A SCARLET SIN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 165, 17 June 1909, Page 4

A SCARLET SIN.

(AM. hmh : - :r'-'::;:\ ;::» >

a mwT.mrL STORY.

Jly ALlfi: and ri.\t w; ASKKW. Authors of "The Shiiiainitr," "Aana of the Plain*.'' Ac. *c,

SKVKNTH IXSTALMKXT

lie paused and looked at Pamela *\pectanily.

"Ye*, you're quite right." e.vlaim ed lh«» girl. "My father i* the nuihoi and f am *o j.'lad you hove read hi* book*."" *hr added, rather incoherently—>o pleased that .vmi like th'-m."

"They're line—real line." muilereti |<«»l> IVrrini. wiih a shake «»f libhead. "Hut now ye'll I*' wanting «« know how t rame ncro*-* yer father." "Ye*." murmurvd Pamela. Sh« glnnred up. pulling her plate a lilt lion one side. She «a» getting more accustomed lo her strange Mirriinmling* anil to the society of this* big. rough giant : ol*o the food she had mien had done her good and put mhih' rournge into her. and the romiorioble room ministered to her a Sense of e**e.

"I was* walking past the Metherly property." began Hob IVrrini. "an' wondering wha it mirht lie who had bought *ieh pnir land and *irh n ramshackle hmiw for the price I hey tell me ho* lieen given, when 1 look »»»(>• «d a man wmtilerin* in a vogue -or? o" fashion in the mid.*t o* one ..»' the lielii.*— a *« range man. -Hoot*." thought K 'am Ihinkin' the stronger ha* lo*i hi* way ; so I lepi the wall an" went up to n*k if I could dire* I him. Then I «.««- that he had no hni on. nl.-o there wa» <t vague look in hi* e»n lie kept on Idiiherin' nn' inn! Serin" to himseli : 'Where'* t'lintiw IVele ? r'nr Ihe love Heaven r.-H w where t'linlon Peele i»» ?" Thur".* nje what he kepi on .-ayin". si.r»' lv wo* *ich a *ighl. «i" hi* whife bice, an" trouldedlookin" een. |>re**ed like a gentleman, though : I noticed hi* big chain, nn" the gran" •■ignet-ring on hi* linger. Why. ye're *hiieri»~ all over. la*.*ie *" lie lurnrtl t«» Pamela, and looked at her *» mpalhel kail*. "Can vmi wonder?" Ihe girl whi*pere«|. "Oh. my jwnor laiher—my l>.>«»r. darling father T Well. what hrtp|*'(fed ne.\« ?** Her voire wn* \>"ry ■•harp and ini|ier»ti*»*. ' I toubl Ihe |«>or troiiblefl *oill."

nr|»li>d Hot. IVrrint. "that 1 kn>-« {j.nisht of Clinton IVflf. nn' thrn what in«*t vrr father do l»ut drap doon nn ht.% hand* ond fcrnv!* nn" I**s'm rtawtm: th«- earth «i" hi* linger*. .•■♦■ratrhin" a hole in the »loy «i' hit nasi", la'ighin" s»iily nn" pitiful. 'I van »howr >»»»• Clinton |*.-»-l«-." he kept on murmuring "I ran fhow* you him tiii',' in.- the time lo lind him. du*l s»i,V in«< the time.'

'"Stop."" interrupted Pamela. Sh» hsld grown »iTj |»ale again, and her bt-tut «tt* thumping wildly and furiou*Cy. ?*he «ft.i quite rertain now that all her inrincr •>t»*pieioii."« were l*» *<*• terilred. She Ml in tin* depth* of her le-nif thai hrr ia"h«T had l«*'»*n guilt* of ••♦»»•••• (••rr»l»l'rrinw*. ami ntnn»*t nl the *ame moment {he thought MrwHk her Ihnl if IHi.-» w-r** »•»„ "he iuu*t «:»*•" "I* oil lrrnus;hr« of lla*tl f*nrr««df»» . She. imu*! not allot* her*el| I" I'ti'iif th»' wife •»' t!*-• man *he lo«.ed. lor Heaven atone knew what tiny* of di*£r«<-e might not lie ahead of her. a* H.'lt »».«► (or hr father, for !*nm-In ih>» terrible itdlimt wltirli *»Mn*he* to a murderer'* child Sh>' »!.*•» rrnli/'d thnt *he mu*t .*trive her hard-'** not to let Hol» IVrrint .«««««. p•(-t It).- ghn.*H> truth. He mu-l IwHTFete h'-r lather to l»" era/* —daft nn«S not jif* I Sua! there wa* mnirmethod in t»<'orgv Xlartiudnle'* mad-

