Hugh Gretton's Secret.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8484, 11 July 1907, Page 2

Hugh Gretton's Secret.

By EFFIE ADELAIDE liOWI«AWI>S. Author of "Selina's Love Story," "A Splendid Heart," "Brave Barbara," "The Temptation of Mary Bar," (t lhe Interloperetc., etc.

CHAPTER XIV.— Continued. Mrs Harlowe put out her thin white hand; it moved aimlessly toward him, and touched him again sharply with a pane of pity for her helnlessness. He took the hand in his own big, strong one"I am a fool, you know, Aunt. Philippa." he said ruefully. Mrs'Harlowe smiled. "A fool is better than a rogue. But you are no fool—you are iny dear helpful boy." There ,vas a little silence between them, which he broke. "Don't mind speaking right out, Aunt Philippa, "he said, half doggedly; "I've swallowed the worst partnow I am ready to take ail the rest. I suppose "he paused, and his strong fingers moved more closely over the invalid's hand —"I suppose there is some one els?. Is that what you meant?" Mrs Harlowe shook her head. "No, Ido not mean that. Of course, I cannot pretend to know Sig rid's heart, but my intuition seems to tell me she does not love—yet." Lord Yelvertoun pondered. he said, after a long pause—"l see ; you mean she feels herself in a false position." "Shs has been made to feel many bitter and disheartening things during these past three years; I wonder the girl's nature is as beautiful is. The circumstances of her life since she left the convent have been the hardest that could possibly have befallen a proud, sensitive creature like she is." "By Jove! yes," the young man said. He relinquished the hand he held, and, rising, went back to the fire. "And what a rummy thing to think she should have come to your house when Aunt Althea deserted her in that disgraceful way. I used to hear odds and ends about the niece of old Hannah's that was travelling about with Aunt Althea, but, of course, I never could have imagined this niece was a girl like Sigrid. By Jove! Aunt Philippa, it doesn't seem possible does it, that Sigrid can be a relation of grumpy, common old Hannah? It seems to me much like a mystery altogether. What do you think, dear?" Mrs Harlowe smiled her faint, sweet smile. "1 don't think I can offer an opinion, Nigel. At least"—she amended her words slowly—"at least, not until have get more grip of the subject than I have now and " Lord Yelvertoun came across to her in great excitement. "You are taking it up, then? You are making investigations? Yes, I see you are. Oh! won't you trust me, dearest? You know I'd give ali I have to help to put this girl's life right. lam not mean in this, either," the young man said valiantly. "Even if she never looks at me a second time, I'd like to know that the mystery about her was cleared up, and that she was in her proper place. So do tell me, Aunt Philippa. Look here! I'll swear any " "Hush!" Mrs Harlowe put her hand up, and [it rested on his eager lips. "No swearing, if you please." She felt he was genuinely moved and she was moved, too, to confide in him. She knew he would treasure her confidence. "I have begun to make some inquiries, dear child." she said, "and I have got as far as one very, very remarkable piece of evidence. Whoever fate to be Sigrid's mother, that mother was never Hannah Carlton's sister, for " "For what? Oh! what, Aunt Philippa?" "For Hannah's sister died quite five years before little Sigrid came into the world. Hush!" Mrs Harlowe's last word died away warningly. There was a sound at the door; Sigrid had returned from her walk with the maid, and the confidence between Lord Yelvertoun and his aunt was at an end for the moment.

