A Tardy Wooing.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIX, Issue 8130, 2 May 1906, Page 2

A Tardy Wooing.

CHAPTER XI.H. -Continued. "Oh, foolish Wynnie, harden •your heart against all such thoughts, and listen to me. While you are useful we shall keep you here; not for your sake, remember, but for our own. 1 shall suggest it, and though 1 am not sunposed capable of having a voice in the domestic affairs, why, as I shall offer to 'pay •half your wages, my mother and sisters will agree to the arrangement." In ner gratitude Wynnie would have kissed the band that lighty rested on her shoulder, but it was snatched away. 'Don't I tell you that it is solely to pleaae myselfr—solely because it isjauob an immense relief to have Home one in the house who neither dreads nor shuns me. Besides, you have a face that has not been educated to deceive; if you were to go over to the enemy it would be tray you against yonr will. "Come to my room some evening," Linda'oommanded before she departed. "You must have decent clothes if yon are to be an inmate of such a respectable establishment aa the Misses Aydens', say can find some of my own that will lit you." . , ._ - .. She must have carried her point, for two or three days afterwards the elder of the preceptresses informed Wynnie that, as she appeared disposed to make herself useful, she and Miss Betba would retain her in their service for the present, always supposing—-this was an afterthought—her references proved satisfactory. That evening Wynnie wai summoned to the upper story, and }uite a pile of useful clothing plfibed before her. She clasped her hands, and her eyes danced with joy at the sight. To wear the pretty dark dresses that Linda had taken the trouble to atler for her, and the daintily made and trimmed undergarments, whch looked as if they had formed part of a trousseau, transported the girl who had never known what it was to be clad neatly and well. "Are all these mine?' she asked, bcarcely venturing to touch thea. "My own, my very own,? 1 can hardly believe it I I must be the luckiest girl in the world!" But in an instant her voice changed, and her delight vanished. "I forgot; I mustn't take them. Miss Ayden said she should not keep me unless I could prove that my character is good; and who would speak a word in my favour but those I dare not aptly to lest they should insist un my going back to them?" "Take my gifts as f-eely as they are bestowed," responded Linda, imperiously. "If they will trust him, they shall also trust you. If any more questions are put to you by my mother or sisters, refer them to me." Wynnie, speechless with ecstasy, fcegan io colleot her new wardrobe to carry it away, but desisted to kneel down beßide the donor, and, wrapping her arms around her, gave her an ecstatic hug. "1 cannot find words to thank you. What makes you so good, so generous to me?" "I don't know. Now go away, you are hindering me!" but as Linda pushed the girl from her a tear fell on Wynnie'a upturned face, and she knew that even while ahe was repulsed she was beloved.

CHAPTER XIV. ' A CHANCE FOK LINDA. As the days, passed Wynnie contrived to find ways of proving her gratitude to her eccentric friend. Linda waa no longer permitted to dwell in the seclusion that made her hard and nnwomanly. Her mother and sisters continued to testify their mingled dread and displeasure of ber strange habits and stranger speeches, never approaching the upper story un less it were absolutely necessary. By them she was treated as an outoast as one who had sinned against them too deeply to be forgiven until she had humbled heiself to the dust.

But Wynnie viewed her with other «yes, and pitied her for the sorrow that she could not always conceal under bitter sarcasms and a pretence of indifference. When the little boys were snugly laid in bed LinsJa would be roused from her melancholy broodinga by the tap at the sliding panel and humble entreaty for admittance that announced the coming of Wynnie. At first, she tried to resent this as presumption, and, refusing to open her door, would harshly bid the girl depart, protesting that she preferred to be alone; yet, as soon as she heard the sigh of disappointment with which Wynnie would turn away, she would find in it an excuse for recalling her. Then Linda's own sorrows would be forgotten in replying to the questions Dot to her with timid eagerness, for Wynnie had awakened to the fact of her lamentable ignorance, and was thirsting for knowledge. She devoured the lesson books that came in her way, and, while assisting the little' boys to learn their simple tasks, went so far beyond them that she would become bewildered, and humbly go >to her friend for assistance.

