NOVEL

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 353, 12 February 1903, Page 2

NOVEL

CHAPTEB XIH. Gerard Onslow's heart beat high with hope as he walked away from Moes Bank House. The present position of affairs was certainly uncomfortable and especially deplorable for poor Clarice—that sweet, brave, true-hearted girl! and this unlucky young marplot, the unfortunate • Harry/ must be got out of the way and shipped abroad as speedily as possible. But, once that business was achieved, beyond these present difficulties, the prospect _ was bright Clarice bad made no definite promise or acknowledgment, but, without vanity, he could not doubt that she was favourably inclined towards Mm; she had trusted him with her secret —a secret of life and death—and the hope lav warm at his heart that already that true and tender heart of hers, so faithful to a fraternal bond, had turned to him, that when he had done all he could for bf r, had proved himself by deed as well ~ as word, he should reap his reward. For although Bhe had not yet pledged herself, and he indeed had refrained from pressing her until he should have rendered her the loyal service of which she might stand in need, he had read sweet promise in her eyes—those dark lovely eyes—surely the windows of a soul that was pure and true! '—that had looked into his heart as never woman's eyes had done before. Meanwhile Clarice also felt the prospect brighter, or at least less gloomy for her . later view with Gerard ; her heart was relieved .by her confidence in him. A trouble is wondrously lightened by being shared; she felt intuitively that, vital though the secret was, it was safe with. him, and en the horizon that but now bad. looked so dark there rose a little dawning gleam of hope. She was not however, left alone very long to indulge in daydreams, for Gerard Onslow had not taken his departure many minutes before' Mr Prayne' was announced; and that gentleman entered with a somewhat embarrassed glance, as if well aware that his visit was unexpected and even doubtful whether it would be welcome.

'l'm glad to find you—to have the opportunity of speaking to you alone, Mua Hamilton/ he said, and indeed he appeared relieved when a hasty look roar 4 had assured him that he was tete-a-tete with Clarice. She looked startled instantly; cnly her gracious instinct of hospitality prevented from putting her inquiry into words—why had he come ? Had be any message for hexp He answered the questioning look. 'I have a message for jon. Mrs Thorold is—is— \ he hesitated, 'is not feeling so well to-* day } she fainted in the garden last night, and seems Tery much upset and feverish to-day. She is asking for you, and—l have brought the carriage to fetch you, if you will come and see her.' Clarice looked grave, and eveH hesitating. •With Sir Henry's consent and sanction Y she said, interrogatively. ' Tea. Sir Henry himself sent me to ask if you would come.'

Clarice hesitated bat a moment loßger, as the vision of her father's probable, nay, certain disapprobation and anger flashed before her. Then she said slowly, • Yes, I will come. But, Mr Frayne, is there any reason for Agnes's indisposition P She seemed better—on the road to recovery trie other day. Hax—has anything happened to throw her back? Her ar xious eyes searched his apprehensively. * I do not know/ he answered gravely and guardedly. 'She had gone ont into the grounds last night, and was found Mr Thorold and Miss Dampier found her —there in a fainting fit. We can only hope that she had not sustained any any shock or fright—that nothing had occurred to agitate her.' Clarice had turned deadly pale. * Did she say nothing ? —give no account or explanation of her sudden illness ?' *I believe not. Bat, Miss Himilton, I am afraid we cannot conceal from ourBelves that there is cause fer serious anxiety. You know, I told you, that I recognised that voice and figure at the circus. If—if it is possible that we could think he would htve been so unpardonably reckless—as to find his wav to her ' J

•We mmt not tLink it.' 6 aid Clarice, with tightened lip*. During tiie ehcrt drive to the Fire bcth were iin-nt and thoughtful, oppressed with doubts and fears. Arrived there, Clance was shown at oc<:a te Agnts'a roem, and found her in a distressing condition, exhausted with wiid anxiety and appxehtnaions the more agonising for being suppressed, for slo was almost fiercely guarding the secret of the cause of her swoon, and they had not dared to tell her of Emily's revelation to Thorold. she charged Clarice with her knowledge of li fry's pretence, which Clarice could

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] Tlie Mystery oi A Moonlight Tryst,

By Iza Dupfus Habdy, Autnor of ','MacGileroj's Millions,' &a . &i.

