The Mine Master's Heir OR THE REAL JOHN SMITH.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 268, 15 June 1910, Page 4

The Mine Master's Heir OR THE REAL JOHN SMITH.

(All Rights Reserved.)

By HEDLEY RICHARDS,

r.Uvrr of "Out of Darkness," " A Day of Reckoning," Etc. PART 7. Smith paused and looked at her, then seeing she was really distressed, he hesitated. Personally he v. oul.l have liked to continue the thrashing. He was not only punishing the man for molesting a pretty girl, hut it had heen an outlet for h's own disturbed feelings. Murder had been in his mind, raising all the evil possibilities of his nature, and with every stroke he dealt the wretched man he felt better. "Now, then, you go, sharp ! If you are within sight a moment longer, I'll give you another thrashing," lie said, flinging the man from him ,vith such force that he stumbled and ell, but picked himself up quickly, and went forward until he reached a turn in the road, when he paused and looked from one to the other, saying, with his eyes fixed on Smith : "I'll be even with you yet, so'elp jnc heaven !" Then he started at a hambling run as he saw Smith take a step forward. "Dcn't ! He'll go now," said the .irl. "And—and I don't know how o thank you enough," she added. He looked at her, realising how cry lovely she was. Small and slight, with a face that put him in mind of the angel faces that artists pamt,- lovely golden hair, that had become loose during the struggle with the tramp, and she had been too engrossed since then to fasten, tell round her like a halo. "It is thanks enough to know that I have been of service to you. But this is a lonely road for you to venture along alone," he said, taking in the simple holland costume and sailer hat. Dress, voice, her whole appearance proclaimed her a gentlewoman ; how, then, did she come to be in such a lonely place by herself ? "I usually have a dog with me—a mastiff. If Luther had been with me it would have been even worse for that wretch. But Luther was out of sorts." "Well, Luther gave me a chance. But have you far to go ?" asked Smith. "Only a short way. A little furthere on there is a stile, just at the end of the turnip-field, then I come to grannie's cottage." So, after all, she was a nobody, he thought, and wondered at her voice and manners. "Well, you must let me see you in safety there ;" and as they walked on they chatted in quite a friendly fashion. At the stile she paused. '"Don't trouble to come any further. That is grannie's house," she said. Looking, he saw a long, low cottage, surrounded by a garden that stood back in a field, through which a winding path led to it. "Do you live there ?" he asked. "Oh, no. I live outside Witton. My father is head overman at the lead mine, but I come here two or three times a week —always on Saturdays," she said. "How will you get home again ?" he asked, thinking of the tramp. "My father is coming for me. Sometimes I stay over the Sunday, to keep grannie company. See ! she's coming to the gate. Good-bye, and thank you," she said as she mounted the stile. John Smith watched her go quickly across the field and enter the garden at the cottage, then he turned away. "'By Jove, she's a beautiful girl ! Betty Thompson isn't fit to hold a candle to heri I wish she was in Betty's place. Anyway, I must see more of her," he thought.-

CHAPTER IX. During the next few days Smith thought constantly of the girl whom lie had rescued from the tramp, and t v> as quite an effort to show Betty bosc attentions he thought neces--3 ry to let' her see that he had not given up his intention of winning her, in spite of the disfavour with which she regarded him. That she disliked him he felt certain, and he hegan to reciprocate the feeling. But marriage with Betty meant a firmer hold on Thompson's money, and money was a factor in life, not to be despised. In spite of this conviction and his intention, if-possible, to marry Betty, he felt that he must see the girl, who was constantly in his thoughts, again, he made his way to the place where he had met her, but taking a more direct route. On reaching a spot where the road —a mere cart track —branched off, he paused,- knowing that one path went forward and would lead him to the place where he had met the girl, the other winding in and out to the lower end of Witton, and he knew it was probable that she would lome that, way, as the lead mine lay in that direction, and she had said her home was near it. Five minutes elapsed, and he was beginning to wonder if he was too late—possibly she had already passed —when he heard a girl's voice say, "Come, Luther !" and a moment later a dog bounded, forward and, seeing Smith, came towards him sniffing in a suspicious manner ; then he gave one or two growls. "What is it, Luther ?" and as she spoke the girl he had come to meet appeared round a bend in the road, and he saw that she looked white and scared.

