A SCARLET SIN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 163, 10 June 1909, Page 3

A SCARLET SIN.

(AM, iti'.'fi i< i\-.:<}:v.\ nr> )

A .PnWKHFUL STORY.

By AUCK .tv:l c[.\i Id". ASKF.W. Author* o( • The .-iiv.AiM.f-.-- "At DA Of the Plain-*." Ac-. AC *

FIFTH INSTALMENT.

"Yes." returned Mri. Farraday, a faint flush lighting up her check*. "I did love your father, and well I might, for he *w the soul of chivalry to iw—of tenderness, of kindness. Ah. Ha*il. if it had not l»een for hint t would have nought death at my own hands*." She checked herself hurriedly. "Oh. Basil. Basil, why do you drag things from mc like this? All the*! year* I hav« kept myself 4b check and have suffered no hint of the truth to escape ; hut now. oh. such *trange things' seem to have happened lately !

She glanced into the red heart of the lire.

"First we lose Metherly. and then have the shock of realizing that you will not be the immensely rich man I fancied you would In?.—the voting man of great wealth who might he able to do so much good in the world.

"Mother you are too tender to twin your thought.*." protested Basil. "You rate me far too hight" "IH» I. Hasil 7 " she answered. "II | «|o it is only the way of mothers. Hut I am not afraid. I ktjow you arc pure gold." She paused a second : then with trooping head and in hushed tones -he added, softly : •Ami as a for greater shock thon ih<- news that you have lost the heritage which should have been yours. ih>- !»wl which your dear father oir! for my soke, comes the knowi•■•It;.- that you have met a girl you think >ou love, and that for the >it-if time there is some one in your life lw>side» myself." She signet v-t*tiully. "Oh. don't think lam jealous of Pamela, or unkind, but 1 suppose it is always ban I tor a mother to have to recognize the fact she must take the second place in her son's heart instead of the first." tlasil made no answer for a moment ; then he glanced at his mother with a bright smile. "I shall not love you less because of my love for Point-la. Don't fret about that, mother." "Hut 1 am anxious—l am anxious, all the same, for what do you really know attout the girl, and whyshould her father be so anxious to purchase Metherly ? I tell you I feel terribly uneasy." Bhe rose from her chair as she spoke and began to pace up and down the room, a tall figure in her clinging, block drolleries. "I fell in love at first sight." she muttered, "in the same wild, unreasoning way that you and Pamela have, ond. oh. what misery. what tuuVring followed • " She bit her lips, thru *huddercd as at recollections ovrr-tragic Hasil watched his mother anxiously. What she had just snid about her former life had come u|ion the -..iing man as a tremendous shock, *»nd he longed to hear the whole of h-r story, lie had been too much devoted to his painting, too engrossed in his work at the French atelier, to trouble himself much about family mnders In-fore he and Mrs. Farratluy had settled in England, but lately he had begun to wonder why his mother never spoke to him ol her girlhood, nor seemed to hove any friends or relatives to visit. However, lie hnd forborne to question her. Hut now he felt that he must know all. everything. "Mother." he said, crossing over t*> «li'-rr the pole woman stood. ■•«iut'i yon trust me with the true ■ i.t of your life? I can promise I -I :.iU not love you the less what.'.■r .i on may have to tell me. Mo-th-r.'iio vou believe that?"

"Don't nsk me. Basil, don't ask me " Mrs. Farraday turned ghastly white os she said the words, and l>eznn to tremble pitifully. "Let my history !»' unknown to yon."

But I must know it," said the v->un« man. "Surely I have thr ncM to know it. Listen, mother. I i..-I:.-\.' you and Pamela's father i ist have met each other years ago. ! '..!■ this afternoou, when I showed ! :u-!.i jtuir miniature, she recogni/e.t the wonderful likeness it bore to a pencilled sketch of a girl's head which belonged to her father. and drought the drawing down for me to *.e it." Basil was speaking in quick, -thurp sentencesHis mother watched him intently "The sketch of the girl's head ! "

