A SCARLET SIN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 167, 24 June 1909, Page 4

A SCARLET SIN.

fai.t. iu'Juts nr:si:f:\ !.!•

A I'OWHRII'L STORY.

By alio; .-»!••! <t.\t !>i: \:>kew. Authors of "The Sh'ilamitc." '"An* na of the Plains." &c, &.C,

NINTH INSTALMENT.

CHAPTER XIII

PAMELA WRITES A LETTER

"The truth ' " murmured Pamela, itifh a I ouch of impatience. "If I cowld only girl ni the truth '. Hut I can't, t feel a» if I had Item walking through a Mark mist during the last week. Oh. whatever I have got l* learn about myself and my father, tell nif now : don't keep me in thiterrible suspense any longer ! She turned up a white, appealing fare toward* Hob IVrrint. ami fixed him with imploring eyes. lie «.h«»ok hi* head. "There"* little I can tell ye. exc-pi one thing." "Ye*, ye*, and what"* that ? " "Thi* i* what I have got to say." he murmuml. holding Pamela tightly to him. notwithstanding the «f----fort *he made to eluile hi* grasp. • V«»w mn*tn"t make nn enemy oi Iloi» Perrint. my pr»»tty. n«»r lie nnpoutl *i* the man who ho* taken it inio hi* head that he want* to mar r> ji>'» : lor I tell you. In.**—he r«leaded Pamela a* h«* *poke. and looked at her with grave menace*—'*! t"H ve that j«»ur father"* raving* hn%> let me into a secret that might cost him hj» life, unle** hi* daughter know* how i«« *hut my li|v*." "How rould I .-hut >our lip* ? "

re|>eaf>-d Pamela, faintly. She wo* trem'diog from head to fool, am* h r expression of anguished dismay nn* piliiol to nitne**. tthi," returned llol» Perrint. .l.mlv 'you l«nnnie thing, you . f »uld shut my lip* for ever—ni" • ki**."* A* Rob Perrint *|»oke everything onam before Pamela, and for a second the girl feared she wa* going tr faint. She lo*t consciousness of the green churchyard and the little kirk She felt a* if the whole world wa? veiled In dark mist. Then, realizing how murh depended upon her. shf forced herself to smile and shake hei head, and the black mist rolled slowly away, the deadly faint nes* passed. "Yum must not talk to me lik» iHi-* l I—l hardly know >on yet." She :«|*»ke in rlear. collects! tone*. luli% aware that she dare not quarrel with this dangerous man. or of-fr-nd him in any wny IWore *he knew how much or how little her father wa* in hi* |>ower. * I'm to bide a wee for %ny kiss ? " Hob Perrint looked at her with glistening eye*, then laughed shortly.

"Have jour nin way. my dainty bird. Init yw'll kiss me in the end. that'* fine and certain." lie nibln-d his hand* exohingly. then turned oi hi* heel. "We'll be making our wax »>nrk." he said, slowly. "Ye'll Ik weor> for your tea."'

Pamela made no answer but followed him mechanically out of th< churchyard. She was horribly afraii of the gr»'ai rough man. the man thut reminded her so forcibi> ol" that fierce, lawlf.i* llothwcll who hnr kidnapped anil wedded a queen. Sle fell «o helpless, too—so much in Rol IVrrint"* |»ower— ii|»*et anil linens*, over the «li*«nv«ry she had ju-t mad. alMiut her father'* real name, am de*|**r»tely anxious to question Lph dy on the subject, she understom now why the old woman had displayed so much Interest In her patient, and hod ga/ed at George Mar tindale nith such longing eye*. The wind blew sharp '»"*"» ,n « hill* a* Pamela ami her compnuior hurried along, and Rob IVrrint glanced at the girl rather anxioii*l\ wondering ii" *he fell cold. but. questioned on the subject, f'nuielo shook her head. She was too troubled ti spirit to take any heed of cold f«-ei and hand*, too agitated about Ihi future : Mill, she was chilled to tht fione before the)* reached Orgadah f.odtce, tor her pretty grey coat am skirt, suitable enough for an nutumr walk in afforded little ppj r lev lion again*! the strong wind ol th- north. and *he sat shivering ~vrr the fire in the dining-room uhilsi a rup of tea wa* prepared lot her. Rob Perrint contenting himsell with a nimbler of whisky and water. Pamela drank her tea and ate souk hot scone*, then announced her in lention ol g»»ng straight upstair* t« her fa'tv-r. *J|ie longed to ask ii Rob IVrrint would let her write am; summon* old Sarah, but had not the courage. Rob growled n surl> assent to the girl'* departure- It wa* evident that he wanted a* much of h«r company a* possible, and ht expressed a wish that Pamela woub soon find her way downstair* again und give him the latest news of tlu Invalid. She nodded her head, then ran out of the room to the sick man's chamber, tamed the handle of the dooi very* softly, and entered on tiptoe. The patient wa* still dozing, but on Pamela's entrance he stirntl o little and moaned, then turned henvily on hi* side. Liddy sprang fron her chair by the fire, and held up o warning linger. ''Whl*l ! Not a sound." she murmured. "An' tMr,* rprM-V pt»«* l"». fore he wake*, dear lassie. It mlcht l>e a soir shock to him seeing ye. I will bide my time till he's fully aroused to tell him ye are here."

