A HEART'S TRIUMPH.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9114, 13 June 1908, Page 2

A HEART'S TRIUMPH.

CHAPTER IV.—Continued

"I Betm in a dream," she, said feebly. "It is all eo strange, so horrible, Mr Darnley, can it bo tt\u? Can what she said to-night bo true? I—l think I would rather have died than have hoard what I heard from rnr lips. I have had such beautiful dreams of my mother. She has lived with me always, quite—quite a real person, sometimes, and she has been so sweet, so lovely, so helpful to me. Mini and I have talked so often of my mother. How little we guessed the truth, if this is the truth!" Paul Darnley looked keenly at the old Italian woman. "Nini remembers your mother, then?" he asked eagerly. Cecil shook her head. "No; Nini never knew'my mother. She came to me when I was a tiny baby, but there was no one but my father. I have heard all sorts of questions already," Cecil said wearily, "but she cm tell me nothing. She is mora bewildered than I am, and q as unhappy. Oh, Mr Darnley, if I cojld only let you know how thi--, ' hurts me 1 And then I cannot p.et my poor father's face out of my mind. He has never been very tender with me, but we have been together so long only we two, and it is terrible to realize now that he is suffering and that I cannot help him." "You can always help him Cecil," the man said gently. "Think of how much you can do for him. Should this illness be a long one, you can nurse h'm and care for him all tha time; and, bcl.'e/e me, for all h!s * rough, stiange-ways, he has a love/ for you which nothing could ever move. Now, you must promise mo to be strong, and you must rest as much as you can," Paul add id quickly. The girl's eyes, heavy with unshed tears, hurt him sharply. He rose and paced tha room a little, and then hi cama back to his chair. "Where i 3 she?" he" questioned, in a bwvbiee. .Cecil's face grew, if possible, paler. "She has gone up-stairs. Nini has attended her. Sne chose the largest room, and ordcrad food (o be taken to her. If, indeed, t.is home b her home," the girl said bitterly, "has she not the right to command and to be obeyed?" Then a great fear seemed to sweep over Cecil. "Ob, Mr Dambv, n<h">f-. is <Vuire going to be? Help me, if you can! Tdl idh •what I ought to do! My poor father's lips seam sealed; he car. neither help nor advise ma; but you warj hb friend —his only friend that I have ever known of—and you may bo a' le to see better than I can what is my right path nuw. I am bcwilderc', frightened by all that has happened the poor girl cried sharply. "It has come so suddenly, and p-y life has been so strange, so separated fiotn all that other women have, that I do not know how to move—what to do." Paul Darnley calmed her. "I will help you to f .he utmost of my power, Cecil. To-morrow early J will interview this—this , lady. I •w'll go thoroughly into the matter. Your father has honoured me with his friendship and confidence in many things. 1 feel sure, therefore, he would be gbd for me to step forward now and act for him till he b able to act for himself. Right is right, you know, Cecil, dear." he ackled, steadily, though wistfully, "and if proof is brought forward, that this is indeed her proper place, then there is nothing to he done but to submit 33 gracefully as one can; but I shall never desert you, and when once I am married "—a flush crept over Paul Darnley's pleasant face as he spoke these words—"the future will ba much easier." Cecil sank back in her chair. "I will do everything you think my father would wish me to do," she said faintlv. After this there was silence between them till sounds from Mi" staircase told them the two medic.l men were returning. Cecil started up ar.d went eagerly forwtrd. "Your father ia very ill," Doctor Thorold eaid very genllv; "to tell you otherwise would be to deceive you, poor child! He h.*is hail a terribhi shock, and it is almost too early to say what the result may be. I think it advisable, since it is impossible to get a trained nurse till tomorrow, that one of us remain here with him. My nephew has volunteered to do this." i "My uncle is not strong enough," j Felix said, in his most winning way. "I am in isting that he goes back | to his bed, Miss Lacklyr.e. If I do : not come down and pack him off my- j self, he will not go. | Cecil said nothing though she was conscious of a .thrill of pleasuiej merely at the sound of this yourg man's rich, tender voice; and the 1 sight of his care for the ola cripnled man he loved brought tears to her eyes. llor anxiety was, however, i too sharp, too far-reaching, to let i any other emotion linger. She sat trying t> realize the truth of all j that had happened, while Paul Darnley'and Felix escorted Doctor ThorolJ back to the carriage. Her father was very ill! The words seemed iivomprchcnsiblo to grasp. Her father ill-hor strong, onargetic, fierce-tempered, indust- . bus father ill, helpless, speechless! To Cacil the thought was an imposui jle one to grasp all at once, move terrible even than that other thought which had fallen pall-like over her young life, blotting out all the unconscious joy, hope, and happiness that h i j ImiiLd in her heurt. "I will watch with you." Fhe said to Felix, when the two men came b ick; and though ho joined his urgings to those of Paul Darnley, ahti was firm. "iNiui you will go to bed instant-