[ALL BIGHTS BESEEVED.

not now deny, not knowing whether Harry, if indeed he had been mad enough to steal or force an . interview with Agnes, might not himself have admitted it Agnes first passionately reproached her with her knowledge and her conceslment of ir, her deception in answer to Agnes's inquiries, then, flinging away reproach, as passionately entreated and urged her to ' get him away.' Clarice, full of tender pity and herself overwhelmed with anxiety, did her best to soothe Agnes with assurances that Harry would—should leave the neighbourhood—leive England immediately • the danger would soon be over, and she would brin v Agnes word as soon as all was safe. Having done her best to soothe and reassure her unfortunate and almost distracted friend, Clarice took her leave, and was passing a door which, although she did not know it, was that of Bir Henry's study, when Sir Henry himself, somewhat to her dismay, opened it, and addressed her with a grave look and a stiff bow, requesting a few words with her. Her heart sank as she accompanied him into the study, and the door closed behind them. «You have seen Agnes ?' he said, with unsmiling earnestness. 'Tea/ , 1 w i? n°* "iqniro/ Ho continued, 'what the has said to you, for the less that is put into words the better.' But there are some things that must be said. I don t know whether you are, aware that when Agnes was found last night fainting'" m the garden, she was not alone P' Clarice looked at him, wide-eyed,pale, apprehensive, but could find no word of answer.

•I ask yon no questions/ he went on emphatically, 'but thi ß must be said The shock which Agnes has undergone must not be repeated. And if you have had any knowledge in this matter, I fear you cannot fail to feel yourself responsible for any lamentable consequences which may result Anyone who has had a hand in this must have a very serious burthen 01 their conscience.' 'I have had no hand in it/ said Clarice, nrmly. ' I would not have Buch a burthen on my conscience for the world ! I would have given all I had in this world to have prevented any such shock to Agnes.' Her words had the ring of truth, and Sir Henry seemed somewhat favourably impressed by them. *lf that is so/ he Baid, gravely, • I trust we may rely on your using all such influence and efforts as may be in your power to secure against any poasible repetition of it.' Y^ U "9 on ifc indeed/ she protested, and then proceeded to put a question on her own account, although delicately and half hesitatingly. 'Did I understand chat it was Miss Dampier who found Agnes fainting last night ?* ' It WBB.' •And did she-' hesitating still—• see anyone with her ?' * She did; He spoke to her and asked ner to look after Agnes.* •It was—" Clarice spoke almost faintly with anxiety—'it was no one whom she knew or had ever seen befora ?' •It was no one whom Bhe knew or could identify/ gravely. 'But Miss Dampier was naturally anxious and alarmed, and called the first person she met for assistance. It happened to be Mr Thorold. I fear, as you mast see, t»>at it is only too probable he may place his own construction on the mere fact of a stranger's having been with Agues at that hour and place; a stranger who vanished mysteriously without waiting to see her restored to consciousness.' «He did not—he did not—see the—the person who wag with Agnes P* asked Clarice, deadly pale with apprehension. • Where is he now ?'

•He has gone awayj he left this morning.' * Where has he gone ?' 'I do not know; he went away suddenly, bade us good-bye, and left without any explanation of his movements.' Sir Henry answered with a knitting of the brow, which showed that the question was perplexing and disturbing to him too. H8 was not to be drawn on to say more, but Clarice grasped his meaning, the drift of his apprehensions, and went home with a heavy heart, oppressed with fear, and yet not altogether without a feeble straw of comfort to which she might cling. The brief gleam of personal hope and joy that had broken on her life was overcast, blotted in its first hour of dawn; but there was solace still in the thought of Gerard Onslow's love, his promised faith and help; there was a grain of comfort too to be gleaned from Sir Henry's •attitude; it was evident that he, whether

' for Agnee's rake or from the desire to avoid a nine days wonder and scandal in the re-opening of the Thorold case, was not desirous of following up the clue that Harry's recklessness had placed in their hands. He was clearly willing for the matter to be hushed up, for Harry to escape. He night be, but Thorold? There was the danger. She must write t>> Harry at once, warning him, urging him to instant flight. True, he must be already warned. He must be well aware that the unusual incident of his presence with Agnes in the garden, her swoon and his retreat could not have failed to arouse the curiosity of the youag lady to whom he had appealed for help, and she would be certain to report what had happened. Hi would know that attention i once aroused, inquiries would very probably be set on foot. He should be already on his guard; but Clarice felt that she must not fail in her part, she must keep her promise to Agnes, nay, even without that bond—in case, not having seen Thorold, he should not realise the urgency of the danger—she must leave no stone unturned to ensure ithat he should seek safety in retreat, concealment or flight at once.

