ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9051, 28 March 1908, Page 2

ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

By OWEN HASTEIiS.

or of " Nina's Repentance," " Clyda's Love Dream." " Her Soldier i Lover," " For Love ofMarjorie," " The Mystery of Woodcraft," etc.

CHAPTER XX.—Continued. "Afraid of me? And I have been so dreadfully airaid of you. I have hated the thought of any woman taking my mother's place. But now 1 am sorry for you—bo very sorry; and I am sor.y for myself, too, because I have misjudged you. Will you have some tea, or something," now? Then you shall choose your rooms." • Miriam switched on the electric light like one in a frenzied dream. Until very recently her life had been one tiny round of commonplace happenings, but now the swift and gigantic revolutions were churning its placidity into a veritable maelstrom. "Pray, Miss Eastwood, don't consult me in the matter of rooms," Stella said. "But I like light, air, sunshine; I am a worshipper of the sun. And if I could go to my room at on<:e~ to wash, to rest, to thank Heaven for your goodness to me, l should be bo grateful." Miriam pondered for one minute. Her head was whirling. "Come with me, then," she answered gently, "J understand perfectly. No fuss no bother with servants." They left the room together, and encountered the butler almost in the doorway. A load of luggage had arrived, and he was doubtful. "Have the things sent up-stairs, at once, Hadley." "Yes, miss, but " His tone was inquiring. "The king's suite," his mistress added briefly. "My maid will select what we require for immediate use," interposed Stella. "The greater part of my belongings are of merely sentimental value." Side by side the girl and the woman mounted the winding stairs—then half-way along a lofty oak-panelled corridor, nearly covered with Italian landscapes, Miriam .paused with her hand on the knob of one of the many doors. "This suite of rooms is called the king's," she observed, "and the great semicircular windows command magnificent views.',' She threw open the door, and walked to one of the windows. "You will have plenty of sunlight; here, Mrs Eastwood. We are now at the very extremity of the west wing, and the rooms were once occupied by King Charles the Second —proof that they are the best the Pri'orv affords." Stella looked about her, and admired. There was a splendid view of the tower, and beyond she saw the glitter of water between the trees. "Your father has told me so much about the' Priory,", she said gently, "its wonderful beauty, its antiquity, its art treasures, and even its ghost." "I hope you don't believe in such nonsense," Miriam said gravely. "Some of the servants pretend to have seen lights in the towor, but, as every door leading to it ia .locked and barred, the mere suggestion is an absurdity." "Why are the doors fastened? I ! think I am rather partial to the ghosts of old mansions." Hut Miriam was lighting a Japanese, bronze lamp, of which there ware quite a number in the room; and then Stella feasted her eyes upon furniture, "paintings, and hangings, such as she had seen described in romances of the fifteenth century. "The modernized rooms are lighted •with electricity," Miriam said, "but electricity here—" "Would be an act of vandalism." /"I will leave you now. The servants are bringing your trunks, and , here is the housekeeper. I must in--1 troduce her to you. She is a 'most punctilious lady. Then you can make your wishes known." Shortly afterwards Miriam went down to the library, and wrote the .following letter to Allan Berrington:— •.; "My Dearest Allan: My father's •wife is here, and, instead of the fireeating virago I have draemed about, she is as mild as butterrrilk. There is no denying that she is a very goodlooking woman, with a splendid figure, and might pass muster with many who consider themselves cultured ladies. I cannot quite make up my mind yet whether I shall like her or not. Your father was most emphatic in declaring that a legal marriage was impossible. No doubt his pronouncement has raised a wall of prejudice in my mind. * "Dear—dear Allan, she does not brintr any good tidings. My misguided father cabled to her to make her home at the Priory at once, and, from what I gather, he may not come himself for a very long time. What can you make of it? When will all this horrible mystery be unveiled? "Affectionately yours, "MIRIAM EASTWOOD." Allan read this letter in the break-fast-room next morning. Kate Linlej was presiding at the table, and Upton Warren had just lounged in. "Pardon me for being late," hj« was saying. "I've been for a spir to the villagiiond lost count of time." The eyes of the two met, and War- : ren smiled significantly. "I can gueas the news," the detective raid, indicating the letter. "Mn • Eastwood the second has come upor - the scene. I saw the lady last evening." "I saw her, too," Kate remarkec • coolly. "A tall, dark woman, wit! the eyes of a basilisk. I knew J wa3 not mistaken, uncle had describee her so accurately, and so few strangers come to Castle Stanford." "The eyes of a basUisk," Allar said bantenngly. "Now, have yot any idea what they are like?" "Like the orbs of Mrs Eastwooc the Second," was the retort. "Its no joking-matter for Miss

Eastwood," Warren remarked gravely. "No," Allan said darkly. "Hei father is remaining abroad Indefinitely. Ho is mad---doubly mad!" "With a method," Kate sneered. She flashed a jealous glance at the letter. "He dare not come back; he is a criminal, evading justice. Oh, how I hate him, and all who bear his name!" "Kate—Kate!" Allan said reproachfully. "You know that he is guilty," she went on passionately, "and your defence of him is wicked, and unnatural." "I know nothing of the kind, and I won't believe, it, Wc have no proof that my father has come to any Serious harm, and I am hoping yet that he may be with Mr Eastwood. They were always up to something out of the common." He swung round angrily, and a few minutes later they heard him gallop away. "What a silly argument," Kate said, tearfully and scornfully. Upton Warren drank his coffee in silence. "Miss Linley," he remarked, at last, "I don't think that we shall be in doubt much longer. I have just heard from the Yard, and it is certain that Charles Eastwood is coming home under an assumed name. He does not dream that he is being shadowed, and he shall soon be made to give an account of himself." CHAPTER XXI. RAISING THE WIND. Allan Berrington's intention was to ride to the Priory, but when he came to the crossroads, almost opposite the Castle Stanford Arms, he turned to the left, and went to the iron-works. Although so short a time had elapsed since his father's disappearance, no end of complications had arisen at the works. Heavy bills were maturing, contracts had to bo completed in a given time, under enormous penalties and new contracts were awaiting a responsible signature. There was no question about the soundness of the financial situation, but the creditors wtre generally agreed that the liabilities should not be increased. They were certain of their money eventually, but the indefiniteness of matters was disconcerting. There wero immense funds at the bank, but banks are not benevolent institution?, and the manager could not pay out any money until certain legal formalities had been observed. "An estate worth half a million is temporarily stilled for a paltry ten thousand .pounds," he told the manager of the iron works. "The firm's lawyers are comparatively poor men, and I haven't a fifth' part of the money personally. I know just what to do, but I hesitate doing it. I do not believe that my father is mad, and I firmly believe that he is suffering from loss of memory." "The wages-sheet will run into a couple of thousand this week," the manager reminded him. "Oh, we can tide over that." "There isn't sufficient coal to last over another twenty-four hours, and we have a thousand tons ordered from Eastwood's. The manager de- ] murs about making a delivery." / "I'll find a way out of the difficulty," Allan said, knitting his brows. "Our requirements are so big." He left the works about mid-day, and rode at a very gentle trot to the Priory. The weather was far too warm for violent exertion, and he was trying to think. Kate Linley's last speech seethed in his brain He loved Miriam Eastwood with all his heart and soul, but his was no undisciplined ardour. It would be a crime to marry her, if—- He put the thought away with a savage gesture. (To be continued.)