A SCARLET SIN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 173, 15 July 1909, Page 3

A SCARLET SIN.

CALL RldlTS RESKUVr.D )

A POWERFUL STORY.

By AJLICK oiwl Ct-AlDf. ASKEW, Authors of "The Sbulomitp." **Ad« M of the Plains," &c., &c.

FIFTKKNTI I IXSTALMKST. CHAPTER XX. "IT IS NOT TltrK/' fleorgi* Marl indole's wenk liners l**t«n>n ihp hands that held th 'in. and n tremor rnn through the whole Ihi«l> of the man. His lips qulvrntl. nn*l It was evident that n grrot struggle was going on within him. "It is so. I'ampln." he muttered nt ln*l. "You nrc rijiht. This Mlo*. ; IVrrint hn.« Imt'n cruel enough to imsuch a romlifion. If it were mi* ; ly myself to sufler by ony revel at ion hi* might chouse to moke. I shoulil care little. for I have jusffered i-m»«igh already. nn<l might ttflcom- ihci-ml. ilut you. lor whinw .tako I hove tried to kcrp my .hid from the world. whnt trill bp the future for you. if yon go out branded n- a murderer's child ? That l.« the horror of it. Hut the rhoire lie* with you. Pamela. What aiiMver atu I to give to Hob IVrrint ? " Th'- anticipated blow had fallen. Pamela had summoned up all her courage to iikt( it. for the moment »he had entered the room, the moment she had looked on her father * pale f«ee. she had understood that her worst fears were about to !*• realized. She had divided, in a Midden llasli of inspiration as she stood liy the wiwlon. on the eoiirse of nitioii she must adopt. However | rofipli and bmtal he ap|>enred on the ,itr((it'' v . however small the debt he ; t»w.'d to a society that had ignored and degraded him. Hol» Perrint had ; ci Ven indications of a Kindly heart, •ven if hidden deeply nwoy. Liddy had hinted as much. and Pamela had learned to trust to the old woman's keen |ierveptions. Surely Mr. I'errint would not demand an inumiliate answer, yea or nay : he would give her a little time for reflection, and in that time much might happen. If «.n'* could gain his friendship, his respect. sh«* might lie able to tell him the truth about herself : and «a.< it likely that he would attempt to force her then to a marriage that must E>e wholly without love? It was this ivfWtson that prompted Pamela's reply to her fother s question. "It niii4 l«e for me. myself to answer Mr. IVrrint." she said, very gently, after a long pause. "I don't want you to lie troubled with these matters now-, father. 11l as you have Iwrn it is «ruel tu lay a fri>sh burden upon you Mr. I'errint. I am sure will appreciate this, and give us time for reflection. He is not really a bad man. if I am any judge of character, lie has hardly treatmi and do-* not know the meaning ; of true sympathy. I don't want to | marry him. (or I do not love him. 1 nor could I ever love him and a marriapi- between hiui and iiiy<.:lf would . mean nothing but misery to both of im. He is not ungrateful to you. ami if I can make liiiu .