She must write,. and write that hour, phrasing the letter cautiously, naming no names, so that if by any accident it fell into strangers' hands it would mystify more than enlighten any other reader. The letter written, she had no means ef conveying it to him but taking it to the village post with her own hand; she had no messenger whom she could. safely trust, as she hid not seen Gerard or Frayne again on leaving The Firs. So she posted it herself. Harry would get it the next momin&r, on the last day of the sojourn of * figgles* Banowned Entertainment' at Blanchester. There were to be two performances on that farewell day, and on the next the entertainment was to move on; bag and baggage, to fresh fields and pastures new. Harry must decide for himself whether it would be better to take his departure from Blanchester at once thus risking the question and cunoßit, which would be inevitably aroused by hiy decamping on the very eve of the lass performance, or hazard waiting, maket his farewell appearance safely behind his mask, move with the troupe on the morrow, and thence go his own way. Although Clarice was not deficient in courage, Bhe shrank from revealing the whole state of affairs to her family while •there was any chance of concealing it from thorn; and there still appeared to be some hope of concealment, at least for a time; but she was obliged to acknowledge her visit to The Firs, as Mr Frayne's bringing the carriage to fetch her waa an incident which could not have failed to arouse notice and comment in the domestic part of the establishment; and she had a bad quarter of an hour that evening enduring the displeasure ef her father and brother, who deeply resented her having accepted an invitation to the house of the man of all men else whom they desired to avoid,, only in order to humour, as they supposed, some mere whim of Agnes Thorold's.

Between anxiety and apprehension on behalf of that unfortunate man with whom she had grown up as a sister, holding him as her brother in heart, and the tremulous love of her own—which yet it seemed to her sensitive conscience almost a disloyalty to Harry to cherish, while his fate swayed in the balance and the sword of deadly peril hung above his head. Clarice lay long wakeful that night, until dawn she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, and rose in the morning white-cheeked and heavy-eyed: anxiety all the morning kept her pale, abstracted and nervous, but the blush which suffused her cheek as Bhe greeted Gerard Onslow made her lovelier than ever in his eyes Lover-like, he was unable to keep away from Moss Bank House, and his visit was paid as.early in the afternoon as was compatible with the conventions. Mrs Hamilton, who possibly had an inkling of. the aspect of affairs, found domestic duties claim her attention, and excusing herself for a few minutes, which extended iato many, left the visitor to the entertainment of her daughter. These lovers newly acknowledged, if .not yet formally plighted, had matter more serious to dißcuss than the ordinary discourse of lovers,- they had but little time or opportunity to talk over their own personal affairs. Clarice had much to tell him of her visit to Agnes, of Harry's reckless intrusion into Sir Henry Hinchcliffe's grounds on the night of the dmner party, of her letter to him, of the alarming probability that Thorold suspected—nay, worse, the certainty that he could not fail to suspect—the identity of the ; stranger whose interview with Agnes had bad such an agitating effect upon her. Even to Gerard, inclined though he was to take a hopeful view of the matter, the account sounded alarming; but Clarice found some comfort in telling, as he in hearing the stary, told as it was with her hand in his. The most pressing question appeared to be whether it would be best for Harry to beat a retreat at once, takinar the risk of this step setting curiosity on his track, or to remain at his post for the farewell performances this day, and move on with the rest of the Circus troupe on the morrow. The un3ertainty of Jack Thorold's intentions, and ot the extent indeed of his knowledge, rendered it difficult to decide between these two risks, which would be the safer, or rather the least dangerous, to run. ...

..'Would it not be best for me to go to Blanohester and speak to him P' suggested Gerard. 'I could take him any message from you, and talk the matter oyer. And it wouldn't do, you know, to chance any hitch arising from lack of funds. Do you know if—if he is er provided in that respect ?' * 1 don't know/ she admitted, colouring. 'He bad a little, but I don't know whether it was enough to take him abroad.' 'The question of ways and means is the first'thing to be considered; He can do nothing and go nowhere without means. You must allow me to be his banker for the present, dearest.' At this point the interview was interrupted by the announcement of another visitor. Mr Frayne again. Here yesterday, and here again to-day! The mere sound of his name, the fact of his calling again, repeating- his: uninvited visit so soon, gave Clarice's heart a throb of anxiety even before she looked in his face, and then the blush with which she had been listening to Gerard Onslow's words faded suddenly to a startled pallor. (To be continued.;