*he repeated. "Well. Hasil. well ? " "It must have been a sketch taker, from yourself at the age of about eighteen or twenty, and a marvellous likeness, too—one impossible li: mi*lake : also the name. 'Elsie,' was written at the back. "Hasil ! " Mrs. Farraday clutched •t her son's arm with nervous, fingers. "Ob, I am beginning to understand things." she gasped, "and to see light. Listen. You must taki me to Pamela at once. Then- an questions I must ask and question*he must answer, for I think I know who her father Is. Oh, Hasil '. I think I know why he has tried u buv Metherly." ' Mother ! " Hasil uttered th> word in startled amaze. He coult hardly take his eyes off Mrs. Far roiloy's face. Two red spo,t«;e,wcn burning on her checks, and her eye* blazed with terrible excitement. Shi was no longer tbc subdued womar she had bean—the woman of sad one mournful eyes. Klsie Farraday made no answei for a second, but kept her lips lock ed. When she spoke ber voice was no more than a whisper, and sht looked about to faint. "George Martindale may Iw a mac who made his hands red for my sake—* man I have equal cause to love and bate '-

CHAPTER VIII, A MEETING and A RECOGNITION. ''Mother, what do you meafi ? 1 ' Hasil turned and looked steadily at Mr* Farraday. aghast at the words which had fallen from her lips—v.orris which bore Mich sinister import and concerned Pamela's fa'.ho: to closely,

Man? 1 mean nomine icmrn-! d l'.l-v Farradrty. hastily, n I«>«>*- | ~[ determination settling on hei | >.,-i!.- fn«-e. "t'on't yuu *<•*• that I am .'i|,-..i nuil overwrought, and hnrdly i.-<.|.iirisililc for what I ilo or say?" She pressed her hands to her forehead and gave a deep sigh.

"Tokc mc to Pomelo. Oh. take mc quickly. I-entreat you, for I wont to relieve my mind of a new-come suspicion, and find out if the girl you love is the daughter of one of whom I have lost sight fur years." "Very' well, mother, we will drive straight to Kensington."

"Thank Heaven : " Klsie Farrodoy Mghed heavily as she spoke, then hurried out of the room to prepare for this sudden ex|>edition and to tell the servants to keep bark dinner, for it was close m eight o'clock 'HomI. left alone in the-drawing-room, abandoned himscll to vaguc surmises as to what the next hour would bring forth, ond who (Jeorgc Marl indole might prove to be. A hideous fear hod Itegun to cross his mind thot he might possibly l>c the lo%er who hod brought such sorrowon his mother in the past. and. if so. what would Is* the consequences towards himself and Pamela ? He reviewed his former life, and realized now thot he hod always been dimly conscious that all was not well with his mother, and that some secret shadowed her life. It hod lieen strange that his parents had elected to live abroad, for instance, for Basil's father, at the time of his marriage, had been getting on well os n barrister, a profession which he hnd abandoned in favour of a coving life. Yet Hasil vns aware, from chance remarks hi- father had made howmuch he loved his native land, and he guessed it had been something of a sacrifice to live out of England. Hut at first Klsie Farraday's deli•ate health ap|>cared to make her residence in a warm climate necessary, and. later on. when Hasil, even as a boy. developed artistic yearnings. Mr. Farrodoy- advanced his belief that Home and Paris between them would make a better artist of Hasil than London could. Then, just as Basil had started work at a famous French atelier Mr. Farrodoy died. It surprised Hasil at the time that none of his mother's relatives were present nt the funeral nor that any of his father's people came over to attend it. and he felt the isolation of his own and his mother's position rather keenly.Hut devotion to his art soon banished these thought-, nor had he troubled himself much about the future till his mother one day took him into her confidence about the Metherly heritage, land whose real value her husband had only discovered after he had sold it. and a property which must lie recovered at all costs when it again came into the market. "And then let us live in England." Hasil had cried, impulsively, a longing for his own country coming upon him.

"Haven't we liv«d long enough abroad. mother ? " he had said, "I am sick of foreign living and foreign ways."