*•-»• things' in allot hr light I am sure he will not e*«ct htft terrible condition." , tJcorge Martrndiile shook his head. "I don't think I have ini*judir-d th» matt. He's n dour Scotchman, und »s hsjrd as nails ; the sort of man who will stick to his d-vision through thick Mini Ihin. He'll l<*.» a en,,,| friend to lis if hj«« h.if his own v. .r. : (ml if not he'll vent upon lis hi-. itl-f-eUng against the world «! i . v. r fell into his hand."." added Mtu-i isulale. peevishly. "and I was bereft of r« n'-«>r» w aen I madly rushed ftp to Scotland. <'! i. if hj«« had never seen you. Pamela. matters might have Iw-rn \er.v diflereni." Ilut Pamela wo* not wnvinoil ol the ho|«elessness of the task she proposed to undertake If the worst come, she would submit to an engagement with Mr. IVrrint. even to an eventual marriage. Sits- was afraid for her father"** health. and for the r>*s»dt that a refusal on her part might hnv».» M|mn him. Throughout i her lli'm (ill Basil Farrndsty apiwared | upon the scemr , Pamela had loved no .»ite but her father. For him slia was prepared to make ony wirrlliro ; ; and since Basil ami she had cone* to the part in, 3 of the ways, it mattered ! less what Itecamo of her in the future. It was against a loveless match that she was fighting—or. at least, so she fancied, hardly realizing that her love for Basil was the armiHir with which she had clothed : herself. Hut at all costs fleorge Martindale must be pacified—his mind must |;c set at rest. Pamela turned her hea;) pway a little, so that he could not Jrp I he tears that sprang to her ey», "I will do whatever «ou wish me to do. father." she murmured. "Vou know Rob Perrint. and whnt sort ol luan he is. Would you have mc marry hint ? "If you were not heart-whole." hi it)*'.*;**!, arid stopped, suddenly conol » sob that was wrung, ag*ttivs( her will, from Pamela s breast. "Pamela," he cried, #lprting up nnd laying his thin arm upon. Iter shoulder, "there is no one else, t* there? For Heaven's sake answer I me quickly ami speak the truth. You lovs fto one ? Whom hove you met thai you could love ?" The girl's courage bpoke down. "I do, I do ! " she »ol»lJed, '"I dhl not inean to tell you, father, but you have wrung the truth from me. Oh. a few days ago It would have In-en easier for me even to have married Mr. I'errint for your sake ; hut now—now" She hi«l her face In her hands, and her tears ■came unrestrictedly. George Mart indole drew his daughter nearer to him with a feeble grasp. Hw head was bowed till it rested up<im th*) nJHow. close to his own. "Tell me about ft, Pamela. I did not know. This makes things worse (or us—-a thousand limes worse." For n little while Pamela would «,ay nothing. Ilut by degrees she vi-Med t<» her father's questioning. I iir>'l pour«"d out the whole story ol her fiveeT uith rt f the i and of the n-u. k ;.>n th.it had

