THE LADY IN BLACK.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8434, 4 May 1907, Page 2

THE LADY IN BLACK.

By FLORENCE WARDEN. Author of t( An Infamous Fran I." "A Terrible Family,'' "For Love of Jack," "The House on the Marsh," etc., etc.

, CHAPTER VIII.-Continued. "You decided that I Was to go. I didn't. Ana"—instinctively she dropped her voicu—"and something that happened last night—in the night, nig.de me decide not to go. There!" "±iut my dear " "No, Dale, I am not to be 'got round.' You've chosen to take me upon jour shoulders, so now you must just keep me. Ha, ha! You dicln't know I had so much determination, did you?" But Mrs Dale could scarcely speak. Now, for tho first time that morning, Mabin realized that the scene of the night had really taken place, for emotion aroused jy this little bit of talk had brought back into Mrs Dale's blue eyes a faint reproduction of the wild terror she had shown when she name to the girl's room. When she had recovered her voice, the lady in black, pale hoarse, shaken with her agitation, stammered out these words: "My dear girl, it is beautiful of you to offer to stay. But- I cannot let you. You ought never to have come. I was mad, wicked, to let you come; and my madnpss and my wickedness I must bear alone." How strange these words seemed in the broad daylight, Mabin thought! By the weak glimmer of the nightlight Mrs Dale's wild, looks had words had seemed fantastic and weird. But the broad sunlight seemed to give the nameless horror which hung about the poor little lady in black a reality as vivid as it was painful. But with this feeling there came also into the heart of the young girl a great tenderness towards the suffering woman, who was haunted by the shadow of her own past. So she smiled and with a pretty, half-shy look in her eyes, said: "You told me I saved you from going mad. So I mean to stay. And I mean to sleep in the same room with you, so that you shall not be frightened any more." Mrs Dale shook her head. "I can't let you do that," said she. "I don't sleep very wellj and sometimes I start up and cry out. I should frighten you." "Then we will exchange rooms," said Mabin. By the look of joy and relief which flashed over Mrs Dale's face at this suggestion, Mabin saw that she had conquered. "But won't you be afraid?" asked the widow, in a troubled voice. "What! Of ghosts, a vision? Or of having bad dreams? No, not a bit." Mrs Dale glanced gratefully at the young face, with its look of robust scorn of phantoms. "It is a temptation," she murmured. "For, after all, I know, now, that it was only a dream, a horrible dream. And there is no fear that the dream will come to you." "And if it did," retorted Mabin stoutly, "it wouldn't frighten me. I'm too matter-of-fact; I have no imagination." Mrs Dale smiled sadly. "You are right," she said. "If you did have the same dream, it would have no terrors for you. Your conscience is clear." • "And my digestion good,", added Mabin lightly, and she picked up the fallen flowers and put them in her . basket. There was no doubt that her refusal to go had taken a load of melancholy from the shoulders of her hostess who sent the young girl out for a walk as scon as the gathering of the ilowers was over, and charged her not to go far enough to tire her. still weak ankle. Mabin, with a book and a sunshade sauntered slowly down the hill to the nearest gap in the cliff, and went down the steep descent to the sands. This was no paradise of nurse-maids and babies, but a solitary nook beloved by quiet maiden ladies and sentimental couples. With a'rash disregard of the danger of sitting under a chalk cliff, Mabin found a seat on a rock worn smooth by the sea, opened her book, and began—not to read. The circumstances in which she found herself were far too interesting for her to be able to give herself up to the milder excitements of fiction. She sat with her open book in her lap and her eyes staring out at the sea, which was vividly blue in the strong sunshine, when she became suddenly conscious of a footstep she knew in her immediate neighbourhood. Although she affected to be surprised Rudolph appeared before her, she had known that he was approaching, and her heart began to beat very fast. He looked down at her between the spines of her sunshade, pretending to be afraid to gpeak to her. . "Good morning," said she, at last. "I was wondering whether I dared .say the same thing!" "Dared?" "Yes. After your treatment of me last night I felt nervous." "My treatment of you? What treatment?" "Why were you so unkind? Or mustn't I ask why?" "You may ask, of course. But I can't give you any answer.^ because I didn't know that I was unkind." "I wish I could believe that." "Well, if you won't believe it, I have nothing to say." 1 Rudolph was silent a few minutes. Then, with a burst of explosive energy he made up his mind. "No!" he cried, so loudly that Mabin started, and threw himself down on the sand beside her, "I will not be daunted. I will encase myself in double snub-proof armourplates, and I will try to teach her that to be dignified it is not necessary to be unkind—and—yes, I will say it —absolutely rude." Mabin became crimson, and the

