Chapter 77378782

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Chapter NumberIII
Chapter TitleINTERESTED SAMARITANS.
Chapter Urlhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article77378782
Full Date1893-11-13
Page Number4
Corrections0
Word Count2165
IllustratedN
Last Corrected0000-00-00
Newspaper TitleThe Daily News (Perth, WA : 1882 - 1950)
Trove TitleA Terrible Wrong
article text

OUR NOVELIST.

A TERRIBLE WRONG.

By Mrs. Harriet Lewis. . r Author of '? Tke Double Life.' Lord Darhcood's Crime,' S/'e.

CHAPTER III. ' ' '/XTniMCSTKIV SAMATHTAXS.

:'-? JPoiMvoelcs thereafter the jAring -mother lay :it the ver\- gates of Uoatl?. ? raving hi the driirinm of fever, (?all- ? ing piieonsly for' her 'mother,' and for ' Oswald,' but never letting drop any due, othor than', her husband's

um.iu. wi -ujb mystery or tne past. It was February when Queeniehad fallen into unconsciousness. It was April when she opened her eyes, with a dazed, and wondering expression.1 to find a little child upon the 'pillow ? 'bende her, and to comprehend that it was hers. Her faint movement brought Mrs. B.'own to her bedside. ''So you're come to your senses!' exclaimed the good woman, in .delight. 'Hush, my dear. Don't speak yet. You are safe, with friends, and we'll take good care of you. Your baby is a, little angel, a perfect beauty- — -' ' My— baby ?' -/ _ u Yes, ? your little girl. Pretty little lamb— it's asleep. You are go ing to get well ; the doctor said- -if yon came to yourself you'd recover.' Now

hush, and go to sleep— there's a dear.' Queenie meekly obayed, closing her eyes, and drifting away into the slumbers of exhaustion. When she again awftkenecV several . . hours later, Mrs. Brown was still at ;-- Jier side. A bowl of broth was ad ministered to her gradually, and Mrs. Brown then deemed her patient suffi ciently recovered to gratify the good woman's anxious curiosity. 'It is two months since we ' found yon on our steps one morning,' ob

served Mv. Brown, ' and that uncon , , ? scious you seemed to be dead. Little miss here is two months old, bless her . little heart !' The pale young face on the pillow ; gathered a look of distress:. The dark gray eyes, unnaturally large and bright, fixed themselves in a troubled gaze upon the nurse. ' So long ?' she whispered. ' Two months ?' . . ' Yes, madam ; a long time to be unconscious, but you've had the best of care, and the dear little baby, : too. I vg seven of my own, a houseful, as you may say, and they make me , tenderer to other people's children, I tlo think. You've been away' from your home two months, and your folks must think 3-ou dead ! We've watch ed the newspapers, Brown and I, ever since you came, expecting to see a reward offered, but not a word or sign of one have we seen. How your folks . will welcome you back ! I'll send for 'em to-day, this very minute. You must be dying to see your husband, and with such a surprise for him !' said Mrs. Brown, glowing with ( sympathetic feeling. 'Just tell me llis name n.nrl nrlrlrooc o-nrl T'll l,«™

? — ?«? ivviviiv»3Uj HAUL X 11 lAtV* C ' my boy go for him !' A great red flush burned away the whiteness of Queenie's face. '1— I have no husband,' she Whispered, faintry. - '^No husband ? Is he dead.' ??????? The redness faded slowly,:1 leaving the pallor more^ deathly than, before,. .''He is not dead,' she faltered', after a brief hesitancy. ' He— it was not a legal marriage. I never w.ant .to see him again— never— never !' Mrs. Browii stared amazed. She could not doubt the purity and inno 1 cence of poor Queenie. She believed . the girl more sinned against that sin

_ ' I am sure that you must have be lieved'yourself legally married.' she - said,; presently. 'And I think that villain ought to be punished.' , . 'Don't— don't !' whispered the ??' girl; distressful^. ' . ? '; ?? ? 'At any rate he ought to sup port his child. As for von — wlmfnvA

you to do ?' 'Heaven knows.' .' : 'Yon used to call for your mother , when 3-ou were ill,' said Mrs. Brown. ' Where is she ? I will send for her. A mother is her daughter's best ' friend, and you need yours now, poor dear.' A spasm of pain convulsed the thin, ' wan face. ' Don't syeak of her,' the girl cried, brokenly. 'My mother! My poor mother! She does not know — she does not dream— she would rather see me dead than know the truth !' ' She thinks you married, then ?'

