CHAPTER XLIX.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 367, 11 May 1889, Page 6

CHAPTER XLIX.

' TO ERR IS HUMAN", TO FORGIVE DIVINE.' Two days after that they were at Brabazon Hall. Dulcie — feeling somewhat fatigued after their hasty journey — was sitting all alone

in a cosy little room eet apart for her special use. She was looking blankly out at the fair panorama stretching, in the distance, thinking how terribly things had changed during the last few months. Could it be possible that she, who now felt so old, so dull, afid so inert, was the samo Dulcie who, only a short whilo ago, went fishing with Bob to the brook, and sat dangling her feet over the brink, laughing, jesting, quarrelling, like the veriest chid ? It seemed impossible. And as she sat there, gazing on the old familiar scenes, they were fraught with such exquisitely keen reminiscences of him she loved so dearly, that, bowing down her head, she wepl&cald ing tears of huge self-pity. What a hideous nightmare her existence wasJ She never heard the door open or perceived that she was riot alone in the room, only becoming aware of the fact when she iound herself pressed with demonstrative effusion to a portly, palpitating bosom, and felt sundry moist kisses imprinted upon her cheek. Then, with sudden anger, she drew back from Mrs Shepperton'ss embraces, and said : 4 May I ask to what cause I am indebted for the honour of this vibit?' Thelady i husconfronted turned ashen pale, whilst her heart stood still, paralysed with fear— fear not of doing wrong, but of discovery. ' Wnafc do you mean, child ?' she faltered with difficulty. That word 'child' unloosed the vials of Duloie's wrath, fanning them into an active Ham c 'Child !' she echoed, indignantly. ' Don'b call me any chiJd of yours. I wonder, indeed, how you dare employ such a term »fter the way in which you have imposed upon my credulity. 1 ' I— imposed upon you ?' said the wretched woman, endeavouring to feign complete ignorance. * Yes, it is useless denying your guilt, for I know how you have tricked and betrayed me !' and her eyes flashed fire. ' Dulcie, listen to the excuses I can make.' . , ' No, 1 refuse to listen to any excuses.' ' Oh,Dulcie,'said Mrs Shepperton, trembling from head to foot, • have mercy !' Hhe laughed— a 'cold, pitiless laugh, full of misery and 'vengeance. ' Yes, I will show you mercy. You sha receive precisely the. same amount you di : played towards me when' my heart was breaking. You threatened to" disown me ; now I recall your cwn words, and tell you that I cast you oil for ever. When we meet I shall look you stiaight in the face, and pass you like the veriest stranger— l shall take no uotice of your presence — and if we happen to come across each other at the house of a friend, I shall — cut you dead !' laying a cold, determined emphasis on the woide. ' There !' she continued, imperatively, lifting her iorefinger and pointing it towards the door with a queenly gesture of command. ' You know whab you have to expects Now go, and never venture to show your face inside this room again.' As J\lrs Shepperton listen-id to these terrible words she felt overwhelmed. ' Dulcie, Dulcie !' she cried, clamping her hands together, ' you ,are very cruel, and ought not to speak to me in this dreadful way. It is not right from a young woman to an old one.' ' Do you suppose I am unheedful of thab fact ?' She stood over her mother, her whole face white Irom intensity of suffering, and her delicate features quivering with deep-rooted emotion.

( To be. Continued. )