Pamela recognized that Liddy wa: right- also that if her father hat nut w»f)M> enough to grasp who *h« really was, he would bo displease*! oi nerioti»ly startled ; so she tiptoe* out of the room again, closing th« door softly behind her. afraid ol talking to Liddy in the dressing room, for fear of rousing her father, though »he longed to question tht old woman.

She hesitated is the lout dark passage wondering where to go or what to do. then decided to seek the haven of her own bedroom. She was fuming to make her way upstairs. uhen she suddenly heard footsteps • ..mine up behind her—slow, stealthy ;.,,,(step*—and her ears caught the <\ .*v y ru»t|.) of a woman's skirt. V orcoml later the housekeeper. -h<- who had opened the door to Pamela on her arrival at Orgadale

Lodgv>. mad- her apjM-arnnce. and. m.tuuig thn' th- tfirl «a< hurrying u;.>tair-". called on Pamela to stop : !.'it she lowered her voice my.ster- ■ u-.lv. and put her linger to her ii(.. as soon as Pamela turned round, and there was a |n-culiar ex|.P'sv|nn on her crafty face, a look m the eyes almost impossible to 'a thorn. Pamela stared at her. startle*! and bewildered, then allowed Elspcth to take her hy the arm. and draw her into a dark alcove at the end of the passage. "What do you want to say to me ? " she whispered, feeling a •drnng aversion to the woman —a *trnng*' and indefinite dread, for she Nad an instinctive idea that Elspcth was not to lie trusted. Her eyes were too close together ; she had 100 mean a face. "I,ower yer voice, or he'll hear us." muttered the other. "I've got a word of warning to gie ye. Ye're nmn lionnie and ><"»ng to lie staying in this hoose. lx»ave it on tho "imrn." Pamela shook her head. "No." she answered, "it's iuijHissible— quite impossible. y o u must *now for \our*elf that my father is too ill to lie moved, and as long as he sln>s hen*. I stay." Els|>elh nodded her head, then she drew still closer to Pamela. "IWon- ye came." she whispered. "I thought the mnister would Inmarry in* m» homiie niece who waits mi ye. but now"— She glanced »uspici«ui*ly nt Pamela. "Itwn'i lie afraid." Pamela flushed a* she spoke. "I have no intention of proving myself \otir niece's rival" She burn d with shame at the mere idea that the servants in the fridge hail already noticed Hob Perrint"* manner fo h-r. and his o|ien admiration, and she felt she hated the limn.

"Mn>l«e ye wouldnn luik at the inni*ter." retorted l-'.ls|»eth. "but his

•"en are fixed on ye. an* I warn ye— I worn ye " she said the words nith emphasis—"to let yer friends—if ye hev any—to know o( yer whereabout*. For ye are in the hoose of a mon «ha i>nr> neither Cod or de'il. and woe betide \e if there's nee friends wilhin reach. There. I hev s|H»ken " Elspeth flung up her hands —''now ye can gang yer nin gait, an' dinna say ye've not had fair warning." She . moved away from the alcove at the end of her speech, creeping stealthily down tin- passage ; and Pamela, upset and dismayed, turned her steps to her own room, entered it. and locked the door.

She sat down in an armchair and liegan to reflect upon her position, and to wonder if she ought to tako much heed of the hoiisekee'ier's words.

