, wretched stuff. I was obliged to take it for I thought I must have fainted. I took all they gave me, how much I hardly know. It mounted to my head, and, I hope you can make excuses for me, Mrs. Gainsborough. I know I have been talking like a fool. This coffee is good, it revives me. I hope to be a reasonable being again presently. Another cup if you please." He drank it in silence; then said, "Mrs. Gainsborough, I dare not talk to you about Helen. I must keep feeling under or I shall be hindered in giving the entire attention I ought to the facts of the event. But I want to say to you that, you shall not find me selfish now. "The last words she spoke to me," I said; 'were that your love was her support in her sorrow." "Hush, hush!" he interrupted; "not now." I was sorry indeed I had said it. I felt I had not sufficiently appreciated the necessity he had spoken of and I was so vexed with myself, so subdued by witnessing the struggle he had to maintain composure, that I could not keep the tears from falling. He had walked to the window but returned, took my hand and kissed it. "How much you have suffered," he said. "Be hopeful. Heaven will watch over her. It would be wicked to despair." I heard the hall door opened; and, requesting Mr. Mainwaring to remain in the parlour until I had ascertained who were the comers, I went to meet them. CHAP. XLIX. A CONSULTATION AT FAIRCLOUGH. HELEN'S The two magistrates and Merton Brown arrived together. I admitted the latter into the parlour. Immediately afterwards a carriage drew up, bringing Mr. Boradaile and Mr. Devonshire. Then a party of gentlemen from Marsham came, including Mr. West, and Mr. Field the chemist. Mr. Hawkins followed, and Alfred Merrivale. The gentlemen were talking in groups, in a desultory manner, when Mr. Harding proposed | they should sit down and endeavour to gather the facts of the case in some sort of order. "The first question," he said, "which it appears necessary to set at rest is, whether we are to regard this as an elopement or an abduction. Remembering that Miss Dalziel recently leapt her horse acrose the Cleft, under the fear of capture, I incline to the latter view." Mr. Boradaile submitted that no mere mercenary aim could be served by stealing Miss Dalziel, since Mr. Wainwright, in such a case, would doubtless alter the disposition of his property. "It is believed he is dying," said Mr. Grey. "It is too certain now, and might have been a question before the affair at the Cleft, that no new will of his making would be likely to hold good in law." "Still I do not see why suspicion should fall on Mr. Witham," continued Mr. Boradaile, "when Mr. Grant Wainwright appears so much more likely to have won the lady's favour." "As Miss Dalziel's intimate friend," I interrupted, "I can give you my fullest assurance that her inclinations are all in favour of the gentleman to whom, with Mr. Wainwright's sanction, she was engaged. Mr. Arden Mainwaring, her affianced husband, was telegraphed for last night, and is now here." It was a great surprise to most of those present. I opened the parlour door. Mr. Mainwaring and Mr. Merton Brown came into the hall, and, being duly introduced, took places at the table. The sensation among the gentlemen caused by this announcement and appearance was succeeded by a silence, till Mr. Mainwaring (stating he had just been informed that Mr. Giant Wainwright, watched by a detective, was journeying in Scotland) asked for information concerning his previous movements. Mr. West then repeated what had occurred at his house. Being questioned by Mr. Harding, he said he certainly did not understand that Miss Dalziel was missing. He thought Darliston Hall had been broken into again, and asked, "Is it the Black Band?" To which Mr. Wainwright replied, "Very likely." Mr. Field said that when Mr. Grant Wainwright had brought the prescription he was in great haste to have it made up. He looked very pale, and was excited in manner. He said, 'Look sharp, Mr. Field; the old man may die while you are dawdling." He remembered Mr. Grant Wainwright said "dawdling;" but he was not slow in his proceedings; only cautious, as it was his duty to be when making up a prescription. It gave him the impression that Mr. Grant Wainwright was in great anxiety about his uncle's safety. Another Marsham gentleman said that, passing Mr. Field's shop while this occurred, he had seen Mr. Grant Wainwright's horse before the door, and observed that it was in a foam, as if it had been hard galloped. He went in to ask Mr. Field if anyone was ill at Darliston; having a respect for the family, though he was not intimate. "The person calling himself Witham has, I understand, been secured," Mr. Mainwaring next said; "I should like to know how it was effected." Alfred Merrivale spoke in answer to this: “When Mrs. Gainsborough's note arrived, late last evening, I showed it to General Wetheral, and he enjoined me to take the best horse in his stables, and ride to Culverly Yews-Captain Ashton's place. I spoke to that gentleman, and