LORD OAKBURN'S DAUGHTERS. BY THE AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE." CHAPTER XLV. TAKING THE AIR IN Ir was a gloomy time at South Wennock. Usually a remarkably healthy place-indeed, had it not been, the few medical men established there could not have sufficed-it was something new to have an epidemic raging, and people took alarm. The fever was a severe one, and two or three patients had died; but still it was not so bad as it might have been, as it is occasionally in other places. The town was hurriedly adopting all sorts of sanitary precautions, and the doctors were worked off their legs. Lady Jane Chesney regretted on Lucy's account that it should have happened just now. Not that she was uneasy on the score of fear for her; Jane was one of those happy few who can put their full and entire trust in God's good care, and so be calm in the midst of danger : "Whoso dwelleth under the defence of the most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." But she was sorry this sickness should prevail now, because it made the visit a dull one. Jane lived in the same quiet style. Since the addition to her income through the money left her by old Lady Oakburn, she had added but one man servant to her modest household. The two maids, of whom Judith was one, and this man, comprised it. Not that Jane saved much. She dressed well, and her housekeeping was liberal; and she gave away a great deal in a quiet way. But the young, full of life, loving gaiety, might have called her house a dull one; she feared Lucy was finding it so; and it certainly did not want the sickness and alarm prevailing abroad to augment it. You need not ask the source of Jane's preoccupation. That it was connected with her sister Clarice you will have already divined. Since the information gained from Mrs. West, that Clarice had married, Lady Jane had been unable to divest herself of an impression that that little child at Tupper's cottage was the child of Clarice. The only possible ground for her fancy was the extraordinary likeness (at least, as Jane saw it) in that child's eyes and general expression of face to Clarice. The features were not like; quite unlike; but the eyes and their look were Clarice's over again. Added to this-and perhaps the fact somewhat strengthened Jane's doubts-was the manner of his ostensible mother, Mrs. Smith. From the very first, Jane had thought she looked old to be the mother of so young a child; but she had hard features, and such women, as Jane knew, are apt to look much older than they really are. Several times since her return from London Jane had passed the cottage and talked to the little boy over the gate. Once she had gone in-having been civilly invited by Mrs. Smith to rest herself— and she had indirectly tried to ascertain some particulars of the child's past life: where he was born, and where he had lived. But Mrs. Smith ber your dull visit to me." grew uncommunicative and would not answer Lucy laughed. She did not look very dull much. The boy was her own, she said; she Jane was saying this as she sat one night alone with Lucy. They had promised to spend the evening with some friends, but just as they were about to quit home, a note was delivered from the lady to whom they were engaged. One of her servants was taken ill, and she feared it might be the fever: perhaps therefore Lady Jane would prefer to put off her visit. "I should not have minded for myself," remarked Jane, as they sat down to a quiet evening at home, "but I will not risk it for you, Lucy. I am so sorry, my dear, that South Wennock should be in this uncertain state just now. You will have cause to remem had had another son, older than this, but he had died; she had married very late in life. Her husband had occupied a good post in a manufactory at Paisley, in Scotland, and there her little boy had been reared. Upon her husband's death that summer, she had left the place and come back to her native country, England. So far as that, Mrs. Smith was communicative enough; but beyond these points she would not go; and upon Lady Jane's rather pressing one or two questions, the widow was quite rude. Her business was her own, she said, and she did not recognise the right of strangers to pry into it. Lady Jane was baffled. Of course it might all be as the woman said; but there was a certain secrecy in her manner that Jane suspected. She had, however, no plea for pressing the matter further ; and she preferred to wait and, as it were, feel her way. But she thought of it incessantly, and it had rendered her usually equable manner occupied and absent, so much so as to have been observed by Lucy. to Lady Jane Chesney were not common. The servant opened the drawing-room door. "Mr. Frederick Grey, my lady." Lucy threw down her embroidery. Jane smiled; the dull evening had changed for Lucy. He came in with a radiant face. They questioned him upon his appearance in South Wennock, when they had believed him in London, reading hard for his degree. Frederick protested his uncle John had invited him down. "I suppose the truth is, you proffered him a visit," said Jane. "Or perhaps came without any notice to him at all." Frederick Grey laughed. The latter was in truth the fact. But Frederick never stood on ceremony at his uncle John's: he was as much at home there as at his father's. And as the days went on and the sickness in South Wennock increased, Mr. John Grey declared that his nephew's visit was the most fortunate circumstance that could have "Is it anything about Laura?" asked Lucy, happened. For the medical men were scarcely in answer to Jane's last observation. "Oh no. Nothing at all.” "Do you think, Jane, that Laura is happy? She seems at times so strangely restless, so petulant." "Lucy, I hope she is happy: I cannot tell. I have observed what you say, but I know nothing." "Mr. Carlton seems very indulgent to her," returned Lucy. And in point of fact, Lucy had been quite struck with this indulgence. Jane's