5 cannot be my heir.' I then suggested that you had children-a son-but he held up his hand and asked me to be silent. 'I will speak to Walter,' he said, and then turned the subject." "Well, Mr. Bruce," replied Walter Keller gravely, "you know that, personally, my disinheritance will be neither grief nor surprise to me. But for my son "Why, for your son," was the brisk reply, "you are bound to do all you can. It is a father's duty. If you can be a good father to another man's son, surely you will not fail in common duty to your own." Walter turned pale. The lawyer's blunt words, kindly meant, but not wisely chosen, smote him hard. 66 'Bruce," he said, turning away with a sigh that was almost a groan," how true it is that a man's sin will find him out." FOR MAY, 1880. had the witching influence of his wife's beauty come upon him in his mature years. That sin had been the sin of his youth, the fruit of youth's mad, uncontrolled passion; reckless of whom it sinned against, if it could compass its own delight. But to-day Walter Keller looked at things as they really were, and fondly as he loved his wife, her influence over him for falsehood and wrong was over, and he would not sin with open eyes against his child. Come what revelations might, Walter should have the inheritance of his fathers, if his uncle were willing that it should be so. Having fairly made this resolution, Walter Keller was of too strong mind to waver from it, and he walked briskly on through the green woods of Kettering, until glimpses of the castle, the stately place of his birth, rose before him through the trees. Arrived in view of the house, he saw his friend, Mr. Bruce, sauntering among a tiny grove of young firs, near the lodge-gates, and quickening his steps, he was soon by his side. The two men shook hands. "I think it will be all right," whispered the lawyer. His whispering tone was occasioned by the propinquity of a couple of gardeners who were employed near. Walter replied by a cordial smile and close grip of the friendly hand he held, and the two men passed in at the wide-open hall doors. Mr. Bruce drew his companion into a small room, opening from the marble-paved hall, and having carefully closed the door, made him acquainted with the present condition of the invalid master of Kettering Castle. "I have told him you were coming," explained the lawyer, "I thought it better to do so. The fewer mystifications one has the better, in dealing with Squire Kettering. He took it very quietly, but I saw a good deal of emotion under his calm manner, unless I am mistaken, a thing which rarely happens to me, I may say in passing, Mr. Walter. He took it kindly, however, and said he should be glad to see you, but" and Mr. Bruce paused. "Well?" asked his listener, with a shade of impatience in his tone. "He recalled to my mind a solemn declaration he once made, that you should never be his heir." "Well?" said Walter again. "Well,-I do not think it means well for you," snapped Mr. Bruce, "for he said very coolly and firmly, 'You know, Bruce, I never break a promise, nor alter a resolve. Walter In a stately apartment, whose windows looked toward the waving Kettering Woods, but which were now carefully draped, shutting out every gleam of May sunshine, every flutter of the bonny oak branches, Anthony Keller awaited the arrival of his brother. He was wrapped in furs, and was shivering even in the warmth of the May-day: but the chill that was upon him would never be dispelled by warmest carthly sun, or driven away from his fading frame by the most luxurious wrapping. The impress of death lay already on his cold, stern face, and a grey pallor clothed his sunken forehead and thin cheeks. But the stern pride, the indomitable resolve of the proudest Keller of a proud race, was as plain on his face this day as when he had sternly denounced his brother twenty years before. He had forgiven Walter, he had waived resentment, and had consented to receive that erring one in these his last days, but Anthony Keller's sense of his brother's sin was unaltered. Fresh as if it had been sinned but yesterday, was this hard, upright man's hatred of that false step. The near approach of death had a softening influence on his feeling for the sinner, but not for the sin, and Anthony Keller held somewhat closely the stern doctrine that for every sin which man commits, some special and severe penance should be meted out to him. The man who had dragged the name of Keller through the mire and dirt of an unholy alliance, the man who had been a commoner thief than the desperate wretch who robs for bread, must never rule at Kettering Castle, must never hold sway over the simple peasantry whose smiling homesteads