though he repudiated the idea of his guest being in any way concerned in the outrage at Darliston, he admitted that that person had spoken of sleeping on board the Olive, and that he was about leaving. I said his doing so would give him a chance of immediate evasion, as, once on board and in command, he need not wait till morning. Captain Ashton said his guest should be free to do as he pleased. I said General Wetheral had told me I must stop him at all risks, and that I meant to do so. Fortunately, at this juncture Mr. Devonshire appeared, and, entering the room where Mr. Witham was just rising from a card-table, told him of what he was suspected, and that consequently he could not leave in the Olive. "Mr. Witham certainly took the matter very coolly. He said he was not surprised at hearing Grant Wainwright had carried off Miss Dalziel, but could not conceive why anyone should attach suspicion to himself. Young Wainwright was known as a reckless dare-devil, who had long been desperately in love. For his own part he was exceedingly distressed that such an occurrence should have taken place, and would join with his whole heart in following up the search for the missing lady; but he had never been a suitor himself, and his sympathies had not been with Grant Wainwright, who he was sure was not calculated to make Miss Dalziel bappy; they were with another gentleman." Mr. Boradaile here spoke: "I do not mind admitting that he meant me. I have been a very sincere admirer of Miss Dalziel's. Mr. Mainwaring I am sure will not take umbrage at my saying so; for as I did not know he was in the field, he must acquit me of any intention of rivalling him. Miss Dalziel's courage, on occasion of the robbery at Darliston Hall, compelled my admiration. Once only have I had the gratification of speaking to her; at the archery féte at Cardington Castle." "Where was Witham to take the yacht, Mr. Devonshire?" was the next question asked by Mr. Mainwaring. "To Kingstown. The cabins were to be refitted, under superintendence of a friend of my brother's." "It is clear, then, that Grant Wainwright and Witham were bound in different directions. Is there positively no evidence of the complicity of the latter, save that he has been seen frequently with Grant Wainwright?" No one could allege any. Only Alfred Merrivale observed that although last night he had denied being a suitor of Miss Dalziel's, he had on his former visit to the neighbourhood privately said to him that love for Miss Dalziel was the principal inducement of his tarrying there. Alfred also mentioned the attempts made to identify himself with Mr. Carlton Witham, and their subsequent exposure through the family solicitor. Mr. Ainslie now entering brought information that a small trading-vessel called the Chaffinch was missing from the coast. She could have taken no cargo. What made it appear more likely she was concerned was, that the master, named John Malone, had been the person to come forward in favour of the horsedealer Benson; having sworn that he had slept on board his vessel on the night of the burglary at Harby Hall. Most of the gentlemen concurring that it was more likely Helen had been taken to Ireland than to Scotland, a telegraphic message was despatched to Mr. Harvey, requesting information as to where Mr. Carlton Witham's Irish estates lay. In regard to Grant Wainwright, Merton observed that if he discovered he had been deceived by his pretended friend, he might be willing to give assistance in exposing his conduct and recovering Helen from his hands. "I will go after him," he said, "and try to bring him to reason. You, Arden, may be wanted to follow that keener villain Witham." In a low tone, Mr. Ainslie here interposed. "You must consider, Mr. Mainwaring," he said, "there exists decided objection to your being personally engaged in the pursuit." "How so, Ainslie?" "A London detective arrived by the same train as yourself, and will be here in a few minutes. In such a chase the police are by far the most likely to succeed. But the task is not merely needless; it is one in which you ought not to appear. Your wrong is great enough as the matter stands, but you are not compromised so far as you might have been. Though legally contracted, if need be you can be freed; therefore to put yourself forward-” "Mr. Ainslie," interrupted Arden, "there are different ways of looking at the matter. As the legal adviser of my family you have done your duty in presenting this one. Now, see mine. My engagement with Mr. Wainwright (and, mark you, his part is fulfilled) was this: that I was to be the protector of his grand-daughter when he was no longer competent. To this I pledged my honour, and she shall never want for protection that I can afford." "You can make use of the services of others; but I am certain your relatives would insist on the view of the matter I have taken." "I should escape the infliction of the world's pity; be thought, perhaps, rather fortunate in having received an advantage without being called upon to give an