'1N0, no. She thinks I am at school, a happy, careless schoolgirl. My yoor mother !' cried Queenie, the hot tears streaming. ' I have rained ; my own life and hers by my wilful ness.' 'But she would forgive you. A mother can pardon her daughter's errors,' urged Mrs. Brown. 'I'm the mother of seven. If one of mine went wrong I might scold, and fret, and grieve, but I couldn't cast out my own child from my heart, that I cou Idn't. Send for yonr mother ? -'. The girl shuddered. . 'I dare not,' she moaned. ' My mother is proud ; she would curse me. I cannot let her know. I can never meet her eyes.' Queenie's terror at the very thought was only to evident.' Mrs. Brown puzzled over the mystery, but

the more she tried to think the worse she was befogged. ' As queer a case as ever I heard of,' she said to herself. ' She must come of some grand and titled family, and they'd consider her a disgrace t© 'em. Poor girl ! What is to become of her ?' After a little silence, Mrs. Brown spoke again — ' If you dare not send to your mot her, and if your husband has cast you off, have you no other friends that can help you ?' ' None ! As soon as I get well I must earn my own living. T can do that easily, but, oh, 1 wish that I had died in my illness, and that my babv

iiaciciiea, to. roor little creature, what is to be her future ?' ? : . 'We won't think of that yet, my dear,' said Mrs. Brown, trying to speak cheerfully. ' What is your name ?' she added. ' I must know what to call yon.' ^ ' I have no name1*' responded the girl, drearily. '1 have no married name, it seems. I did not even know jny husband's real name. I cannot

disgrace niyiifioWpi'VifiajiiiDTiy'^beaiil ingii. Call me Queenie.' . -- Mrs. Brown plied her patient with nutations, more or less delicately,' but she.. could neither penetrate nor brake down the girl's reticence. She was forced to wait for future developments, although her curiosity Was almost unbearable-. It is to be feared ; that she hi ado her worthy husband's life full of torment to him during the next few weeks. Queenie's recoveivy Was rapid-, lii the course of ft Week she' cbuld sit up lwnrly an hour during Hie day. ; The doctor, recompensed by the product of ?ho sale of her brooch, came' no more to visit' her. She was on the highway to health, and in. the' course of aiew weeks would be able to begin the task of earning her own support.

W hen another month had passed she was quite strong, and began to con sider plans for the future. The girl Avas grateful for the care and kindness of lief new friends, and' readily perceived that they were pool1. One day she begged Mi's, Risawn to sell for her the remainder of- her jewels, She had a fine brilliant ring} r.owtoo large for. her, and ,a jewelled watch and chain, Mi's. Brown dis posed of these to good advantage,, and brought fifty pounds to Queenie as:

their result. Of this the girl took ten pounds, giving' the remainder to the hostess. 'But this1 is too much, ?' said Mrs. Brown. ' Half, of this would pay me. well, Miss Qneenie. And you may need it for yourself.' : ' Keep it,' said the girl, gently, ' I can never repay you for your kindness to me, Mrs. Brown, but you must not refuse to let me do what I

can. ? ' .:,..... With many misgivings' as to 'the propriety of accepting so large a pro portion. of Qneenie's small fortune, Mrs. Brown put the moneyrin -her pocket. ? ': - ' -'*? '; . ' I've been' thinking,' said Queenie, ' of one friend— an humble friend— whom I mnst see: Will von send a