By Effle Adelaide Rowlands, Author Jof "Hugh Grotton'a Sjcrot," "A .Splendid ' Heart," "Brav. Barbara," "The Temptation of Mary Burr," "Si'lina's Love Story," etc.

ly," she ordered, in Italian. The old woman reading a new chara-ter-istic in her beloved child's eyes, obeyed without a protest. Cecil looked eagerly to Paul Darnby. "I want you to rest for a selfish reti-on," she .said, with a shadowy, t-milu. "You are going to work hard for me to-morrow reu.ember." Paul would i.ot go till he found he was of no use. "Since Miss Lacklyno insists on remaining there is nothing you can do," Felix told him. He had resigned himself quite whole-heartedly to the task before him. In a sense, he had an interest in his profession; had he cared to devote himself to it, he could have achieved almost anything; but idlenes's and selfishness and the delights of a luxurious, pleasurable life ate away all ambition from Felix's hear. Apart from his faint interest in Sir Charles' rase, the circumstances surrounding it appealed t) him keenly. He had a sense of satisfaction in feeling that he was actually in the stronghold of Charles Lucklyne's mysterious home; that he had his finger on the pulse of this strange man's career; that he stood next door to that wealth about which he had begun to think so steadily. Some words his uncle had whispered to him as they had passed down the stairs together had given Felix a thrill which was the birth of a determination. It is a question of hours only," Doctor Thorold had said sadly, for he had a kind of affection for Cecil's father, "and he will never regain consciousness. A terrible end to come to any man, more especially to one so totally unprepared for death as this one." The ul:i doctor had sighed deeply. "Thank Heaven," he had then added, "that the future cf that child is assured. I witnessed his will only a month or so ago, una li 3 left everything to Cecil unconditionally. Even should there be a dispute or another cbim made, she vtill be a very rich woman." "A very rich woman!" Ftlix said the words over to himself softly, as he looked at Cecil Tha girl ha I teatx! herself beside her ■father's bedside, and was shading her fate with her hand. There was a dim light falling; on the sick man, throwing out the gray pilbr of the strained, distorted features, illumining the staring eyes that were even then sctMng slowly into the glazed stiffness of death. The stroke had been pitilessly strong. Had tha heart been lass vigorous, death would have been instantaneous. As it was Clu rlej Lacklyno lingered, hovering in that woii.l of shadows that separates the living from the dead. Ftlix had withdrawn to a window and had put himself into a comfortable chair. A lamp was close at hand, but he had turned it down So that he could watch those two forms ; the one so beautiful in its health and youth, the othir to terribb in its death agonic*.. Felix studied the suffering man quite calmly. He was a cynic in his way, and the futilty of earthly struggles and. earthly possessions oame home to him sharply in theso silent, so nbre moments. Life, however, ran too strongly in his veins to admit of much cynicism; and self I.eing the greatest element in his construction it tha most natural thing in the world that, as he sat '.here, Felix should drift back into the thought of himrelf and his life. (To be continued).