•■!&•»«»' I irll Hf any iuor»\" *h%- •\- i.-P»tiiK"«l. *•»« «* ttCI «•»«» hnrribb*— •«>•» l«.rn raving iiwl-vw, <r|iiilt—«|iiitr Mfrttl." ?*h'' r«>««' l*» h«T l«vt n«» -••••"" i»l»#»K«». and tMit<n<nl«'i| Hob. [rti»*r«» «r».«t determination in h«T (««■«• —imn d't'-riiiinnlion. Sh«* wn* n» l«»ngrr a n»Tt'nws. *htMtri«>ring girl : *h>- wa> a ttvimm fighting lor th«- "»airt> of »niv»hi» wa* v.-ry drar in ht-r. and lighting l»r»i*»-lv. I!«»b IVrrinl l«n»K«il «l h«-r *t«Mdil\ "Mwl '.'"■ h>- n'lwnl**!. "I'«l IntrdH «.»»; that : Imii a w«,v bit light h«-rtd-"No ■ mad. mad." rvtiirwd rum i*lrt. "!»»» »i»n»» iwn dig >i|t r.»i«Kh twi wi«h lh«'ir nat»d hand*?'" *h» u*u..-«l. |»o»«.».H»n»lrly. "Ami a- for thi* Clinton IVvh- hj.« railed an. w-hy. Clinton** lh»- tmnif of the h«-ro in th<*t*«r> h«> i* j»i>t writing—JM«.f a emv t»»ri.» ol hi* brain." She lied *|»l"iic tr It* —magnificent ly. "I.ike riiim. like enow." rcliini'tl |J»»f. IVrrinl. Tb« n n grim smile ho* • •red irtrr hi* ill-?*. "Strange »nnU t»»*r |w»»r father k<-|»» on muttering. thongh." he went *>n —"word- that fitted together well enough lor ,%' that hi* talk wa* w> rambly nml mi wild, nn" for a" thnf he kept °" Haw--Ing the earth." "Why didn't yon «»lo|» him ".'" •■\- claimed Pamela She a.*kcd the •|ii»-*-linn with v)iii« defiance.

"f stop him?"" Hob IVrrinl laughed. "Why your father had I hi* p.»w>-i yi t>'i« m»*n at the moment X»». •»»> twrii ton**- when he crouch.*! on ih* c».»«t»l wi" a rry a* If Ikml.v an" -**«>«•' war imrtln"—a cry ■*'»' ,n H* agon;. »v*' tlt.Mtiny. The next second he l*i> *tiv(ihed owl like a con*** at i»> <<•«•«. dvaf l«> a' hearing anil miuwl." "Oh. father, father '." Pamela"? Iran* rolled swiitly down her cheek*. Sh«* felt she could jmv the wholi scene. the wide, desolate field, thai lini|» heap of humanity, her wretched father lying: prone on the gra»>s. ami |t«»l» IVrnni watching him curloiisly

"Oo on." she murmured, alter a short |»ause. "You say my fathci fainted. What hnpiH'ned next ?*'

She sank down again on a chair as she spoke and watched Rob attentively* as he went on to tell her all that'had happened—how be had at lir»t tried to restore tho fainting man to consciousness, and then had decided to give him shelter in hit ..« n house, realizing George Martin dtit. 4 claims to gentility, and re-,-.n;n«/«ng the poor time he might ['.,■»%.• at the little Scotch inn, when ~-hith-iv he utigrht haw to be taken );>:> had explained «a peculiar look ■ Tumi; ,i«'-r hi* (nee a* h<- did so) •iiitf. whtl.it h- had »»■■••• n loosening t; a .rc Murtirtrlal-'s collar ami tie a

S.kt- p.»-t.ei-l.«-ok hnd fnili-n o»l nl I ,iifi'-if r's rosii. a |ni.k-l-lniok v. hi. H 15>»l» imm.'diaiely pio««*-<l'«l «««

»[-'n. hoping to llnd som- letters or i..'«per.* in it which would help him to discover III" sick man's position.

