A Tardy Wooing.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIX, Issue 8134, 8 May 1906, Page 2

A Tardy Wooing.

CHAPTER XVlll.—Continued.

"Mamma is getting well rapidly, she assured all enquirers. "Sbo on keeps her room because she is vei muah afraid of bringing on a n lapse by coming downstairs tc soon." Everyone believed this ; and eve Linda, who, as a rule, was keener sighted than her cousin, had comet the oonolusiou that Lady Dartison' principal ailments were peevisbnea and a relucfcanoe to exert herself. So she did not hesitate to leav her to the care of Wynnie, while i a room hastily fitted as a studio sb worked assiduously at the portrait c her beautiful cousin which was a( knowledged by all who saw it to fc the best portrait of Cyrilla that ha yet been painted. )p Wynnie acoepted the charge thruE upon her without a murmur, for i: Lady Dartison was often bard t please, bewailing herself, and be having like a fretful child, then "were other times when she woul( humbly beg to be forgiven aud ao oept with gratitude the ministration of her young attendant. "You are a good little soul. Mist Moyle, aud kinder to me than mj own child," she would of ten ' say "When I wake in the night moauinj with pain, it is you who come to me not Cyrilla. Don't leave me whil I am ill; if you weren't here 1 woul( be left to that giddy French woman and I'd rather be pat in a hospital I would indeed, What good is Jas per's money doing me if I'm shut ui an one room and nobody comes nigt me?" Then her pitying auditor woulc persuade her to wipe away her teari and divert her thoughts by desorib ing the progress of the picture o i which she was never tired of hearing or read aloud to her, a tolerablj easy task, aa Lady Dartison did not care whether It was from a book oi a newspaper. The sound of the soft, melodious voice, lulled her, and il the reader got into difficulties with long words, or sometimes paused to puzzle out the meaning of a difficult sentence, her ladyhip seldom deteoted it. But ere long she became SO attached to Wynnie as to raise a great outcry when Linda claimed ber ns her as her companion in a journey to Oxford Street. The young artist wanted some colours and brushes, and chose to select them herself but did not care to go alone. ' "You can't have Miss Moyle," said the invalid; "she's the only oreatjure in the house that fixes my pillows as*l like them. "lou'd be two or three hours gone; what am I to do all that time? Can't Cyrilla 4a with you, my dear?" "Nonsense, mamma," interposed Cyrilla, with het oastomary decision; "this poor Miss Moyle looks quite haggard with being shut in so muoh. You really must have a little mercy on her. "I don't think you will ever look haggard through paying me too muoh Jattention," was the querilous response, "but if it's for Miss Moyle's good I won't hinder her. She's a dear good girl to me, and a pattern to all daughters. Find me my purse Cyrilla; I shall give her the money to buy herself something pretty. I'm tired of seeing her in this dark stuff gown; she shall have a new one." Wynnie would have given offense by her blushing refusals to accept the gold proffered by the shaking hand of the invalid, if Linda had not interposed, and begged to be entrusted with the spending of it. "Silly child," she said, as soon as they bad left the sick-room, is not th« labourer always worthy his hire? You have been indefati gable in your attentions to my aunt; -shy should she not requite you tor them as far as money can do so?" "I came here to be with you," was the reply;' "1 do not choose to be under obligations to Miss Dartison." Linda stared at this outburst, uttered, with flaming cheeks and flashing eyes. "That was an odd speech. Has Cyrilla, with her domineering ways, contrived to affront you? Pooh! you will have worse to bear than the pettish remarks of a spoiled beauty; besides, this money is not her gift, but ber mother's, and I shall carry out my aunt's wishes." Wynnie said no more, for ahe •was not insensiole to the pleasure of having a new dress, a3d employed herself 1 , as they steamed into London, in speculating 'as to the colour Linda would choose for her, and whether Pauline would assist her in making it. But the dress was forgotten in the delight of driving through London in a hansom, and learning from her amused companion the names of the principle buildings tboy passed. Never had Linda been so cheerful or so obliging. She even went a little out cf her way that Wynnie might have a glimpse of Oxford Street as it is about four o'clock on a sunny autumn afternoon. At the shop of the artists' colour man the cab was dismissed, and the articles Linda required were quickly selected. Then, to gratify ber companion, to whom everything she beheld was new and interesting, they walked leisurely as far as Regent Circus. At no great distance from that busy spot, there was a dry goods store, wbioh Linda remembered her mother always patronised, and there she proposed to make ber purchases. With breathless delight Wynnie was following her friend toward the store, prepared to gaze at and admire everything she beheld, when Linda suddenly reooiled, and, grasping the girl's arm, dragged her back with her. "Gomel" she gasped. "Come quiokly! This way! .This way!" , Still retreating, and still clutch* ing the hand of her astonished companion she darted across the street, and then oast a terrified glance over her shoulder. ' > I The next moment she had roleased |

