A Tardy Wooing.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8152, 31 May 1906, Page 2

A Tardy Wooing.

By Charles W. Hathaway. Author of t( Mavjorie's Siveetheart"A Long Martyrdom," A Rash Vow," t( Joseph Dane's Diplomacy," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXXlV.—Continued.

There was more eooru than ans?er Id the glance Harold gave hor, but she would uot bog it. With swift steps she led the way to Wynnie's chamber and tauntingly bade the girl come forth. But no response was given; the chamber wrb empty. "Sbo haa carried off her ill-gotten gains!" raved Oyrillu. "Olive the police arrived? Bid them follow and brine her bock i" "Stay!" and Mr Outram cut his hand on the bell she was about to pull furiously. "Of . what do you accuse Miss Mnvle?" "Of robbery; some of my lace handkerchiefs are missing, a bracelet. a " But here Pauline interposed. After a violent squabblo with her mistres3 a few days ago, she had received notice of dismissal, and, having already secured another situa'.ion rejoiced in an opportunity of speaKing her mind to mademoiselle before she departed. "It is one gross fabrication!" she declared; "a wnat you English call a lie. Miss Moyle is as honest a? myself; and it ia J who have kept the keys of your wardtobe. mam'selle; it is my charaoter jou impeach when you say there are articles misßing from it. 1 was here when Miss Moyle went away. It was I who packed the small travelling bag she carried with her; the rest of her clothes she has left in my care, and 1 can vouoh for it that she took nothing that waa not h<£§stlv her own." "Leave m impertinent huzzy!" cried ber mlsirsseBut ere the sauoy Pauline stirred to obey, Harold Outram was gone, and aa he went he cast n look at Oyrilla she could not misunderstand. It was hiß farewell. He could not wed he woman whose letters to another she had destroyed in his presence, tacitly avowing by the act that Chris Kennett spoke truly when he declared that she had paid him with her bissses for the gold he lent to her father.

CHAPTER XXXV.

MR. LEYLAND'S STRANGE REVELATION.

Business suddenly oalled Harold to the Towers; business of such importance to one of the oldest tGU&ata oil fbs «st ß te 'hat for M. father's flake, po&tyv™ 3 ?>>! parture from England* He regretted the delay, for he was feverishly impatient to get away from the ooontry that held Oynllo. Sbe had mortified, she had disappointed him to suoh an extent, that, although aware she Lad left him nothing to regret in the rapture of their engagement, he was not yet able to congratulate himself thht it was at an end. When be did return to London he found a pile of notes and circulars awaiting him. One of the former was addressed in a bold, irregular} handwriting of Linda Shirley, and, fearing that it containded an attempt tn reconcile him with, her cousin, he was laying it aside unread when he happened to glance at the postmark. Mrs Shirley was no longer at Ohislehurst; she had returned to the house of her artist friend. Onrious to know/ why, he opened it, and was both surprised and indignant at its contents. "Dear Mr Outram," it began, "I am very anixous about my poor, little friend, Wynnie Moyle. I have had no tiddings from her sinoe she was driven from Sir Jasper's by a most unjust accusation. She is so young and inexperienced, so friendless and beautiful, that I am most miserable whenever I think of the perils she may be encountering. "Cyrilla insists that you must know where she iaas gone. 1 find it difficult-—very difficult —to believe this; buf. if she ia right, and you can tell me where Miss Moyle is to be found, I entreat you to let me know, that I may go to her immediately." This note was answered ia person. As Boon as Harold had swallowed a hasty breakfast, he mounted his horse and rode to Mrs Shirley's present abode. He found Linda painting away at a group of children clustered around a lovely female figure of Charity. The face, with its aureole of fair hair, the eye<3 full of ineffable tenderness and compassion, was that of Wynnie Moyle; ani, even as he greeted Mrs Shirley, he was gazing at it with admiration. "You bring me news?" she questioned, eagery. He shook his head; he had not seeo Miss Moylle since he quitted town. "You have kept me in suspense for eight daysi" she cried, reproachfully ; but her face cleared when Harold accounted for his seeming ne> gleet. "Cyrilla left Chislehuret yesterday for Vienna," Linda said. "She hads gone with her friend, Mrs Maolnnes, and my poor uncle, Sir Jasper, is alone. He has so pitifully entreated me to go back to him that I suppose 1 shall have to comply; but I hate the plaoe now that Wynnie is no longer there." "Why does not Miss Moyle write and relieve your anxiety?" "Posssibly because she is afraid her letter might fall into the hands of Cyrilla. My cousin aspersed this -innocent girl so shamefully that 1 refused to remain with her unless she withdrew all she said to Wynnie's dißoredit. She declined to do tnis, so here I am." "And Chris Kennett? Is he still at the vi'laf" "Ah, no; ho had a relapse after the attempt to leave his room, and while he was iu a state of semi stuuor Cyrilla had hini re-

moved to the cottage of an elderly couple in the village, who faithfully promised to nuise him with oare. But the medical man who ia attending him has crave doubts of his ever recovering; the shock to his system haa been too severe." Harold mused a while, then rut to Linda a query that surprised her: "Do you think I could obtain from him the information you so muoh wish to have —I mean respecting Miss Moyle?" "No, Ido not, indeed. It is not at all likely thut she would confide her plans to a person she detested." "Do not misunderstand me," said Harold, gently. "That Miss Moyle both disliked and feared the fellow, 1 am aware; for it wa» she who warned me to beware of him, and declared that he was inclined to do me an ill turn whenever he had an opportunity. But as he seemed to keep a close watch upon the actions of everyone in and about Sir Jasper's, he may be able to guess with whom she would have been most likely to seek an asylum." "Wynnie knew no one i" Loudon but ourselves.," Linda assured him. "Then it is uot probable that she has taken refuge wi* h her relatives?" ' "If sne ha 3 any—but no, she has not; for I remember ner telling me that she was washed ashore in her childhood, lashed to some of the wreckage of a large vessel." "By whom was she reared?" "I don't know. She was very reticent concerning her childhood; but the little she did say gave me' the impression that she bad been unkindly treated and her education shamefuy neglected." "In what part of the country had she resided?" was Harold's next question. ".Really, I cannot tell. She came to us in charge of a couple of deli cate'little boys whose parents were in India. The children idolized hei. As for me," and Linda's eyes tilled with tears, "1 tnisß her more than I oan express; she had so endeared herself to me by ber sweet disposition and unselfishness." "lnen you have never credited the tale that Miss Moyle was dishonest?" "Mr Outram, I could as easily sußpect ■—you!" was the impulsive reply. "And yet Oyrilla—Miss Dartison —assured me that she saw a valued ring of mine, whioh 1 nad lost in some unaccountable manner, in the hands of Miss Moyle. .1 have thought over this very often, and would give much to know whether t*ie statement truej" " But Linda answered promptly that, if Wynnie had the Bai<l ring, she was quite sura gllS Would be able to account for it. "Only find her for me, Mr Outram, and you shall ask her what guestiond you please. 1 pledge myself that she will answer Jhem truthfully." "I have alwiays heard it asserted that friendship between two fair women is an impossibility," he told her gayly. "For the future I shall cite you and Miss Moyle as examples to the oontrary.' "But you have not told me what steps you are going to take." "I shall go from hero to Ohislehurst, and see if there is anything to be gleaned 'from Kennett, If there is not I will call on my cousin Eustaoe and ask him to help and advise me." Linda's colour came and went, and her voioe was hoarse and low as she said: (To Be Continued.)