Page 4 Advertisements Column 1

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVI, Issue 93, 23 April 1904, Page 4

Literature. ALMOST TOO LATE. (Continued). It was n month later, and they were still busy at the mill. The surrounding farmers had brought in their corn, and the great tireless Mils $t the old mill moved maj . «By round and round like 'great aerial monster. It was now mid-day, and the hands had gone to dinner. The two brothers were on the point of following their example when a messenger brought a note and handed it to Reuben. The latter glanced at the superscription and passed it on to his brother. " It's for you," he said, shortly. "Looks like Farmer Wood's hand—ittng." J irace tore open tha envelope, arc! ■ iut the letter enclosed. iar Horace," it ran. "Canyon oblige me by coming here without delay ? The matter is of (lie utmost iportance, or i should not ask it. Hl't stop for dinner .you can have me here. Please don't refuse.— Your sincere friund.

"JOHN WOOD." "I wonder what's in the wind?" mused Horace, as he passed the letter back to his brother for him to read. "However, I can't refuse, so here goes." He hastily changed his miller's cap (or an out-dobr one, thrust his arms into his co , a,t, and hurried off. Heutyen watched him as he went with great swinging strides across the meadow. '•' One fool hoodwinked," he muttered. " Well, half an hour's walk will cool his heels. Now I've got the mill to myself for a little while." and he smiled darkly to himself as ba uttered the last words. ii he turned to the |joy who had brought the note, and who still remained at hand. " Wait a minute, Davio," he said. •srf turning, went into the mill and up to the deserted desk. Taking a sheet of paper from the rack, he began to write, not in his usual hand, but in imitation of his brother's. "My darling Grace—Can ;0.. come to the mill at once ? I have something very important to tell you. Don't defcy an instant, but come. Yours always. -

•'HORACE.'-' .Finishing the note, he put it into •h envelope and directed it. " Take this to Miss Hazel at once," he said to the boy. " Don't bang about on the way, and don't Wait for an answer. As soon as you have tlelivered it, run oft home to dinner. I( you're qjiick, I'll give you a shilling." . The boy took the letter, and waiting to hear no more, darted off. When he had disappeared Reuben Howard returned to the mill. " It's lucky I've got the knack of copying handwriting," he said, with a mirthless laugh. "I fancy I shall bo able to persuade the lovely Grace Into taking me for a husband instead of that school boy brother of mine. If not, I'll use a novel argument." A sinister gjeani shone in his dark eyes, and ho paced restlessly to and fro on the floor. The past month had wrought some change in his face. It was not only morose, not only sullen now. It was diabolical. Had a brain specialist looked into those glittering dark ey have stated his opinio man was on the brink of madness. They shone with a lustre until now subdued, as though the fire that still burnt fiercely in his bre ' forth its flames to light the and mount, perchance, ever to his very brain. Slowly he biegan first to mount the stair of the mill to the store-room afoove, and then the long ladder that led up to the great iron v ' • revolving rods of the mo = Reaching the top, he put out his hand and slipped a strong iron tongue into the thick cogs of the main wheel. There was a sudden inland instantly the great mill stood still.

He descended to the road again. Not a soul was in sight, save for a fluttering white dress far across the second meadow. An ugly r " came into Reuben Howard's fa< he saw it. Turning, he looked upward at the great mill-sails. One had stopped almost directlv over the doorway of the mill. He 'propped n ladder against the wall, so that it reached tho end of the lower sail. Once more he glanced across the in tervening stretch of meadow. The fluttering white dress was nearer now. He watched it as it came ovei the stile and descended on the other i he disappeared into the mill, and, stationing himself behind the wide-open door, silently waited. A step on the roadway without, the gleam of a white dress through toe chink of the door, and Grace Hazel, with flushed cheeks and fasteomlng toreath, stepped into the mill. The heavy wooden door slammed to, and the two were alone in the grey old building-face to face with each other. " Good morning, Reuben." she said, timidly holding out her hand. ±"I have come to see Horace. He has sent for me. What is the matter?" A frightened look was slowlv coming into the blue eyes. Reuben saw it and laughed a dry mirthless laugh.

"Well, the truth is,'' lie said, edging towards the closed door of the mill, " the letter you received was not from Horace at all. but from me." " You !" Grace stared at him in dull surprise. " Yes, from me. All's fair in love and war, they say, so I've s.-nt the young idiot off on a wild goof*. chase, to give me an opportunity o talking with you. I needn't «•■'■"•' matters. You know w I wont— what I have wani. years, but have trees afraid I want you—you, Grace Hazel, i'oi my wife— and—and I mean to havi you." stood as if spellbound, staring blankly into the dark face of the map be/ore her. Presently She said : " Reuben don't you understand ' Hasn't Horace told you ? j thought " A flnol, „/ *l,« J....1. :.._ ... Stopped her. " All that goes for nothing," said Reuben positively. "Ho has stood ay all my life, but there is an end to all things, and the end has been reached now. I mean io marry you, Grace, and will brook neither this nor any other man's interference." A faint colour was coining into Grace Hazel's cheeks. "You don't seem to consider me." she said, a little defiantly. Bent-en fixed a look upon her that chilled her very soul. " Do you refuse to marry me?" he asked, and his voice sounded clear and hard. " I do." The answer was low, but quite distinct. Graco ttfok a step towards the door, but Reuben was between it and her. " Listen," he said, hoarsely, and the girl saw that he was trembling violently as though from strong excitement. "I will give you one more cha;ice. If you then refuse, I —I will kill you. Will you have

No, she said. "Lot mc out of this evil place." But the man heeded her not. With a. swift spring he had her in his amis, and she was on the floor of. the mill. Thrusting his hand into the pocket of his coat, he drew out a piece of stout cord. With this he bound her two wrists together, leaving the ends of the cord dangling some six or eight inches beyond the twisted knots. Then he lifted her in his arms and t towards the door. Opening* it, he looked oul. No. one was in sight. Up the bidder with his struggling, but helpless, burdc the end of the great sail. And there he bound her by the cord that held her white wrists, and, descending, looked up at her with a hideous grin on his dark, evil face. Cry after cry rang across the meadow, Hut not a *oul responded. It was the hour of the mid-day meal, and no one was abfoad. Beul/en looked up y& her as she hung, pale and trem-