A Tardy Wooing.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8153, 1 June 1906, Page 2

A Tardy Wooing.

By Charles W. Hathaway. Author of (t Marjorie's Sweetheart," "A Long MartyrA Hash Vow" Joseph Dane's Diplomacyetc., etc.

CHAPTER XXXV.—Contnued. "Apropos of Mr Leyland, there is a report afloat that he will shortly lead Misa Dartison to the altar, la it correct?" "I hope noU" Harold muttered under hiß breath, and with hasty adieus th«y parted. Chris Konnetfc was evidently sinking when Mr Outrara visited him, and the interview was a very unsatisfactory one; for he had just learned that Cyrilla had gone abroad and raved at her cruelty at deserting one who had loved her so long and truly.

► Harold looked pale and harassed when he lett him, and was glad to enter the nearest hotel and ask or some soda water and brandy. The small, close room—the ghastly looks of the dying man—and his revelations of Oyrilla's treachery had combined to bring back the old Haobbiug headache in all i's intensity. He has thrown himself into a chair, and was resting his head on his arms he had folded behind it, before he discovered that he was not alone. A gentleman wassitting by the window, writing e<g bußily that he had not looked up at Har old's entrance, but, when he did, he started up with a cry of recogni* tioti.

The young men shook hands, and the'b a kind of constraint appeared in Mr Leyland's manner. He twisted his pen in his fingera and stared at the fire for some minutes ere he blurted out:

"li you are carrying the olive branch to the villa, you are too late: Miss Dartison has letf England." "So I heard this morning from Mrs Shirley," •'Any yet you are here," exclaimed Mr Leyle.nd. v "And you also, my cousin," Harold reminded him.

"True; but my visit has been to Sir Jasper, who has put some busiaess into my hands that necessitated seeing him." "And my visit has been to a siak man. You look incredulous, but I am no longer a claimant for the honour of Miss Dartison's hand; so if you ' propose following her "

"1!" exclaimed the young lawyer, "for what purpose? To ask her to be my wife? I would rather grind all my days away in the direst poverty that wed with ft fiend."

"Eustace 1" * "Yes; this is strong language to use with regard to a young and handsome woman, but 1 cannot retract it. Do you know that after your—dispute shall I say?—she sent for me, and proposed—but 1 hardly know how to go on." "I have no desire to pry into Miss Dartison's secrets 1" "Nay! I am under no oledge of secrecy; and it is to you I am bound by every tie of kinship and gratitude. Oryilla Dartison urged mo to take stops to prove that you are of unsound mind and hare the charge of your property vested in me." "Do I. hear you rightly?" "1 swear that this was her meaning and that if I carried out the plan successfully my reward was to, be her hand. She assured me that she could bring proofs of your having on more than one occasion betrayed symptoms of a disordered brain." "csat this is horrible 1" exclaimed Harold agitatedly. "1 know my inability to explain . how I was hurt after I left Paris often perplexed her but how could she draw such deductions mere* lapse of memory? Do you think me mad?"

(To Be Concluded.)

Eustace Leyland's laugh was reassuring, but Mr Outram continued to look grave and puzzled. "I would gjve much," he said, "to penetrate the mystery that hangs over those lost days. Where did I pass them if not at (Jollison's, and how did 1 receive those injuries to my head?" "Pshaw! Don't worry about it. You well enough now both iu mind and body. I shall be sorry 1 repeated Cyrilla's vile proposals to you if you let your thoughts dwell upon them." "I must go bnck to town, for Mrs Shirley will be expecting me."

"Indeed 1" and Eustace regarded his kinsman oddly.

"Yes; I came here to try and learn what has become ,of her little friend, Miss Moyle."

"Then I ehall be able to forestall you, for I have learned of the young lady's whereabouts this morning." "From herself?"

"No; she is at a very quiet little watering place in Sussex, called Riverhill, with Mrs Pembury and b~iv chicks, who have been taken there to reoruit their health after an ugly attaek of scarlet fever." Harold Oatram did not immediately reply; when he did speak, it was to say *

"Will you carry these tidings to Mrs Shirley?"

"With pleasure; and yon?" "I am going to Riverhill to find a lost ring." And, but for the simile that played around his lips, Eustace Leyland would have been inclined to think that be had, indeed, taken leave of his senses.

CHAPTER XXXIV. THE WOOING BESIDE THE SEA. Wynnie had not fled from Sir without knowing whither Bhe oould turn her steps, for not an hour previously she had received a note from Mrs Pem.bury, to the effect that both her little girls were seriously ill, and she was almost worn out with the fatigue of nursing them. *

Wynnile had already meditated offering her services to the half-dis-traoted mother, and now she did not hesitate to hasteu to her. If she left Linda in kuorance of her plana it was solely because she would not embroil her with Miss Dartison.

By Mrs Pembury suoh an efficient helpmate waß received with open arms, and, though frankly apprised that the young girl had been branded as a thief she took no heed of the charge brought by Cyrilla Dartison. tier children loved the gentle young creature, who—fearless of contagion—nursed them as tenderly and patiently as their weary mother, and never relaxed her cares till they were out of dangeiv But when there were sufficiently convalescent to be removed to the seaside, Wynnie took conusel* with Mrs Pembury respecting her own future. She was heavy-hearted, and fancied she should be more content If she could go abroad. In anoher land it migbt be easier to forget all that troubled her here. Though keenly alive to her many deficiencies, she also knew that in many a hqusehold such attentions tu an invalid, or aid to an overwrought mother, as she could gave, would be valuable, and searched the columns of ! the daily papers in the hope of seeing advertisements that seemed to favour her plan. But here Mrs Pembury interfered.

"You have been like a daughter to mejjjand a sister to my children. Yo are so dear to us that we cannot spare you; so eay no more, for, unless you are unhappy here, you certainly shall tot leave us," "But, if you knew all my strange, sad history, I fear you would not keep me with you." Mrs Pembury looked a little uneasy, till a glance into Wynnie's candid eyes reassuied her, and she kissed the girl's flushed cheek. "Am 1 such a severe judge of the faulty? Tell me this history of yours, and let there be no seorets between as." , Wynaile [blushed-—hesitated—but finally knelt beside her friend and poured into her attentive ears the story of her llife; withholding nothing, not even the details of that, strange marriage, of which she had never before spoken, ecxepfc .to Eustace Leyland.

Mrs Pembury was so startled, so confounded, that she pegged for time for consideration. Not till she had studied Wynnie's position in all its bearings would she attempt to advise her. So by mutual consent the subjeot was to be tabooed aB l<?ng;as the little girls required constant attention; but it was a consolation to Wynnie to find that her confess-, ion of being a waif, cast up by the sea, and a flower girl in the streets of a seaport town, had not lessened Mrs Pemburys affection for her. She was kindly treated, as fully trusted, as she deserved to be. The little girls were rapidly regaining health and strength, when Harold Outran) came sauntering along the sands one morning. He had always been a favourite with his little cousins; and, when he gravely arnounced that he was not well, and had come to be nursed by mamma and Miss Moyle, they hailed the tidings with shouts of delight. Mrs Pemoury regarded him oddly; but, when she observed his sunken eyes and the hollows at his temples, she made room for him beside her on the boulder on which she had carried her work, and told him be had acted wisely in coming to ber, and she would do her best to effect his cure.