"I.et yer friends, if \e hev' an* , know of yer whereabouts." Pamela repented the sentence aloud, then a faint smile parted her lips—a smile not without a hint of bitterness.

Friend.*—she had no friends except J the dry and dusty professors who ', came to visit her father, also his publishers, ami a few bn>\- editors, who had little time to *|»end on her . Hut a* to a friend of her own some one whom she could implore to ( .•omc to her help anil guidance at the j present moment, there was no oneno kind woman, no sensible middleaged man. She thought of Rasil. She re- j memliered her determination not to " write to him till she found out the ( whole truth about her father's past histor\. but she felt she must revoke this decision. She must summon her lover to her : she must write to Itasil and implore him to come to Stoneport as soon as he conveniently could, and stay for a night or two nt the station hotel. It would not be dilli'-ult for her to see hilll. Shd tiiuld lii<n-t hllu 011 l «Hlking. If it came to that, and oh. what a comfort, what an intense comfort, it would lie to pour out her troubles to the man she loved, to tell him of her dilliculties. her fears, of Rob Perrint'* bold advances and the threat he held over her ! Oh, >«■>. she must write to Basil, and with no delay. She moved across the room to a -.mall wriiing-tnble and took up a pen and paper, then he-itnted for a second, blushing hotly, wondering how she had better address Basil. "Come to me and help me. dear," that wa* how she finally commenced her letti-r . and then the words mine quickly enough—words in which she explained the intense difficulty of her position and her miserable' fears about the future.

It was a pathetically childish letter written by a girl who had no real knowledge of life—a girl whose \oting shoulders droo|Nil under too heavy a burden. Pnmeln kissed tho sSmct oi pa|»er Itcfore she finally folded it up ami placed it inside an envelope, then her next thought was how to get it (Misled. She suddenly remembered that she had seen a letter-box not Very far from the entrance-gates to Orgndale. and she determined to put on her hat ami jacket, creep ot*t in the dusk, and post the letter herself Hhe fervently hoped she would not nnn-i anyone a* she made her way down the dark stairs, least of all Rob Perrint and she' felt more than thankful when she discovered a small side door which opened out on to the garden. It wns very dark ami gloomy out•ride. hut Pamela managed to make her way down the drive, and then with a feeling of intense relief she dropped her letter into the box, and) then proceeditl to make her way back to Orgadale.

CHAITER XIV.

A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST.

She crept into the house as set cretly as she hod crept out, a fact for which she was thankful, and assoon as she had removed her hat and outside things she hurried to her father's room and knocked at the door.

Liddy opened it and smiled at the pa> girl. "Dinna fash yerscl'. my dear lass.'* she said gently. "He's stirred and taken some soup, and now he's slccpin' fine again. This time when he roused he seemed to ken things better. 1 doubt not he'll soon be himsel' ngoin." "Thank fJod." muttered Pamela : then she ttlane.-d hard and straight a* Liddy. ' T.ik-. lie- :n'-.i tie- dp:-->inc-r'ii'!!i." ■-!-.'• -,:;r| :•>: ! -van' m '■J'•"'•*■ v ' :k ■•■•'•■•■:■■'"

"Willingly. my bairn." answered (he old woman : Imt i< seemed 1■; Pamela that >•"" u'lanwtl at her rather uneasily.

The blinds were down in the dres-sing-room ■<••> I.iddy proceeded »o light two candles, and Pamela noticed how her hands trembled as she wont about her task. One of the candles began to drip, and Liddy shivered.

"Hoots * 'Tis a winding-sheet." she muttered nervously, then hastily blew out the light. "What was it ye wanted to ask me '" " she began, fumbling with her shawl. "Ye've a troubled luik in ye're e'en, lassie. Is it about him ?"

She pointed as she spoke to (Seorge Martindale's bedroom. "Y«*s. it is about my father," Pamela answered. "I have just heard," she went on. "that his real name is L-slic. not Martindale. and that you know all our family history ; and you must, tell me all you know, please. Do you hear, you musl tell me."

Liddy glanced up at her with startled e\es. then burst into low, broken sobbing.

