ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9063, 11 April 1908, Page 2

ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

By OWEN 1AH"; or of '''Nina's Ropontaiic.;," " !er Soldier Lover," " For Lovo of Marjorie," " Tt.o . -'k." etc.

CHAPTER XXXI. THE WOMAN REPENTANT. i In a moment Charlie Eastwood wa- ! on bis feet. The hiss of a serpen j could not have put him upon guar.' j more. swiftly. His face whitened,] and rage, hatred, loathing, Mazed ! from his eyes. There was a minute of tense silence, and '-e saw that Stella was standing before him. her hands clasped in mute appeal, her head bowed, her bosom heaving tumultously. "Well?" he said, at last, his voice strained and harsh. "What is it now? The pistol, the dagger, or | poison?" "Don't—don't, Charlie!" she burst out. "I never wished to nurt a hair of your head-what I did was to save you from something worse." She wrung her hands. "I loved you, Charlie—l loved you !" !"He laughed, he gibbered; she heard him mutter, "Pretty good that; the painted devil; the she fiend." A moan passed her lips, and she ■swayed like a reed in the wind. "Excellent," he said again, and chuckled grimly. "That's it —fall into the lake, and I will not move a hand to save you from drowning." She stood erect again, and he saw her features clearly now. The summer nights are only twilight when the skies are clear. There was an infinity of sadness in her eyes, her *.v face was ghastly, and the rounded cheeks were dropping into painful hollows. He waited, another ferocious chuckle cackling from his sneering mouth. A cur howled dismally; the winch and the pulleys creaked. "Pretty good this; marvellous ■acting! The elderly lover and the ■woman at Biarritz! She has already been very much married, and has a husband living, but she fools him to the top of his bent. He is rich and a is good-looking and a devil! She marries him, commits one or two more murders—trifling little Incidents to her; and, believing the latest husband to be safely disposed of, schemes to annex his worldly goods. Pretty good, eh?" He lashed himself into fury, his voice trembled; he shook his fists in fierce denunciation. "Go," ho said, "or I shall forget that you are a woman, and I might kill you!" He heard the hoarse murmur Of the well-ainkers' voices. "No, you shall not go. You "know what they are doing over there. You know why they are boring that shaft." His hand gripped her shoulder with savage strength. The flesh yielded under the bite of his sinewy fingers, and in the hush he heard a gasping sob. ■"Kill me, Charlie!-kill me! It will be a happy death! I have no desire to live through this night; the world is dead for me. Charlie — Charlie, listen to me, and then grant my last wish—forgive." He loosened his grip; the flesh was black and blue under the thin material •of her dress. She had not moaned or winced. The pain was joy; it was caused by Charlie's hand. "If you can tell me about him." He jerked his hand towards the flaring naphtha lights. "For myself 1 have only pity; I onlv got what I asked for. Quick! The air you breathe is pestilential; I cannot endure it for long." Her eyes were turned upon him, and he shivered. He had once hurt a favourite dog, unjustly, unkindly, and. the look in the aniaml's eyes was the same. "Speak on; I am listenting," he snorted. He backed away from her with folded arms, doubting, fearing, ■watching her warily. "Charlie, your coming was a reprieve frr me. I was condemned to everlasting torment—l had no hope here or hereafter, for I believed you to be dead and by my hand. I saw you from my window, and I fainted; then I came in search of you. I had no faith in the ghost-tale, and I kn^w—l knew that it was you, and ,my joy was exceedingly great." He laughed sardonically. "Pretty good," he muttered. "What next?" "I never meant to hurt you, Charlie, and I did not know until it .as too late, that he had planned your murder." Again he scoffed. "Pretty good—pretty good, upon my word. H'm! I suppose you want to shift the blame upon the man called Markham—another of your lovers?" "My father," Stella said. "Charlie —I may ca'l you so for the last few minutes of my life—Charlie. I loved you wholly, solely, devotedly, from the very first. I swear that I had no knowledge then that my husband was jiving Oh the bitterness of that awful past; I knew that it would kill me to lose you. My father knew the whole story, ana he saw a life of ease vanishing; he has ever been a vampire—tapping at my heart. There was no escape from h»m. He undertook to gee Henri Vipont\s letters and papers from Mr Borringtun; I never asked him how— I didn't care. My happiness, my I f.', was at take. Anil.l never knew, Charlie " "You never knew he sneered. "I don't believe one word you are saying." "I have no claim upon you; my husband is alive in an American prison. My father went there, made up like j ou; he used your name, your clothing, and then I heard that your death had been settled upon. You were dead to all intonts and purposes ; you would never be heard of again. . . • He saw George Hobday, £ii:d squared him. Then he heard of the police hunt for you, and he be:a:r.e somebody else. He is

;.'i',ii ng; he is an ■) . and he is :.!■ . . I ciiuic ;i pairing; 1 hi-/' . iew. My ifitivr . '• although ! -iyion in iii, I am •• .:i.< < ' Know that !-i. t,-! r; rly withal jm'i'oy see your holm; i .'iglit have kuMi nii;\ , who I had imped yvi"o'' l me. - . . ! ,::.ve -ji of your money, .vd i of it back again.'' . - iMth hands riL iKuliP', , ic, Charlie, say thai /. m This very night i mi"r. your life forever a I despairing wor-v <i. r\ sinful — wicked. .•••>»: black, but Heaven • r eeiideration the bii.i i ■ •> .i.ihood, the cruelty, vi e have had to endure -i:,. :. i><> "hich have beset n 0 ■ mi'! ii>.. > >'».ible heritage with >v.:i h '.hii;' ■ my father must inee'.l.ably <»• eur ;• .." Charlie ' .a-aw; ••. ! i.. ••:<.] at her, and the uinieu ■ r v head; then he looked as>aiii ; emembered Miriam ';acl ex e- sorrow for this woin.vi. W>u ■ e co constitute hii;iM-lt juti...i' _ and executioner? "I'm ry foi 'w faltered. "I don't want tie (• y." "Say tiiiit yon f>.v me," she pleaded, bro-eni.,. • .> reeled towards a tret.', ;ewhich she steadied herself. ' > . will never see me again; :ny ■: <u weak, and I may soon die..; . I will get some honest empi<>\ i: it,! I have many accumplishi.w e:.-. He saw the flash of her teeth; l;< ■ ird a weary, bitter laugh. "I should like to do eeething for you," he said. "But you won't imj-,. o me?" "Yes—freely; ! ■:::, .~oi ry " "Will you touch my hand in farewell, Charlie?" "No," he anwered y; :-:olutely. "I will not, but I f org ivy you all the' wrong that you have dene me." He waited for her 10 speak; she was panting hard. "I was afraid tha> it was too much to ask Good-by." She straightened j herself, and whispered, "If no murder has been done, he lenient with my father." "He won't cuffer at my hands; I've had scandal enough—if no murder has been done," he added chokingly. "Thank you. Good-by." She gave him one long, lingering look, and he answered, hoarsely: "Good-by." (To be continued.) j tN THE CONSTRUCTION. of your .'lotlies our first consideration is quality. Every inch of material used whetlnr soon or unseen is of thorough roliab'o quality. Then the cut and workmanship is as good as can bo, for years of experience in the designing and making ol apparal for men qualifies lis to produce absolutely the best result. These lactors combine to make your suit a. source of satisfaction to you and a credit 1 i its. Soiling strictly for cash means a saving ol money to you. Morrison and Penney, ('asli Tailors, 73 Willis Street, W^liim^vm. Woods' Groat Peppermint Cure for Conglis and Colds never fails. 1/6 and 2;(i.