Doonan: a tale of sorrow and of joy. By M. G

Chapter I. Nita Ra Ymond

" Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security." " He sendeth rain, He sendeth showers, Alike they're needful for the flowers ; And joys and tears alike are sent, To give the soul fit nourishment." " TVT ITA ! Nita ! do come here. You really are most aggravating ! Major Ender by and his friend Eric Seymour are here, and have been waiting for the last half-hour to see you. Now do run in and make yourself presentable !" Nita Raymond lifted her large eyes from her book, as Mrs. Raymond approached her B DOONAN. hidden nook at the very bottom of the garden, where she was almost hidden from sight. "It is vexatious, mother ! Must I really get up ? " said Nita, stretching herself lazily in her hammock, where she certainly looked the very picture of contentment.

"If these gentlemen so particularly want to see me, they might have come here. It is really far too comfortable to get up for the sake of two stupid men." " My dear Nita ! I do wish you would be a little more circumspect. How can you talk in that offhand way ?" "Is not Gwen there?" questioned Nita again. " If not, I suppose I must get up, and make a martyr of myself!" She was about to rise, when she heard voices, and sank back again, hoping to be un perceived, as Mrs. Raymond exclaimed in a tone of annoyance, — ■ " It is always the same, Nita. There, you are positively ashamed to be seen, and there is no possibility of an escape for you, and Gwen is bringing half a dozen people into the garden. It really is too trying ! " Mrs. Raymond turned to welcome her guests, and Nita quite unconcernedly rose from her resting-place.

In her loose flowing robe, and long beautiful dark hair, she might have prepared herself to personate Desdemona, so exactly did her appearance fit the character. Nita and Gwendolin Raymond were the only daughters of Colonel Fitzwalter Raymond, of the 3rd Buffs. His regiment, at the time my story opens, was stationed in W . Only twelve months before he had returned with his wife from India, after an absence of seven years — returned to find that the two little daughters he had left to be educated in England had almost grown out of recollec tion, and had developed into the first bloom of womanhood. Nita, the elder, was just eighteen, and Gwendolin, or Gwen as she was always called, two years younger, and both were as different in appearance as in character. They were as unlike sisters as it was possible to be.

Nita, tall, graceful, and very dark ; a hand some, sparkling brunette. No want of charac ter in that firm mouth, that broad forehead, those deep, earnest eyes. Gwen was short and very fair ; a sweet, gentle face, but deci- DOONAN. 4 dedly wanting in expression. She was always admired, however, and men spoke of her as the "pretty Miss Raymond"; but Nita— her beauty was of a different stamp, and it was her character more than her appearance which attracted attention. As she stood up now, unconscious of her own beauty, she met the admiring glances which were turned to her, with a coquettish little apology, and a laughing request that she might be excused for a few minutes to make herself presentable. Away she ran, glad to get safely into the house ; and she was soon fully occupied in changing her attire, grumbling to herself all the time.

" What a strange thing it is," she thought, " that I have such an aversion to this man, to whom I have never spoken — Eric Seymour. I suppose it is because he is that horrid Major Enderby's friend. He seems quite young, too — not more than twenty-five, I should think. How I do hate that Enderby, and he will persist in coming here, when he must know I can't bear his very name ! How he looked at me just now — positively stared, as though I were a wild beast! Well, I suppose I must go down." At the hall door she met Mrs. Raymond. " Ah ! that's right, my dear ! Now you do look nice. Just run in and tell Coltas that there will be four extra for dinner to-night, and that we will have tea out on the lawn." " Four extra to dinner ! Who is coming ? What a bother ! I thought we were going to have a quiet evening."

" Your father has just telegraphed to say he will be down at six, and will bring two gentle men with him, and I had already invited Major Enderby and his friend ; so don't be stupid, dear, but just run in and make Coltas understand." Nita did as she was desired, and then walked leisurely upstairs again. " If we are to entertain these people all the evening, I am sure I shall have enough of them." So, drawing the easy-chair close to the open window in the pretty morning-room which faced the gardens, she opened her book and began to read ; but she soon grew weary, and the novel slipped out of her hands, and she fell fast asleep. She must have been resting for an hour or DOONAN. more, when she was awakened by feeling some thing cold on her cheek, and looking up she found herself surrounded. " Kenrick ! what were you doing ?" she ex claimed, flushing crimson and starting up.