Pamela listened to old Liddy"s lifp-draw'n .sobs in compassionate silence, then put her hands gently on the other's shoulders. "Why do you cry so bitterly?" she said. "I have only asked you to tell me what yon can of my father's family history. Mr. Perrint sa\s. that you know all the story. Surely you will tell it to me for I find that in the present state of affairs." Pamela continued, her face pale and determined, "it is absolutely n«*eessary 1 should learn all 1 can about the past. It may help mo to face the future." "Ye're richt." murmured Liddy. nith a shake of her head. "Ye're absolutely richt. my bairn. Hut it's an unco' sad tale, the tale o' the |.eslies —a lang an' sorrowfu" tale." As she spoke- she dried her eyes upon her apron, then sat down on a small chair drawn up by the side of the dressing-table, anil liegan to talk in a soft Scotch way. Pamela listening attentively to every word which fell from her lips. It was very dark in the dressingroom, for the solitary candle gave a feeble light, and fantastic shadows seemed to lurk in the corners. Also a strange quiet prevailed, broken only by old Liddy'a voice, and the heavy breathing of the sick man in the other room. As for Pamela she had sat down on a footstool by Liddy's feet and now rested her chin in her hands, her eyes curiously intent, varying

•motions sweeping across her face as she heard all that the other could tell her about her father.

He had been the only son, it ap-|H>ar<-d. of a certain George Leslie. and Mary, his wife, a young couple who lived with a rich uncle called Robert Leslie, who owned a fine estate in Sutherlandshire, and who, childless himself, had adopted his brother's son when the death of both his patents made (Jeorge Leslie an orphan. Pamela's grandfather seemed to have lieen born with a silver spoon in his mouth, for his uncle appeared lo have been devoted to him, and the boy was brought up as his heir, and not allowed to go out into the world and seek a profession, for Robert Leslie argmtl that his future heir need never trouble to earn his own living. Also he could scarcely liear his nephew out of his sight being absolutely wrapped up in him. (Jeorgo married quite young into the Martindale family, and the old laird welcomed the bride with enthusiasm. It was not the first time there had lieen a marriage between a and a Martindale, and rumour had it that he had been fond ol n Miss Martindale himself In lii v youth, A girl who had died of souk fever, and for whose sake he had sworn to remain a bachelor. "Martindale." murmured Pamela at this stage of the narrative. "Ah, 1 see now. my father took my mother's name." Her face became very white and contemplative, for she felt thut she would soon \\c in full possession of Jjer father's secret, and know all there was to know about his history

Liddy nodded her head in assent, then went on with her story. A year after t'eorge's marriagr she. a simple village nurse, hod been summoned up hastily to the great house, ior a child was on the point of making its unexpected advent into the world. There was no time to summon the great nurse who was tc have attended Mary Leslie, for she was still nursing a patient in Edinburgh, and so it happened that it fell to the part of Liddy M'Alisu r to lie installed in stn,te .»t Ross Castle. to -.yn"k; about proudly carrying u bundle of flannel in her arms and attend to the young mother und her fine, lusty infant.

"Ilech, an' a more braw laddie ye never saw," exclaimed Liddy, her whole face lighting up as she spoke, "spotless ami bcmtl'fu), .save for a birthmark t«« size, of a threepenny bit qn his left shoulder, \vi* the maist perfect limbs an' thick dark hair covering h,is; Utile head." She clasped her hands with rare enthusiasm, and went on to relate that after Mary. Leslie was on her feet again she had been pleased to elect the young woman who had nursed her so splendidly and displayed such devotion to herself and the baby, should be given tho promj position of the latter's nurse ; for Mary was wise enough to realize that sea>c.h. tho world through she Would never find a woman who would display more attention to her charge than Liddy would, and her trust was well repaid. "He was licht o' my cen to me, that wee bairn"— Liddy's voice trembled with emotion as she spok..—"an' later on tho patter o' his sma' feet, iho sound o' his voice, would make my breast shoot and thrill. I was a widow, ye mus' ken —a widow wha had lost her ain child —but I misdoubt me if I could hae loved Sandic mair than I loved tho young laird." "I am sure you couldn't,- interrupted Pamela.

She had often heard of the adoration that Scotch peasant nurses give their charges, and she was deeply touched by Liddy's quivering voice and the pathetic way she spoke "C'o on," she exclaimed wlun Lid* dy paused. The old woman h'-avily. 'J'., i..- t\.?.ti!i':.-d.