THE PRIDE OF THE MORAYS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 211, 29 November 1909, Page 4

THE PRIDE OF THE MORAYS.

iAl>l. nici: r.-> r.rsr.m l:n.

r»v mavkt't: scott. Author of '"I h • Mnrk of the Bro«d Arrow, etc. etc,

r.\RT 4, "I—l don't I now j-uu. »" : • You -*ny j uti are my cousin, and your 'ace Is kind—ml truthful. I iitra I may voti—ond yet why. oh why cnnrot I remember? Why ;pn't I rrmonticr?" The sweet voice now broke Into a •»ob. and the agonizing co«l-n-<-went like on«* of his famous "knives ' into Hermann's tender h'art. He stroked the thin, fragile hand with bis loose, flexible fingers, and waited jr.til Barbara, after crying softly to fierself for a minute or two. ap*«mc more composed. By ih>.t time the doctor had left hem. and. attended by the nurse. na.« making a tour of the ward, so hat liar Intra and the juggler wcr# ■>rorticaHv a'ont>*.

•"Alison dear," be said, gently, 'you've had an unlucky accident but »c must th.m*> (Jnd that He has ipared your life Monica knows you ire—or noon will bo - with me —- "Monica?" Ilorbara looked dazed. 'Who is Monica?"

"Your sister—your cider sister, Alison. "My .... sister!. . . .Have I a listcr?"-

"Yfj, indeed—the dearest, roost Jevoted girl ever l>orn under the Stars and Stripes." "My sister," mused Barbara, iwelling tenderly on the word. "I should like to see her. Mftj' I? She may he'P nie to remember." "I guess that ain't quite possible just at present." returned Slanni'orth. humorously. "There's a matter of three tho-i*atil miles or so of •rater to few taken icto considera:ion." "She—my sis'«r—is so for away? ' naked Barbara. disappointedly. "In N* Yuri—in the Slates. America, you know." he concluded, swing she scarcely grasped what he neant. "You left her to come over to the old courtry. and had only itist Innd d on the morning of the fay on which you were knocked Jown."

"I—l came "over ' from " "From X" York—from the States" "Did J? You are sure?""Quite sure, dear." Barbara looked anxious, even dis!rcssed: then spoke again"You h«ve a kind, good face, and rour voice ond eyes arc truthful, ♦he said. "You would not deceive tnc?'- 1 "Never willingly. Alison dear.'i "You arc telling me the truth?'- 4 "I am telling v o u what I believe (o be the truth, as I hope for salvation." hj? replied solemnly. "Altson. the doctors warned me that for a time you were likely to lose all memory relating to events in your lifetime prior to the accident. But all agreed recollection would one Jay return, sooner or later, as the ;asc may lie. roc beg of you to rest content —to feel no anxiety regarding past, present, or future. Our home will be yours until I am it liberty to take you back to Monica. Selina Is a good, little woman, and " "Selina! Is she my sister too? - •"No." smihd Hermann: "Selina Is my wife. You couldn't be expected to rememlier h-r. as you ve n-^er met. When I married Selina you were in th» Canadian Xorth-W'est. and when jnu return-d to N" York to live again with Monica. 1 nnd my wife had crossed to the obi country

"f—l don't understand!" sighed Harbara. lying bark upon the cushions with a strained, distressed "ace. "All you s«»y is new and it range to me. Oh. why, can t I remember! W by—v h> !" i'Coroe. come." Mid the nurse appearing sudd* n'y. "This won t do all—won't do at all. You'll find tt all come back with a rush one of Ihese days, see if I'm not right. \nd. let me t.-H jnti some people «outd be very lhankful to forget heir worries for n time. Just take hmcs calmly. AH you've got to do 4 to keep quite at 111 anil J|uiiit. and -.of try to recall anything." 'Yes. nurse Is quite right. AHmn." rejoined Hermann earn-stly. Trv to live in the present. Utile •ousin: let the post rest, and trust the future to mc. Can you do a* 1 aiucb?" . , , ll* held out both his hands, and lis honest, straightforward. blue ,yes met Barbara s faltering ••»»** with an unswerving. unfaltering ■joncsty of purpose shining from out their depth*. The girl looked at him long and earnestly, and then placed bdr fragile hanOs within his own. -''Ye*/' she replied, in a tone of *o&6tkmcc. "I will- I do trust you. (be p«st is to was dead; the fupip-» my future—rests with you. 1 will thankfully go where you lead mc/' "And Heaven deal with nie as 1 lead vou aright, little cousin." r«tjpended Hermann Stanniforth Impressively.

