Hugh Gretton's Secret.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8475, 29 June 1907, Page 2

Hugh Gretton's Secret.

By KFFIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS. A uthor of "Selina s- Love Story," "A Splendid Heart," "Brave Barbara"The Temptation of Mary Bar," "Ihe Interloperetc., etc.

CHAPTER VII. — J

CHAPTER Vlll. "SHE SHALL NOT BE LEFT ALONE IN THE WORLD!" Drylstone, the place that had be come John Bynge's home on his ac cession to the title, gave its name to the village as well as the house. The inhabitants of this small village, set in the heart of one of the prettiest of the western counties, had long ago christened the quaint, old fashioned house, standing a mile or so apart from the other dwellings, by the name of Big Drylstone, and "big" it certainly was, in a literal sense of the word. It would have been a hard matter for John Bynge to have kept up the property in the way he desired had he not inherited his Uncle General Bynge's fortune almost immediately after the title came to him. Things had gone very well with Drylstone folk since Sir John and his mother had come to live among them. He was soon liked and recognized as a man who was just and most warm-hearted. Many regrets had been given to Mrs Bynge over her son's long absence from his home. But no one grudged John his"years of travel, his mother least of all, for she knew better than any one how hard the boy had fought with his natural inclination in the beginning, and given up all thought of seeking life in other worlds because he held his duty to her and his sisters higher than his own desires. • There had been another son, an elder brother to Sir John, who had not given his mother one single hour of comfort, and whose death had been a grief made bitter with long years of yearning care and sorrow; but this child had been taken from Gertrude Bynge long before the good fortune destined to come to the family had dawned on the horizon of the future. Three unmarried girls remained at Big Drylstone to keep their mother company; a fourth daughter lived quite close at hand, as she had married the rector of the neighbouring town, whilst a fifth girl had said "good-by" to the family nest during Sir John's absence., and was travelling to far-off lands with her soldier husband. The excitement attached naturally to Sir John's return was tremendously increased when the news of all connected with his return became known. It was a dreary, chilly day when poor Hugh Gretton's coffin was carried undelr the leafless trees of Drylstone Churchyard, and laid to rest in a corner of the ground adjoining the large vault of the Bynge family; but cold and sad as the weather was, all the village turned out to see the funeral, and to catch a glimpse, if possible, of the strange young lady whose father was being buried, and who henceforth was to make her home at Big Drylitone. The curious were not gratified, however, for poor Millicent Gretton had wept herself into so weak and ill a condition that she was utterly unable to move hand or foot, and lay with her face to the wall while the burial service was being read solemnly over the body of what had been to her the best and kindest man in the world.

Out of the chaotic trouble and nervousness of the moment one thing alona was clear —that was to send a message to her loved childhood's home, and adk to be taken back to its sacred precincts once again. This she had done hurriedly, feverishly. Her message had been sent to that sister who from the first had given her special care and love. Sigrid would have addressed her request to the mother superior, but in the last news she had received from the convent she had been told of the ill-health of this aged, pious woman, and of her necessitated departure to another climate; therefore, fearing the worst, she had sent her telegram to Sister Therese. The fact that her last few letters had remained unanswered had not greatly troubled Sigrid. She had told her friends that an answer never reach her during her travels, and as none had come she had imagined no letters had been sent to her. • She had no clue as to the cause of the present delay. Telegrams were rare things at the convent, and it might be that, as her return could not be immediately arranged for, Sister Therese would write instead of sending back a telegraphic reply. The suspense, however, was harder than she could bear and John Bynge's quiet query as to what other plans she had made put her position before her in a new and undesirable light. When the tears came, she would have left him abruptly, but he would not let her. "We must do all we possibly can to help you," he said, in his simplest and most gentle way. He could not remember when he had felt so distressed, ,so physically hurt as in this moment of watching her grief. "I think you must go to my mother. She is my unfailing doctor for every sort of trouble, and she is so wise that somehow everything goes better when she handles it." The pain that came at sight of her tears was not easily dismissed. Such a breakdown in her proud bearing had a weighty significance to him. "You Would not care to join Lady Yelvertoun again." he suggested, as Sigrid controlled herself by degrees, and they turned to go back to the hotel. There was a wail in her voice as she answered this, and yet there was a note of strong determination. "Oh, no, no!" she said passionately. "I do not know what I shall do; but at least I will not go back to her. . Oh, no, I will never return to her." | "Then you will take your present trouble to my mother," John Bynge quietly said. "We will wait till tomorrow comes. If then you are still without an answer from the convent, you must put the whole matter before my mother. We shall not leave here till late in the day, and I hope you will let her advise and help you, as 1 know she can do better than anybody in the world. I have such faith, you see, in my mother," the young man, added, as the hotel entrance was reached, and he stretched but his hand. "I don't know what I should have done if some happy chance had not brought her here to-day. She is taking care of that poor girl. I tremble to think what would have happened if Miss Gretton had not had such care just now."

It was a relief to the tension that had affected Sir John and his mother ever since the moment of their meeting when the last rite was performed. Sir John's duties were not over; he had to prove the will, a document which had been sent to the London lawyers only a few weeks before Hugh Gretton had sailed for England. There was no disorder in the dead man's affairs. "He must have evidently been prepared for the end," one of the lawyers had said to Bynge, "for he has made the fullest arrangements. The man-servant tells me of some paper or papers left to you. May I ask, Sir John, if they are anything in the nature of a codicil?" John Bynge, for answer, produced the paper in question. It was merely a written declaration of his wish concerning his—Bynge's—guardianship of Millicent Gretton. It had been dictated to Dunning, and was signed by the valet as a witness. '*There are no other relations?" was a further. question put to Sir John, who could only reply that he knew of none, and had never heard Mr Gretton speak of any connections of any sort or kind. (To be continued.)

Sigrid put her hand into his willingly. Something of her old stateliness had come to her again. Nevertheless, she looked inexpressibly pretty, pathetic, and delicate as she stood for a few seconds in the strong lamplight. "I am very selfish," she said, in a low voice. "What is my little trouble compare to Miss Gretton's? I am so sorry for her. I have thought of her all day, and wished I could do something for her." "I will tell her this when I see her,"' John Bynge answered. He held her hand almost unconsciously. "If you did not look so tired," he said, "1 would take you to my mother now; but rest, I am sure, is the best thing for you, you look so very tired. I wonder if you have had proper food to-day." Sigrid coloured up hotly; this sort of kindness was a new experience to her. His whole manner, so infinitely quiet and matter of fact, without a suggestion of that admiration to which she had grown accustomed, gave her a sensation of comfort and reliance that was very sweet. She felt she was parting from a friend, as she drew her hand away from his and said "Good night." The tone of his concern about her trouble and his offer of assistance rang in her ears with the sincerity nf a thoughfulness which was not individualised merely for her. This man was of the claS3 who must be kind and helpful to all who needed help, she told herself, as she toiled up the many stairs to her little room on the top floor. It was good to meet with such as he, and if by the morrow she should still find herself in need of counsel, she would not hesitato to go to him and his mother, and ask them for this necessary help. "1 am sure he will be glad to do anything for me," she said to herself. "From w<**t Miss Gretton's maid tells me, K& must be used to doing kind things, and to be happy in helping silly, weak, lonely people like me!" It could not possibly have been comprehended by Sigrid, could she have been told of it, the eager gladness that filled John Bynge's heart when he thought of her and realized he might be allowed to have place, even so little place, in her young, shadowed life.