ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9043, 9 March 1908, Page 2

ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

By OWEN MASTERS. Author of '< Nina's Repentance," " Clyda's Love Dream," " Her Soldier Lover," " For Love of Marjorie," " The Mystery of Woodcroft," etc.

CHAPTER IV.—Continued

fetch your future mama here." Miriam sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing. "Never!" she exclaimed. "I will acknowledge no other woman as mistress here. I will not— I cannot believe it! ft is too horrible!" She dropped into her seat,? and tears were shining in her indignant eyes. "Your father is master here andean do just what he likes, without consulting anybody. Now that this wo- i man has him by the nose, you are of j no account whatever; but," he held up the linen envelope with the big j red seal, "I have something here which may upset somebody's calculations. I have put the investigation in the hands of Scotland Yard, and am only waiting for confirmation. This has been sent to me by a castoff lover of our countess, and I may prove yet that she— —" "Papa!" Miriam gasped. Berrington slipped the envelope back into bis pocket, and glanced round carelessly. Yes, Mr Eastwood was standing less than a dozen yards away, an evil gleam lurking in the corners of his eyes. Berrington rose with a well-stimu-lated yawn. "Don't give the show away," he murmured to Miriam. "I hope to disillusion him soon—perhaps tonight." Eastwood advanced scowingly, for his daughter's face was ashen, and she was trembling in every limb. It j seemed that the blood had leaped | from her heart. Eastwood glanced suspiciously from Miriam to Berrington, and Berrington frowned significantly. "I've told her," he said, "as gently as I could." He linked his arm within one of Eastwood's. Miriam had covered her face with her hands. "Come, Charlie; leave the child to herself a bit. She is hit hard—very hard. No woman likes to play second fiddle. She's jealous, too; it's only human nature, and proves her love for you." Eastwood ghinced back at his daughter. Her head was still bowed over her hands, and he saw that her shoulders were heaving convulsively. "This is tiresome," he said, halfpeevishly, half-resentfully. "One would imagine that 1 meditated an act of wickedness. It appears to me that a man does not belong to himself." "You asked me to help you, and now you grumble. She is just feeling 'the agony of the first shock. I made no bones of tb& affair; I told her the marriage would take place immediately, and this is one of those painful, revealing hours which come to everybody in turn." "I am experiencing it, too, and rather late in life!" growled Eastwood. They crossed the lawn and walked through a dense bit of woodland in the direction of an ivy-clad building of granite. It was in reality a circular tower, but had been long centuries ago a chapel as well as an arsenal. It was called the chapel now, and was surrounded by a six-foot iron and spiked fence, to preserve it from the marauding hands of the curious and the unscrupulous. "The telephone-bell woke me up," Charlie Eastwood said. "My colliery manager wants me to have a look at the chapel walls. He thinks that w've been tunnelling under the old place. And, by Jove, he's not far wrong! Look there, Jack." A wide zig-zag crack was very apparent, and an exclamation of alarm passed Eastwood's lips. He unlocked a gate in the iron fence, and entered the chapel. The floor was cracked, too, and* daylight shone through the tissue in the massive wall. He lifted a trap-door which opened upon a spiral staircase leading to subterranean cells, but dropped it again to shut down the noisome odonr. (To be Continued).

The message was sent, and after lunch Eastwood retired for his siesta. He, in reality, wished to be alone so that he could iiiii:!: and dream of Stella. Am, while he was thinking :md dreaming. Jack t'eiTiugiou and Miriam were lour.gi.ng in the verandah, and talking. "I am glad tlnit you and papa have made up your quarrel," she observed. "You nave alway:; been upon such affectionate terms that a serious rupture would have been nothing less than a calamity." "I never regarded it seriously." Berrington was watching her closely. "But he hasn't quite got over it." "No, I don't think he has. Another twenty-four hours will clear the air." "Perhaps I can help you, Mr Berrington?" "I will see by and by. No-v, if I could talk things over with my son, Allan—but that is impossible. Did I tell you that Allan intends to pay you a visit during the long vacation? He hasn't forgotten his girl playmate altogether. My pet dream, Miss Eastwood, is that he and my ward, Katherine Linley, may make a match of it. Such a marriage would be eminentlv suitable in every way." Miriam stifled a yawn. The heat was oppressive, and the trees stood motionless against the dazzling sky. Mryiads of inserts were humming monotonously. Miriam closed her eyes drowsily, but her brain was alert. What was the trouble between her father and Mr Berrington? She was rather tired of listening to the recital of the virtues of Allan Ber-1 rington and Katherine Linley, and half-rnse from her seat. "Don't go, Miss Eastwood," Berrington said. "This is too good an opportunity to be lost. I want to tell you just why your father quarreled with me."

CHAPTER V,

THE CHAPEL

Miriam hesitated for just three seconds; then she resumed her seat rather doubtfully. She loved her father, and she was loyal to the very c >re. "Don't you think. Mr Beirrington, that it would be more satisfactory if papa told me himself—if the matter affects me at all? I don't care to disnass papa's actions, even with you, and in no case will I listen to anything unkind." She stammered and flushed, but the light in her eyes was clear and steadfast. "That's right," he nodded; "stand up for your father through thick and thin Who said that I was going to be unkind? Hear me through, Miss Eastwood, and then judge me. You are a brave girl, with brains, and I know that t.herj will be no fainting, and no foolish crying." Berrington was very much in earnest now, and Miriam's face was becoming bloodless. She stared at her father's friend with dilating eyes, her heart quaking. But oh, how silly it wys to be afraid! Her father was thoroughly well, and sleeping peacefully in his armchair. "I am waiting, Mr Berrington," she managed to say. He Smiled approvingly, but held up a warning finger. "One minute; I must be sure that we ar2 not likely to be overheard. If he knew he might be seized with frenzy." Berrington top-toed to the library door. It was standing slightly ajar, and lie peeped into the room. Eastwood was lying back in an easychair, his face covered with a newspaper, and his breathing was regular. Berrington returned to the verandah satisfied, and drew a linen-faced envelop from his breast pocket, the flap of which was secured with red seal-ing-wax. "Now, hear what ] have to say, and don't interrupt me if you can help it. At the same time we must kept open both eyes and ears." He looked at the girl fixedly. "Miss Eastwood, your father intends to marry again; he has fallen under the spell of a bad woman—a woman only a few years j older than yourself, and I can only ascribe his folly to a species of insanity—violent enough while it lasts. He is half-ashamed to face you at present, but if you opposed him I am convinced that he would disown and disinherit you." Miriam was leaning forward, pale to the lips, incredulity and horror struggling for the mastery in her wide eyes. "Mr Berrington!— impossible!" Then her voice sank to a whisper. "Whr, is she'"' "The widow of a French count," he s lid, with a snap and a sneer. "They are as plentiful as toadstools, and just as worthless. She was a singing girl >n the Boulevards, and i i thi cafes of the worat sort. A bold-vulgar, black-eyed, shameless creature. Showy in a way, but absolutely repulsive, to my thinking." Miriam gave a little gasp. "But, Mr Berrington, papa Oh, dear, I em't realise it. Perhaps it is only a passing fancy. This person was probably in trouble, and you know how sympathetic he is." "I should think I do," scoffed Berrington. "I know that he's an out-and-out fool! It would be bad enough for you if the woman were one of your own set, but this one is a swindler, and doesn't mind shooting folks. But, my dear girl, I want you to take heart of grace. Although he is determined to marry this woman at once, I am just as determined to put a spoke in his wheel. He has applied for a special license, and after fixing up the necessary arrangements with the rector, will return to London to