CHAPTER VI,

"IMSmiAPS EVEN—A HUSBAND!" And then a strange new world unfoldMl Itself to the girl for whom the past—mercifully or otherwise, tunc alon? would show —bad been blotted out. Llsle-strcct. dark and struck her at first, wilh a" m splainable sense of depression, but soon, when >h«* grew suflk-i* n: l> strong to sit at the window, and found it looked down a short, in {(-resting street iflto the gardens and Leicester-square, youth and hope asserted itself anew. She tried hard to take joy in tfco present, though at times the puttied, wondering look -anif back into the big. grey eyes, nnd Barbara fought desperately with a shadow to which no effort ol h»n- owto could awign form or substance. Towards Hermann her attitude was one of unwavering confidence. Sh-: accepted him frankly, as she might a brother on whose protection sh< might implicitly r*-ly With SHina, her woman's intui'mn warned h-.-r

»h" stool on perilous ground. The poor til i !<• wife hid rec-i'.ed t lv; dri-atl- d "Co-is In AH* on " with irreat kindlm ss of h<art and an honest attempt at afTcet i<-n. but while Hermann account oil for the change he found in Alison by the number of years through which she had liv*d -since their boy-and-girl intercourse, Selina's quicker witsharpened by eyes of wifely love—recognized a superiority in the new inmate of dovecote, a .something undefined, therefore unexplainablc. stamping Alison Stanniforth as composed of other metal than those claiming kinship with her. and because uixielinablo, therefore to be feared.

Hermann, man.ike. ignored the obscure. From him his profession demanded an amount of concentrated ?ITiirt an I industry, leaving lrm no time to hn"a-«s his bra-'n over problems. And bis wife In *w him too well to arouse his suspicions or even the suggestion that Alison's protract ed r.-nid nee under their roof was unwelcome, though to poor Sell mi it was doubly so. while sh-- reproachid herself that she entertained the thought.

For "Cousin Alison" was g-*n'le to a fault. sweet alike in temper and disposition, easily pleased, giving little or no trouble during thj con-ales-cent period, and with returning strength becoming actually h'lpful. Hut there was the "rub" ! V.hat was that inn.tte, 'UamettHonable quality which, without effort, could pr«>:luce efT.-cts whichpoor Selina inigh'. labour to b.'ing about for weeks with ih«* veriest mttdiciim of fu cess? Why. after th- servant ha:l In'd tillable for lun-li or dinn r, d"d a f.-v louche* from lh-» hands of (\»u- : n Ali:.on levoltu ioniz.; its nppearanc • • How was it. that tinder h r d.-it i n gers th" «in>l»'.v curtains could be so daintily and artistically draped, tie quaint, o'd-fa«*hiuned ftii niture rearranged about Ihe rooms in a n;anner calculated to show it to greater advantage, while at the same time ifTording the residents increased space and additional comfort?

