TRACKED BY FATE, OR THE FANSHAWES OF HAVILLANDS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 249, 9 April 1910, Page 4

TRACKED BY FATE, OR THE FANSHAWES OF HAVILLANDS.

(All Rights Reserved.)

BY MAURICE SCOTT, Author of "The Pride of the Morays," "The Mark of the Broad Arrow," "Broken Bonds," etc. etc.

SIXTEENTH INSTALMENT. But nothing save desperation could have blinded her to the difficulties to be faced, though she told hersell they could not be greater than those on which she turned her back.

But she had only to walk to a station from which she might depart unobserved, and buy a ticket for the first outgoing train. Surely the twc gold pieces—ten whole dollars —would pay her train fare to London. Heaven bless Maggie for the impulse to provide her with a way of escape when necessity should arise ! Her arrangements were soon completed, and then it only remained to leave the house without observation. Not altogether an easy matter, but one to be accomplished at all risks. She dared not go through the house. Celestine's eyes were like needles and once seen by Clarence oi Mr. Fanshawe all hope of getting away without an unpleasant scene would be gone. Indeed, in her ignorance of law and of English observances poor Dorothy was not at all sure Mr. Fanshawe might not be possessed of some legal right to detain her. Again she summoned desperation to her aid. The windows of her room were fronted by a narrow coping of atone, at the side of which a huge elm tree reared its stately head aloft and extended long, tapering arms, the branches of which rustled and tapped against the leaded mullions which the girl, first extinguishing the light, now opened cautiously. Thank Heaven the night was dark), aeither moon nor stars visible in the sky of purple blackness to betray her presence should any one be watching from the windows below.

But no one was watching. Had the moon been up the prospect would undoubtedly have been attractive, and to look through black window-panes into an ocean of density was scarcely alluring. It was a daring thing to do. The boughs might snap, and then ? No matter, she must take the risk; and now everj moment was precious, for Mrs. Fanshawe might come to her room to inquire if she were, ill, because she had not gone down to dinner.

With a prayer on her lips and an invocation to her loved mother whose spirit she firmly believed to be still watching over her, the girl stepped bravely out on to the coping, ahd, catching at the tree's overhanging branches, drew a stout-looking bough towards her. And then, a.second later, her light weight was clinging to its frail support and descending by its aid towards the centre of the old elm, which valiantly responded to the confidence placed in it and allowed her to pause, breathless, at a "coign of 'vantage " on its famous old trunk, from whence, by easy stages, she presently reached the ground.

The Redfern coat was not improved by the process, but that could not be helped ; and there were still railings and fences to be climbed ere she would be free of the grounds.

Cautiously, 'with beating heart, she crept round by the side of the house, from whence she knew egress to be easiest, and then her heart quailed momentarily as she remembered she must pass the smoking room, out of which streamed a ray of light, coupled with the sound of voices. Evidently the French windows were thrown back. Should she make a detour to escape the risk of observation ?

No; she must risk it. And then she caught the sound of her own name. She might hear what was being said. Perhaps, after all, Mr. Fanshawe had misrepresented. Emboldened by the hope, she removed her shoes, and regardless of the gravel now and then penetrating her tiny feet crept forward as nearly as she dared. " And so I don't think there need be any fear in that quarter " that was Clarence's voice. In the stillness Dorothy could hear every syllable distinctly. " The Trevedyns are of the oldest and most exclusive stock In the county. Ernest's mater aaks irreproachable descent from the woman he marries, I can tell you." " Irreproachable descent " ! How the words lacerated the unhappy listener's heart, like unto wounds inflicted by a two-edged knife! " The street-singing business would have stuck in his throat, mind you, dad," continued Clarence. " He'd have had a hard job to get that down ; but the other affair will completely put him oS the girl, once he hears it." ".But I prefer he does not hear of it," replied Mr. Fanshawe with emphasis. " I don't see it matters much," was the answer. " Such occurences are common enough, and you've made a fair proposition, and so have I. If she won't hear reason " "I tell you she shall consent. Why? That's my affair. I'll have no one raking, into Gilbert's past history, dragging him from his grave, disclos= ing all I have laboured to conceal"-* The voices toned down, as if the speakers were pacing the room and had turned towards the further end. And then the miserable girl, having heard enough, took the' courage of despair and darted through the .beam of light to the friendly darkness of the law, beyond where, with a heart of lead she resumed her shoes amd made her way towards the confines of the park. For all hope was gone now. She would scarcely have credited the ma§-

ter of Havillands with sufficient delicacy of feeling to influence a desire o screen his brother's name and the honour of the woman whom that s rother had deceived ; but so it ■vould seem.