Kenrick, Colonel Raymond's second son, was just sixteen, and looked the picture of mischief, as he answered, — " Girls who go to sleep in public rooms have got to pay for it. You've lost three pairs of gloves ; sizes — 7f, Major Enderby ; j\, Mr. Seymour ; 7, your humble servant." "How very silly and rude you are, Ken!" said Nita, flushing angrily. " I do wish you would remember that you are not amongst a set of rough schoolboys." At this moment Colonel Raymond came in, so nothing more was said ; but Nita's face wore a clouded expression all the evening, and she was so unusually quiet that her mother began to fear she was not well. " I am glad," said Mrs. Raymond to Major Enderby at dinner-time, " that to-morrow is Sunday. Nita looks quite pale ; I really think we have had too much gaiety for her.

I shall insist on more rest." " I think she is tired. She fell fast asleep in the morning-room a few minutes ago, and I am afraid we disturbed her. Ken told us he would show us a pretty sight, which he did truly, but I'm afraid we did not quite please Miss Nita," said Major Enderby. "Poor Nita!" said Mrs. Raymond, looking lovingly across the table. " Ken is a sad tor ment, I'm afraid ; all boys are alike. I am constantly trying to impress this upon her, but she does not realize it." " Well, he certainly was too bad this evening," said Major Enderby ; but Mrs. Raymond noticed a suppressed smile, which made her add, — "If Kenrick will not behave better, I really must speak to his father. I cannot have the girls so much put out by him." " Oh, really it was nothing so bad as to require the intervention of the Colonel," said Major Enderby hurriedly.

" Pray don't say anything about it. I think it was the way Miss Nita took it up ; " and then he quietly turned the subject : " Have you seen the great picture in the Academy ? — the one which is creating quite a sensation ; " and as Mrs. Raymond re- DOONAN. plied in the negative, he launched into a vivid description of the marvellous beauty of " The Captive." " You must be sure to go when you are in town," he said. " The exquisite colouring is beyond description, and the face of the lovely captive, speaking to a Romish priest through the bars, seems to me to be almost un paralleled in its life-like expression, and the look of agonized entreaty on the girl's face is most wonderful." " I should like to see it," said Mrs. Ray mond. " Is there any story attached ? " " Yes ! A lady who was standing near, and to whom I was casually introduced, told me that she knew the girl, and her history was this : — A daughter of a noble house, she was plighted to a gentleman, her equal in position, but many years her senior.

It was un mariage de convenance. Both of the Roman Catholic religion, the match was arranged by her father's desire, to keep the estates in the family, for large sums of money had been advanced by the would-be bride groom. But, unfortunately, the girl met acci dentally a younger and handsomer man, who was also an Anglican. She had been discovered in company with her lover by her en raged father, and placed in durance vile, until she would give up the one, and promise to marry the man of her father's choice. The picture is supposed to depict the priest refusing absolution, until she promises submission." " What an awful picture ! I think such sad scenes are best hidden from sight." " If such things do occur in real life, it is as well we should hear of them," said the Major. Very shortly after this the ladies made a move into the drawing-room ; but when Mrs. Raymond looked round for Nita, she had disappeared.

Gwen instantly volunteered to go and look for her, but her mother interposed. " No, no, dear ! I think she is tired. You will play for us, and we will leave her to rest. No doubt she does not feel very well, and will, in all probability, have gone to bed." So Gwen sat down to the piano, and played one after another of Mendelssohn's "Songs without Words," until the gentlemen joined them, and then Colonel Raymond suggested a rubber of whist. DOONAN. 10 "We can have two sets," he began, but stopped short, saying, "We are one short. Where is Nita ? " Upon hearing she was not well, he sug gested that Ken might take her place. This the boy was very unwilling to do, but was called to order by a whisper from Major Enderby, and he sat down to the whist table without another word. Nita! where was she, and why had she hurried away ?

It was a gloriously fine night. The moon shone with a most unusual light, causing that eccentric, weird feeling which so often unaccountably possesses us when we walk on a moonlight evening. Had Colonel Raymond insisted upon Nita being fetched, saying, as he was wont at times to do, that he was sure she was fanciful — " Girls are apt to be fanciful, very fanciful ; she must be cured," he would add, — it would have been an unsuccessful mission had she been sought for only in the house. Scarcely had she reached the outside of the door than she gathered her flowing skirts around her, and taking the first long cloak she saw in the hall, she hurried noiselessly out of the house by a side-door. On she ran, passing the open dining-room window almost on tip-toe, lest she should be discovered, until she reached the mossy hiding place where she had spent the greater part of the afternoon.