df-v.-'loped iKtv.'e'-n ;hem Ceorge Mar* indale'"* cii -rks bccnnie ven more ash<*n as h> listeuei!. and whea Pamela spoke the name of Farinsiay. he gave vent to a long groan that betokened the agony he was enduring. •• Masil Farraday ! Who is this I last I Farraday ? Pamela, do you know what you have done ? Do you know whnt you are telling me?" His eyes were set ami staring -. his whole frame shook. He muttered to himself inarticulately. Pamela could just cotch the word. "Klsie." repeated again and again. She drew back in alarm, terrified at her father's distorted face : but he held her wrist firmly, ntid would not let her g«"Klsi-.\ whom I thought dead —my sister Klsie : And it is her son whom you love ! Oh. Pamela, Pamela ! " "Oh. I wish I had not spoken ! " panted the girl. "I did not mean to do so I only learned last night from I.tddy that Pasil is my own cousin—voiir sister's son : and it's because of that, that I made up my mind that he and I must part, for he knows nothing of this terrible story, father, and he must never know. Hut I love him. and whatever haj»|iens to me I shall love him to the vnd." "What have you learned of Klsie ? Tell me everything. Pamela, for I must know. l»on't be frightened about me. I can liear it. I thought that Klsie had died—that she had drowned herself. It would have been lietter for her had she'di«<d." So Pamela, hard as was the task, told him all she knew—told him of the picture which sh<* had lieen able to compare with the miniature in Basil's possession ; told liiin of the -lory she It"! h-ar.l from Liddy. and how she had been.able, by means of it. to identify Basil's mother with her father's unhappy sister Klsie. Her voice shook as s"ie spoke, and it was not without dillieuliy that the sick man was abb' to pi.*ce together and understand the tangh-d threads of th- tale. •*I loved my sist-r." he said, at last, with Mime reium of composure, "but when 1 thoucht her deud in sin I tried to put her from my mind. I never spoke to you of Iter. Pamela : I never breathed her nam.-. But she had not the courage to die. She dereived us to th.- end. And so she marrin .i Farraday. the man who was true to her throughout, and he took her burden upon him." Oeorge Mart judaic fell back upon his pillow. "I don't think I can talk any longer, Pamela." he siglfd. "This disclosure has lieen very terrible to me. We must sjienk again of it. later, ami in the mcnnw'hiie you iniist give what nnswer you think Vest to Hob Perrint. I leave our fate in vour hands. But this I can tell \.>u. Pamela, whatever you choose to do in regard to Perrint. whatever the future may haw in store for you. never, never .•an you marry Basil Farraday. You understand me? " lie clenched his hands together, and his voice was raised to a cry. "Such a union is impossible, and I forbid it." Pnnteln met her father's gaze, and her eyes sank before his. "I had made up my mir.il to give him up. dear and good ami kind us lie is. but why do you speak to nie like this, father? What can you say against your siMer's child ? " The man bursed into a harsh peal of laughter. "K!: :e has but one child." he cried "and his name is Basil. Why did I murder t'linSoii Peele 7 Why did Klsie go out to drown herself ? 1 killed her Itelraycr !" Pamela had In-en listening to hei father's wild words, hardly coinpreher.duig them. She wrenched herseli free from his grasp, and stood in the centre of the room, wrestling with uncontrollable emotion. "What does it matter to ine," she cried at la'*t, "how bitter the blows Inflicted upon myself ? I have said that Basil and I are to be nothing to each other in the future, that I shall bid him go because I am not a titling for him. 1 have promised to do all that you wish mc to do even to marry this man. this Rob Perrint. repulsive to me as he is, but leave me Basil's? honour. Whatever ymi may think, father, whate%'er you may know, if you have any love for me. at least leave me that." "I'airtela ! " CSeorge Martindale fell back groaning painfully, but for once his daughter did not respond to his call. She had lorn herself from tho room. t'HAITKH XXI. Till; ONLY WAY. Karly in the afternoon Pamela who had remained in the solitude of her own room, battling with the terrible thoughts thut oppressed her, refusing even the advances of old l.iddy. received a telegram from Basil. It tvas only upon the very urgent remonstrances of the nurse that she consented to ojx-n the door. "Sure, an* I've a telegram for you." the old woman had said when Pamela at last admitted her. "I've brought it to ye my ainsel' for I'm ihinkin' if might np' ha' •two well for the malster to ha' seen it." Pamela took the yellow paper in her trembling hands, blessing the old woman's foresight, fully contcious of the curiosity that Rob Perrint might have evinced had the telegram fallen into his hands. The message had been despatched by Basil from Chelsea soon before hi? actual departure from London. ''l am Mining &t once, and will reach Stoneport to-morrow morning. Meet mc at station if you can, but if not will find my own way to the house. I'o not reply for 1 am just leaving London." pati}el(|'s heart thrilled within her as she realized that it was now utterly impossible to prevent the coming of her lover. She would have tu meet him at the station, as he suggested, finding some excuse for leaving the house, ami certainly she must not speak of her plans, even to her father, who would l>e terribly upset if he thought that Basil Farraday was about to pay a visit to Stoneport. She hated having to keep a secret from her father, for since the days of her childhood she had Iwen wont to go to him with every little trouble or vexation that I might have arisen. Perhaps it was for that reason that she had l>een uncunrd-d enough "■ sp-ak out on !h " .lib)-- ' • both if J" h-r a ' l ' l r "~