What was thai nameless possession which brought ait added refinement into the small Itoh-inian world inhabit ed by the juggler ane his wife—where the m>n—realizing from the outset that th" American permitted teither freedom of behaviour nor .'onversa*ion in the presence of his wom.nkind —made an extra effort to iol ish both th<-mselves and their nann rs wh-n privileged to visit 'Miss Stanniforth." and even the old actor. Ilertram—one of a fastdying generation, to whom the jug?ier had prov«d a frit nd in need—made prodigious efforts to draw together the r<-n:s in th* fad<-d dres-Wng-gown which, in c.rder to save his scanty wardrobe. he wore habitually when within the house? And while to Hermann all this was a source of added joy. to poor, little Selina it was as gall and wormwood, though she tried hard to -un'-eal all she felt, anil—except. perhaps, in th-" case of Barbara her■>elf. fairly succi-eded: lho'-gh Barbara in le r 111t n. n'-« *«I I'ard to put away ih» f-ar that h r pr.-s.nve was less welcome to her cousin s wife than to h-r .-ousin. Xo unwind word hid ever fall-n from Selina's lips: it v.ns an impression, n rh'ng more, and o'lsjlt' nit to b; < n -ourngetl. And Ix'sides. Hermann had promis-d to take her back to h-;r sister Monica as soon as his engagements permittctl a vacation. Why, thrn. distn-ss ,ii -r*«lf or po;jr little well-meaning Svlina wb n h-r r-sid-ence with th-m was rn:y temporary?

Her sister Monica! 'I hi words confured up no on-swer'ng pltnn'om in Barbara's m.iifal visicn. yet to that one word, "sister," she citing as to a ray of hope, lhat her sister might help her to remember. Oh, cou'd she only rememlier! And as th-; weeks s|ird on. ond the gret n leaves in the square, coupled with th.» twittering of birds, heralded the approach of spring, the colour came back to Harbara's face, the grey eyes sparkled wilh life and vigour, thr b-a'iMful, d«-|>-r--d hair gave promise of increased luxurian.c. Her figiuv was svelte and elastic as of old, her step firm and buoyant. Only on-* ev:d-lice of the trouble linger«d—th-; past was still a blank: and o'llsitlc the house —unless wilh Hermann Inside h -r. his hand protectingly on h-r arm —the girl was n?rvous, frighten d. even terrified. She could not be in I need lo go out alone, not even with Selina. She seemed apprch nuve of -tomething. she scarcely kn -w what. Sometimes Hermann thought her terror related to some individual man. sh-* shrank so visibly from the frock-coat ed. silk-hatted d niz* ns of Bomi-strect and Piccadilly.

Of his confreres in Bohemia—the laughing, good-natured wearers of -oft, slouch.d felt hats and strawcoloured overcoats —she evidenced no fear wha<«-ver: an-1 though his cousin Monica had given him no details wilh regard to Alison's secret "trouble." his firnt conviction was that th.- trouble had originated with one of these outwardly-polished English "g« nileiiM-n." and his own pulses ih.oblp-d with an instinctive U-nging for v. ngenn-'e against one to whose account all the sorrow of Alison Sianitiiorih'.s life culminat in her present tMstressr-d mental condition, might Ik* justly laidliespccling Selina's altitude he was supremely unconscious; but one thing only reiA r i*?d hLui tin wilh regard to the iiture. The yourg surgeon. K.-ilh llerlot, who had evinced such especial interest in the case while Alison lay in the hospital—who. above all others, had iKn-n unfailingly accurate in his diagnosis, and his pronouncement as to inconsequences resulting from the accident—had begged permission to call at Usleutrect after h-r removal Ihither. to continue his ministrations should it be fourd that the patient needed further medical attendance.

To this Hermann had at lirst gladly agreed. He admired young Heriot as a man aud respected his knowledge as a physician : but when he read awakening love in Heriot's brown eyes—wh«-n he saw how, at the doctor's oming. the warm blood mantled his cousin Alison s cheeks, and her own big. grey, "mirrors of the soul," sought the ground wistfully—he spoke frankly to Keith, and besotighi him to eoiiv no' more. "Stanniforth," said the young surgeon in his earnest Voice, "I lx-g (ji you not in misjudge me." "The urouf that, I judwe you to be

a 'wnite mnn, doctor, is trie tact oi my making this suggestion in a fri.nily spirit." replied th" juggler, earnestly. "Had I any doubt ol your honourable intentions towards my cousin. I should have choser anoth -r method of expressing myseb believe mc."-