tears started to her eyes. She had not meant to be rude, but undoubtedly her behaviour had laid her open to this accusation. [,"I a:n stupid, clumsy; I am rue without meaning it," she said, in a tone of such excessive humility ar.d penitence that it was impossible to doubt h'jr sincerity. "I am very sorry. But you shouldn't take any i notice of what Ido or say. Nobody does at home. When I am more awkward and tiresome than always say 'Oh, it' 6 only Ma'bin!' And, then, nobody minds." " All, well, I can't quite feel like that —that's it's only Mabin. When o;ie likes a person, and wants to be good friends, very good friends, with that person, just as one used to be when that person and oneself were little things in short frocks and knickerbockers, it is very disheartening to find that person so determined to b3—er—to be —er—so reserved ! that when one sits beside that person, as I did last night, you know, I she will only let one see so much of her right ear as to practically | turn her back to one!" "I didn't!" , "You did, though. And it is what you were doing again just now until tha horror of hearing the truth made you .turn round to fly at me! You did turn your back upon me last night. Miss Rose, and you hurt my feelings." I "Indeed, you did not seem to be I hurt. You seemed to be enjoying yourself very much!" ' "Well, so I was —in a way. But I should have enjoyed myself much more if you had been as nice as you , were in the garden. " I Mabin heaved a deep sigh, i "It's no use expecting me to be nice," she said in a vioce of despair. "I can only manage it very sel dom." | "Well, could you hot hold out some signal, buch ao by wearing a particular flower, or colour, or some special knot of ribbon, to let one know when one may speak to you without being snubbed?" "No, I couldn't." retorted Mabin with great fierceness, but with a twinkle of fun in her gray eyes, which gave greater hopes than her ; words did. "It is of no use for me to ; promise more than I can perform. You had much better look upon me as a decidedly) disagreeable person, ! with rare moments of proper bej haviour." "Proper behaviour, then, means niceness? I'm glad you think it proper to be nice to me!" said Rudolph. "I perceive that I've lighted upon one of the 'rare, moments' and I'm going to advantage of it," he added, as he came a little nearer to her, and looked up in her face with a glance of amusement and admiration, which made her blush a little. "I'm going to make you talk to me, to amuse me, as you were told to do last night." "No! It was you who were told to amuse me!" "Was it? Well, we'll take it in turn then. Do you remember how I taught you cricket?" "Yes—oh, yes." "And what a rage j'ou used to be in when you were caught out?" "Yea," answered Mabin, "I remember; but I don't want to talk about cricket. -I want to tell you something. Mrs Dale has a fancy that 'The Towers' is haunted." And she related the adventure of the previous night, and her intention of changing rooms with her hostess. Rudolph listened gravely, and them was a pause when she had finishes before he made any comment. Then he said abruptly: "You are not nervous, are you, Mabin? I know you used to have no end of pluck." "Well, I haven't any less than I ever had." "Well, if you do change rooms, you must be prepared to see the ghost yourself." "You make me feel rather —rather creepy! What do you really think I shall see?" ' "A face at the window, probably. The face of the spy from your house. What else can she have seen?" Mabin considered a moment. "I'll risk it!" she cried at last. "I shan't go to bed at all. I shall sit up and watch." "I wish you would. We should find out something if you had the strength of mind to do that." Not without a wild beating of the heart, Mabin undertook the task of holding the strange night-watch, without saying a word to Mrs Dale of her intention. "She thinks she only had a dreadful dream, you know," said Mabin. "Well," replied Rudolph, "I want to know what sort of dream you will have." (To be Continued).