The Scales of Justice

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8535, 14 September 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice

CHAPTER XXXI

A GLEAM OF REASON. The girl lay in Gilbert's arras, her weary head had fallen on his shoulder; her eyes were closed as if the sleep of utter exhaustion had overtaken l.er. With a feeling of pity, Gilbert carried Winifred into the little sitting-room. It was no time to ask questions; at this thrilling moment it never occurred to him that Ibis was the girl Marston was looking for. At the same time, it was an awkward position for Gilbert. Practically, he was alone in the cottage with the girl he loved. If she needed help he could not summon medical aid. On the other hand, it was possible that Winifred had heard of some plot against the freedom of her lover, and that by some blind instinct she had come down to the cottage to warn him of his danger. Still, that danger would have to be risked, and if need be, Gilbert could call in old Anna, now peacefully sleeDing in the attic bedroom at the back of the cottage. Gilbert congratulated himself on the fact that he had not gone to bed early, and that he had kept up a good fire. And there was a certain fierce joy to find himself in undisputed possession of Winifred, after all he had suffered for har sake. Gilbert dragged a couch to ths-fke, and laid his beautiful burden tenderly upon it. The rirst glance at the girl as she lay unconscious dissipated any idea that she had come by a more or less direct route to the cottage. Winifred's, boots were stained and caked with dirt, the fringe of her dress was torn by countless thorns. The little hands were cold, and Gilbert chafed them till the blood began to flow again, and the grateful glow of he fire brought life to the half-frozen limbs. Winifred opened her eye presently and looked about her.

"Where am I?" she asked. "Oh, that fire is so comforting. It is so good to be warm and comfortable after the coldness and silence of the night. I have been in the woods ail (lav Gilbert."

"Have you, darling?" Gilbert asked. He" thrilled as he heard his name from the girl's lips. "Why did you do it? Were they unkind to you?" "No. Only Dr. Beard said I wanted a change. He took me to another house where they were kind to me. There was a.nurse, but she was not like Mary. You do not know hew I longed for Mary. So I ran away to findh-r."

"You poor little soul," Gilbert said unsteadily. "You have been j looking for her all day?" . "Yds. I was going to find Mary and ask her to take me home again. So I ran away. And I managed to lose myself. I had a few biscuits in my pocket and those 1 ate in the middle of the day. Then they sent people after me, and I had to hide , from them. I don't think I was ever so frightened in my life, Gilbert. It j was so dark and silent in the woods. A fox came and stared at me. It was dreadful." "Poor little soul!" was all Gilbert could saV. "Poor little soul!" "I became more and more frightened with the darkness. Perhaps because I was frightened and perhaps because I had myself to think of, my brain grew clear. I seemed to recollect things that I had forgotten for a long time. Then I went to sleep under some straw that they had put out for the pheasants, and I slept a long time. After that a man followed me. Then I saw the light here, and 1 mads my way to it. And to think that 1 should find you here, dear one. Gilbert, why have you kept away from me so long?"

Gilbert rose from his seat at the end of the sofa, and warmed some milk. He fed Winifred with a spoon ■from the cup with the utmost.tenderness, and gradually he had the satisfaction of seeing the colour creeping back into her cheeks. A little cold meat cut up very small followed, and at length Winifred was sitting up again. "You are so good and kind to me, Gilbert," she murmured. "Always so good and kind to me. But why did you go away? And what am I doing

here?" "I want you to try and remember, dearest. Try to think of what happened to you two years ago." Winifred sidled up to the spsaker. He placed his arm about her, and drew her to his side. Perhaps he ought to have called old Anna and seen that Winifred was safely tucked up in her bed, but he had hungered for this moment. It was the one hope that had kept his heart alive and his courage fresh in gaol. The bliss of the moment was too great to be re sisted. "Put your arms round me, and hold me as you used to," Winifred whispered "When I know that you are by my side, I can think it all the more clearly. Two years ago—it is beginning to"<"mie to me. We were going to be in. iried, Gilbert, and I was the happier drl in the world, Stop a moment, a.id let me see if I can get it quite clear. When I look at your dear face all the confusion seems to fall from me, and right gives place to day. Did you not come to me the other night —1 was not mistaken— m the drawing-room at the Moat House?" "You are not mistaken, darling. It was 1 whom you saw there that awful night." i "I felt certain of iV Winifred said with great triumph. "They tried to p;rsuade me it was all a delusion. Even M: ry tried to make me think that." Gilbert ignored the assertion. He was quite aware why Mary Cawdor had tried to pass oft* the meeting as a

