A HEART'S TRIUMPH.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9118, 18 June 1908, Page 2

A HEART'S TRIUMPH.

CHAPTER Vl.—Continued,

No more drudgery; no more struggling; a splendid position; line horses; a reputation for lavish hospitality; a sensational tour of the world; a yacht built to his own fancy --these and other visions of a kindred aort flashed through his brains and intoxicated him. He had no doubt of winning Cecil, and in this the man was not very presumptuous or vain. With striking appearance, his irresistible fascination, it would have been an easy task for him to win tho heart, the faith, the confidence of any girl, even one who had wordly cjxporience to warn and guide her; how much more sure, therefore, was his success with a simple, innocent child such as Cecil was! ****** Sir Charles Lacklyne's strange guest made it known through Nini—poor frightened Nini—that she would receive Doctor Thorold. He found her sitting by an open window. She wore the heavy cloak about her shoulders, and the scarf wag twisted round her head. It was evident that sho had been sitting in this one position all night. She turned as, Doctor Thorold came

"They tell me Charles Lacklyno is dead. Is it true?" The old doctor bent his head for answer, and he looked at her curiously, yet with a pity he could not control. The woman's voice had the s6uiicl in it of misery too great to be measured by words. It was harsh, and yet it was hushed, too, as though it had been silent for a longtime. Doctor Thorold's eyes pierced, too, through the mass of almost repulsive ugliness, and read the history beyond of a Deauty which, if of a coarse nature, had been undoubted. "He was a bad man!" the woman said, in that strange, bitter, husky vbice--"oiie of the worst. Such an easy death was too good for him!" Sebastian Thorold drew a deep breath. "You will allow me to sit down," ha said courteously. "I am old, and rheumatic, too, I am r.orry to say." Tho yvomnn. laughed a hard, forced laugh, "i'Ve no manner.?, you iM. <V :, ore I have lived they don':; teach one civ ility. You have "fotne to quostfen me, I suppose. Who are yo.i'.' Are you a relation?" l?9Ct*?r T h . r,w .'H ".'•??- lli;J » c:uJ - Ho fexpMaiuUti nisi j)ub)c(uH> . "I flrrt one tff the feW friends, and lierhapa the oldeafc one, Miss Lacklyne has; and as such I have felt I might venture to associate myself with her affairs. I'ou have made certain statements "

"Which lam ready to prove. I am Charles Lacklyne'a wife. I married him twenty years ago last May. I have my certificate. I wan not likely to come here and claim my rights without bringing my proofs,/1 am not such a foolas that." She laughed again, and, drawing a bag near her, she unlocked it and took out some papers. "These will prove all I have said. I am Charles Lacklyne's wife -or widow, now that he is dead—and Cecil Lacklyne is my child." A shiver passed through Sebastian Thorold's heart as he heard these last words. He was sorry for this woman; he could not but feel that whatever sho was, she had been wronged. But, still, it was terrible to him to associate even the mention of such a woman with the beautiful, pure, childlike girl he loved. The mother of Cecil Lacklyne had always lived in his imagination as some delicate, high-born creature, whose death had devastated the life of Charles Lacklyne and made him tha queer, irrational being hi was. "twill answer all your the woman opposite said grimly,

' "Why did you not come here before? Why did you come in tha way you did last night? These papers have the air of being genuine, but they must be investigated, as you will readily understand. I have been intimate with Sir Charles now for many years," Doctor Thorold added, "and lhave neVer heard him mention hia wife." "I have been dead to tha world for many years. When I came upon him last night, he thought I was a ghost, for he, too, has believed me dead' and he has wished it, too; on that you may count pretty surely. But I am not dead; I am alive, and 1 have pome, late as it is, to claim my owr. Search through his papers. It will be odd if you don't find something that will corroborate my assertions." "You come- now — from where?" Doctor Thorold asked, a little wearily. The conviction was pressing on him that there would be. right at tho back of these statements.

