A SCARLET SIN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 169, 1 July 1909, Page 3

A SCARLET SIN.

(Ai.r, n:<;;i r.- ru:.-":::'- : :• <

a ro\\i;i;n'L STORY,

n>- Auri. .u■..! ■ i.\; ;r. .\sta;w. Authors of "Tr.- SfuiUtc.ite," "An DA Of the I'iaitis." A.c . &c.

ELEVENTH INSTALMENT. CfIAITKH XV. BASIL RECEIVES A LETTER."

Basil Farraday shrugged his shoulder* at the picture he had been wasting a morning's work upon. A pretty enough pastoral of mnle and female reapers, dancing under the gleaming: harvest moon, but the canvas hod made no progress that morning—rather the reverse, for Basil recognized that he had gone fnr towards spoiling his picture instead of improving it. His thoughts had lieen far away, his heart 100 heavy, and hj» realized with a little whimsical smile that the man who wishesto serve art must bow the knee to no other mistress.

"It's no good," he muttered, throwing his brushes and paleUv down on a small table, which stood in one corner of- the studio. "I ran think of nothing- but Pamela. Oh. why didn't she telegraph to me? She must surely feel how anxious I mn for news of her. Her silence is cruel."

lie strode impatiently up anil down the studio, his handsome young fare looking drawn and harassed. For two days had passed since Pamela's sudden departure to Scotland, and Until wns still in total ignorant*- ot her wherealw>uts. Yrt he had a curious intuition that she had p.me to Stoneport. and that if he w-rnt to Metherly he would find her th'-r.-. Yet he hesitated to thrust himself unbidden on the girl, feeling that if Pamela wanted him she would have summoned him to her. and that he must wait in patience till she did.

Hut the wailing was cruel. He loved her so. and his love seemed to intensify as the days passed on. What had been but a little flame had developed into a blazing* lire, and the young man fell wretched on his sweetheart's account, oppressed by the iilea that she was facing (rouble alone., worried also about his mother : for Klsie Farraday still maintained nn obstinate silence and refused to enlighten her son in any «ray about the past. She looked very HI. 100. ami llasil was certain she spent half her nights crying, Ilnrk shadows showed themselves under her eyes, and she apl>eared overburdened with humility, gnxing at Hnsil with a patient nnd pathetic devotion which went to the lad's heart. Once. Indeed, she had stooped down.., rnught at her son's hand and kissed it passionately, moaning under her breath :

"Forgive your unhappy mother—oh. llasil. forgive her • " He had flung his arms round Klsie Farraday. and implored her to tell htm of h»-r s-.trrel grief, but implored her vainly.

He was wondering over his morher's strange conduct now. when the »f.M>r of his studio suddenly opened, ami Mrs. Farraday ap|ieared on the threshold.

.sit.* looked while ond anxious, hut a.-* usual, curiously beautiful. "A letter has just come tor you. Jtasil." -"he exclaimed—"a letter which I mil Him- is from Pamela." She hehl out the envclojie ns she »l»oke. It l>ore the Stoneporl jmisluiark.

Hn.Hil seized Ihe letter with trem£»rtny hands lore it o|»en. nml flung hi-* " eyes hastily over the page, wou-h.-il elos» ly by his mother. Suddenly lie threw hack his head, and laughed, almost Iruitnphant l> "You are right, sweet mother,'' hj« exelaim-d. "My letter In from Pamela. She has written to me nt Inst, and asked me to go to her. Sh- is in great trouble— |»oor darling—in trouble—but she has turned to me. mother—turned to me." There wo* a ring of passionate, exaltation in his voice, lie looked ». n young knight-errnnl might uh"ii called on to draw his sword in th- tans,' of the lady of his dreams. "You will go to Pamela?"

Ktsie Farrnday's lips quivered as .-he asked the question, ami an indescribable expression came over her tact?.

"do to her? Why. of course." returned Hasd- "S*he wants me. mother. I tell you—«he vrants me. I must catch the night express," ho added. "Isn't it wonderful to think that t shall see her to-morrow ? "

His eyes shone, and his face Income flushed with colour.