And Ernest ? Well, had she now mown her connection with the partners constituted an impassable barrier between them ? Had she not rejected his love—sent him away on chat account ?

Yes, but afterwards, when the lurking suspicion of her relationship to the Fanshawes of Havillands became almost a certainty ? Then —then 'md she not hugged the hope to her heart that when he should learn the story of her mother's sufferings and death, he would understand —should condone ? She had done so, indeed, thinking her connection with Maggie and Ju the worst disgrace with which her name could be coupled. But now —now !

He came of —what was it Clarence had said ?—" the oldest and most exclusive stock in the county," and she —a vagrant—nameless, even. " Oh, mother, mother ! " The unconscious, heart-broken cry startled her more than a little in the silence of the night, and she set off to run swiftly over the grass, fearing lest she had betrayed herself, and would be pursued and dragged back. Little, lithe, and fleet of foot, the sonfcnes of the estate were eventually reached, the intervening fences scaled, and then Dorothy was walking quickly along the high road towards the .'illage. For a sudden impulse had taken Possession of her to try to look once and for the last time on the face of Ernest Trevedyn. Unseen, of course. She knew where he lived ; the gardener had pointed out the house on her momentous expedition to the church. The remembrauce of it lived in her memory—a low. broad-windowed cottage, with thatched roof and honey-suckled porch. And she remembered she had remarked the absence of shutters. Were he sitting reading or writing she might peep in through the lattice, and look on his dear face, perhaps even see the steadfast eyes which had looked so lovingly into her own. She might do that ; breathe a blessing on his handsome head ; pray that his wife when he should marry, would be worthy ; and then farewell, love, and were the wish not impious, she would she dared say farewell to life, for what was life without love ? How dark the night was ! —dark as her own future —but the sense of liberty seemed to stimulate her energies, supplying a grain of something lik>e consolation to her otherwise crushed spirit.

The outskirts of the village at last, and then her heart ached with a deadly pang as she saw a red light gleaming out in the distance beyond, and knew that within the wails of the dwelling it fronted, was contained her only hope of happiness —lost, lost to her for evc-r, through no fault of her ownl

Timidly she approached the house ; the front downstairs window was lighted, but curtains were drawn across, and no glimpse of the room could be obtained. Voices were audible, but indistinct, and Dorothy, not daring to go too near lest the light should betray her presence, strained her ears to the utmost capacity in the~ longing to hear the voice she loved so well, if only for one moment.

Yes, then the deep, manly tones alternating with those of a woman—the former in short, almost fierce ejaculatory sentences ; the latter in a continued strain. Some patient narrating her troubles in detail, probably. The voice seemed a little familiar in tone, even though the words could not be distinguished. One of the servants from Havillands, perhaps. She must be careful in case the consultation ended abruptly and the woman came out to discover Ma'a'selle Dorothee in Dr. Trevedyn's front garden.

Almost as the thought came to her mind Ernest suddenly opened the curtains, and looked out, straight, as it appeared to her, into the eyes of the miserable little watcher.

She saw his tall, erect form outlined against the dark hangings, noted the contour of his handsome haad the gravity of the mobile features, ?.ven to an expression of anxiety in the clear, steadfast eyes. But the eyes looked into vacancy ; they failed to behold the cause of the anxiety contained within their depths. And as Ernest Trevedyn reclosed the curtains and turned back into the room the woman —at heart, even though a child in years—to whom his love was as the breath of life choked back a sob of anguish, and hurried out of the garden and along the road.