"Gerard !" — her voice scarcely raised above a whisper, — " Gerard ! " and in a moment she was in his arms. " Gerard ! oh, dear Gerard ! what is it now ? Why did you not give me more time ? What has happened to make this most venturesome visit necessary ? " " Why, Nita, you are trembling all over. What ! this surely is not my brave little sister, who cares so much for me ? Why, of course I want to talk to you about Doonan ; and why is there special fear to-night ? Who is in the dining-room ? " " That Major Enderby and his friend, besides Sir Charles Kemplay and another man I never saw before." " But, Nita, have you seen Doonan lately ?" " No," said Nita, " not since I saw you. She seems to be enjoying herself, I think, now, and likes gaiety. Are you really engaged to her ? and have you seen her father ?

" DOONAN. " No, not yet ; she wants me to wait, but I mean to come to an understanding to-morrow. I dine at her father's to-night. By fair means or foul, Doonan must be my wife. If only she would tell me why she dreads me to go to Sir Charles, I should not mind ; yet she won't. No, not a word, though I have begged her to trust me." Thus they talked on, Doonan the topic of conversation, when suddenly the door opened, and in the distance voices were heard dis tinctly approaching. " Hush ! Nita. Who's that ? Stoop down, or they will see your white dress." She obeyed. " Lower, Nita, lower ; they are coming this way ; " and she almost knelt at his feet. With fearful thoughts, and in absolute dread of discovery, Nita scarcely allowed herself to breathe. They were both almost completely hidden from view ; but as the voices came nearer, they distinctly heard Major Enderby saying, — " Yes, she is good-looking ; but that other is my ideal.

She is as hard as adamant, though. Must be brought to submission. No woman has ever conquered me yet, and she shan't be the first." " What do you bet ? " It was Seymour who spoke. " Fifty to one." " Done ! " And they passed out of hearing. " Brutes ! " said Gerard under his breath ; and as Nita appeared too frightened to talk more, he suggested her return to the house. She was nothing loath to obey, but she returned his embrace warmly, and stealthily making her way through the same entrance as she had come, reached her bedroom in safety. Then a sigh of relief escaped her, and slipping off her tumbled skirt and wet shoes, she slipped on her dressing-gown, and threw herself into her arm-chair. Let us leave her to her meditations, and for a few minutes consider her seemingly strange conduct and the reason of her midnight secret meeting.

Nita, Gwendolin, and Kenrick were Colonel Raymond's only children by his present wife ; he had married first a beautiful girl of eighteen, Annette Gerard, who died on the birth of their DOONAN. firstborn son : Gerard, he was christened in Rome, where Colonel — then Captain — Ray mond had taken his beautiful young wife for a month's tour. The boy had for the twelve months during which the Captain had mourned for Annette been the very joy of his father's heart. It was only thirteen months since the death of his first wife, and when he was beginning to feel his loneliness, and his desire for companion ship again, that he met Mrs. Welford and her daughter Gertrude, who, though considerably older than Annette, was still in the zenith of her beauty, and ere a week had passed away she had promised to become Raymond's wife.

At the earnest request of Mrs. Welford, the bride and bridegroom consented to leave little Gerard under her care, at any rate for the next few months ; but months lengthened into years, and it was only at her death, some twelve years later, that Gerard met his father and his step mother again. Each year she had pleaded her failing health and her absorbing interest in the boy, so the separation had been delayed, until the doctor had declared that to remove him would cause the old lady such a shock that she would probably not survive. He had remained in Rome, and his studies had been continued under competent masters, and surrounded by luxuries he had grown up to thirteen years of age, without having a wish ungratified ; but a change was at hand, and one morning he was, as usual, on the way to pay his accustomed visit, before going to school, to her whom he had learnt to call his grandmother, when he was stopped by the servant, who told him that he must not go in, that the doctor was there, and Mrs. Welford was very ill.

Without waiting for permission, he rushed into the room, and threw himself by the bedside ; but he was too late. The poor old lady had been dead some hours ; and the doctor, who had been hurriedly called in, said that the cause of death was heart disease, and had in all probability been painless as well as instan taneous. Had he been called sooner, he would have been able to do nothing. But, boy-like, Gerard was inconsolable, and it was not until he was thoroughly worn out that he allowed himself to be taken from the room. A telegram had, of course, been sent to DOONAN. Colonel Raymond ; and sooner than Gerard had deemed it possible, he had arrived. It took a very short time for the Colonel to make final arrangements, and immediately after the funeral he started for England, taking Gerard with him.

For two years Gerard lived at Aldershot, where his father's regiment was then stationed. Nita and he were friends at once, and it was she to whom he appealed in all his boyish scrapes. With his step-mother he had nothing in common. She was inclined to look rather jealously on her husband's first-born son, with whom she had had so little to do. When he was fifteen, as already stated, the Colonel and his wife left for India. The former had then wished to place his son under tuition for the army, and great was his annoyance when he heard from Gerard that he had no intention of reading for that profession, as his mind was already made up, and he had decided to study art. Painting was his delight, and beyond it he had no desires. In vain the Colonel tried persuasions and threats, all were alike unavailing.