A publisher's letter to Ueorge Mariindole gave him all the information he nerded. Also he come across a visiting cord o* well as Pamela's photograph, with the girl's name and age written in her father's handwriting underneath. Here Pamela hod Interrupted the narrative |o murmur thai it was her foiher's hobit nl\vn\s lo carry her latest photograph with him. He had done ihi* ever since she was quite a lin> child.

Hob Perrint laughed shortly, and •veil went on to say in low. rather *h"epi*h tones, thai it was the dis,t:,'ry of Pamela's photograph which hod really induced him to ni\r h> r father shelter up nl Orgadnl" Ijodge. for as soon as he could eniher «.oiue lads together to carry tieorge Marl indole, he had had the unconscious man removed on a shutter to the lodge, then had sent for ihe doctor, also for an old woman who hnd Mime reputation in the village a* a nurse, and wired to Pamela, lie paused here, ihen smiled, ind added, in n holf-whis|»er. that he had done nil this lui-ause he wanted lo meet the original o( Ihe photograph, and had felt assured that Pamela would come to Scotland as -non n* she realizing ;the I rue nature of her fni Iter's illness' for Hob IVrrini went on to hint mysteriously l hut i' would not he well I hat •dranger-folk should listen to CSeorge Marlindale's ravings. They might look n*kaii<■>• nl Ihe .>ick man. and wonder il iliej- were merely listening lo ihe ratings of a disordered brain. ~r Here Hob paused, startled by ihe look of fear which had overspread the girl's face—while terrible fear.

CIIAITKK XI. \ SICK MAX AM» Ills Xl'HSlv. "la'% me go in m.v father, please." Pamela riw from her chair, and walked resolutely tow arils the door. Hhat H«»l> Perrint had jti-t told her almul lh" impression her photograph had made upon him filh*d her with a vogue and troubled dismay: iil.-o she was dreadfully alarmed with regard to v.lint he hnil just said aIhhii her father's ravings. The senwe „i the full awkward in*** of her position came ii|H*n n>-r. shut up a* she tins in the house of n man of whom .•he knew absolutely nothing, and with ini one to j«rolevt or look after her. except the father who was halt* off his head She understood now the look that had pu/zhd her in Hob Perrint's •ves —that look of hold and lawless admiral ion—ami she Mi sick with terror, aware, 'too. that there was no one on whom she t-otild depend hut herself, no human lieing sho could turn to ; for though the idea of wiring to Ba.-il came to her. Pamela put the thought away with some resolution. Xo ; she must not draw llasil Korradoy into her troubles. It might !>»• I»M'T for him and belter for her. |>»rlinp>. if they nevi*r met ngaln. The hit term's* of this thought wan (iluii)tt intolerable; hut l'am-la f.-lt coiivitirevl that till she knew umre of the mvsteiy surrounding her father's life, she must make no effort either to see or write to Hasil. ••ven thoueh her heart broke in con-•>v«|*t"-IHe.