By Charles WV Hathaway. Author of "Marjorie's Sweetheart," "A Long Martyr- ' clom," "A Hash Vow," "Joseph Dane's Diplomacy," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XIX. AN UNHAPPY MARRIAGE. Wynnie saw Mr Outram start, recoil in astonishment, and then come quickly forward to question the dying man. Her own heart began to throb painfully, and she prepare! to listen to the revelations with which she herself was so olosely concerned ; but the lips that had uttered them would never speak coherently again. A voilent convulsion ensued, after which be sank into a stupor that lasted with few intervals until, shortly before the dawn of another day, bo expired. Seeing the sufferer's condition, Harold Outram curbed his curiosity and went on his errand, returning presently, but not with Linda's mother. She had slipped in coming down stairs a few days previously, injuring her ankle so much that, she was confined to her room. It was ner jevere looking eldest daughter who came and stood at the foot of the sofa on which they bad laid Linda's husband, too muoh horrified by his condition to be of any uae. (To be Continued).

Wynnie, and stood quietlj on the pavement, murmuring: "It was too late; he has seen me; there i 8 no escaping him!" Her fade had faded to the gray hue of despair, and, following the direction of her eyes, Wynnie saw that a m«n was hurrying across the crowded thoroughfare in pursuit. There was triumphant malice depioted on bis features; his hands wore extended to seize the uubappy Linda,and in his impetuous haste he was deaf to the warnings shouted by the drivers of a couple of omnibuses loaded with occupants on their way home from the city. I He wa3 not only deaf, but blind to his danger. A policeman signed to him to pause, but to no purpose. He rushed madly on to his fate, and before the drivers could pull up, or anyone interfere to prevent the catastrophe, tbe miserable mac was under the feet of the horses. Bv this time Wynnie felt sure that she recognised in him the person who had aooompanied Chris Kennett to the little country oburoh where sbe was married, and whom she had seen once since at Mrs Ayden's. She knew that Linda feared us ixiuob as her relatives appeared to like him, but she knew no more and, sickening with horror she clasped her arms around her companion, and would have led her out of the sound of the shrieks of terrified women, and the buzz of the crowd, gathering round the mangled jjform that was raised by half a dozen of the throng, and borne towards a drug store not far off; but her efforts were passively resisted. "Let us go back to Gbistleburst!" Wynnie implored, the rigid, ghastly aspect of Linda frightening her as much as the shocking accident they had just witnessed. "And leave him! Not now! Not now! He is my husband! Heaven forgive him, as I must!" The people made way for her as soon as they heard her white lips utter the words, "He is my husband!" and, olosely followed by the horror-stricken girl, who, however, did not dream of leaving her, she entered the room to which the injured man had been conveyed. Some were already advocating bis removal to a hospital, but the doctor, who was quickly in attendance, 3hook his head and pronounced it impossible.

The druggist was a humane man, and when he had put a question or , two to Wynnie and ascertained that the young wife was a niece of Sir Jasper Dartison's he cleared the room of all intruders. By his advice Wynnie telegraphed to Sir Jasper, briefly stating what had detained them. A doctor was summoned and , made a few suggestions that might lesson pain-—it was all he could do; and, promising to call agiain in an hour or two, he went away, leaving the two pallil, shivering young oreatures alone with the half-sensi-ble sufferer. It was like a hideous dream from which there was no awaking and every time the dying man moaned Wynnie shuddered t aa violently as Linda, whose agony of sorrow was all the more terrible to witness because it was so bravely repressed. Once be opened his eyes, and seeing who knelt beside him, a spasm distorted his still handsome features. , He put out his hand and Linda winced as if dreading a blow. He saw the gesture, and a look of mingled shame and remorse passed across his face and softened it. "I have been a scoundrel to you" he muttered. "It is your turn now. I am at your mercy not you at mine." He neither moved nor spoke again, except to ask for water, Sill a little bustle outside the door made Wynnie turn to it thankfully. Doubtless Sir Jasper and perhaps Cyrilla had come to their assistance. How glad of it she would be, for the end waa evidently drawing nigh. j Linda looked more fain'; and pale l every moment, and they were among strangers. She knew not whether to rejoice j or be sorry when the door opened j noiseleasly to' admit Harold Outrani. j Cyrilla was in the carriage outside j and begged her cousin to come to ' her directly; but when Hirold saw the state of affairs he did not deliver the message. Rapidly deciding that tha best thing to do would be to fetch Linda's mother, he was retreating as softly as he had entered, when the eyes of the dying man softly opeDed and became riveted upon him. "I know you," saia the feeble voioe; "You are Harold Outram. 1 I was one of the witnesses of your marriage. Has the ring been found?"