"Oh, I thought it was the tramp !" jhe exclaimed ; and he heard the ac-

cent of relief. "Your dog does not seem quite sure of my character," he said as he raised his hat, while the dog continued to growl. "Luther, be quiet !" she said, and the dog—a splendid mastiff—looked up and at her, then with another low growl at Smith he moved to the side of his mistress. "Luther must be out of temper today. He is usually considered a discerning dog," she said as she stooped to pat him. " Are you going to your grandmother's ?" inquired Smith. "Yes ; I am going to stay until Monday," she said, glancing at a parcel she carried. He held out his hand. Her face flushed slightly. "'Are you going the same way ?" she asked. "Yes." Then he tried to take the parcel, and as his hand touched hers she blushed. "Don't you know I'm used to carrying parcels ? I am not a grand lady," she said, shyly. "You are a lady," he said as he secured the parcel. She was evidently pleased at his words, and she showed it as she raised her lovely blue eyes to his. "I don't know your name ?" he said, in a questioning tone. " I'm called Jessie Thwaites, but my real name is Jessie Carrol," she said.

"Why don't you get your real name?"

"Because I'm an adopted child. My father was the schoolmaster here. My mother died when I was born, and my father two years after her, then if it hadn't been for my foster-par-ents, I should have been sent to the work-house. There was not above eighty pounds from the sale of the furniture, but the Thwaites had no children, so they adopted me; and I think I have been very lucky. My father is head overman at the mine, and he has done his very best for me. They paid the mistress at the school to give me lessons at night in music, singing, and French." "And the grandmother you go to see—is she a real relation ?" he asked, scarcely knowing why he asked the question, but wishful to see the blue eyes raised to his as she replied :

"Oh, grannie doesn't really belong to me. Mrs. Thwaites is her daughter —the child of her first husband. Grannie married a second time, when my foster-mother was about seventeen, and this second husband was overlooker at the quarry. He'd never been married before, and he'd saved quite a little fortune, and when he died he left her well off. She has the house" she lives in and two pounds a week."

Smith turned away to hide a smile at the description of "well off," meaning two pounds a week ; then he reflected that her humble position and evident unworldliness would make it easy to continue the acquaintance. Then he remembered it would be well to know if she had told them about.the tramp, and his appearance on the scene, as he said : "Did you tell your people about the tramp ?" "I told grannie, and she advised me not to tell' my father and mother or they might object to me coming to see her unless they could come with me. But she made me promise not to come without Luther. She said he would fly at any one who tried to touch me."

" I believe your grandmother is right. All the same, I am glad Luther was not with you that day, or I might not hare been able to make your acquaintance, and I should have lost something," he said, lowering his voice as he spoke. A bright blush overspread her face and he saw she was pleased. "Have you many friends ?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No ; I never did make friends with the girls at school. I tried, but somehow they did not care for me, and I often feel lonely," she said.

It was easy to him to understand that the working girls would recognise a difference between her and th:mselves. Her real f.-ither,. the schoolmaster, had evidently been a man of refinement, and Smitb realised that this —the one I'evitagc le had left his child—had been a doubtful blessing, as it placed a barrier etwee n her and others of the class n-v, hich she mixed.

"You must let me be your friend. I'm a lonely man," he said. She stole a sly glance at him, and thought how big and strong he looked. She was not a physiognomist, and did not realise that the eyes spoke of a man not to be trusted, and that the mouth was brutal.

. "Will you let me be your friend ?" he asked,; and there was something compelling in his voice which made h:r answer :

"I wish you .would j but my friendship would be a poor thing for you."