own decision, not to visit at the house of Mr. Carlton, whether springing from repugnance or pride, or what not, she had strictly adhered to, but she had not seen fit to extend the prohibition to Lucy; and Lucy was often at Laura's, and thus had an opportunity of seeing Mr. Carlton's behaviour to his wife. She told Jane that she liked Mr. Carlton better than she had liked him as a little girl; she remembered, she said with a laugh, that she then entertained a great prejudice against him; but she liked him now very well, and he was certainly fond of Laura. Jane agreed that Mr. Carlton's manners were gentlemanlike and agreeable; she had now and then met him in society, and nothing could be more courteous than was Mr. Carlton's manner to herself; but, into his house Jane still declined to enter. "I think he has always been most indulgent to her," observed Jane. "Laura, I fear, is of a difficult temper, but--Are we going to have visitors to-night?" The break in her sentence was caused by a visitor's knock. Impromptu evening visitors So, equal to the additional calls upon them, and Frederick took his full share of the duty. after all, the visit, which had been intended by him to be nothing but a short and delightful holiday with Lucy Chesney, was changed into one of labour, and—in one sense-disappointment. For he could only venture to see her once in a way, every other day or so; neither had he time for more; and then, with all the precaution of changing his clothes. The Lady Laura Carlton's feet seemed instinctively to take her to Blister Lane, past the front of Tupper's cottage. Jealousy has carried women to more inconvenient places. unhappy suspicion-how miserably unhappy it was to be in its ultimate effects, neither Laura nor any one else could dream of !—connecting her husband with that little child had grown to a height that was scarcely repressible; and Laura was in the dangerous frame of mind that has been metaphorically designated as touchwood-wanting but a spark to kindle it into a flame. Not a day passed but she was walking down Blister Lane. She would take her way up the Rise, turn down the lane, pass the cottage, which was situated at this end of it, walk on a little way, and then come back again. All as if she were taking a walk to get a mouthful of fresh air. If she saw the little boy in the garden she would stop and speak to him; her jaundiced eyes devouring the likeness which she thought she detected to Mr. Carlton; it seemed that she could never tire of looking at it. It was not altogether the jealousy itself that took Lady Laura there, but a determination that had sprung out of it. A resolve had seated itself firmly in her mind to sift the matter to its very foundation, to bring to light the past. She cared not what means she used the truth she would know, come what would. Of a sufficiently honourable nature on the whole, Lady Laura forgot honour now; Mr. Carlton had reproached her with "dodging" his steps; she was prepared to do that and worse in her route of discovery. It might have been described as a disease, this mania that was distracting her. What did she promise herself would be gained by these hauntings of Blister Lane? She did not know; all that she could have told was, that she was unable to rest away from the place. For one thing, she wanted to ascertain how frequently Mr. Carlton went to the cottage. But fortune had not favoured her. Not once had she chanced to light upon the time that Mr. Carlton paid his professional visit. Had she met him-of which there was of course a risk-an excuse was ready. As if fate wished to afford her a facility of operation, Lady Laura had become acquainted with the fact that a young woman, expert in fine needlework, lived in Blister Lane; she immediately supplied her with some, and could have been going there to see about it had she been inconveniently met. One gloomy day in the beginning of November, Laura bent her steps in the usual direction. It did not rain, but the skies were lowering, and anybody might have supposed that Lady Laura was better indoors than out. She, however, did not think so. In her mind's fever, outward discomfort was as nothing. As she passed the gate of Tupper's cottage, Mrs. Smith, in her widow's cap, was leaning over it, gazing in the direction of South Wennock, as if expecting some one. She looked at Laura as she came up; but she did not know her for the wife of Mr. Carlton. And Lady Laura, with averted eyes and a crimson blush on her haughty cheeks, went right into the road amidst the mud, rather than pass close to the gate. It was the only time she had seen Mrs. Smith since that first day, for the widow kept much to the house. On went Laura in her fury, and never turned until she came to the cottage of the seamstress. It seemed that she required an excuse to her own mind for being in the lane that day. The conclusion she had arrived at in her insensate folly was, that the woman was looking impatiently for the advent of Mr. Carlton. What passion that this earth contains can ever befool us like that of jealousy! She went in, gave some directions about the work, so confused and contradictory as nearly to drive the young woman wild, and then retraced her fierce steps back again. Very excessively astonished was she, to see, just on this side of Tupper's cottage, a sort of handcarriage standing in the middle of the road path, and the little boy seated in it. Не looked weak and wan and pale, but his beautiful eyes smiled a recognition of Lady Laura. "Why are you here?" she asked. "She took off her pattens and forgot them, and she has got a hole in her boot," lucidly replied the child. "Who's she?" resumed Laura. “The girl that Mr. Carlton sent. He says I must go out as long as I can, and she comes to draw me. The drum's broke," continued the boy, his countenance changing to intense trouble; "Mr. Carlton broke it. He kissed me because I didn't cry, and he says he'll bring me another." "Is Mr. Carlton