;., "I landed from Australia two days ago. My sentence was worked out quickly. It \va3 a good conduct one. They gave me eighteen years, but I have only done fifteen. lam out on ticket of leave now." Sho Epoke quite callously. Womanliness, pride—if it had ever existed —shame, seemed dead within her. Sebastian Thorold shaded his l'aca with his hands and sent up a little prayer for Cecil. t j "What—what was ycur crime" he asked, in a low vjicc, when he could speak. "Robbery and murder!" she answered, and thtre was something in her words, in her tone, that made the old man, student of silence as ho vvaa rather than of human nature, look at her with sudden sympathy. "Were you guilty?" Vie asked involuntarily. She lookei at him in the same hard, grim, repulsive way. "What a question ! Do you .'-uppo.se they ever punish an innocent creature."

By Effie Adelaide Rowlands, Author of "Hugh Grotton's Secret," "A Splendid Heart,'' -Mlruvo Barbara," "The Temptation ol' Mary liavr," '-Sclina's Love Story," etc.

Her voice was pitiless in its bitterness. Then suddenly a change swept over her hard, distorted face, making it soft, and brushing out of it that defiant, lost look that bad so hurt poor Cecil. "Don't begin raking up the past. You'll get all the account of me my trial and my conviction—-if you'll send to Melbourne. It was a big case, and 1 was a notoriety for several weeks. They put my picture in the papers. They called me a handsome woman in thoso days. Ah, ah! it must strike you as funny to hear that now, when you see what I am; but it was. the truth." She- was fcwaying too and fro in her hair, her face white to the lips, and tears that seemed like frozen anguish and sorrow stealing down her cheeks. Even the husky horror of her voice was lost at this moment. She was a living, suffering woman, and there was something about her that smote Sebastian Thorold to the heart, and oppressed him with the sense of a terrible wrong. Then, all at once, she stretched out her hands to him—those poor, roughened, distorted hands, and she had a sob in her voice. "Heaven bless you!" she said. "Heaven bless you! You don't know what you've done for me. You are the first creature who has doubted my sin. There will ,1:0 a reward for you for this, if God is just, as I have long taught myself to believe was not thetrUth." Sebastian Thorold held her hands in his tenderly, reverently. "Never doubt divine mercy," he said, wi;h solemn emphasis. "It is man who mails—never God!" She shrank back in her chair and drew her cloak about her. "Oh, the cruelty, tho unutterable cruelty of man!" she said, with a wail. Then, with an effort, she recovered herself. "Look, here I have written the names of those who cm testify regarding me. I hunted them up before 1 left Melbourne; some of those who knew me are dead, but these few are living. They will tell you all you want to know." Doctor Thorold took the papers. "You will trust these with me?" he said. She bent her head. Her old look, her old manner had come back to her. "its, I will trust you," she an«',ycr'd, Th*-v Wlr'O l? 1 '!?*]: ?. Hi';'" while. D 0.1,,., •"ijyryjjj- apuke first. /'You will stay here for 9 umc, "but ;,oU must have soii!Q CO'mforts. Have you had faod to-day? Nay, lam sure jon have not. 1 must look to this. Sir Charles' lawyers will be down here immediately, and you will have t) go through some wearying interviews. I will have some food and wine sent to you." He turned to go, but she called him back.

"Understand, I don't want to rob her —no, not of one farthing; 1 came to punish him, but not her. I wanted my rights only because I knew he would fight mo—but now he is gone." Her voice died away. She had risen to her feet. "If I have enough to live on, I'll be content now—he is dead, and so my life is finished, for I lived only for revenge. I've grown into a sort of wild beast all these years, but, oh, Heaven! If you could know—it—if " . She cast the heavy cloak from her and paced the room hurriedly. Her figure had still some beautiful line 3; she held her head well. She came to a sudden stop before him. (To be continued).

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