THE LADY IN BLACK

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8433, 3 May 1907, Page 2

THE LADY IN BLACK

By FLORENCE WARDEN. » Author of "An Infamous Fraud," **A T< t rible Ft >u. "For Love of Jack," "7 he House on , > • the Marsh," etc., etc.

CHAPTER Vll.—Continued. And Mabin, Jwondering what had happened to take the prettiness out of tlie room and the pleasure out of her acquaintance with Mrs Dale, fell asleep with her heart heavy and ftill of nameless grief. She woke with a start, to find a white figure standing motionless in the middle of the room. Mabin sprang up in bed and rubbed her eyes. Was she awake? Or was she only dreaming that the body of a dead woman, stilt', rigid, but in an upright position, was standing like a marble statue between the bed and the nearest widow? She leaped out of bed, and, not without JJuncanny fears, touched the statuesque figure. "Mrs Dale!" she almost shrieked, as the great eyes suddenly turned and fixed a blank, wild gsize upon her face. "Oh, what has happened? What is thejmatter?" The figure, which, in white night garments, had looked so unlike the black-robed widow that she had not retognised it, trembled ([from head to foot. The lips parted, but at first no word escaped them. At last, with a strong effort, she uttered these words: "Let me stay here. Let me sit in this arm-chair till morning. Oh, I will not hurt you, or frighten yo,u. But if Igo back I mad! This house W haunted, haunted! I have seen-; —" A ftoarse rattle in her throat seized her, threatened to choke her. With one wild glance around, peering into the corners of the room, she flung herself on the floor, and buried her face in the chair.

CHAPTER VIII.

A HAUNTED HOUSE.

Mabin was taken so thoroughly by surprise, on seeing the wild selfabandonment of her unhappy companion, that for a few minutes she stood staringjjat the crouching figure on like one only^half-awake. Was' this really Mrs Dale,, this haggard, panting creature, with the hoarse voice, the twitching hands, the wide eyes full of unspeakable terror? Mabin's sympathy was ready, but at first she did not dare to offer it. Such terrible anguish, such paralyzing fear, as that from which the miserable woman was suffering, was something surely beyond her poor powers of comfort! Even as the girljadvanced timidly a step nearer to her grief-stricken friend there flashed into her mind the horrible question: What must this secret be which was locked in the widow's

breast, that could throw her into such paroxysms of abject terror? For, not unnaturally, Mabin came to the i conclusion that the vision which had alarmed Mrs Dale was one of the results of the remorse from which she owned that she wasjsuffering. "Don't! Don't sob like that! Y§u willjmake yourself ill; you will, indeed. There is nothing, there is nobody here to frighten you," said the girl at last, drawing a little closer to the crouching figure, but not yet daring to touch her, or to ' apeak in a tone louder than a whisj per. , At the first sound of her voice, Mrs Dale had started, and raised her head quickly, turning to the girl's view |a face so much altered, so drawn, Jso old-looking, that she hardly recognized the features' of the lovely widow. Then, when the voice Ceased, she glanced round the room, again, with the same hunted, anxious look as before. , nobody to frighten me!" ! she repeated, in a shaking voice. "No, of course not, of course not. How silly I have been! lam afraid I frightened you, dear—with my dreams, my silly fancies!" | She struggled, as if worn out and exhausted by her emotion, to gain her feet. Timidly, gently, Mabin helped her to rise. "I'm very glad I was here," answered Mabin, in kindly ftones that sent a shiver of recognition through her agitated companion. "Do youjfeel better now?" "Yes—oh, yes, l am all right. I am not ill. lam so much ashamed of myself for disturbing you. I don't know how to apologise," answered Mrs Dale, trying bravely to speak in her usual tone, but glancing at the door and then back to the windows as she uttered the words: "It must have been a dream, of course, that frightened me." And then quite suddenly she broke down again and slipping from the supporting arm of her young companion she threw herself into the wicker armchair, and burst into a passion of tears. / J Uncertain what to'do, Mabin, in her sympathy and kindness, did exactly the right thing. She drew another chair beside the wicker one, sat down in it, and putting her right arm around Mrs Dale's shoulder, and holding,the poor lady's trembling fingers in her own, remained in perfect silence until the first ebullition of

violent grief away. "I shall never forget your kindhefla, child, never," said Mrs Dale, when, as suddenly as it had begun, her passion of tears ended. "You have saved me from goingjmad—yes, mad. I—l must leave you now, or you won't get any rest." She rose as she spoke; but Mabin saw that the panic of terror which had been upon her at her entrance was ragaining its hold upon her as she approached the door. With her fingersjon the handle she stopped, and Itemed once more to grow rigid with t'sar. | Mabin was by her side in an instant. "Stay here," she said. "You will have the dream again, perhaps, if you go away by yourself."