The only promise which could be extorted from him was that he would continue his studies for the next few years, and wait until his father's return before taking any final steps. To this promise he had adhered ; but immediately his father returned, laden with honours, from abroad, the warfare was recommenced, resulting in a serious quarrel, which was intensified by Gerard taking the opportunity of informing Colonel Raymond that he had separated himself from the Church in which he had been baptized, and joined the Anglican communion. A son of one of the oldest Roman Catholic families to presume to set up his own opinion against that of the Church, was unheard of; and the scene which followed was terrible to witness. Colonel Raymond, already goaded beyond endurance by the dogged persistence of the boy, and unable to brook his insubordination, ended with these words : — " Unless by five o'clock this evening I have your written promise to be reconciled to the Church, and to prepare at once for your exami nation for the army, you leave this house to-night, and you are no longer a son of mine.

Never shall a penny of my money come into c DOONAN. your hands. These doors will be closed to you for ever ! " And without another word he was gone. " So be it," said Gerard ; and before two o'clock had chimed the hour his boxes were all packed, and the obsequious Coltas had gone for a cab. That evening every trace of Gerard had been removed, his photographs burnt, his pre sents put out of sight, and in sterner language than Gwen and Nita had ever heard, the Colonel forbade his name to be mentioned. " He is dead to us ; and if ever I hear of any of you holding communication with him, my gravest displeasure will be incurred." From that day no one had dared to speak of him ; and yet Nita, week by week, and some times oftener, stole out to these secret meet ings, fearing and dreading lest she should be discovered ; but so far, she had escaped detection.

Chapter II. Doonan Kemplay

" There is a star that cheers our way Along this dreary world of woe, That tips with light the waves of life, However bitterly they flow." ' There are two hearts whose movements thrill In unison so closely sweet, That pulse to pulse responsive still, That both must heave or cease to beat." — Byron. T\ OON AN KEMPLAY was the only daughter of Sir Charles Blake Kemplay, member for Clare, a man of high repute and scholarly attainments. He had early in life married a girl of great beauty, who died in giving birth to their second child, Herbert Blake, some twenty years before the opening of my story. Doonan and Herbert had spent all their childish days together, and great was the anguish of the former when at their father's hasty summons they left their lovely Irish home to join him in London ; but this change from a country life to a large hotel in town they both DOONAN. felt could not last long, and neither of them expressed any surprise when they were bidden to say good-bye to each other, as both of them were to separate for school.

Herbert was to go to Eton, and Doonan to a ladies' college in Hampstead. We must pass over hastily six years of school life, with the mere mention that it was there she became acquainted with Nita and Gwendolin Raymond, and a friendship was formed between Doonan and Nita — a friendship which remained firm and lasting, only to be ended by death. After six years of college life, Doonan Kem play was called to her father's house in Grosvenor Gardens to take her place as mis tress of his establishment. She had developed into a lovely woman, though one could not fail to notice a certain wistfulness in her beautiful eyes, which gave a saddened expres sion when her face was in repose. She had been at home for a year, and life seemed to be at its brightest, as she was be ginning thoroughly to enjoy the gaieties, in which she constantly joined, when she was summoned one morning to her father's study.

His small sanctum was the very picture of comfort — a room one loved to sit in, so very luxurious were the easychairs, the appearance of them almost inducing sleep. As Doonan entered the room in her pretty light cashmere dress, she looked the personification of a gentle woman of whom any man might well be proud ; but the eye of Sir Blake Kemplay seemed scarcely to notice his beautiful daughter, and his manner was stern and forbidding, as he said, — " Doonan, this evening I am expecting several gentlemen to dinner ; among them is Sir George Anyot. I have promised him to take you to-morrow to spend a few days at Berresford Castle. I am particularly anxious that you should appear in your most handsome attire, and that you should be specially polite to him. Do you understand me ? " " Be polite to Sir George ?

Am I not always polite to your guests, father ? " " You know what I mean," said Sir Blake Kemplay half-angrily. " Now run away ; but remember what I have said, and be ready to leave here to-morrow by ten o'clock." Doonan walked quietly out of the room into her own little den, and sat down to think. DOONAN. " How very tiresome having to go away to morrow ! I wonder if Gerard will dine here to-night. I should like to see him again. Why should father say I am to be polite to that horrid Sir George ? Such an old man, too ! Surely he cannot want me to But no ; such a theory would be preposterous. I am only twenty-one, and he must be sixty, or nearly that. I wish I had never seen him. I suppose Herbert will be here." That evening Doonan allowed herself to be dressed, as her father had requested, in a handsome dress of brocaded silk, profusely trimmed with lace and pearls, and strikingly lovely she looked as she sat in the spacious drawing-room, awaiting her father's guests.

