THE GREATEST HEIRESS.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 60, 21 September 1907, Page 4

THE GREATEST HEIRESS.

'"Well," said the girl coldly, "here I am. What is it you have to say to me!" Kdward llanlan rose from liis chair, tossed his cigar into the lire, and looked his cousin in the face as he answered slowly: "My dear Betty, I ask you to reconsider your previous reply to my pro|K»»al—to accept me as your future husband." "Cousin Xed, don't be absurd. I've told you tiiree times we can never lie anything but friends. 1 want to be friends-—" 'Since I spoke last circumstances have changed. 1 am going to give you a good reason for accepting me." Miss Oulton sat down with an air of amusement— assumcd,f»r she was afraid of Kdward, and without reason, as she often told herself. "I must go back six months," lie began.

"You needn't. I haven't forgotten that six months ago I was only an obscure tea shop girl, with no prospect of ever being anything else; then you came and discovered me and told mc I was Lord Oulton's granddaughter, and heiress not only to the estate** but the title. But that's no reason why I should marry you if i don't love you—and I don't." "Six months ago you were only an obscure tea shop girl; well, it rests with me whether you remain the prospective marchioness and the richest heiress in England—to quote the society press — or go back to your tea shop." "What do you mean!" "That you are au impostor. You are not George Oulton's daughter; you are a child he adopted when his own infant daughter died." Betty stared open-eyed, slowly absorbing the meaning of the words she heard, then she uttered a stilled cry and covered her face momentarily with her hands; dropping them, she thing up-her chin defiantly.

"Your story is preposterous. lam Lord Oulton's dranddaughter." "I have sure proof to the contrary. Come, be reasonable. Would I advance a story 1 could not substantiate." '"Do it, then," she commanded, and Mr Hanlan olieyed, taking up a position on the hearth rug and addressing the girl in his best forensic manner, for he was a rising barrister. "When I traced you to the tea shop you were Bettina Moore, the daughter, as was supposed, of George Moore, long a bookseller in dotting Hill, and his wife, Kathleen, both deceased. You learned for the first time George Moore really was Lord George Oultoir, the youngest son of the Marquis of Fontingham. He bad in his youthful days quarrelled with his father, dropped name and title, and gone out into the world, determined to live and die a commoner. "He married an Irish girl, Kathleen O'Shea by name, and a daughter was born to them. Mrs Moore was ill after the birth of the infant, and her husband took her down to Brighton. A servant; Jane Oakley by name, accompanied them. While there the child, then two months old, suddenly died in a fit. The mother was too ill to know the truth, and, fearing for her reason when she learned her child was dead, Mr Moore procured a child of poor parents —bought her of them —and substituted her for his own daughter. Mr Mo>re never knew of the deception, she died five years later, and her husband continued to keep the child and brought her up as his own daughter." "He was my father," cried Betty, mutinously. "Doubtless he loved you as one, but the facts are as I have stated. Jane Oakley is dead, but I have the statement she made to her husliand, a man named Seanian, before her death, written at her dictation and signed by her. The landlady of the Brighton lodging house is alive and remembers the whole story. You are an impostor—innocently. Y'ou are not Miss Bettina Oulton, but Bettina Moore—for that name, at least, as you were christened by it,! you are entitled to !>ear. Permit me i to remind you that you are in face unlike any of the (Hilton-.. The marquis almost refused to acknowledge you for that reason." Bettv had listened defiant, nnconrin-

eed, but as he paused on making this last point, all at once a wave of doubt assailed her, and she shrank hack : n the big arm chair, silenced, frightened, beaten. There was no fight left in he"; she felt this story, however unexpected and annoying, was true. "But there's no need to publish the secret to the world," pursued Kdward. ""Seanlan and the woman at Brighton, the only two who know it, can be silenced." The girl leaned forward, her big gray eyes dilating.

•If you'll marry- me, Hetty " ".No!" She .sprang to her feet. '"Xo—a thousand times no! I would rather go back to the tea shop. Besides, it" you must know, Arthur asked me to marry him this morning; we are going to announce it at the ball to-morrow night." "What!" Edward was clearly taken aback. "So that has been arranged after all! Well, Betty, I dont know what your feelings towards Arthur are, but it's obviously a marriage of convenience with him. He was the heir till you were discovered. By marrying you "he gets all back except the title." "I know; and now he'll get. all back

without marrying me; for, of course, I shall release him. But perhaps he wont accept his freedom." Something in the girl's face and tone revealed to the man the secret she had guarded so zealously. •Why, you love him!" he exclaimed. "I do/'" cried the girl, with crimson checks, half ashamed, half glorying in the confession. "I think I've been in love with him from the first clay we met. 1 think there's no one like him in the world."

"Hut docs he think the same of you? He didn't ask you to marry him as the future Mart[nis of Foutlngham, but as Arthur Oullon, the clever but poor poli-

tician. He proposed to the richest heiress in England—not to an objure nobody. The marquis wanted the marriage. He's been urging him to propose to you, so have all his friends; it was such a beautifully simple way out of the difficulty. I "dare say he'll settle a small annuity on you if you tell him the truth, but he'll do no more."

