Hugh Gretton's Secret.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8469, 22 June 1907, Page 2

Hugh Gretton's Secret.

By EIPPIE ADELAIDE /ROWLANDS. Author of fSelinrts Love Story," "A Splendid Heart," Barbara," "The Temptation of Mary ' Bar," "lite Interloper," etc., etc.

CHAPTER IV.—Continued. She belonged to Hannah Carleton, so they said; and, though every pulae in her body rebelled against thia kinship, she was forced to realize that that hard, cold-voiced English woman really possessed some power to order and control her life, against which she must struggle in vain. There was nothing to be gained by urging her claim to independence. Some bitter, horrible words Hannah Carleton'had 3aid to her in those ■early days of rebellion, after she had left the convent, came back frequently to Sigrid's memory. "You are the child of shame I" the N woman had said, almost fiercely. "Such as you have no right to live like other people. Look for no pleasure, no happiness, in your life. Be content ,that you are permitted to , hold a place in such a household as thin. It is far more than you have a right to exrjoct." ' There was still the hot pride, the eager indignation of the child, in Sigrid now, to riae up and refute the cruel words. She was utterly ignorant of all that had happened before she was born; she was never given the, story of her mother's life, that poor | young mother whom HannahCarleton ; maligned with.such a strange intens- j ' ityofhate. There was something] ■ vague, mysterious, suffocating in; her surroundings, and yet the girl's : heart would rise • sometimes above it, all and cry aloud, not for pleasure or j a life df golden content, but for justice, for warmth of heart, and for dl the sweet companionship of her convent home. The remembrance of the dear mother arid sisters had one wonderful power with her. If, she said to herself now and then, if these dear, '-, ■' good women ■ could so love her, so cherish and surround her with happiness, the shame of which Hannah' Carleton spoke so harshly could not be the lasting blight she feared, could not be permitted to crush all the youth and joy out of her.life. "I may never know the truth," Sigrid whispered to herself, as- she sat in her lonely cabin, lulled occasionally, by the rocking of the ship .into the forgetfulness of sleep; "but i this I will always pty and clsn S to "~ this knowledge that, however much I ' . may.be despised and slighted now, I' have been loved, I have been treated gently, I have been happy as a child of God, not slighted as a child of shame. I must try and be patient. This life may. last for a long time, •'•. but there will come an end when 1 ■•■: may be free* and * B then I will go back . to that dear homey to those dear wd- ;' men, and the rest will be peace." And, even while she made these vague plans and hopes in her mind, ~,„ . utte-iy unanticipated events were creeping closer and closer to her—events that were to change the whole tenor of her existence. / CHAPTER V, - A REMARKABLE RESEMBLANCE. Pine weather unexpectedly followed that ; couple of rough and , gray days. The sun shone, and at noontide the warmth was so genial that it was , hard, ta realize the month was Decem- .* ber, not June; a sort of oily smoothness fell upon the Vast expanse of water, and the Columbia's engines went to work at a rate that would be duly set-forth in the account of another record passage from Sandy Hook to Southampton. Lady Yelvertoun, completely recovered from her indisposition, emer- ./ ged frdffi\her.S.taterb6m each morning about eleven, andwith much fuss and . pomp was carefully placed in. her deck-chair— something much more luxurious than ordinary deck-chairs—-by the united efforts of Christine and Henry. . This stately beautiful lady, was / naturally the object of considerable curiosity and admiration to the rest of the passengers. Lady Althea Yel? vertoun had the knackjof commanding attention, for certainly she was a regal-looking creature, and her every movement was replete with a sort'of !. Imperious grace which was irresist- . ible. With the calm weather Miss Gretton was also able to leave her berth and get out on deck', which she did gratefully. She, of course, i had hastened to pay a hurried visit to her father as soon as she was able,to move; but, thanks to Sir John Bynge's care and her maid's tact, the girl had absolutely no „ir*l sense. of the danger that was . attached to her father's illness, and at Gretton's oft-repeated eager desire this truth was to ha kept from her as completely and as long as possible. ■;.,■. "I am a dying man, 1 know," Gretton had said to John Bynge, in one of their frequent conversations, and he said it quietly, almost with a faint smile, "but, as you said the other day, bad as I am, I may cling onjjfor a little longer yet; and I don't v want the child's life to be shadowed and spoiled with the dread, the expectancy, as it were, of approaching death. She has no suspicion of the ' truth, Bynge. I v/ould prefer that she be left in ignorance till—till • the end. comes; and you will help me in this, I know." John Bynge could not but acquiesce once- again to the sick man's request, ns he had done before, but he did not agree with it mentally. In his opinion Millicent Gretton should have been warned, gently v but most decidedly, of her father's true physical condition. It jarred him sharply to see the girl sitting beside Lady YelVertoun on deck, chatting and laughing 'brightly through the sunny mid-day hours, while Hugh Gretton lay in his darkened cabin, breathing away laboriously the already num-