The dinner to this fair young girl was a trying ordeal. It is usual for such young people to prefer balls and dances to the tedious process of a long dinner, and Doonan was no exception to the rule. Course and course passed on, and Doonan used to wonder to herself how it was possible for people to eat so much, and heartily she longed for the dessert, when she would be released from her post. Quietly she returned courteous answers to the gentlemen on either side of her ; but her eyes turned constantly to the very bottom of the long table, where we notice a young man whose face seems familiar to us. Yes ; it is Gerard, whom we last saw in the garden at Fleteholm with Nita in his arms. His history we know, and we cannot feel any surprise at Nita's bravery in risking even her father's grave displeasure, when we look at the noble face and handsome features of her half brother.

Tall, dark, and with a noble, open countenance, no one could fail to be struck with his appearance. The desultory conversation is at an end. Doonan has retired to the drawing-room, and the gentlemen, left to themselves, seem to awaken, and soon the voices of the guests penetrate to the room above, and the laughter and merriment resound in great contrast to the quietude of the party when Doonan was one of the number. It was long before she was joined by the gentlemen. Coffee and tea had been handed by the waiters, the book she held in her hand had dropped on the floor, when the door suddenly opened, and Gerard appeared. "Tomorrow at nine o'clock at St. Peter's, DOONAN. Eaton Square," he had whispered, and he had barely time to stoop and lift her book before the room was filled with the guests.

By request Doonan at once went to the piano, and played several of Kirschner's " Album Leaves," with an excellent touch, and in a style that left nothing to be desired. Sir Blake Kemplay then asked Gerard to sing, and in a pure, pleasing tenor he gave with feeling and expression, Pontet's " Carissima," Doonan playing his accompaniment. Shortly after this the guests began to say good-night, and it was not midnight when Sir Blake and Doonan found themselves alone. " Good-night, my dear ! Remember, not later than ten," he said ; and Doonan found time to say, — " I have something to do in town ; can I start earlier and meet you at the train ? " " Some bows and ribbons, I suppose. Yes, if you wish it. Have you all you require for a week's visit ? " " Yes, I think so," said Doonan meditatively. " Very well, then.

Good-night ! " and he was gone. The following morning Doonan explained to her maid that she wished her to accompany her as far as Eaton Square, and then to return home and bring her luggage in the carriage, in time to catch the ten express to the north, en route for Clovelly. This being arranged, they started a few minutes before nine — Doonan and her father always breakfasted separately — and walked hurriedly in the direction of Eaton Square. In front of one of the largest houses Doonan dismissed her maid, and after her de parture hurried towards St. Peter's. In a very few minutes she found herself before the large gates of that most uninteresting-looking build ing, and hurrying in at the front entrance she came face to face with Gerard. " Punctual, my darling ! How good of you to come ! How did you manage ?

" "Oh, Gerard! Gerard !" — and Doonan's beautiful face grew pale and anxious — " I am going off now, this very minute, to Berresford Castle for a week, to be the guest of that horrid Sir George Anyot." Gerard's face darkened visibly. " What for ? " he asked roughly. " Can your father know the character of the man ? — the most blase", disreputable cur in existence," he DOONAN. went on, forgetting in his excitement and pas sion to stick closely to the truth with regard to the character of his rival. His unfounded, thoughtless words only increased Doonan's alarm. " Oh, Gerard ! I am so frightened. You saw he took me in to dinner last night. Papa told me I was to be very civil to him, and — and " "Why, you don't mean that he is thinking of you marrying him, at his age ? " and Gerard turned pale and waited anxiously for an answer.

" I don't know. I am dreadfully afraid. He watched me last night like a cat watchinga mouse. What am I to do ? " " Doonan, you will be true to me, won't you, darling ? All my life is wrapt up in you ; and now we realize the responsibility of becoming one in our religion, and joining the Anglican faith, it would never do to be wavering. When will you tell your father of your desire to change your creed ? and when must I come to him and declare our love, and our determi nation to keep true to each other ? Until I have done this I shall not come to his house again, for it is not honourable to have stolen away (as he might say) his daughter's affection whilst a visitor under his roof. Let me go to him to-day, darling ! Let us bear the onus of his anger ; and, for God's sake, let this miserable secrecy be at an end.