clustered so snugly under the nestling shadows of the Kettering oaks. This resolve was as firmly rooted in Anthony Keller's mind on the day, when emaciated and dying, he waited for the coming of his brother, as when, in righteous indignation, he had at first formed it. He lay on his couch, the soft shadows gathering round him, listening for the approach of that one footfall-long, long unheard, but never forgotten. At last it sounded in the corridor outside. The door opened, and, without announcement, Walter Keller came into his brother's presence. He crossed the large room quickly, with his hands extended, and sank upon his knees by his brother's couch. There was a difference of thirteen years in age between these brothers, and it seemed to Walter that it was a very old man whore arms were put heavily on his shoulders, whose voice trembled with emotion as it faltered his name. "Walter, Walter, my poor brother," were the words which fell upon the ears of the repentant man. "Forgive me, Anthony, forgive me," was all he could murmur in reply. The first interview between the brothers was not a long one, owing to the weak state of the invalid, but Walter was summoned to his brother's room again during the evening, and there, in the tender May twilight which peeped through the now uncurtained windows, Walter told his elder brother the mournful story of his sin and shame. I need not repeat it here. He sought to excuse, not himself, but his wife, therein proving truer than most men to the partners of their guilt; truer, indeed, than Father Adam, the first man of us all, proved, when first overtaken in his sin. Anthony Keller heard the story to the end, without question, without comment, but when his brother finished the mournful story, he said earnestly : "Walter, you do well, you act like a man in excusing your wife, and I like you the better for it. I cannot say much to you on the subject,-indeed, I cannot say anything which you do not know in your heart far better than any idea my weak words could express, but I would fain impress one thing upon you. Pre vail upon your wife-press her with any argument reason and affection can urge, to disclose the truth to the boy. He ought to know all, Walter. It will not be pleasant for you; it will, doubtless, be fearfully bitter for her, but it ought to be done." Walter Keller acknowledged the truth of his brother's words, but his heart sank at the prospect. "You know of old, Walter," continued the invalid, "that I said you should never inherit Kettering. I said it, and I meant it. Time, though it has brought about our reconciliation, has not brought causes why I should rescind that resolution; so, this day I say it again, and this day I mean it. But your son, Walter, even though he be likewise son to poor George Garland's false wife, shall not suffer for his father's fault. Let the punishment of that lie with the man who sinned; I shall not desire to carry it further. Walter shall be Keller of Kettering when he comes to man's estate, and I will also provide for your girls. But, in order that Walter should be fitted for his station, I claim beforehand the right to dispose of as much of his future as lies between this and his majority. Let him be placed, after my death, with my old friend the Vicar of Kettering, who will finish his education in a way I should approve of, and who will provide a suitable companion to travel with him for one year from his twentieth birthday. Your present income of two hundred a year will be increased to four for your life, but at your death it will revert to the Kettering estates. I shall leave your girls ten thousand pounds each, and they will remain under your guardianship until they marry, or come of age. interest of their fortune, until either of these events occur, will be paid to you on condition" The FOR MAY, 1880. And, hearing this, Walter Keller was silent. He could not defend his wife in the presence of Death, and against his mother's memory. CHAPTER IX. TELLING THE BOYS. In a very short time after his brief visit to Kettering, the news of his brother's death came to Walter Keller. He went down to the funeral, and was present at the reading of the will, where, surrounded by the old friends and old servants of his youth, he heard his own name passed over, and that of his only son, Walter Fairclough Keller, named as heir of Kettering. A little bitterness of feeling may be pardoned to the man in that moment, but it was a very brief emotion, and he received the congratulations on behalf of his son with a very good grace. Most of those present knew of, or could, give a correct guess at, the reasons of Anthony Kettering's will in his nephew's favor, for that