Sometimes she was laughed at, and told that the more she learned the more unhappy she would be, and asked why she was not content to stay as she was? yet, in the end, the aid she asked was never refusfid. While Linda imparted her knowledge, she would explain and advise, her pupil listening breathlessly, and often ■surprising her by the rapidity with which her meaning was compre-

By Charles W. Hathaway. thovof " Marjorie's Sweetheart," "A Long Martyrdom," " A Hash Vow,'f li Joseph Dane's Diplomacy," etc., etc.

bended. '•Are yon any the happier for knowing that England is an island, or that the rule you learned yesterday ia called division?" Linda would ask, satirically. "Perhaps you are like Longfellow's blacksmith, and do not think you have earned you night's repose till you have something attempted, something done." "Did a blacksmith say that? How clever of him! He was right was he not? Don't your evenings always pass more plesantly when you have attempted to teach me, and j done another of your pictures?" "In working one sometimes forgets," Linda admitted, with a sigh. "But you are happy. You have nothing to forget." "Nothing that T. wish to forget, but some few things I should like to be able to understand." And Wynnie, her fingers touching the hiddeu ring in herbosom, thought of Harold Out*am of the strange marriage iu whioh she had played so im portaut a part, and longed to know if he had recovered his health, and with it his memory. If so, did he ever think of her—bis bride? "You talk," said Linda, impatiently, "as if you also had a history or a secret—a terribel, miserable secret—one that you long to tell to some kind soul who would help you bear the burden of it. Ah, be thankful if you have not!" And then both were silent, for it had never entered the thoughts of Wynnie to confide in one so wild, eo'passionate; nor did Linda dream that in the inexperienced girl she was befriending she would have found the safest of confidantes, an perhaps the beat of advisers. "You are muddling those poor brains of yours!" she exclaimed, wnen she looked round again, and found Wynnie still gazing thought fully on vacancy. "You have learned enough for once. Away with you." "But you, will you not put your brushes down and rest too?" Wynnie pleaded. "You have worked so very hard this evening." "Yes, I had a fancy to try and improve that portrait of my cousin, and 1 tnink I have succeeded. It looks more like her than it did, but I shall never do thorough justice to her beauty. She is coming here tomorrow, and she shall give me a Bitting. Uncle Jasper would pay a ! handsome sum for a good likeness ! of his daughtor; a handsome sum, even to me!" Linda mov«d aside from her easel as she spoke, to enable Wynnie to I see the picture at whioh she had been painting so assiduously. Ah! there was no longer any doubt of it. The haughty belle, who, in her eyes, was still the perfection cf womanhood—the beauty who had rewarded her so magnificentlySmiled aVher fiom the canvas! "She is more lovely than ever!" was the rapturous exclamation that greeted the ear of Linda. "Tell me her name; I have so often wished I could learn it."

"My cousin is Miss Cyrilla Darti son, the daughter of Sir Jasper and Lady Dartison. Is it possible that you know her?" The question startled Wynnie. She had learnei enough worldly wisdom during her residence with the Aydons to be aware that if they, discovered her antecedents they would be horrified. Not all her commendable oouduct since she had dwelt under their roof would atone for the fact that, up to the time of her journey to London, she had lived with suoh disreputable people as the Marbys, and sold flowers in the sreets. •

So her answer was evasive, though not absolutely untruthful: "1 have seen the young lady, but only once. She had caught ber bracelet iu the lace of ber sunshade, and 1 saw it and ran to help ber. It was at the wharf gates——" Bat Linda was not listening. An improvement to her painting had just suggested itself, and she was studying bow to effect it. Not sorry to escape being more closely questioned, Wynnie went away, strangely excited -by the thought that on the morrow she might catch a glimpse of the superb-ly-beautiful woman who had once treated her with such kindness, but little dreaming how closely her own fate waa interwoven with Gyrilla Dnrtieon ; s.

Toward the hour at which the visitor was expected Linda grew restless, and, opening her panel, watched for Wynnie till she came uo from the kitchen, loaded with piuafores, etc., she had been ironing for the little Anglo-Indianß. "Go to my mother, and tell her it is my wish that you should admit Miss Dartison, and accompany her to my room. 1 du not choose that she should be cautioned against me." Wyunie, who bad no desire to be brought prominently before the young lady, would have remonstrated, bat as usual she could not obtain a hearing.

"Do a? 1 bid you! Go and find Mrs Ayden, and repeat to her what J have said word for word. Cyrilla's visit is to me—so says her note of yesterday; and I will not have her ears poisoned before we meet." There was nothing to be done but obey; and although Mrs Ayden put a(j her hands, murmuring "Poor, misguided obild, will stie never learn to conquer that unhappy temper of hers," the messenger was told to carry out Miss Lioda's wishes. (To be Continued).