Klsie Fnrraday drew a deep sole bing breath. "Yes." *he said, "you must go. I suppose. Hut Ilasil. I shall go too." "What ? You will go to Stoneport with me, mother ? " llasii *PMJfa in tones of intense surprise. thci) he «?|}led. "That's good of you. and kind- I| will be a comfort I am sure, to Pamela, to feci that you have journeyed up to Hcutland to see her."

He caught Elsie Farraday's hand a* he spoke, and pressed h-r cold finger* warmly : but the sad. pal*(rtttfl woman shook her head.

"It is not on Pamela's* account that I am going up to Scotland." she said, quietly. "It is localise ol you. Basil. 1 don't want you to lie alone there. I—l want to l>c with ya*t :: Hvf lips trembled a little a> pthc s*K»ka=fccF tthpje face quivered. "Mother, w> ; dearesf mother "- the young man ktssud her Date hand* then lookeil at her Hcarchingly and Intently—"why should you worry aliout my going to Scotland ? " he aitked. "Surely I can take care oJ my*df 1 " Elsie Farraday smiled faintly.

••Ye*, you can take care or yourself in most things." she muttered, "and I don't think 1 have ever tried tn tie you to my apron strings in thr post : but up at Stoncport—for, ■<t «-r>»»rse. Pamela has gone to Moth-.-riv— you may l« very close to tra- «-■«*>," Oh. far closer than you think

Sh-> f»au**d \n expression of inr.',i„. concern spread tt*elf over hei i-*U- face. She raited her thin hand.* au«l press.nl them to her throbbing brow.

"M-" il'jlv i> a |>!n"' of evil oni-i: • i r.\-." sh-- <:ouliiiU<nl. "Those long ;:i inneholy li.dds anil stretch of liar- .. n moorland are associated paini ili;. with my girlhood, ami I know a certain secret concerning the Methrly heritage—a secret which I never confided even to your father ; nor did I intend to mention it to you till Melherly was indeed our own—our own to do what we liked with." "But. mother,"- interrupted Basil.

"what do you mean ? To what secret are you referring ? Of course I know that coal is hidden away under the Metherly soil."

"Something else is hidden too," returned Elsie Farraday in low, tragic tones. "Oh. Basil, there is a certain field "

She paused, then shut her lips. ""-• "I mustn't s|»eak to you like this" she went on after a second's silence.

"I was mad to Itegin the subject at all. for we are powerless in the matter now that we've lost Metherly. Had things been otherwise. Basil. I should have lieen compelled to tell you a terrible story : but ns it is, there is no need—yet.'" She said the Inst word impressively. "But I want to hear all." cried the yonnjr man impulsively. "Mother, you must tell me all." She shook her head. "No. she muttered : "I cannot, Basil —I simply cannot. Besides there may be no need. What I fear may never come to pass. After all we are in the hands of Kale, and what is to Ik?. Basil, will be."

"Will what you are sf waking about affect Pamela ? Answer me at least that question." "Yes." replied Elsie Farraday ;

"it will affect Pamela more than it will affect yon. Oh. Basil ! my heart is nearly Invoking, for it is I—l, myself—who have brought all this trouble into your life and into the life of the girl you love. 1 feel that if the truth ever conies out you will wither of you. forgive me. Yes, I am convinced you will turn from me with horror and di.Miiuy."

"Never, never '." he cried, impulsively. "Oh. I can swear that whatever you have done in the past—not that I enn believe that my own d»»ar mother could ever li:» guilty of a real wickedness—but even if you have, why. nothing can alter my love for you. not even if you have broken all the commandments."

"I haven't quite done Ihnl. but 1 haw sinned m my youth, sinned grievously: nud I am paying the price now. Still. Basil, if you mean what you have said, that nothing can rhnnc*' your love for mc, the fmure tUv» not look so black, and I do not dread your journey to Mctherly as 1 did."