••Surely, sur« It >•• shall go to yer father now." Hob IVrrint observed, quickly : h«U he moved between Pamela ojid Ihe door as In* spoke. "Do ye ken." h«* went on. "that ye" re Ihc |j\ ittg image of n l«>-*»i.' I loved and h».-t in the past—the same sail hair nml iitnofviti blue e'en ? Well, poor •1.-sin is dead an' in her grave." Ik* sighed heavily, then his eyes began lo gleam ami glitter. "Won't yo l>o -a>ln' thank ye tor n' the trouble I've l»een lekin* after ycr father 1 - he went on, softly. 'Thank yon." muttered Pamela. Her tongue clove to her mouth. She «n» afraid of this num. afraid of his gloneriug e\es. with the great desire to seek tho refuge of her father's i-«>oiu. . "An" a ki*s ?'" muttered Hob Pcrrint. lenintively. He drew close up to Pamela ns he soid the words, his rough fare flushing a d-ep nil. Then, a> the pirl shrank back with u -■ nil I-«l. terrified cry. he altered his tone and manner, "("oiiie.** he snid, authoritatively, almost roughly, "ye leiil n«" look sn«» frightened, lassie ; I woiiblna steal I would only tek'." lie opened the door ns he s|K»ke, and ■i second later was leading the way up a dark oak staircase, warning I'mii-I.i to In- careful, for the steps wen- sleep and old-fashioned. The girl's limbs trembled under her ns she followed him. The stair--nse seemed unending, anil the vasln«r»s of the l»ig rambling house bcto oppress her pninftdly. At last n long passage was reach■d. Sunshine glinted feebly through a stained-glass window at tho end. "V«»tt's yer father'* room."- reiiarked Hob IVrrint. roughly. He pointed out a closed door. "Ye can tiiek' yer own ««> in."- he added. 'Ye'll find auld l.iddy there."

Pamela needed no second bidding, «»nl ran forward eagerly, drawing a l.f|> breath of thanksgiving as sho •lentil the iloor of the large oak-j.jin.-11. d room, and caught sight of her father's wan white face resting aßiiinM the pillows of a big old-~nshioii<-d |K»sler-bed. Ait old woman sitting by the bedside rose up to greet Pamela, putting n finger to her lips as though to roimnnnd silence—a strange, withered-looking crone whose shrivelled, brown fare was puckered with a hundred lino, but whose black eyes were shrewd and bright. She wore a brown calico dress, and a small tartan shawl was folded over her bodice Her grey hair was disposed under a black and rusty-looking lace mutch. There was a good deal of kindliness in the old face, and she smiled and nodded at the girl in warm, motherly fashion. "Ye'll be the dauchter, niy bonnic lassie," she muttered. "He's juisl asleep for the first time for hours, an' we'll no' waken him wi' our woman's clack." Pamela smiled softly in answer, then made her way with extreme caution towards the lied, and gazed down long and earnestly at the man thereon. Two hip tears stole down her clveks ns she looked nt her father, nml her h.-nri felt full (<» breaking. f<>i- hmv «liniic.il the dear ia< •<. nan sin'e *he h.i'l ■"•«■» i' hi 1 -' ' !*■'-

pair and i remorse .wvimil to nave frctwtl the features to unnatural fineness. The ch<-eks were sunk in, and showed the bones ; the clear, white forehead had acquired dirp lines, and Pamela felt certain that if she could have gazed into her father's closed eyes they would have lxren full of horror and despair. He was slumbering now. however, as peacefully as a little child slumbers : but Pamela knew enough aboi illness to realize that this was the sleep of titter exhaustion. His ravings hnd worn the man out. mentally and physically.' ami the girl know that she was gazing at a broken wreck.

"Dinna greet, my dearie, dinna street." The old woman whom Rob Perrint had referred to as Kiddy, put her brown, gnarled hands upon Pamela's shoulders, and led the girl into a small dressing-room which :>pened out of ihe larger apartment. She pushed her into a chair. Pamela vielding as helplessly to I,iddy*s ministrations as if she had I»ccn a child, allowing the latter to remove her hat. and to exclaim over hei iM'nutiful fair hair, and even to bathe ter face and hands with delicious: ;old water. "Ihnna fash yersel' o'ermuch. my iamb : dinna fash yersel"," the old woman kept i>n muttering. "We're all in the Ixird's hands, ewry one o' us. an' if the dear lad in yonder room is lo recover, he will n»cover, but we're a' in the Lord's hands."

