TRACKED BY FATE, OR THE FANSHAWES OF HAVILLANDS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 253, 23 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 j

TWENTIETH INSTALMENT. And then came a collapse, a sense of hopeless breakdown ; and the hitherto indomitable-Ju, in the solitude of the fourth-floor back, gave way one night, and cried like a baby. Her grief, or weakness, for whicb lack of food was principally responsible, was broken in upon timid, hesitating knock at the door of her room. The landlady, she supposed, to say they must pay or go. She was expecting that as a last straw ! The woman was not hard, but had a drunken husband, incapable of supporting her or even himself, and she depended on her boarders for bare sustenance. The knock sounded again. Well, the _ thing had to be faced. She could scarcely feel more .wretched, whatever the alternative, though-it would be hard to leave Brick-street, where— . " Come in Dorothy!" '( Dorothy, who, looking almost as famished as Ju, though handsomely Iressed, was in the next moment iaughing and crying hysterically in Ju's arms—Dorothy who seemed to suddenly radiate an aura of comfort and happiness around the poor singer to which she had long been a stranger—Dorothy, who, well knowing the possibilities of the fourth-floor room back, at once grasped the state of affairs and saw that Ju was ill and weak for want of nourishment. " Don't try to talk through that cough, dear Ju," she cried. "You don't know how glad I am to be back with you both. Will Maggie be in soon ? Never mind, we won't wait for her to bring the supper. I have not forgotten the shops. I'll do the marketing ; for with that cold on your chest I forbid jou to stir. And I have some money—see, money Maggie gave me when I left you." .She held up the little old purse to quiet Ju's scruples knowing the pride of the elder partner would refuse even food purchased under other conditions. And then, with a reassuring smile, she seized the well-remembered market-basket from its accustomed peg and hurried out into Old Comp-ton-street. Matters were evidently at a low ebb in the fourth-floor back, and here had she come back to add another burden to the already overweighted women, on whom the rainy day had mercilessly descended, when, owing to the charitable efforts on her behalf, they were most unprepared to meet it. But she must not be a burden ; she need have no scruples. With the stigma of the baseborn burning into her soul, what further degradation could attach itself ? = But this was not a time to indulgein self-pity. Ju was ill, needing all the sympathy and practical help Dorothy could give. Of the two sovereigns originally contained in Maggie's purse, only about ten shillings had been left over after the expenses incurred during a Long and tedious journey. But in Soho food was plentiful and cheap, and with a view to Ju's invalid condition Dorothy included a readycooked chicken and a flask of Burgandy among her more economical purchases, and arrived back in Brickstreet elated with the success of her achievements. And then, throwing off the weariness of the journey, under the strain and fatigue of which she would, under other conditions, have completely :ollapsed, Dorothy removed her outdoor garments, while Ju sat quietly admiring the Redfern coat and donning one of Maggie's white aprons, set to work to lay the table and prepare the supper. Ju watched her lay three places without a word, until at last all was ready, and the fourth-floor back had seldom seen so inviting a repast as that displayed. " Maggie's unusually late, isn't she ? " asked Dorothy, trying to coax a fire into life with the limited material she found at her command. Her short-lived luxury under Mr. Fanshawe's roof had not obliterated the recollection of her own days of poverty previous to her mother's death, and on ali sides she saw evidences of bard times in the fourthfloor back. " Do you expect her in soon ? " she continued, a feeling of uneasiness creeping over her. Ju was ill and alone. Was Maggie— No, no ! Surely Maggie could- not be dead ! But Ju's silence was ominous. "Best not wait for her," said Ju, at last. "Get your supper, my dear ; I've no sort of appetite myself." '' Then you must find one for the occasion," said Dorothy, with the intention of forcing Ju to cat if neces3ary. " And if Maggie isn't up to time, you'll have to take her share in addition to your own. Ju, Maggie isn't ill, is she ?" "Not that t know of," replied Ju. "She was as well as I am when she went out." "But that's not saying much;"' and Dorothy vigorously attacked the chicken, separating: its joints with more strength than skill. 'J Oh, N well, we both got bad colds," admitted Ju ; " but, after all, what's a cold ? You're lookin' a bit pulled down, Dorothy, my dear." " Yes.- T had quite a severe illness —nearly died, I believe ; but, now, I refuse to say a word about myself until you've eaten and drunk under my directions. When I was recovering from the fever I had to be obedi: ent , to mj nurse, -land now you ar«