By FREB Iff. WHITE,

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delusion. It had been necessary not to play into the hands of Bernard Eeard. Gilbert could see that perfectly. "Sometimes it seems necessary to conceal the truth," Gilbert said. "Does it?" Winifred asked inno cently. "That is not what I have always been taught. But we were talking" about something else: What was i*;? Oh—two years ago, when you and I were happy iovers, and we were going to be married. I recollect everything now, even to the dress that I wore. And I drove to the church as if I should like all the world to share my bliss. Then it came that they took you away, and—what was the dreadful word?— arrested you " "Steadily, little one." Gilbert said cheerfully. "It is ali coming right. I have a passionate regret for the wasted years, but we are both young yet. They took me a>vay to prison." "They took you away to prison. And you were innocent. Why did they take you?" "You must.not blame the authorities, dear," Gilbert explained. "They could not have done otherwise. If you .read about it " "But 1 did not read about it, Gilbert. I fainted when I realised what had happened; then grief and shame were too much for me. And after that I seemed to understand nothing —to have no feeling save that something vital had gone out of my life, and that happiness for me was no more. And yet I could not forget your face; I could not forget that I loved you. All the time I had a feeling that some day you would come back for me." "You felt that I was not guilty, darling?" "Yes, yes. What would it have mattered to me? I should never have cared less for you. Does a true woman ever cease to love a man to whom she has given herwhole heart, even if he turns out to be as base as she had deemed him exalted? Why, the mere sight of your face has brought the reason back to my brain. Who were your enemies, Gilbert?" "It would be hard to say," Gilbert replied. He felt that he must not say much about Bernard Beard and the part that he had played in the great conspiracy. "We will call it a kind of misunderstanding. Actual stolen property was discovered in my possession, and it was proved that I had a large sum of money in the bank. They refused to believe my account of how the money got there, and I received a long term of imprisonment. But friends of mine found out certain things in my favour, and they planned for my escape. It was necessary that I should be on the spot, and that is why I am hiding here."

"But, my dear, dear boy, you are not going to hide here for long. Your innocence *"

"My innocence is going to be proved. Meanwhile, I am compelled to stay here in this cottage. Now, I want you to listen to me, Winifred. You will be back again at the Moat House soon. I have an enemy there, who must not know what has become of me. You were ever open and candid, my darling, and that is where my chief danger lies. You are not to tell anybody of this meeting to-night."

"Very well, Gilbert," Winifred said obediently. "I will tell nobody, not even Mary. But from the look of me they will know that something wonderful has happened. I feei so different, so clear and bright—the confused feeling has gone." Gilbert had not overlooked this fact. He nodded gravely.

"Perhaps you had better tell Mary," he said. "There is no question that she is a friend of mine. But you will conceal everything from Dr. Beard."

The pupils of Winifred's eyes dilated. She shuddered slightly. "No, I am not cold," she said in response to Gilbert's question. "Do you like Dr. Beard?" "I am not- prepossessed in his favour. Do you?" "Gilbert, I can't tell. Sometimes I do like him very much indeed; at other times he is positively hateful. I fluctuate between love and fear. But he has the most extraordinary influence over me. And yet, if I were told that I was never going to see his face again, I should be happy. He is not to know, Gilbert?" "Most emphatically he is not to know," Gilbert rejjlied. "Don't forget that." "I will try; but I am sure that the part will be difficult to play. And I don't want to be separated from you any "more, dearest. I feel so different when you are by my side-so strong, and courageous. And I have a feeling that when we are parted the old mist will close over my brain again, Gilbert. Cannot we go away together and be married? If you have to hide, I could hide with you. and " Gilbert smiled down on the pretty, pathetic, pleading face. It required moral cpurage to refuse, but the refusal had to be made, all the same. (To be continued.)