"It would make me very happy. And you know friends want to see e ch other, s_o you must tell me' the diys you usually come to see grannip, then I can meet you, and add my protection to Luther's," he said, as e stcoped to pat 'the dog, who e;;t close to his mistress's side. Luther was evidently not disposed to te friendly, as he growled ominously, and Jessie exclaimed quicky : 1670. ''•'Don't toucU turn* He doesn't like you." Smith's eyes flashed, and he grasped his stick. If the girl had not been there it might have fared badly with the dog. At any rate, there would have been a tussle, and he had tackled one or two vicious dogs in his time ; but he only said : "I never fear anything." She regarded him with the admiration a woman feels for a plucky man. '"lt must be nice to have that fe;ling. Do you know, I felt quite nervous:.- though I bad Luther, when I

was coming along, until I met you?" "I must contrive to meet you in future. What days do you come to the cottage ?" "Generally on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but always on Saturdays." '"Then you will often see me. By the way, it might be as well not to tell grannie of my intention." "Why not?" and she looked at him in surprise ; then her face flushed. "Oh, I see. You think she wouldn't like a gentlemen walking with me ; and of course you oughtn't. I never thought of that," she said. " What difference does position make ? You really belong, to the same class, only circumstances have placed you in a humbler one, and I must see more of you," he said, iD an imperative tone. The girJ raised her eyes and looked at him ; then she gazed ahead, and as they turned a bend in the road she exclaimed : '"There is grannie. You can ask her if it is right for us to be friends." A smothered oath escaped him as he saw a slight but erect old woman standing by the steps that led into the field. She had evidently seen them,, so he knew it was useless beating a retreat. The only thing was to go on and make the best of it. One thing he resolved—that in spite of the old dame he would continue his acquaintance with the girl. She should not pass out of his life. But as they drew near, and he saw that grannie was watching with a keen look in her shrewd brown eyes, he came to the conclusion that she was a power to be reckoned with. " You're late, Jessie," she said. Then she looked at Smith, and as her eyes rested on him a sudden change came over her face, and she exclaimed, in a quick, excited tone, "Who are you ?" am John Smith, Mr. Thompson's nephew," he answered, wondering what had caused the change in face and manner. She looked full at him with the keen old eyes that seemed to see so much, and there was a strange expression in her face as she said :

"I see. You are Mr. John Smith. But I thought there were two of you. Now, you cannot both be his sister's son." "Of course not. One man is the son of a far-away cousin, but I am his nephew—the real John Smith." " Yes, you are the real John Smith," she said, with a quiet emphasis that puzzled him.

He turned to Jessie and shook hands, then raising his hat, he wished them good afternoon. The old woman stood watching him, with a strangely intent gaze until he was out of sight, then she looked at the girl, who had also been watching the man she had already made a hero of.

"Jessie, you like that man?" She blushed, and her eyes fell as she said : "He said he would like us to be friends." "Friends ?" and the old woman laughed. '"Well, be friends ; but don't let your father and mother know. They won't approve of this friendship with John Smith !" she said, with a short laugh, as she mounted the stile with the agility of a younj: woman, followed by the girl, who wondered what made her grandmother's manner so peculiar.

CHAPTER X. John Thompson laid down his pen, folded the letter, and addressed it. He had been writing .to his lawyer to know if the detective had discovered anything. He was beginning to get impatient. He wanted to know which of the two men was his sister's son. He hoped Jack was ; the open, impetuous young man, so opposite in character to himself, was a favourite with the millionaire, and in his heart he knew it would be a real trouble if the other man proved to be his nephew ; still, if that was the case, he must follow him. It would not be right to pass over his sister's son and make a distant kinsman his heir. It would be unjust, and Thompson prided himself on being a just man ; but he would provide liberally for Jack if he proved to be the distant cousin. At that moment the door opened, and the man of whom he was thinking entered. "I have something that I want to say to you, uncle, and I didn't know whether to ask Giles to announce me or to beard you in your den, and I chose the latter," he said ; and there was a merry twinkle in his eye. The millionaire «miled grimly as he said :

"It wouldn't do for people to feel they could come here with impunity. It is in this room that I think over my affairs. My best investments of late years have been the result of weighing matters here, where I could not be disturbed. At the office I am liable to interruption." "Have you an office at the quarry as well as at the mine ?" asked Jack. (To be Continued).