Hasil went up to his mother and put his hands on her shoulders : thenhe bent his handsome head, and kissed her very tenderly. ■'Do not be afraid, or doubt your •ion's affections, little mother. Thero is nothing that you have done that f cannot forgive. And now I have one request to make you—just ono favour to ask. Try and care for Pamela for my soke. Love her as a daughter. Ik- as tender to her as you have always l>een to me." ■•Ah. Basil, 1 nm not afraid of not caring for Pamela, nor am I the least likely to play the part of a jealous mother, as my one great wish is for \our happiness ; but I am afraid, terribly afraid, that in the days ahead—if Pamela is the daughter of the man I l>elieve her to be — thnt she will shrink from me .with aversion and horror, and bitterly reproach me."

•Reproach you for what ? " interrupted llasil. sharply: then lie threw his arms alioni Her. for his mother had suddenly turned a livid grey. "Oh. 1 fi-el so fnint—so deadly faint ! " she gasjied. ■'The whole room .seems reeling round." She closed her eyi-s as she spoke and would have fallen in a heap on the floor had not llasil supported her. With some difficulty hi* manage<l to pjnee her on a sofa, and then, to, his infinite concern, she quietly fainted away, and it was some time be: fore llasil and her maid could re-. store her to consciousness again and. get her up to her own room. Hlsic Farraday had fainting fits during the rest of the day. and the doctor, hastily .summoned, decided that is would he absolutely impossible for her to journey north that night. She was not actually ill. but in a weak and enfeebled condition—at least, such was Dr. ISrey's opinion.

"lias your mother had any mental tthock lately ? " he asked. "Xit." returned Hnsil. "not as far as I know : but she has been very anxious over some private matters. I know that she broods a great deal over past sorrows."

"Ah. worry worry, that's the fatal illness that np physican can prescribe for or ho|w to contend ogainst successfully ; that's the disease that kills."

He shook his shrewd grey head as he jqwke. "You must look after this mother oi yours:, young man, and not let her fret. Now* as to Journeying up north to-night, she simply cannot do it. She has borne up in the curious way women can for some long time, then suddenly is broken under the strata ; gone to pieces." -She's not seeiously ill■?" asfecc! Basil, anxiously. "Physically, your mother has not much the matter with her, but the mind has a queer way of avenging Itself upon the body.. But cheer up. a* soon as Mrs. Farraday gets over her present fit of depression she will be herself again." "As soon as she gets her spirits back ! " llasil repeated the doctor's words to himself when the door had closed on the brisk little man. then he sighed heavily. For an uneasy presentiment was upon him that heavy trouble would soon be facing both' himself arid hi* nipt" o *" He Ik* gan to suspevt'the truth; the hideous word "murder" ran red before his eyes, and he felt sick at heart. for he guessed that Pamela's father had become implicated in some dreadful crime, and through the instrumentality of his mother. The thought was a hateful one, yet he could not put it from him. He went to his mother's room to bid her good-bye a few moments before it was time to call a cab. He had already wired to Pamela to announce his coming. She had called him to her and he must answer her call. Yet he was loth to leave his mother in her pn-wiU mood—a man l»elw's-n two fires Mrs. Farraday wa* resting «>n th> «ofa. div-vd in a !"inr. tr.illine '■•»-

gown, which suited her sad hoauty

She smiled at her son as he entered the mom. Basil \vnt up to lvr, knelt by her side, and leaned his head upon hi-r breast.

With n little, choking voice. Mrs. Farraday puslv-d Basil from her. "(Jo to PamHa—go ''> 'h f ' J?' 1 ' 1 . vou love." she cri<-d : "for you belong to her now far more than you belong to me. and may all the happiness which you deserve he yours, Basil."

Her voice hroke. and her eyes filled with tears, then she raised herself on her elbow and looked at her son intently.

"Remember." she said, "that later on, if you have to make a choice IwHroi-n me anil Pamela, abandon me. Basil —abandon roc—for love." "Mother ! " he exclaimed, but she waved him back.

"Co, Basil, go." she cried, "It is time you started on your journey. (!o. ami may heaven bless you !