"I must tell him, of course." '•Don't do anything so mad. Think of your present position—future marchioness, and third biggest income in England. Eet us keep the secret. The price of niv silence will be the Surrey estates, made over to me when the old marquis dies. I will guarantee to keep Scanlaii ard th- woman in Brighton quirt. Don't

ft-ar 1 will rai-e the question of marriage between us again. As your suitor. I withdraw." •'I shall be deceiving Arthur—keeping him out if his rights." | "You rub him of nothing but the title.', and that he didn't want: it would have! taken Inn out of the House of Com-! iiM.n-. lie will have th" money—Mfl a wife; and if von moan to make him a good' wife 1 ilon't rfe he's anything to grumble at." l!,;ty «azed round the luxuriously finnished" rooms, the library at Fontinghini Ou-tle.and her lingers touched the -uprrb neck etc she wore. The old marquis, whom till then -he thought her gr.il dfather, had given her permission to wear this heirloom, wortli a king's rin-oni. It wa- hard to give it all up. -he told her-elf, and yet in her heart , t h<-arts -he knew she meant it was h-r:'l to ri-k 10-ing Arthur. As she 1 -ii iter; they heard the sound of a fr halting before the main entrance k'- Arthur." die cried, "lu-t t'l'om the political meeting. 1 can't see him to-n ; "ht. Sav I've gone to lied with a

headache." -.\n.| your answer?" asked Mr Haitian, as he opened the door.

-V,.u -hall have it to-morrow." 1! tty reached her room.got rid of her -.■ aid for the night, and dry eyed audi ril-.'iablc lav on the bed staring at the ~]]■„., aad thinking of the last -iv . -..---- i..l month-. She an impostor, the iionv of i;! She. for -ix months the ■ ■!!'..! and Mattered heiress, over whose .romantic hi-tory the newspapers gushed. Sh» had never dreamt her eccentric lather wa- anything but what he npre- ; .iitcd him-'f to Ik-, a humble hook- - Her. and when he died almost penni- : i,... -h- naturally had to earn her own living, and became a tea shop girt.

And now she was lying in bed wondering what she. should do. Hold her tongue, pay Edward to keep nili'uee, marry Arthur, and live happily ever after! Was happiness possible while masquerading in a title to which she had no right, and allowing her husband to spend his own money under the impression that it was hers 7 On the other hand, tell Arthur and lose him. He had nothing more than a tolerant liking for her; the manner of his proposal left no doubt on that point. He was in love with Lady Maud Tintcrn; Sybil had told her so. He was marrying her because he was ambitious. Politics absorbed him; a rich wife would help him in his career. "But I would make him a good wife—at least, I would try to," she told herself. "I wonder if it would be wicked to hold mv tongue. Oh, how hard it is to do right!" She fell asleep at last, worn out with thinking, and awoke uurefreshed and tired.

iShc found Edward again sitting over the lire with a cij»«ir, in modern iln.«, too, for hi" did not moan to dance. Again Ii« rose, and, tossing aside lii.-s cigar, placed a chair for her. "Have you decided?" lie queried.

At tli.it moment the opposite door opened and Arthur OiiHon entered. He was dressed as a cavalier, a costume which became liis handsome face and liguro well. His eyes lit u]i as they encountered hers. "Betty." lie cried, "here you are then: 1 haven't seen you all (lav. ]tv dove! I'.nw regal you look!""

In liis presence, at the sound of bis voice, the question the girl had been debating nil decided itself. Arthur must know. The burden of the secret was more than she could bear. There would he no happiness for her unless he knew the truth. "Arthur," she said, and the firmness of her voice surprised herself. "Edward has made a new discovery about me, one which deeply concerns you." Bhe turned to Mv llanlan. "Tell him."

So tmexpeet ed was hor speech that Ilanlan reeled under it, and went white, to the lips, lie had never doubted Hetty would aeeede to his terms; she herself he had lost, but the fat rent roll of the Surrey estates would lie his, and, after all, there were other women in the world. Ily her decision he had lost everything. "1 will leave Betty to tell it," lie said at last, breaking a lon« drawn silence, and with one look of baffled hate bestowed impartially upon them both, lie stumbled out of the room.

Arthur watched his departure with puzzled eyes. "What's un with Ned?" he demanded. "He doesn't look happy. Has he been proposing again.?" "Yes; hut a different kind of proposal, Arthur; you will not have to marry me to reign here. Your interloping cousin, no longer a relative, is going to vanish into t!ie obscurity out of which she came."

"My dear child, what arc you talking aliout?"

"I've just discovered that I'm an impostor. A female Arthur Orion. I'm not an Oulton; not your cousin; not the future marchioness!"

"What makes you imagine that?" In a few brief sentences she told the story Edward Hanlan had narrated the. previous night. Arthur listened in silence. "Do you care for me?" he asked, with seeming irrevelance, when she concluded.

The girl raised her hand proudly. "I care too well to act a lie to you for the rest of my life." He came closer and drew her to him. "You love me, and 1 never gu»ss"d it. I thought you were only making a marriage of convenience. Hut,touching this story; have you investigated it?" Betty shook her head. "[ have," was the unexpected reply. "That rascal Seanlan came to me with that same story directly you were heard of. Said i was still the'rightful heir, and if I would promise him £20,(1(10 he would prove it. I promised. Then he tild the tale, and I believed it; but, to assure myself I went down to Brighton, and I found " I "Y'ou found?"

"The whole story was a fraud—there was no death, no substitution, and the documents were clumsv forgeries. When I taxed the scoundrel" he frankly confessed it. and had the impudence to suggest that, more artistically presented, the story might have deceived the world and' he earn the money. I told him to go to the deuce, and he seems to have gone to my dear cousin and either deceived him or got him to conspire, probably the latter." "Then—l am an Oulton ? My father

"Was your father. Y'ou, and you alone, are he'r to the title and estates. Betty, you've been brave and frank. I'll lie the same. I love you. I wouldn't confers it liefore. even to myself; but 1 do. If I were King Cophetna and von the beggar maid " "I'm something better," said Miss Oulton, softly. "I'm the happiest girl in the world."