Mrs. Farraday had looked up in mild surprise. "You are right. I have been selfish and inconsiderate, hut we will make our home in F.tu/land in the future. We will leave Paris for London," so she had s|»oken. The woman had l»een as good as her word, and Itefore long the flat in I'aris had Iteen exchanged for the not in London. Hut Basil had felt himself strangely out of touch with his new surroundings at fiist. London struck him as a grim and forbidding city after I'aris, and he missed his old friends and fellow students and the light-hearted society of continental towns. He hod received letters of introduction to two or three London artists, but he soon found out that his mother was shy of forming new acquaintances. As she had lived to herself In France. so she appeared to wish to do in England.

" Surely we urv enough for each other, you antl l % Basil?" That was her frequent'c?y.''-and 'lhen she would always add with a sigh : "If you wont to make outside friendships, of course you must make them, cheri ; but don't bring your friends here. I cannot bear new faces or new voices."

Basil was deep in these reflections when 3lrs. Farraday come softly into the room, Shu had on a heavy cloak, and had drafted a black lace scarf over her hair. Of her beauty there could Im» no question, even though it was the subdued beauty of middle age. She did not speak, but waited by the door expectantly, her face paler than Hasil had ever seen it, her lips quivering painfully.

"We will start at once, mother." he said, reassuringly, feeling an intense pity for her. realizing the agony of mental suffering she was going through and appreciating her marvellous self-control, for another woman might have abandoned herself to tears. A few moments later mother and son were seated in a hansom and on their way to Kensington. "Drive faster." Basil told the man so the cab flashed down gaslit roads and UP long deserted streets, past rows af gaily-lighted shops, and across crowded thoroughfares. "Mother " Basil broke the long silence which had prevailed since the start of the drive, a silence heavy and intense—"don't you think that I ought to try and find out who has bought the Metherly property and see if the mysterious purchaser has any knowledge of the real value of the land, and if he knows of the coal ? "

"Perhaps you had," returned Mrs. Farraday. slowly. "Even now," sht added, "I can hardly realize that the land is lost to us. and has been purchased by some unknown person"

"You see, no one knew there was a chance of coal lieing found there except my father," pursued Hasil. thoughtfully. "At least as far as we knew." •' No one in the world."- returned Mrs. Farraday. "except your father's younger brother, Ivor. He knew, of course." "Ivor?" repeated Fasil. "I hav. never heard of him. I didn't ecu jenow my father had a brother.'"No," returned Mr-. Farraday "he never spoke to you about Ivor. for the truth is your -.;:,< i. v. asomewhat of a d'.a-k de-.-p a !■-,,:- lc.qq, ne'er-do-weii. a hid ;■■';>- ]-"",' fa'her was <■■ d"t ;' arm (;■■' ting out of .---Jrapes i m- j.■.-■■. t —,.-_

we heard from Jvor. ' slm continuca, "he was starting to try his luck on the Australian goldfields. and we fancy he must have- conn; to grief and died ou' ilvn 1 . for no letters ever reaelu.il us. We lost .sijrht of IVlir Completely " He was surprisefi to learn of the existence of this unknown uncle—this man of his own blood —curious ant' excited. "Hid you like him ? " asked Basil. "Yes," his mother murmured. "I was very fond of poor Ivor, and he was simply devoted to your father and to nte. and ho knew you, too, Hn-sil. as a baby. Ah ! "

She paused abruptly, for the cab hod pulled up at 170. Acacia-road.

"Have we arrived ? " she exclaimed, turning anxiously towards her son. "Oh. Hasil, if you could only guess what 1 am suffering ! " Her voice was full of pain and her sad eyes entreated her son's compassion. But for a second Basil took no notice of his mother. Ikwas gazing nt n man who was leaning against the rails of George Marlindale's house, and staring up at the draw-n blinds—a man whom Basil hnd no difficulty in recognising as tall, dissolute-looking Sir Charles Sainton.

"Look, mother, look ! " the young man muttered, touching his mother's arm with his hand. '-There is one of the men who was bidding against me at the roup—Sir Charles Sainton, who very nearly had Metherly knocked down to him." • Mrs. Farraday stared before she jot out of the cat)—stared long and earnestly at the tall man who turned as the hansom pulled up to gaze wiih some suspicion at the occupants of the cab. the veiled woman whose face he could not distinguish and the tall boy whom he had a distinct impression of having seen before only he could not remember where.

