The baronet's bride; or, A woman's vengeance

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BRIDE.

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A WOMAN’S VENGEANCE.

MA V A GIVES FLEMING.

EDITED BY W, J. BENNERS'. Jr.

NEW YORK,

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER,

17 TO 27 Vandewater Street.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, fey DAVIS & ELVERSON,

in the Office of the aerk of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

The Baronet’s Bride; or, A Woman’s Vengeance.

THE BARONETS BRIDE.

Chapter 1. The Baeohet’s Bribe

“ And there is danger of death — for mother and child

“ Well, no. Sir Jasper— no, sir; no certain danger, yon know; but in these protracted cases — Dr. Parker Godroy paused, and coughed behind his hand“-“ it can do no harm, Sir Jasper, for the clergyman to be here. He may. not be needed — let us hope he will not be— but your goo!} lady is very weak — very weak, I am sorry to say. Sir Jasper Kingsland.^^

“1 will send for the clergyman,^’ Sir Jasper Kingsland said, not looking at the grave little London doctor. “ Do your best, as I know you will. Doctor Godroy, and for God’s sake let me know the worst or best as soon as may be. This torture of suspense is horrible.”

His voice was sharp and harsh with inward pain. Dr. Parker Godroy looked sympathetically at him through his gold-bowed spectacles.

“ 1 will do my best. Sir Jasper,” he said, gravely. “ The result is in the hands of the GTeat Dispenser of life and death. Send for the clergyman, and wait and hope.”

He quitted the library as he spoke. Sir Jasper Kingsland seized the bell and rang a shrill peal.

“ Ride to the village — ride for your life!” he said, imperativel}", to the servant who answered, “ and fetch the Reverend Cyrus Green here at once.”

The man bowed and departed, and Sir Jasper Kingsland, Baronet, of Kingsland Court, was alone — alone in the gloomy grandeur of the vast library; alone with his thoughts and the wailing midnight storm.

For it was midnight, A clock high up in an ancient turret pealed noisily forth the weird hour when “ churchyards yawn and graves give up their dead,^^ and an army of rooks, disturbed in their “beauty sleep by the discordant noise, cawed harshly in reply. A little toy timepiece of buhl on the stone mantel chimed musically its story of the hour, and Sir Jasper Kingsland lifted his gloomy eyes for a moment at the sound. He was leaning against the old, quaintly carved chimney-piece, looking at the smoldering fire, his dark face full of unutterable trouble and pain. A tall, spare, middle-aged man, handsome once — handsome still, some people said — with iron-gray hair and a proud, patrician face,

“ Twelve,^^ his dry lips whispered to themselves — midnight, and for three hours I have endured this maddening agony of suspense! Another day is given to the world, and before its close all I love best may be cold and stark in death! Oh, my God! have mercy, and spare her!’^

He lifted his clasped hands in passionate appeal. There was a picture opposite — a gem of EaphaeTs — the Man of Sorrows fainting under the weight of the cross, and the fire’s shine playing upon it seemed to light the pallid features with a derisive smile.

“ The mercy you showed to others, the same shall be shown to you. Tiger heart, you were merciless in the days gone by. Let your black, bad heart break, as you have broken others!”

No voice had sounded, yet he was answered. Conscience had spoken in trumpet-tones, and with a hollow groan the baronet turned away and began pacing up and down.

It was a large and spacious apartment, this library of Kingsland Court, dimly lighted now by the flickering wood-fire and the mellow glow of a branch of wax-lights. Huge book-cases filled to overflowing lined the four walls, and pictures precious as their weight in rubies looked duskily down from their heavy frames. Busts and bronzes stood on brackets and surmounted doors; a thick, rich carpet of moss-green, sprinkled with oak leaves and acorns, muffled the tread; voluminous draperies of dark green shrouded the tall, narrow windows. The massive chairs and tables, fifty years old at least, were spindle-legged and rich in carving, upholstered in green velvet and quaintly emljroidered by hands moldered to dust long ago. Everything was old and grand, and full of storied interest. And there, on the wall, was the crest of the house — the uplifted hand grasping a dagger — and the motto, in old Norman French, “ Strike once, and strike vvell.^^

Sir Jasper Kingsland, the last of a long line that traced their ancestry far back beyond the days of the baronetmaking king, Janies the First, stood alone to-night, and took note of all these things, with a dreary sort of wonder that they could afford him no help and no comfort in his hour of supremest need.

It is a very fine thing to be a baronet— a Kingsland of Kingsland, with fifteen thousand a year, and the finest old house in the county; but if Death will stalk grimly over your threshold and snatch away the life you love more than your own, then even that glory is not omniscient. For this wintery midnight, while Sir Jasper Kingsland walks moodily up and down — up and down — Lady Kingsland, in the chamber above, lies ill unto death.

An hour passes — the clock in the turret and the buhl toy on the stone mantel toll solemnly one. The embers drop monotonously through the grate — a dog bays deeply somewhere in the quadrangle below— the wailing wind of coming morning sighs lamentingly through the tossing copper-beeches, and the roar of the surf afar off comes ever and anon like distant thunder. The house is silent as the tomb — so horribly silent that the cold drops start out on the face of the tortured man. Who knows? Death has been on the threshold of that upper chamber all night, waiting for his prey. This awful hush may be the psean that proclaims that he is master!

A tap at the door. The baronet paused in his stride and turned his blood-shot eyes that way. His very voice w^as hollow and unnatural as he said:

“Come in.

A servant entered — the same who had gone his errand.