my patient until Maggie comes in to relieve me of the responsibility." " She ain't likely to do that just at present," said Ju, yielding to the girl's pretty assumption of authority, and taking the seat placed for her at the table. Pressed to the point of insistence by Dorothy, Ju did justice to what was set before her, and the selfappointed nurse had the satisfaction of seeing a decided improvement as the food and wine sent a glow of invigoration through the sick woman's enfeebled frame. Dorothy, too, was in need of sustenance, having taken nothing save a hurried cup of tea and an unappetizing bun at one of the stations, where the train stopped sufficiently long for the purpose. For all through the night, during which she had been compelled to wait long hours at a junction for the morning train, she had been terrified lest Mr. Fanshawe or Clarence might overtake her and drag her back again, and dared not court recognition by seeking refreshment. And Ju, under the influence of the girl's unmistakable hunger, lost her own self-consciousness, and ate in company. Her mind was at rest, too, in one way. Dorothy was now safe and sound, at any rate, and Maggie could take care of herself, and was bound to turn up soon. And then, the meal ended, the table cleared, and Ju comfortably settled in the old easy-chair by the fire, Dorothy began to feel nervous under the realization that the time nad come for an explanation of her presence and to remember she was in Brick-street, an absolutely uninvited " You—you must think me very bold in coming down on you like this, Ju, dear,", she said, timidly. " I should think you verj foolish and wrong if you felt you wanted to come and waited to be asked," retorted Ju, with a spice of her old spirit. " -We ain't in the 'way of sendin' out invitations, especially when people go off out: o' town forgettin' to leave any address." Clearly Ju had benefited by the consumption of a decent meal, for when Dorothy first arrived she had appeared not to have the spirit of-a mouse. "But, Ju, didn't you understand that I was scarcely a free agent ?" said Dorothy, imploringly. " Had things been otherwise you could not think me so ungrateful " " No, my dear, we didn't think that nor ever could ; but when we got no answers to our letters 5 -" " Letters ! You wrote to me?" " Yes, three or four times." " But I never heard a worfl. from you after I left Brick-street. I wrote to you again and again and got no answer of any kind. And Mrs. Fanshawe objected to my coming to Brick-street, and the journey was not spoken of at. Rutland Gate until the-morning of departure." " Then the letters—ours and yours —were made away with," replied Ju, bluntly , " and that in itself looks fishy. When folks can't act straight, there's every reason to suspect their intentions o' bein' Crooked. I've said so to Mag a score o' times, an' perhaps by this time she can see I warn't far out." " I wish Maggie would come," said Dorothj, uneasy again. " She hadn't used to be out so late. Ju, you—you and Maggie haven't quarrelled, have you ?" " Law, no," ..replied Ju, " not more than usual. Don't you bother about Mag, she's all right. An' she mayn't be back at all to-night ; she's workin' out o' Lonion till my chest gets right again. She may turn up again any time; I do' "know when, but you don't worry about that. Here you are ; an' if things ain't to your likin' where you've come from, here you'll stay as long as we've a roof over our heads, an' welcome, my iear." With a shrinking from putting her guest under a further obligation, Ju determined to try at all events, to conceal the cause of Maggie's absence from the fourth-floor back as long as possible, t'fiough her heart sank at the fear that unless matters mended themselves considerably, and soon, the roof she invited Dorothy to share might shortly be wanting. But the ice thus broken, Dorothy seated herself, on a small stool beside Ju's chair and told the story of her adventures after becoming a member of the Fanshawe household—of her impressions of the master of the louse, of Clarence's presecution, of he journey into Devonshire, the carriage accident, and Mr. Fanshawe's startling announcement, and her own subsequent .illness. She dWt lightly upon the name of Dr. Trevedyn, but the astute Julia saw the heightening colour, the telltale eyes, the unconscious softening of the, voice and drew her own conclusions, though not for worlds would she" have uttered one syllable to force Dorothy's confidence. . %}i&k '."rt&e girl -told how—with 'every * prospect of being forced into this hateful marriage—she determined to run away,.tp walk to London, and -but for Maggie's welcome sovereigns she must, inevitably have had to do so. " Walk to London from Exeter ! Why, my dear, you'd ha' been mad to try it," said Ju. " But I knew I had no money," replied Dorothy. - "And only for good, bind, thoughtful Maggie " " Oh, that's nothing to talk about, my dear," broke in Ju, to whom expressions of gratitude appeared a source of embarrassment. "If you'd have thought o' such a thing you could have raised seven or eight pounds on that coat at a pawnshop." " Could I really ? look upon it as Mr. Fanshawe's property! and would like to send it back." " Quite right," returned Ju. "I only meant you could have done it if you'd been in a tight place."