At these worda a >• ran through Mrs Dale, and su vlteved. "It must have been t gloomy room!" she said at last .■ a whisper. "And the .effect o * • r vi.-rit! But it will kill me cnnes again!" Sud-i ;nl t v .'ha tu •••.I to Mabin. "May I lie on tho sofa until the morning?" she piteously asked. "I won't distUib you. i fen if I thould be tax'e lu.tn •. i;i here with you." The wistful pleading her eyes brought the tears to Matin's. "Of course, yon mus stay," she cried heartily. "And I i*; m;ue you will get to sleep, and not havo any more dreams." Very quietly Mrs Dale lay down on the coach between ilie .vwklows and, drawing the sofa Uanket over her, and refusing any otl.ev covering, she closed her eyes. MaUhi knew that this apparent' traivi'i.iity was only assumed, and £?he plared herself on the bed in such a position that she could watch her friend, while pretending to be herself asleep. Before many minutes had passed she saw, from between half-closed eyelashes, that Mrs Dale was sitting up, and bending her head in a listening attitude. Presently the slender figure with its white dressing-gown slipped softly off the sofa, and hurried on tiptoe across the floor to the door. There it knelt down and listened again. After a few minutes Mrs Dale turned the key in the lock and crept back, not to the couch, but to the armchair.

Mabin shut her eyes and tried to disentangle the knot of strange ideas that filled her brain: What was the nature of the secret which weighed on the conscience of Mrs Dale? Why was she kept in luxury by the very ■ woman who tried to make her life unbearable, to cut her off from every human friend? What was the strange tie between the hard, elderly woman and the impulsive, volatile young onu? What was the' Vision which had caused her so much distress? And, above all, why, if it was "only a vision, did she try to keep it away by locking the door?

And why—and why More questions surged up into her tired brain; but Mabin forgot them as they rose. She fell asleep. When she awoke in the morning it was to find that some one was knocking at the door, and then she heard the housemaid's voice announcing that it was eight o'clock. She sprang up, and. looked toward the sofa, but there was no one but herself in the room. .

Surely, she thought, the strange visit of the night must have been a dream? The rug on the sofa was neatly folded, just as it had been when . she came up to bed last night. Not a sign was to be seen of any intrusion during the night.

Even when she went down-stairs and met Mrs Dale in the hall there was little to tell of the experience of the hours of darkness. Perhaps the pretty v/idow looked a little paler than usual, but in every other respect she was the same airy, impulsive creature, now smiling, now looking sad, as she bad been before the dreadful visit of the lady whom irreverent Mabin called "the cat." It was not indeed until breakfast was over and they had gone out into the garden to cut some flowers while the dew was on them, that either of the ladies made any reference to the events of the night. Mrs Dale, with one daintily shod foot in a flower-bed, was stretching out, her hands toward a bush of sweet peas, when, without turning »he* head, she said:

"I am in great trouble about you, Mabin."

"Are you? Why, Mrs Dale?" "I don't quite know what to do with you. If I send you to Mrs Bonnington, I shall have to tell some about the drains clogged, or the roof having given way, and she will be sure to find me out and to pry, and to give both of us what the old women call'much unpleasantness.' And if I sendjyoujto Geneva, I don't know whether they will be glad to see you when you arrive."

"And I'm sure they won't," said Mabin heartily. "And there is one other objection to sending me anywhere, and that is that I won't go." Mrs Dale dropped her sweet peas and turned around. Her eyes were full of sudden tears.

"Nonsense, child!" she said sharply, but in a querulous tone which betrayed her emotion. "Nonsense! It was decided yesterday afternoon that you to go. You know it was." (To be Continued.)