"Oh. Basil " Mrs. Farraday clutched nervously at her son—"that man reminds me of some one who has been in his grave for years," ?he muttered. She threw back her lace scarf as she spoke and panted as though she needed air.

Basil helped her out of the cab. He was afraid for a moment she was going to faint, /or she had turned absolutely livid. He felt he would be thankful to hand her over to Pamela's care.

"Cling to my- arm," he muttered, as they crossed the strip of pavement passing «=o close to the man who stood by the railings that Hasil eould have touched him had ho

chosen. Sir Charles Sainton drew back a step, and a low exclamation bur.-■ from his lip.s as Mrs. Farraday's face was revealed to him by the fail of her scarf—that white, patient face stamped with such ineffable sadness and sweetness, that pale, beautiful face, which once seen could never be forgotten.

"Elsie ! " muttered the man, hoarsely. "Elsie ! " Then as Mrs. Farraday fixed her startled eyes upon him he suddenly turned as though afraid of meeting her gaze, and before Basil could recover from the surprise he felt at hearing his mother addressed by her Christian name Sir Charles Sainton had taken to his heels and was rushing recklessly down the road.

"Mother, what does this mean ? " Hasil addressed Mrs. Farraday almost sharply. "That man. Sir Charles Sainton —how doe.s he know your name ? "

The woman made no answer, except to clutch helplessly at her son's arm. She was shivering as if she had an ague, and a dazed expression had come over her face. "He called you Klsie. Do you know him ? " Basil pealed loudly at the bell as he spoke. "Mother, you must answer me. Do you know Sir Charles Sainton ? I found out who he was at the roup by listening to the talk of the crofters ; but how does he come to call you by your name;—a man of whom we know nothing ? " '•Sir Charles Sainton ? " repeated Mrs. Farraday in faint tones. "Why do you '-an him Sir Charles Sainton '.' Tha* is not his name at all. He is the livintj imae;,- of Clinton Peele. but Clinton I'cele is dead—-murdep-.l—and in his grave. Why has hi- ghost risen to haunt me tonight -"- She utter, -l 'he words so low under her bi.-ath that Basil could hardly hear them, and at the same moment the door opened, and Sarah made her appearance. The old ser-

ant stared curiously at the visitors who had arrived at such a strange hour—stared, or so it seemed to Basil, with sharp suspicion.

"Is Miss Martindale in ? Can I zee her?-- the young man Ire- ■ hurriedly, while his. mother stared into the lamp-lit hall with nervous, curious eyes, as if she i>x|>ec-ted (Jod knows what dreadful apparition to Vise up and confront her. "Miss Martindale isn't at home." Sarah said the uonls rather shortly.. She Was hopelessly perplexed by all that had happened during the last few hour--, also by 'he strange conduct of another vi>:'nr who had been inquiring •<•'' her only five minutes before —a tali man who would r.ot tri\.- In'- name. a nd who nsked h--r pmv.imi: ami perplexing questions —a man who app'-ared loth to believe Ivr s'.ory 'hat her master was away. "Where has s }v con" ?

Basil asked the- question quickly. He could hardly realize that he was not going to se Dune-la, for he had so confidently .-xpected 10 find the girl at Hone-. and he had never a doubt of besntr shown straight into her pies,;;.. . "Miss Mar< !-.dam has pone t u Scotland,'- s.'.apped old Sarah. She had a dim idea in her own mind that Ma-:i v.ir- courting lv-i vouwr m!-t !■■-■-, and she was jealous of any <<!■■■■ "ho dared to love her adop-d I'ameia. ■■f.'oiie ' Sim i- not at home? 1 .shall not : h,-r ■> '-'■ The words broke faintly from Elsie Farraday's white lips, and she spoke with s'l-h tragic despair that old Sa'.'.ii h--r u glance of pity. .■/ ,i:n afraid no', ma'am,'' Sarah said -lowly -"Miss Farm-la has hardly !■•:' ''■■■■ rmu.-c above a quar- :■■•: oi an I - .- ':" a: .d e< .orlii.-s.s know; ■.■.■■.■■». : i;.- -viil '•■ bask. Kverythiny depend: on h.sv :-),.• lind.- the master Toor ".ami, ) '.Vlia- a murm-v befor-/ ii-i , t,...., ! -