Dorothy had no more to relate. 01 her suspicions regarding her parentage, and the crushing disclosure made to her by the master of Havillands, she spobe not one word. The secret belonged to the dead. Her beloved mother had gone down to the grave believing herself an honoured wife ; it was not for her child to cast a slur upon her memory. And Ju, divining with a woman's intuition that love for Dr. Trevedyn was at the bottom of Dorothy's-ter-ror of a forced union with Clarence Fanshawe, lay awake that night for more hours than even her cough rendered compulsory trying to fathom Mr. Fanshawe's motives in thus taking possession of a friendless —almost nameless—waif, found drifting among the flotsam and jetsam in London's continuously shifting stream of humanity " For a motive he's got," vowed Ju to herself, " and it ain't Christian charity, let Mag say what she will. An' now I wish Mag would come back, for that man won't give ap the job eass. It's like there'll be more trouble, and with this coughAnyhow, thank God she's here !" And tucked up in her truckle-bed in the little alcove, which the partners had kept unaltered under an instinctive feeling that their protegee might again require its shelter, Dorothy was echoing Ju's prayer of thanksgiving and invoking a blessing of her poor friends and on the head of the man she loved. And then, exhausted between mental anguish and physical weariness, she cried herself to sleep. CHAPTER XX. THE REDFERN COAT. " I said it before, and I say it again r as long as we've got a bite an' a sup an' a place to lay our heads, there'll be a share and a corner for you, Dorothy, my dear. But go out singing again with us you don't, and you may as well make up your mind to that first as last." " But, Ju, dear, I can't live a useless burden on you, especially while you are so un " She hesitated at completing her sentence. To tell Ju she was unfit for work might terribly wound her susceptibilities. " I mean, too, that I shouldn't mind it a bit now," she continued. " I was nervous and frightened at first but now everything is so different it couldn't matter in the least, really." " 'Twould matter to us," said Ju. "But I've no breath to spare for arguments, my dear. We're all in for a streak of bad luck, and whatever way we pull through it, 'tain't goin' to be that way." The discussion took place next morning after breakfast, while Ju, awakened Jo new responsibilities by the fact of Dorothy's presence in the fourth-floor back, was preparing tc do that which she had hitherto scorn ed —go down to Charing Cross Hospital and seek medical advice for her cough and bad chest. But she would not hear of Dorothy's accompanying her. " You better not go out," advised Ju ; " leastways not till we see if they're goin' to follow you up. And that young Fanshawe's a bad lot, whatever poor woman gets him." " I'm sorry for his mother," said Dorothy. " She tried to be kind to me all through. I hope she won't be made to suffer through my running away." " Well, my dear, in case any of 'em are bobbin' around, you'd better lie low for a day or two ; and Mag must be on her way home, as there ain't a letter this mornin'." Dorothy, suspecting Ju of trying to shirk the question of her comrade's whereabouts, made no further inquiries, though she longed for the sight of Maggie's honest face and tip-tilted nose ; nor could she rid herself of a vague sense of uneasiness at the younger partner's continued absence. Ju was detained an unconsciously long time at the hospital, and meanwhile Dorothy had a lengthened opportunity of indulging in day-dreams pictures of what " might have been" —in which the handsome face and steadfast eyes of Ernest Trevedyn occupied a foremost place. She would never see him again now of course—must never allow him to see her again ; for the frail barrier which previously she had looked, upon as so insuperable was now hedged over and around bj a granite wall, which must for ever stand between them. And with this wall invisible to him he might even try to seek* her out, on hearing she had left the Fanshawes. But she must be strong—strong to endure, strong to suffer. Her terrible secret must remain one, locked away within her own breast, unless—unless— Surely Mr. Fanshawe could not be so cruel, so merciless ! (To be Continued.)