It puzzled Pamela as the old woman spoke why she should refer lo ier father with such seeming solicilude. for. after all. what could Ceorge Martindale Ik* to his nurse nil an utter stranger? Still, she "eli grateful for the'other's apparent sympathy, and a strong intuition ;nme to her that in this strange louse J„iddy would prove her liesi. 'riend. Meanwhile she decided to ask the old nurse a momentous question. "Do you think it would be possible lo move my father to the inn ?" she muttered. "I don't like to trouble Mr. Perrint. who has l>een so good as it is. Oh. surely father can be removed to the inn to-day." She glanced at Liddy cntreatingly, f»ut the other shook her head, and ;azcd at Pamela with curious scrutiny, then lowered her voice to a faint whisper. "Lassie,-- she muttered, -"dinna think o' such a thing—na. not for 3nc second. Do ye want those at the nn to listen to sich ravings as I've istened to—sich awfu' ravings, sich ivild words '.» Do ye want search made n.the Metherly fields?"

Liddy sj>oke in low, awestruck tones, never moving her black eyes rom Pamela's face.

'J'hc girl shivered ; then the same instinct that had made her confront Rob Perrint with boldness came upjn her.

"A sick man's ravings," she muttered. "Who would take heed of such lonsense ?'i Luhly shook her head mysteriously. "There's mony that would tek h<i-d." she muttered. "For ah. dear lassie, who's to tell that what we ra * tavings mayn't be the awfu' truth? Xu ; for the sake o' the AlItitchly, dinna move yer father fra' this room, for auld Liddy is as silent as the grave. There is no need to Ik* feared of auld Liddy."

Pamela made no answer, only glanced at Liddy nervously and uncertainly. Then a sudden desperate desire to make a friend of the old woman awoke in her troubled heatt. and sfce stretched out her hands plaintively. "Oh. you are kind ; I feel sure you are kind. I can see it in your face" she muttered : "and though you are old now. you were young once. What is the man like, this ]{<>l> Perrint. whose roof shelters me and my father? He frightened me downstairs a minute ago—he frightened tile. 1 tell you."

Pamela put her hand upon her heaving breast as she spoke. She looked very lovely in her fear and agitation and in her pathetic distress. I„iddy sighed.

"Ah. lassie/' she murmured, •'you've asked me a strange question and one that would lie hard to answer, for there is the nature both o' the devil and the angel in Hob IVrrint, and it's hard to know which'll win his soul In the end —the powers o' darkness or the powers o' licht." antl she lowered her voice to a whis|ier as she spoke. I'aiuela shivered nervously. "I am afraid of him." she whisl»ered. "Oh. I wish 1 were safe out of his house."

"Dinna think too hard o' Hob." I,iddy went un. "for he's one o' those who ha" liecn cruelly dealt \\i' syne the day o' his birth. He's got the siller : but there is something which Hob IVrrint will lack to the day o' his death, and that is the richt to ca" himsel' hy his father's name. He's the son o' a lassie's shame, antl there's the truth for ye, dearie. Siller, his father, the dead laird, left him in plenty, but siller isn't everything and Hob IVrrint knows that to his cost. He's made licht o' by a' the count y folk for what was never the puir lad's crime."

Liddy paused abruptly, and stared fixedly at Pamela. "Yo'll never credit it. I daresay." she observed, "an* lie sair surprised when I tell ye, but ye've n lwik about ye o' that puir lass who Hob Perrint should ha' married. Itut dearie me, why should I stand here moithering ye wi' an auld wife's clacking ? Liddy folded her arms across her breast* as she spoke, and shut her lips with some determination, then she shook her grey head. "I'm a rare gossip,"- she added. with a soft depreciatory smile, 'an' I let my tongue run away wi' inc mair than I should."She crossed over to the window, and pulled aside one of the oldfashioned chintz eurtains.

."It's a braw uiornin'." she went on. as though anxious to change tho subject. •"Yes,' 1 returned Pamela, but without much conviction, though at another time the effect of the sunshine glittering on the distant hills would have filled her with admiration, and she would have out with pure delight at the b-.-autiiul landscape stretching in front. Ji ; i fnow her curiosity about h<r mysterious host had been too strongly aroused to give place to any other feeling. To be Continued.