"I—l love your cousin Alison," said Keith, his eyes kindling. "I—l can't deny. Stacuiforth. that your profession would prove a bit of an obstacle with my people, but obstacles are often crratcd merely for 'h: purpose of being got over, while .'or yourself personally. I cntertaic the greatest liking mil respect." "Very good of >ou. doctor," repli»d the juggler, calmly. "My profession isn't a popular on" to what wc of the fra'emUv term outsiders, nn I the Sianniforths have no claim to anything beyond th : resiiectan 1 esteem of their equals. Hut, do.-tor, apart from that, you of all men Know lhat poor little Alison's mine is a blank as to the past. As I have already told you, her sister Monica is singularly reticnt concerning what brought her to Kngland and Alison and myself had previously drifted asunder for a good many years."

■"You remind mc of this l>ecause''— "B.'<-ause it is not fair to tea*-l' her to love you under present condition-, dovtor." "You are of tlw opinion she could Icatn to love tnc?" asked Keith, his eyes aglow. "Doctor, doctor," warn-d Herman* "we're on dangerous ground. Admitting as much, what if shi wcrt already promised to anoth rV" "Have you any rea-on to suppose " "I have nj rip:-on furth-r thar you know," rep!i« d the juggler, notin;; how Heriot's brown skin pa'rei at th-; though', and realizing the existing danger unless suth a passionate love could b? < h >cl.id before its avowal. But sec h-re, now, doctor. You fay h*r m-.mory \rill ro.urn." "I b-lieve it will most certainly. Her recollection will b_> evolved gradually, by or—what is still more probable—come to her like a flash as the result of a shock" "Attend-d by any disastrous results. doctor?" "No" n -c ssarily." "Yeiy good." return d Hermann Stai.n'forth. with the calm air of a hMosoph-r. "Tlirn until that psychological luoiiK n; arrives, iloctor. an«l Alison is in full possession of her uiiKlai equilibrium, both with regard to th - jaM and the present, there must Ik- no mvnticn of love. I want your word as a man of honour."

Keith Heriot paced his study—in which the juggler had sought the interview—his hands clasped behind his back, his handsome brows surmounted with crisp, brown hair, lient with a perturbed expression. Hermann watched him carefully for a few moments in sil; nje, and then spoke with deep feeling. "Doctor, Alison—.--he's 'little Alison ' to me, and will always be •little Alison ' in memory of the lime when wc (she and I, and Monny) were three children together, Ali.von's mind is now th.it of a child no past to look back up. n; the hospital ward and your unremitting vare and attention is at present her most distant remembrance. It wouldn't be difficult in her limited surroundings to fix her attention on you. I'm not sure that she hasn't already done so." "I love h.T. I would make any sacrifice to call her my wife!" interrupted Keith, with fierce vehemence. "It can't be, doctor," was Hermann's calm response. "What if she loved you " "I would remove every obstacleforce my family's consent." "What if she loved you," continued Ihc juggler, in an unmoved, castiron tone, "and with the return of her memory came the recollection of a former lover ? Perhaps, even—whe knows?—a husband!'' For the next minute or two thr stillness in the room might have been felt—the while Hermann Stanniforth looked with immovable countenance into th- horror-stricken, ashen grey face of the man who now stood as one turned to stone. Then ths hot blood rushed to Heriot's face. "What right have you to hazard such a conjecture?" he burst out, fiercely. "I do not believe you. No man has yet kindled the love-light in those glorious eyes. That shall be mv task, I swear it—mine a'on;!" "That may, or may not be, doctor. When my cousin Alison's memory returns, it will be for her to decide if anything in her past life can put a bar between your love and its realization. And until that time, I ask you, man to man, can I—conoid the risks involved—rely, on jour silence?"

Keith hesitated an instant only, and then gripped the juggler's hand. "I'ntil Alison's memory comes back .T pledge you my word of honour to speak n« word of love. Stanniforth. At the same time I swear to you that—believing h r h -art-whole—Alison and she only, shall become my wife, let her past be what it may " Brave words! How full of porienl-1 To be Continued.