CHAPTER XV. LORD YELVERTOUN'S WRONG IMPRESSION. It must not be thought that Sigrid had accepted the position in which she found herself without a running accompaniment of doubt, hesitation, perplexity, and some sorrow. She was happy in Mrs Harlowe's house; so happy, indeed, that the time seemed to have been set back and the soft gentle influence of her childlife to have come again. She was content at first to accept this beautiful peace, and knowing that she gave comfort, even happiness, to the woman who had befriended her so much, she made no haste to cut herself adrift from the place she was filling. She never deceived herself, however. She determined at once that this place was hers only temporarily, and she only waited for time and opportunity to put the matter before Mrs Harlowe. It was that visit of John Bynge's which suddenly and unexpectedly brought a rush of uneasy thought, an element of restlessness, into the calm of the moment. It would have besn hard for Sigrid to have defined the exact impression that this meeting with Sir John left upon her. In one flash, as it were, she felt herself drawn nearer to him, nearer than she had ever been drawn to any living creature, and simultaneously she had felt as if some enormous barrier had risen between them. The infinite beauty of sympathy, of suggestive possibilities, that the man's eyes, so e'oquent in that unspoken declaration, had brought before her as some wonderful picture, made the reality of her future harder than it'had ever been,

She was in a strange mood for many hours after John Bynge had gone away. Her heart was haunted by the vision of his handsome face, and those deep eyes of blue that had carried the story of his feeling for her so brilliantly, so convincingly. It had been with great difficulty that she had sat through the evening, after his departure, and had listened to Mrs Harlowe's talking about him. The invalid had been charmed with Sir John. "My dear, what a truly nice, lovable man!" she said to Sigrid immediately after he had gone away. "I wish I could have seen him. Surely he must be very handsome !" Sigrid was thankful that the plaintive brown eyes turned on her could not see her, for a bright rush of colour made her face burn suddenly. "Yes, he is handsome, I think," she said, and she felt she said it very lamely. Had she yielded to the curious touch of passion that mention of John's name brought, she must have spoken differently. Mrs Harlowe noticed nothing, however. "His voice was so charming," she had gone on. "How much significance and influence there is in a voice, Sigrid; it has really almost as much power as beauty of face or form. Naturally, to a blind creature like myself, it is of far greater value. Now," Mrs Harlowe had gone on dreamily, "t confess I could have sat and listened to Sir John for an hour longer. I was inventing and imagining all sorts of things about him while he was here. He seemed much concerned about this ward of his, Miss Gretton. Is she amiable? Did you see her on the steamer?" Sigrid had explained here that she had both seen and admired Miss Gretton. "Of course, I never spoke to her," she added half bitterly. Mrs Harlowe wa3 silent a little while. "It is a tremendous responsibility for a young man, but I can quite understand how it was that the father wished Sir John to look after his daughter. He invites c onfidence. The best thing that could possibly happen to both Miss Gretton and her guardian would be for them to fall in love and marry. No doubt," Mrs Harlowe added, with a little amused laugh, "they will not wait for any one to offer them this happy suggestion. Givenfs'uch circumstances as theirs a marriage seems a foregone conclusion." Sigrid had made some answer to this. She did not quite remember what she did say. She had been only conscious of a curious oppression, and a desire to be alone in her room. Later on, when this desire had been granted to her, she found it did not give her much satisfaction. She had wandered aimlessly about her room, vaguely irritated with herself yet unable to grow composed or restful. She had sat bunched up on her bed long after the clock in the hall had chimed midnight. Sleep for some reason had flown from her; she was tired, but she was wide awake. For the very first time in her life, the knowledge of her mysterious birth and chilhdood came to her with a stab- j bing pain. She had suffered much when she had first been brought in contact with Hannah Carleton, and given such meagre scraps of information about herself and her mother; but somehow ("she had not felt then as she was feeling now. As we have seen, there had been to Sigrid such a sense of unreality about this kinship with Lady Yelvertoun's maid, that the girl's feelings had been *more resentful than bitterly and individually humiliating. The cloudy atmosphere of a mystery had always hung about her in connection with this matter, dulling the disagreeable recollection of the alleged tie between herself and Hannah Carleton. She had felt convinced in her heart there was more than she perhaps would ever know, and she had never wished so earnestly to search into this knowledge till this night, as she sat communing with herself, and making acquaintance with herself in a frame of mind that was utterly strange to her. (To be continued.)