A HEART'S TRIUMPH.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9119, 19 June 1908, Page 2

A HEART'S TRIUMPH.

CHAPTER iVl.—Continued,

"Why should I stay at all?" she said, half-piteously, half-doggedly. "I am a lost creature; this is not the place for me; and she-she- — Do you think I would harm a hair of hothead?" she asked fiercely. 'Do you think they have crushed_ all the mother's heart out of me in these lons, awful years? I needed but the sight of her last night to waken out of the hideous dream I have been in for so long. I have fed myself on savage thoughts; kept life in my body and sanity in my brain by dwelling on the moment of my freedom and my revenge! But now-now -- she flung out her arms, and her head, with its close-cropped gray hair, sank forward on her breast-"now something tortures me when I realize what I have done. Not for his sake bu for hers, my pure, sweet child! Oh, l could kill myself when I stop and see what misery I have brought in her life! Give mo my papers. I will go. It is not too late to atone. I have been mad-worse than mad. What fool's dream came to me to picture myself living near her-to imagine it possible she would ever call me mother? These things are written in books, but they are not done in real life. Oh, if you are her friend, you will help me now to undo what I have done! You will get me away from here—far, far away, where I can live in peace until she is free from me and my tainted name. You love her. I leave all in your hands." She wa3 growing breathless with excitement, with her overpowering emotion, and tears were coursing down Sebastian Thorold's worn cheeks. Ah there were, indeeo, more wonderful things, in human nature than ever science had devised. "" leave all in your hands," she resumed. "Lt.t them call me impostor, lunati", what they will; I will not remain. I have sinned too much already. God has made me a mother, and I have forgotten my motherhood in my wild, horrible lust for revenge. Give me my things and let us part. You will guard her and care for her, J know ; anil I—l will pray for her so long, as breath is left in my body." . She drew the cloak more closely about her, and took the papers from Doctor Thorold's trembling hand. Her passionate words, her misery, her nobility, the anguish and the sacrifice of which she wad capable, b-2-wilderd and touched the old man He would have given much to stand now between this woman and her selrelected exile. His heart yearned to speak words of comfort, of patience, 'of hope, but his lips seemed sealeu. He could solve some intricate scientific mystery as well as moat men, but face to face with this simple, yet colossal, problem of life, he was powerless to act. The woman saw his distress. "I am sorry for you, too, she said. "I have shockei you and troubled you. But be patient with me. I am going." She moved toward the door; but before she could reach it, it had opened, and another woman's form had slipped in and stood erect there. It was Cecil, but a different Cecil from the one Doctor Thorold had known so long. The girl had put off her velvet clothes. She wore a white gown falling in straight, long folds from her neck to her feet. It was her ordinary dressing-gown, worn always in the seclusion of her room, fashioned by Nini's loving hands, and transformed the quaint, ooyisb form at once into that of a young and love- , ly woman. \ Cecil did not look at Doctor Thorold. She stretched out her hands to the stranger. "Where are you going, and why? She took a step forward. "I have heard all you have said —yes, all," she repeated. "My room is next to this, and this door between wan left ajar. I could not fail to hear. At first I did not care to listen but afterward 1 was glad—yes, glad." She went up to the woman, who etood motionless, like a statue. "Do not go," she said softly. Her voice was laden with tsars, and with a grief too deep for tears, "Do not go —my mother! This is your home, and 1 have need of you!" As she spoke, she put her arms about the other woman's neck and kissed her, Doctor Thorold made a step forward. "Cecil!" he cried. "Cecil, my dear —.--" But Cecil did not answer. She was bending over the crouching woman at her feet, and her tears were falling in sorrow, y«-t in welcome, on her mother's head.

(To be continued)

CHAPTER VII.

FELIX AVAILS HIMSELF OF AN OFPOKTUNITY.

The funeral of Sir Charles Lack - lyre, severely simple as it was, attracted, it i.'eed hardly be said, an immense amount of attention in tho neighbourhood of the White Abbey. An "the deceased man bad left no special wishes aa to hi:* lost restirgiilnee, -r.d as there was no reason co be urged against tho sel.ction ot Manchester Churchyard for the interment, tha order was given by the lawyers acting on behalf of Miss Lacklyne for a grave to be arranged there; and on tho day of the funcn 1 the road \vu3 lined from tr-.e gates or the White Abbey . to the eld ivy-cov-ered church aid burial-yard by a crowd of spectators, who came from evoiy village near, and stood for hours in the pouring rain to gaze their (ill at the procession which carried the strange man, whom every or.e had feared and disliked, to his final home. There was, in truth, little to satis-

By Effie Adelaide Rowlands, Author of "Hugh Gretton's Socrot," "A Splendid Heart," -I3ravo Barbara," "The Temptation of Mary Burr," "Solina's Lovo Story," etc.

fy the curiosity of such as had expected something unusual. The funeral was bereft of all that was sensational: flowers were rigorously excluded. The cortege consisted of a hearse and a few coaches, and after the3s followed, a string of private carriages-—the. tokens of respect paid by th county people scattered far and near. There were some who had helped to catch a glimpse of Miss Lacklyne in her strange, boyish clothes, but these were doomed to disappointment. | The mourners represented a few male relatives and such intimate friends as Paul Darnley and Doctor Thorold; that was all. The handsome figure of Felix Bingham, as he stood beside the open grave, challenged, of course, the attention of such as had never seen him before; but to most of the inhabitants of Manchester Doctor Thorold's nephew had that inestimable gift of winning for himself universal liking as well as admiration. It was not?d, too, that one of the gentlemen present seemed much moved by the short, but pathetic, address delivered by the old vicar at the grave. In effect, Paul Darnley did sincerely mourn the death of the I curious man who had called him | friend. He was unhinged and tried j by the events of the last few days, j which included a personal gr'ef in the j fact that Dora Sedworth had written him a letter from Scotland which was anything but tender or agreeable, and conveyed in every word the truth that she was hurt and offencbd with him for having, as she termed it, "neglected her." It was not Dora's unreasonableness and selfishness which distressed her lover; hi was grieved only because he had been forced to disappoint her, and her open declaration of annoyance at hia compulsory absence was echoed sincerely by his own feelings. Nevertheless, it had been absolutely impossible for hini to leave White Abbey until the funeral was over and matters put at least in the way of being straightened. At almost every turn the lawyers had looked to Mr Darnley for some enlightenment and help, and, though since her father's death he rarely saw Cecil, he knew she, toe, derived comfort from the knowledge of his presence. It was Doctor flrt>rold who g"ave Paul direct news of Cecil. The old doctor had been greatly moved by all that had passed in that extraordinary interview between himself and the woman who henceforth was to have a perpetual place in Cecil's home.

"Whether all she speaks is truth or not I, cannot tell you," he remarked to Mr Darnley, when he had to recount the result of his interview; "but one thing is very sure —she is a woman who has .suffered most terribly, yet who has still within her the germs of a nature noble in a certain degree. .1 hardly know which I admire the most, Doctor Thorold added gently, after a little pause, "the girl who responded so quickly, so generously to the appeal of a suffering heart, or the woman who refuses now to let this generosity go so far as it was meant to go." "She is resolute in maintaining she will not urge her position, then?" Paul Darnley asked; and Doctor Thorold nodded. "She has obtained all she needs. She has had from the girl's hands all that her heart has hungered for in these years of mental death. I can understand her feelings exactly." Paul Darnle'' wa3 silent a moment. "And Cecil! What will she do? Will she allow this renunciation?" Doctor Thorold took off his spectacles and rubbed them brightly before he answered.