equivalent. I understand it all. Had I been capable of entering on marriage entirely as a money bargain, this might have been good reasoning. My marriage was more than a legal contract to me. I took vows before Heaven and before men, and my will is, as far as I can, to fulfil them. Give up the idea of restraining me in this. I will be foremost." Turning from Mr. Ainslie to the assemblage, he continued: "Gentlemen, though hitherto withheld from claiming my rights as a husband, I claim them now. There is my marriage certificate. Three of the witnesses are present; Mr. Grey, who united us, among them." The announcement had a strange effect: so habitual is it to offer congratulation on such occasions; so impossible it was on this. Only Mr. Boradaile, carried away by the immediate impression, began, "I am glad:" then, pausing, looked distressed, and rose to offer his hand to Mr. Mainwaring. Mr. Harding took up the certificate, glancing at Mr. Grey; who gravely inclined his head with a gesture of assent. He read aloud the date: "The seventeenth of April." "The same day," Mr. Grey observed, "that Mr. Mainwaring departed for Vienna." There was a momentary silence, and Mr. Mainwaring again spoke: 66 Although I have thought it needful to assert my right to be foremost in the pursuit, I do urgently entreat the assistance of every one of you. I ask it not for my own sake, for I know not that I have much claim on any here; but for the sake of the innocent girl who has been torn from her home at a time when her heart was full of anxiety for her grandfather's condition. You all know how much her affection for him led her to dare on occasion of the burglary at Darliston; and when that is fairly taken into consideration I hope the foolish rumour that met me on the road will be silenced for ever. She is too bright-minded a woman to be the slave of a lawless passion; too earnest in her affections to forsake the friend who cherished her from infancy while he lay stricken, perhaps to the death." He paused a moment, and then continued, with some effort: "Of my own share in her affections I will not speak; but did you know, as I do, how noble is the heart that dwells in her slight frame, you would declare with me that to strive to the utmost for her rescue is every true man's duty." All present responded very heartily to this appeal, and those among them who had had personal acquaintance with Helen were very ready to declare their faith in her loyalty. I need not follow the differing views and arguments that were presented. Mr. Harding said he felt doubtful if it would be possible to detain Witham. There was, in fact, nothing but suspicion of anything criminal to be laid to his charge; and Captain Ashton, and some one or two other gentlemen of the neighbourhood, were so favourably impressed by him, that he would have no difficulty in procuring bail. Mr. Collins, the detective officer, coming in, his opinions were a good deal deferred to by all. He requested that for the present Mr. Mainwaring would keep in the background. He intended himself to be present, but unseen, when Witham was brought up for examination. "I have no doubt it can be managed," he said, "and would advise you, sir, to take the same course. Do not let it be known you have yet arrived. It is keeping back a court-card. Better say nothing about your marriage until it is more clearly an advantage to publish the fact. If the man Witham has stolen the lady for himself-if he is, in fact the sort of character you suspecthe may be too far compromised to withdraw. Failing to keep him prisoner we shall have to keep close to his heels; and it may be as well he should be unaware that either the lady's husband or Collins the detective is after him." Alfred Merrivale promised to acquaint me with the result of Witham's examination, and, the gentlemen separating, I went back to Darliston; tired and weary, but a little more hopeful than when I had left it. I gave dear Alice an account of the morning's proceedings, including Mr. Mainwaring's announcement of his marriage. Her companionship was a real comfort to me at such a time; and also, I am sure, to poor Nanny, whose duties beside her master she freely shared. In the course of the afternoon I received a written account from Alfred. Witham had be haved with much prudence, he said; and acted very well the part of one who was wronged, but could make excuses for the severity of those who misjudged him. He claimed his immediate release, however, on the plea that his engagement in Dublin was of importance to him, his presence being necessary at a consultation involving family business. On his being questioned concerning his as suming the identity of Mr. Carlton Witham, then abroad, Captain Ashton said that the whole affair arose out of a mistake. The late Mr. Witham was twice married; had many sons; and more than one was named Carlton Witham. Another gentleman came forward to declare that if either Carlton Witham were an imposter, it was the one abroad. "After the conversation I had with Mr. Harvey |