twenty-years'-old story was not forgotten among these simple country folk, who had sorrowed at the time for Walter's downfall, and grieved continuously at his exile and disgrace. But he bore himself manfully among them, and all present agreed that if young Mr. Walter was anything like his father, he might do yet credit in his day to the good old name. Walter Keller was heartily glad when all the formalities were over, and he was free to take his departure for London. He knew how anxiously Caroline awaited his coming, how painfully eager she would be to learn whether the fatal moment of discovery might yet be delayed. She sat at the window of her little drawingroom in the May twilight, eagerly listening for the sound of wheels which would bring her husband home. It was a thin, wan face which looked out upon the clean, prim road, across the dainty strip of garden under the window. The large dark eyes which gazed listlessly at the early summer bloom of geranium and mignonette seemed dim and sunken, and the whole attitude and air of the woman bespoke a deep-seated grief. The long years of remorse and anxiety had told fearfully on Walter Keller's wife, and it was easy to see that the thin, listless woman, who waited her husband's return with such feverish eagerness, could bear but little longer the heavy load which weighed her to the earth. In a room immediately under the drawingroom she could hear her daughters practising 7 of music, who came twice a week to Myrtle Villa, and now and then, overhead, she could hear George's heavy footstep, as he moved about in some chemical experiment, in which Walter, though by no means scientific or studious, was, on this occasion, taking part. At last! At last! A hansom drew up at the green gate, and the master of the house alighted, paid and dismissed the driver, and walked across the budding garden, a welcome, welcome figure looming through the evening shadows. A few precious moments passed, in which husband and wife were locked in each other's arms; then came an incursion of young people, from upstairs and down, to greet dear papa. 66 George came after his brother more slowly, and shook his stepfather gravely by the hand. Come, Walter," said his wife, "you must want your dinner. Run away girls, and boys too. You have dined, you know; let your father take his meal in peace." "Yes, go now, boys," said Mr. Keller, gravely, "but I shall want you both after I have dined. I have something to tell you. Come into my study at half-past nine." The party of young people left the room, dispersing to their various employments, and Walter and Caroline Keller went hand-in-hand to the dining-room. Very few words were spoken during that brief meal, but at its close, Walter Keller said: "Let us go into the drawing-room, Stasie; we shall be quieter there. I will then tell you what I propose to say to the boys." At half-past nine George and Walter tapped at the door of Mr. Keller's study-a tiny retreat at the back of the dining-room, opening by a glass door, and flight of iron steps, upon a garden. A moderator lamp was lit, and standing upon the table, and a soft breeze blew apart the muslin draperies which veiled the now open glass door. The young men found Mr. Keller seated at the centre table, sorting papers by the softshaded light of the lamp. He was alone. Little recked these young hearts of that anxious watcher in the chamber above, waiting to learn how the tidings would be taken by her two sons, and whether her secret could yet be kept. "Only a little while longer," she had pleaded to her husband, in passionate abandonment of grief; "only a little while, Walter. I have so little strength left. My boy will forgive me if Her husband had soothed her tenderly, and tried to laugh away her fears, but his own heart sank when he noticed more closely that shrunken figure, that fading face; and even while he comforted her a cold fear clutched at his heart, and made a coward of him by forcing him to yield to her wish. "I will try to explain all without revealing the secret, dearest," he said. "Rest content, Stasie, the boys shall learn nothing of our past from me." With this comfort she was fain to be content, but she sat in silent agony in her chamber, to which the hum of voices now and then ascended,-voices which were discussing topics very near to her sore, sad heart. Walter Keller never quite remembered in what words he first broke the strange news to the boys, but he knew that Walter, by his eager questioning and rapid deductions, helped He told a him materially to a conclusion. story vaguely, and tamely even, of a serious quarrel with his brother in his early youth-a quarrel only made up in death, and he used his brother's