letter to be posted for me ?' ' , ; . Mrs.' Brown assented, and brought writing materials. Queenie's , letter was very brief, and was addressed to 'Miss SarahWagg, Throckmortdii House, King William-street,' High gate, London, N.' . .' ? ; This letter Mrs. Brown carried! out, andposted herself. It was herjfirst clue to the mystery surroitnding \ her young lodger, and she eagerly awaited the expected response. j ...... It came the next evening in ? the shape of a smart housemaid, jsvho inquired for 'Miss Queenie,' {and

who was shown upstairs to the ' JSrst pair front.' \ ,.??.-.. The invalid was seated in an arm-1 chair before the bright hearth. jShe was clad in a flannel: dressing gpwnj and looked, shawody and unreal, a' pale, wan ghost of jhei* former [self., She did not rise, at Sarah Wdgg's entrace, but the, visitor. ran up toj her and kissed her hands, and burst forth into sobs. ~ i Much as she longed to witness j the interview, . Mrs. . Bro.wn; , withdrew.' Her delicacy gaveiway when f&irly outside the door, and she listened at the keyhole breathlessly. - 1 'Oh, Miss Queeniej to find j you like this !' cried Sarah Wagg. 'U.nd there is baby, too !' And she gjanc ed at the bed. ? ' Poor little tHing ! Has Mr. Oswald \ett. you?' } . '' Yes. He was not legally mairied to^me, Sarah.. and 1 never flv«»n Trnnw

his real name. He planned to dedeive me from the ;first.''. '.' '..',', ? : ''And T helped' 'oh' the match, thinking I was doing great; thing 3 for you, Miss Queenie. Mr. Oswald talked like ah angel, and he ; pfaic. me so well for, taking letters: . Mck and forth. ; If it hadn't been for me, you would not be here. I ought ^ to be killed, Miss. Queenie,' -exclaimed Sarah Wagg, remorsefully.^' pTbu look like a ghost. You must Jiate me ? -' ?--? - ? ?? j 'Oh, no, Sarah. I was a wilful girl, and I suppose I deserve j my punishment,' said. Queenie,- '^bitterly: ' My life is ended at its begining. I am' only eighteen, Sarah,' and I have no hope— no hope for the future. Has — has my mother been to Thivock morton House ?'! ',.-,,'.. ...... -i

' No, miss, but.IVe expected erery day^ and whenever! hear a ring j my heart' leaps into my mouth.' There have several letters come, for you. I got them out of the postbag myself on the sly. I took them out to Labumam Lodge, as usual, the -first of 'em, weeks ago, but the villa ! was closed, and there was a sign 'To Let' upon the gate. So I knew that I you were gone, but till I got your Jnote of yesterday, miss, I never even dreamed of what had happened. Here are the letters.' She produced several, and Queenie seized them, and thrust them in \ her bosom. „ ??: :

' I was afraid that my mother would be anxious at my long silence, and come to look for me,' said Queenie. I thank heaven, that ? she has not. I'll write to her to-morrow, as if I were still at school, and stave off till further the evil day of dis covery. But the truth must,, all come out at last!' and she rang ? her hands together in passionate distress. ' How long canl ward off discovery ?' ' The school year will end in June, twn Tlin-n+.lis -Pi-nm -fliio ' ooiri fimni,

Wagg. ' Oh, Miss Queenie, couldn't 3rou put the baby out to nurse, and keep its existence a secret, and go home as if nothing had happened ? Your folks think that you have spent this last year at school. .-Why need they ever know different ? .... Madame Delange will never meet your, mother and so' * cannot betiuy you. Dear Miss Queenie, try it !'. A faint gleam lit up the sad'youn?

face. ???/? ' j ' Perhaps,' she answered. 'If can do it, 1 will, for mother's sake' ' I'll write home to-morrow, Sarah' and you shall bring me the answer to my letter yvhen it arrives !' CTo be continued.)