CHAPTER XVI. THE " TRAMP." " Spring cleaning " was in progress* at Woodbine Cottage, and Dr. Trevedyn came down to breakfast one morning to find his store of drugs and ordinary medical appliances had been transferred from the surgery to the general dining and sitting room, and to receive from his housekeeper the information that he could not hope to return to his usual orderly arrangements for at least three days. He looked mild protestation at Mrs. Bembridge, but wisdom forbade open remonstrance, so he made the best of things, and received his patients in the one room available at any hour they chose to present themselves. He had had a busy day, for the epidemic had not yet run its course, and was smoking a cigarette after a solitary dinner, and thinking of Dorothy and the mystery surrounding her when Mrs. Bembridge entered, wearing an air of suppressed indignation that her employer knew full well. " The spring cleaning," was his silent reflection, as he cautiously awaited the unpleasant announcement he felt lay in store,

" There's a young woman aßkm' to see you, sir," he said. It was not the spring cleaning. What, then, had so evidently disturb* ed her equanimity ? " A patient ? "

" No, sir. She says her business is private, an' I couldn't get from her that she ailed awt. It's a tramp, doctor, an' lief as not the ' private business ' be nowt at all, but just a excuse for beggin'. Shall I" " The tramp ?

"Yon woman as was singin' in' th' market-place to a banjo, sir. I tried to get rid of her, but " " Oh, let her come in, Mrs. Bembridge please," said Ernest. " I noticed her this morning and thought she looked weary." " It's for you to say, of- course, sir," responded the housekeeper, stiffly. " Myself, I don't hold with couraging tramps an' beggars in a respectable " " Oh. don't be uneasy," interposed the young doctor, with a smile of pacification. " I think I am able to deal with an impostor, if need be. Is the woman waiting in the hall ! " " No, indeed, sir. She's in the porch. Good enough for the likes " Ah, yes ; but it's a cool night, and the air decidedly damp. Don't trouble, I'll see to her thank you, Mrs. Bembridge." As the housekeeper sniffed indignantly back to her own precincts, Ernest opened the hall door to find the red light streaming down on a pale, haggard face and eyes that spoke at once of fixed endeavour and honesty of purpose.

"Come in," he said, kindly. "I am sorry you had to wait outside. My surgery is in process of rehabilitation. and meanwhile lam limited to my dining room. The young woman shabbily, but tidily dressed, and carrying what appeared to be a guitar in a green baize cover, tried tp thank him, as a cough shook her frame, and.rendered speech difficult. " Sit down," said Trevedyn, taking the instrument from her hand and putting it aside. " That's a bad cough. You were wise to come and get advice for it before going further on your journey. You've been ill not so very long ago, have you not ?" " Yes, sir," she replied. " I was down with bronchitis for quite a while ; but I'm all right now again. I didn't come to bother you about the cough, sir. That ain't much to trouble about '-' — " You must let me be the best judge of that," broke in Ernest, lightly. " Every man to his trade, you know ; and unless jou let me prescribe for you and carefully follow my directions, you'll be down with bronchitis again, and that before many days are over. Now, drink this, will you, before we talk any more ? "

While speaking he had been rapidly composing a draught, which the patient swallowed in spite of herself. " Now, suppose you tell me your na*me ? "

" Maggie Dennis, sir." "You are about twenty-three, are jou not ? " " Yes, sir, last birthday." " Well, now what were you coming to see me about ? Though, remember I have by no means finished with that cough." Entirely put at her ease by the friendliness of the young doctor's manner, Maggie proceeded to. unfold her errand, starting valiantly, but stopping short in the face of difficulties previously unanticipated. " I never thought it would be so hard to tell," she cried, " an' you mustn't think, sir, that Miss Dorothy's anything to us, an' we want to find out if she's well and happy, that's all. We don't want to go near her, nor let it be thought she's anything but what she is—a lady to her finger-tips— a lady, born and bred. But we want to be sure she's happy an' contented, an' it's so hard to find out without hearin' it from her own lips."

Trevedyn looked puzzled. Here was another and even stranger source of mystery revolving round his darling. This poor girl was kindly, honest and true, he felt assured ; but her emphatic insistence that she and Dorothy were of a class apart was not aeeded. What, then, the connection ? " Will you kindly tell me your reason for supposing I could supply the information ? " he asked.

" Yes," answered Maggie. " I've been askin* in the village in around about way, an' heard she'd had the fever and that you saved her life, sir. An' a doctor's a gentleman, an' one as can be trusted most times, an* it seemed to me you might tell me what I wanted to know without askin' questions back. But I see I made a mistake. You're bound to wonder what business a strolling player can have with a lady—for she is a lady—like Miss Dorothy," continued Maggie jn distress. " No, no ; do not fear any undue curiosity on my part, or that I could even think slightingly of Miss Eliot, did she claim your acquaintance. But I am troubled, I admit " (To be Continued.)