She smiled bravely till the door closed behind him, then as she heard him running quickly down the stairs, an expression of agony came over her face. "He kissed me. but my heart tells me that it is for the last time, for I feci that I shall not see my boy again till he has learned the truth and knows mc for the pitiful thing I am." Tears which she made no effort to check ran down her white cheeks, and she clasped her hands tightly together.

"And oh. what will happen to Oeorge, who sinned for my sake? Will judgement fall upon him—the cruel judgement of man ? " She asked the question vajruely—mournfully—knowing that it would be answered sooner or later. Basil had an accident as he drove •lown to the station, which seriously delayed- him and nearly made him lose the express, for his hansom collided with a cart and there was a nasty smash up,. Fortunately both the driver and Basil escaped with a shaking, but it was some time before the young man could extricate himself from the crowd, and get into another hansom : for he had to give; his name and address to the police and vow his readiness to be a witness if a legal action followed. When he arrived at the station tlmporter warned him that the Scotch express was about to start, and ho doubted if he would catch it. •I must," said Basil

The great train was moving out of the station as he reached the platform, and the porter tried to wave him back, but to no purpose, for pushing him to one side, Basil, at some risk to himself, made a flying leap into a carriage, and the porter threw his bag in after him. Basil tossed the man some silver and smiled triumphantly. He was panting hard after his run, but he felt thankful that he had caught the train.

A man seated at the other end of the carriage gave a short, dry cough which might have been taken to express annoyance at having another passenger so unceremoniously shot upon him, or else to condemn Basil's action in jumping into a moving train.

The young man, who up to that moment had fancied himself alone, glanced over his shoulder, then started in blank astonishment, for he recognized the man who sat in the corner seat, the man half-swallowed up in a big fur-lined coat, with a travel ling-rug drawn tight over his kneefc.

"Sir, Charles Sainton ! '3 Has it could not check himself from uttering the words aloud.

The other nodded his head slowly. "As you appear to know my name, sir," he said, quietly, "may I ask you yours ? "-

CHAPTER XVI Pamela tossed restlessly on her bed. It was the second night after her arrival at Orgadale. She could not sleep. It wanted about threo minutes to four, and she had been up with her father till one ; then George Martindale, who by this time had regained his full consciousness and was absolutely himself again, had told Pamela she must not sit up with him any longer. She must go and try and gain a little rest. Pamela related to her father how his sudden illness had come about. and how Hob Perrint had found him wandering in the Motherly fields distraught and helpless. The girl, though she winced at recital, had thought it better that her father should know the truiii. so she had told him all she knew. the while old Liddy crouched back in th<shadow, as if fearful of allowing Martindale to catch sight of her.

The man had listened silently, once or twice his face had twitched a little, and an uneasy expression had come into his eyes. Otherwise he was calm and self-composed. Then, at the end of his (laughter's story, he turned to Pamela and pressed her hand with his thin and still feeble. fingers.

"Poor little girl, you've had a bact time—a very bad time," he murmured. Then h,c drew ft deep breath. "We »»w'c a good deal to this Mr. Perrint a hcavv debt indeed."

"Yes." whispered Pamela : th-n she kissed her father's pale cheek. "Now that you are yourself again." she whispered, "and can think and talk, and know what is going on around you, let us get away, father. out of this house. I am sure it will be safe to remove you in a day ortwo—at least to the inn."

VWli.v aw? you so anxious to liflviOrgadale ? Ilasn't Mr. Perrint _ proved himself ft kind Samaritan " mad" no answer for a moment, then -she ran her fing< rs over her father's brow. "Our host is too kind," she whispered. "I think I am afraid of him, father." George Martindale's lips tightens) —he understood. A long pause fell. Old Liddy tripped cautiously into the dress! neroom, putting her finger to h< r lij.s as though to warn Pamela to b;j silent about her. •'Who'* that—who's that niovlnc out of the room? " asked her fath-i uneasily. "I saw a moving shadowy flickering on the wall." "Only the shadow of the kind old woman who has been nursing you,'' r<-turned Pamela. 'l'd In: Continued.