bered moments of his life. Millicent had been told that her father had succumbed to the motion of the vessel, that he had been seized with faintness,. and that the doctor had required him to rest, auietly in his cabin instead of letting him struggle out on deck. And the girl had believed the story implicitly. She had been so really ill herself with mal-de mer, and was by physique prone fa delicacy and even to hypochondria, that, though she was far removed from being selfish in a general sense, in all that appertained to her health she was/a little inclined to think of herself before others. She was, moreover, well used to her father's attacks of indisposition, and Gretton had been so careful to keep the suggestion of danger from her, that it was after all only natural that Millicent should have grow more or less accustomed to his delicacy. As she had frequently told John Bynge, her father did his best to spoil her. The young man was perfectly well assured, however, that if the girl could have even imagined the tragedy that was being enacted so surely and slowly within that darkened state-room, she would never have left her father's side for an instant; but, knowing and imagining nothing, it was the most natural thing in the world that the girl should find pleasure in passing the otherwise' tedious hours o£ the voyage in chatting and making acquaintance with the beautiful Lady Yelvertoun, the friend of Sir John Bynge, who, Millicent was given to understand, was not only willing, but desirous of doing all that lay in her power for the well-dowered young Australian, as soon as they were arrived in London., "Introduce Millie to your friends," Hugh Gretton had of Bynge, when he heard that [bis daughter was well enough to leave her cabin, and was cdiriirlg to pay- him- a visit. "I look to you," the poor man had added, in that halting way that went through the young man?s heart like a physical pain—"l look to you to keep the child amused and happy. Itjjwould be as well tojlet'this lady become interested in as soon as, possible. Friendships made on board ship are frequently the strongest and the most lasting." Bynge took upon his shoulders the. share of the nursing that should by right have been th/e daughter's duty. He was an excellent nurse, so soft-handed, and yet so strong, and Gretton seemed to cling to him. "It is a sin to have you' boxed up in here, Bynge." he said, one morning, as the sound. of the merry convalescents' voices came floating in with the gleams of sunshine through the little window that opened on to the deck. "You must not let me be so selfish. Go out and have a good constitutional. I think I shall fall asleep for half-an-hour." But John Bynge was not to be moved so easily. "I walked miles round the deck before breakfast this morning," he said, in answer to this, "and now I prefer to stay with you. I have an article lam going to read to you. I know it will amuse you." The fact was that the nearer they steamed to England, the fainter grew Gretton's hold on life. John Bynge, remembering all'that he had promised the sick man, and full of nothing but regret and' deep anxiety for the daughter's approaching grief, had a sense of unrest upon him each time he left the cabin. Even at night he lay down in his clothes, and Dunning, the Gretton valet, had strict orders to call him should there be the least necessity. . He pondered deeply and frequently over the future and on this day, when hejjsat with a pile'of magazines on ; his lap, intent on reading to the invalid, he found himself discussing and questioning about that future almost unconsciously. | "You will tell all your wishes for Miss Gretton," he said eagerly. "If there are any plana you have made for her, I shall help you carry them out most faithfully." "I want her to be happy—to be cared for,"Gretton whispered back. "I—l doubt, Bynge, if I shall ever see your mother or sisters, but I feel, I know, they will be good to Millie." (To be Continued.)