there now ?" hastily asked Laura, indicating the cottage. "Yes. It was the drum broke, not the soldier. He hit it too hard." The clanking of pattens was heard in the garden path, and a stout-looking country girl came forth. She knew Lady Laura by sight, and curtsied to her. Laura recognised her as a respectable peasant's daughter who was glad to go out by day, but who could not take a permanent situation on account of a bed-ridden mother. "The little boy looks ill," remarked Lady Laura, rather taken to, and saying any words that came uppermost. "Yes, my lady; and they say he is weaker to-day than he has been at all." "Mr. Carlton says so?" "His mother says so. Mr. Carlton hasn't seen him. He has not been to-day." Laura strode away, vouchsafing no further notice of the speaker, not so much as a word of adieu to the little child. In her heart of hearts she believed the girl was telling her a lie; was purposely deceiving her; and that Mr. Carlton was even then inside the cottage. The child's words, "the girl that Mr. Cariton sent," were beating their refrain on her brain. Why should Mr. Carlton send a girl to draw out any child, unless he held some peculiar interest in him? she was asking herself. Ah, if she could but have seen the thing as it actually had been-how innocent it was! When the boy got past running about, Mr. Carlton said he must still go into the open air. The mother hired this little carriage, and was regretting to Mr. Carlton that she could not hear of a fit person to draw it; he thought at once of this young woman; he was attending the mother at the time; and said he would send her. That was the whole history. Laura Carlton, in her blind jealousy, knew not the bed that she was preparing for herself. She went straight home, walking fast, and entered the house by the surgery entrance, as she would do now and then in impatient moods, when she could not bear to wait while the street door was opened. Mr. Carlton's assistant, Mr. Jefferson, was standing there, and raised his hat to her. "When do you expect Mr. Carlton in?" she asked, as she swept past. "Mr. Carlton is not out, Lady Laura." "Mr. Carlton is out," she rejoined, turning her angry face upon the surgeon. He looked surprised. "Indeed no, Lady Laura. Mr. Carlton came in about half an hour ago. He is down in the drug-room." Lady Laura did not believe a word of it. Were they all in league to deceive her? She turned to the lower stairs, determined to see with her own eyes and confute the falsehood. This drug-room, sometimes styled shortly the cellar, was a small boarded apartment, to which access could be had only through the cellar. Mr. Carlton kept drugs and other articles there pertaining to his profession; the servants had strict orders never to enter it, lest, as Mr. Carlton once told them, they might set their feet on chemical materials of a combustible nature, and get blown up. They took care to keep clear of it after that warning. Lady Laura passed through the cellar and peered in. Standing before an iron safe, its door thrown wide open, was Mr. Carlton. Laura saw what looked like bundles of papers and letters within it; but so entirely astonished was she to see her husband, that a sudden exclamation escaped her. You have heard of this room and this safe before. Mr. Carlton once locked up a letter in it which he had received from his father, the long-ago evening when he first heard of the illness of Mrs. Crane. Laura knew of the safe's existence, but had not felt any curiosity in regard to it. She had penetrated to this room once in her early married days, when Mr. Carlton was showing her over the house, but never since. She turned away while she spoke, and Mr. Carlton looked after her in surprise, as she made her way quickly up the stairs. So in this instance, at least, there had been no treachery, and Lady Laura, so far, might have sat down with a mind at rest. The little child had evidently not comprehended her question, when she asked whether Mr. Carlton was indoors then. CHAPTER XLVI. LADY JANE BROUGHT ON the morning subsequent to this, Lady Jane and Lucy were sitting together after breakfast. Lucy had complained of a headache; she was leaning her head upon her hand, when Judith came in with a note. It proved to be from Lady Laura. She had twisted her ankle, she said; was consequently a prisoner, and wished Lucy to go and help her to pass a dull day. A walk in "I should like to go, Jane. the air may take my headache off." "You are sure you have no sore throat?" asked Jane, somewhat anxiously. She had put the question once before. Lucy smiled. Of course people were suspicious of headaches at this time! "I don't think I have any sore throat, Jane; I ate my breakfast very well. I did not sleep well last night, and that has made my head feel heavy." Lucy found Laura on a sofa in her dressingroom, a pretty apartment on the first floor. "Are you quite an invalid?" asked Lucy. "Not quite; I can manage to limp across the room. But the ankle is swollen and rather painful. Did Jane object to your coming?" "Not at all. How did you contrive to hurt it, Laura?" "I was in mischief," returned Lady Laura, with a half laugh. "And you know, when people do get up to mischief on the sly, punishment is sure to follow. Don't our first lessons in the spelling-book tell us so?" "What was the mischief," returned Lucy. "I and Mr. Carlton are not upon the best of terms; there is a grievance between us," was Laura's answer. "You need not look so serious, Lucy; I do not mean to imply that we are quite cat-and-dog, but we are not precisely turtle-doves. He has secrets which he keeps from me; I know he has; and get at them I will. There's deceit abroad just now, and I vow and declare I'll come to the bottom of it." Lucy listened in wondering surprise. Laura would say no more. "No," she observed, "it is nothing particularly suitable to your ears let it pass, so far. He has got a strong iron safe in the cellar, and in this safe he keeps |