sternness to account for the passing over his own name and George's in Anthony Keller's will. He then wound up by clasping his son's hand in a warm pressure, wishing him many and happy years to enjoy his good fortune. Walter was bewildered, but the frank, generous-hearted lad turned in the first moment to his brother, and said, "But I will never take this money unless George can share it." George-poor George! turned very pale, and said quickly "That is nonsense, Walter. If Kettering is left to you you must take it, and follow out the instructions in your uncle's will. But," he added, with deep feeling, "I shall miss you, old fellow; we have been almost more than brothers, you and I. I am glad, Walter, I am heart for your good fortune, my glad from my brother." There were tears in his eyes as he clasped his brother's hand, and Walter's clear, blue orbs were clouded with a mist of unwonted feeling, as he answered George's brotherly clasp. "That is right, boys," said Mr. Keller, touched to his soul at the generous conduct of the dead man's son; "that is right, boys. It would have broken my heart, and mother's your too, if this strange will had sown dissension between our dear boys. You are a noble fellow, George," he added, laying a hand on the young man's shoulder. But George Garland stepped aside, as if to avoid the touch. "I desire no praise, sir," he said, "for only doing my duty. "Your duty, George?" faltered Mr. Keller. "My duty, sir," replied George Garland, fixing a keen look on his stepfather's handsome face; "my duty. I have no right to the Kettering property, have I?" Walter Hesketh Keller's clear eyes dropped, as he answered in a low tone "No, George, you have no right—as my brother Anthony thought," he added, for Walter's satisfaction, who looked and listened in wonder at the strange tones of the speakers. (To be continued.) THE FULL-SIZED PATTERNS. N.B. The full-sized Patterns given in this Magazine are all cut for Ladies of medium height, and of proportionate figure: measuring 34 inches round the chest, and 24 waist, unless otherwise stated in the description. All allowances necessary for the seams are already given to these Patterns, so that the seams NEED NOT be allowed for when cutting out, except in materials that require extra wide turnings in. The greatest care is always taken by the binders to ensure the whole of the pieces composing each pattern being folded up in it. If at any time, through accident, our subscribers should find any pieces missing, the EDITORS will be happy to supply the deficiency, post free, during the month after publication, on receipt of a letter or post card addressed to them at 1, Kelso Place, Kensington, London, W. THE STEPHANIE REDINGOTE. (325.) Our first full-sized pattern is the double-breasted Corsage of the Stephanie Costume, represented on the first figure of our third plate. It has a skirt of the Redingote style, and the fronts open in a slanting direction, thus making it one of the most elegant forms of the Redingote style of jacket. This pattern is given complete, and consists of six pieces, viz. : front, sidepiece, back, skirt, sleeve, and collar. On the front we have marked the middle of front, and the puffs or pleats by pricked lines, and on the skirt the crease of the back pleat is also marked by pricking. THE LANGTRY HOOD. (335.) Our second pattern (which is given at the special request of a large number of our subscribers), is a Pointed Hood for the Costume Jackets so fashionable just now. Some of these hoods are ornamental only, and cannot be put over the head, but this hood is specially designed to be useful as well as ornamental. Its appearance is shown by No. 335 of our seventh Plate, from which it will be seen that, in order to show more of the colored lining, the sides of opening are turned under, forming long folds, or they may be rolled over, which will display the lining still more. The shape of this hood is so arranged as to lay as flat as possible on the shoulders, and to draw over the head with great ease. This hood may easily be distinguished from the piece of our first pattern by its having one round hole placed near the front part of neck, the hollowed out portion near this hole being the neck seam, and the straight line about 14 inches in length being the middle of back; the crease line by which the hood is folded to make it up, is indicated by the pricked line which is carried from the point to the end of the large V or puff which is taken out to make the hood lay flat on the shoulders. Any good-fitting jacket may be used with this hood, or we will supply a Pattern on our usual terms. See No. 335 on our Pattern list. Printed by Louis Devere & Co., London. |