“ The Reverend Cyrus Green is here, sir. Shall I show Lim up?’^

“ Yes— no— I can not see him. Show him into the drawing-room until he is needed.’^

“ He will not be needed, said a voice at his elbow, and Doctor Parker Godroy came briskly forward. “ My dear Sir Jasper, allow me to congratulate you! All is well, thank Heaven, and — it is a son!’^

Sir Jasper Kingsland sunk into a seat, thrilling from

8 THE BAllOXET’S BBIDE.

}iead to foot, tiirm'ng sick and faint in the sudden revulsipn from despair to hope.

“ Saved he said, in a gasping whisper. “ BotW^

“ Both, my dear Sir Jasper!'' the doctor responded, cordially. “ Your good lady is very much prostrated — exhausted— but that was to be looked for, you know; and the baby — ah! the finest boy I have had the pleasure of presenting to an admiring world within ten years. Come and see them!"

“ aMay 1?" 'the baronet cried, starting to his feet.

“ Certainly, my dear Sir Jasper — most certainly. There is nothing in the world to hinder — only be a little cautious, you know. Our good lady mustn't be excited the least in life. She must be kept composed and quiet, and left to sleep; and you will just take one peep, and go. We won't need the Reverend Cyrus this bout."

He led the way from the library, rubbing his hands as your brisk little physicians do, up a grand stair- way where you might have driven a coach and four, and into a lofty and most magnificently furnished bed-chamber.

The sick lady lay in a bed m the center of the room — a lofty, four-posted affair, carved and quaint and old as the hills, and covered and draped with white. But whiter than the draperies— whiter than the winter snow — her face looked up from the pillows, awfully corpse-like in its (leathly pallor. The eyes were closed; the small, bloodless hands lay loose on the counterpane. In her shroud and winding-sheet she would never look more ghastly than that.

“ Quiet, now — quiet," the doctor whispered, warningly.

■ “ Excite her, and I won't be answerable for the result."

Sir Jasper Kingsland replied with a rapid gesture, and walked forward to the bed. His own face was perfectly colorless, and his lips were twitching with intense suppressed feeling. He bent above the still form.

“ Olivia," he said, “ my darling, my darling!"

The heavy eyelids fluttered and lifted, and a pair of haggard, dark e^^es gazed up at him. A wan smile parted those pallid lips.

“ Dear Jasper! I knew you would come. Have you seen the baby? It is a boy."

“ My own, I have thought only of you. My poor, pale wife, how awfully death-like you look!"

“But I am not going to die~Doctor Godroy says so/^ smiling gently. “ And now you must go, for I can not talk. Only kiss me first, and look at the baby.^^

Her voice was the merest whisper. He pressed his lips passionately to the white face and rose up. Nurse and baby sat in state by the fire, and a slender girl of fifteen years knelt beside them, and gazed in a sort of rapture at the infant prodigy. >

“Look, papa — look! The loveliest little thing, and

nurse says the very picture of you!’^

The young girl — Miss Mildred Kingsland, and until to-night the baronets only child — pulled away a profusion of flannel „and displayed triumphantly a little red, wrinkled face. Not very lovely, certainly; but Sir Jasper Kingsland^s eyes lighted with pride and joy as he looked. For was it not a boy? Had he not at last, after- weary, weary waiting, the desire of his heart— a sou to inherit the estate and perpetuate the ancient name?

“ It is so sweet, papa!^^ Miss Mildred whispered, her small, rather sickly face quite radiant; “ and its eyes are the image of yours. He’s asleep now, you knwv, and you can’t see them. And look at the dear, darling little hands and fingers and feet, and the speck of a nose and the dot of a mouth! Oh, papa! isn’t it splendid to have a baby in the house?”

“ Very splendid,” said papa, relaxing into a smile. “ A fine little fellow, nurse! There, cover him up again and let him sleep. We must take extra care of the heir of Kingsland Court. And, Mildred, child, you should be in bed. One o’clock is no hour for little girls to be out of their nests. ”

“ Oh, papa!” reproachfully; “ as if I could sleep and not see the baby!”

“ Well, you have seen it, and now run away to your room. Mamrna and baby both want to sleep, and nurse doesn’t need you, I am sure.”

“ That I don’t,” said nurse, “ nor the doctor, either. So run away. Miss Milly, and go to sleep yourself. The baby will be here, all safe for you, in the morning.”

The little girl — a fiaxen-haired, pretty-featured child — kissed the baby, kissed papa, and dutifully departed. Sir Jasper followed her out of the ix)om, down the stairs, and back into the library, with the face of a man who has just

THE BAROITET'S bride.

been reprieved from sudden death. As he re-entered the library, he paused and started a step back, gazing fixedly at one of the windows. The heavy curtain had been partially drawn back, and a white> spectral face was glued to the glass, glaring in.

“Who have we here?’^ said the baronet to himself; “ that face can belong to no one in the house.

He walked straight to the window — the face never moved. He could see the snow falling noiselessly, rapidly — the ground covered, the spectral face set in a wintery frame of white flakes. A hand was raised and tapped on the glass. A voice outside spoke: ^

“ For Heaven’s sake, open and let me in, before I perish in this bitter storm. ”

Sir Jasper Kingsland opened the window and flung it wide. A rush of bitter wind, a shower of snow whirled in his face.

“ Enter! whoever you are,” he said. “No one shall ask in vain at Kingsland, this happy night.”

He stepped back, and, all covered with snow, the midnight intruder entered and stood before him. And Sir Jasper Kingsland saw the strangest-looking creature he had ever beheld in the whole course of his life.