father's might have been wisest. It had come so naturally to her to -;|>eak. George Martindale had put his questions, and she had replied to them, till, half unawares, her confession was well begun, and she had been obliged to continue with it. She reproached herself with some bitterness now. deeming it only too possible that she had been the means of aggravating her father's sickness. And it was with this thought in her mind that she eagerly questioned Liddy. "Your faither's a' richt," the old woman responded, much to Pamela's joy. " 'Tis sleepin' he was when the doctor came, soon after noon, an' the guid mon would not ha' him dislurlM.\l. 'Dinna be moitherin' him or wakin' him up," so Dr. Macpherson -said. 'Jes' let him sleep till the morn if he will : 'twill do him a' the guid in the world, an' he'll be gettin* his senses back together wi' his strength.' So said Donal' Macpherson. an' I'm thinkin' he's richt.'' "You told him nothing of tin; disturbance of the night ? " Pamela Asked anxiously. The old woman shook her head. "Ik-ttcr na—better na," she replied •She would say no more, and Pamela concluded, and perhaps correctly, that Liddy was afraid of angering Hob Perrint. The master of the house, it appeared, had been aosent on the farm ami not expected back till dusk, so Pamela ventured downstairs, where she partook of a little food brought to her by old Klspelh, who, like her niece maintained a stubborn silence, ;>nly responding monosyllabically to the girl's attempted advances. As -he left the rooin for the last time, however, she paused, and then, facing Pamela, shook her lean forefinger. "Minna forgit that I ha' warned ve." she muttered : and then, without waiting for a reply, she hurried out, slamming the door aggressively behind her. Pamela took the food that had lieen placed liefore her mechanically, and as a duly. Her thoughts were far away. now. with her lover setting out on his journey, now with her father in the oak-panelled room upstairs, and now in that field which she had caught sight of from the o|K*n window—that tield in which all her terrors were concentrated —the field of blood. What was she to say to Basil on the morrow ? How was she to acrount to him for the letter which she had written, calling him so lar on a useless journey ? He would question her, and how would she answer him ? She could give him no explanation : her lips were sealed. She must not betray his mother to him. and how could she tell her own story without doing so ? Torture her brain as she might, she came no nearer to a solution though once, with a shudder, she murmured : "I must say that I do not love him. That is the only way—the only way." She dreaded, too, the inevitable interview with Rob Perrint, but her mind was made up as to the way she must treat her t host. Curiously enough, now that she had decided as to this she felt less fear of the man. He would not harm her if he felt sure of winning her for himself, or if she succeeded in touching his heart, the tender side of which, she felt assured had never been appealed to. Perhaps it might be for her, she thought innocently, to waken this rough giant to better things. Who could say ? The mist was gathering again when she made her way out of the house, thinking to pass the time by exploi ing the garden and farm. Perhaps she might meet Rob I'errint, and if so. it would be better to speak to him in the gar-den than in his study—a room to which she had taken an instinctive dislike. She walked slowly down the long poplar avenue towards the gate by which she had entered the day before. noticing as she went, the rankness of th-* irrass. the state of neeled into which the estate had fallen. It was like its master, she thoughtrough, uncultured, uncared for. Yet had a beauty of its own—a beauty which neither weeds nor the choking undergrowth could wholly conceal. Suddenly as she turned a corner a great hound came springing towards her. then stopped a few yards away, barking menacinglj". Pamela stood still. She was not afraid of animals, but sho recognized a danger in the dog's threatening attitude. A moment later the figure of a man appeared from behind the trees. She heard the crack of a whip and Rob Perrint's stentorian voice calling angrily : "To heel, ye brute ! D'ye hear mc. M'Calpin ? To heel I say !" The deerhound obeyed sullenly, and Rob Perrint. his hands extend vl. a curious smile, half triumphant, half nervous upon his lips advanced to meet his guest. Pamela drew back, resting agains.t the trunk of one of the great poplars that lined the dr-rve. She was dressed in grey, and m the gathering dusk #nd rising mist she appeared slight and painfully delicate, almost like a being of fairy lore. Her slim figure was in curious contrast to that of the heavily-built and burly man who had advanced to her side, dropping his hands when he realized that she had refused to take them. The hounds —there were two of them —still growling and uneasy in the presence of a stranger, were snifling and pawing the ground at their master's heels. Ro.b turned and swopi*t th* 7 ! ll under, his breath, rinding for the moment nothing else to say. Pamela was the first to speak. "Mr. Petrrint she began, and paused. "Ye hae seen an' spoken wi' ye faither ? Ye ken w-hat it is I'm askIn' o' ye ? " The man spoke hurriedly, as though anxious to come to the point and have done with it. "Yc're very bonnie, Pamela ' the sound of her Christian name upon hi£ lips caused Pamela to shudder, but she did not resent it. "Ye're a bonnie lass," he repeated, "an' ye hae no need to be feart o' me."- He was trying to soften his voice, seeing that she cowered from him. and that her face had grown as white jvs the rising mist. "My father has told me," Pamela faltered, "that you came to him last night and extracted certain conditions for your silence about a s"rret rif his which had come to your knowledge." '• To !>e Continued.