A HEARTS TRIUMPH.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9120, 20 June 1908, Page 2

A HEARTS TRIUMPH.

CHAPTER Vll.—Continued

"Cecil is a revelation to me," he said. "I had not known there was such strong reasoning power in her. She is, after all, so young, and her rearing has been so unusual, that though I have known her to be quick in intelligence and art apt pupil, I had prepared myself in a sense for some complications in the girl's mind when, as now, she had left her childhood behind her. But she has her own mode of thought already, her own code of moral duties, and I do not think we need fear for the future—granted she does not hate the misfortune to let her womanliness overpower her wisdom. This is a digression, however," the doctor added, with a faint smile, as he put on his spectacles again, "and not an answer to your question. Cecil will do nothing that will give one instant of trouble to that poor creature, Mr Darnley. She is prepared to share her life and as she has with this woman home she is now taught to call mother; but since it is the earnest, the most eager desire of this mother to remain in a sense where she has been all these years, Cecil will agree to this continuation of secrecy only because she wishes to do all in her pow.er to give content and comfort to this poor woman." "They will remain on here together, then?" Paul Darnley asked, halfdoubtfully. It hurt him somehow to have to conjure up the vision of Cecil's future alone with thi3 strange woman, who had been so instrumental in bringing disaster to the girl's home; moreover, he had been fostering his owji plans of winning his love's interest in Cecil, but he knew well that Miss Sedworth would be little disposed to include the newcomer in any offer of friendship she might make. "Do you consider it wise of us to let the girl act so iude-

pendently in this matter?" ha asked octor Thorold. "Of course, I know we have nothing but a moral right to interfere in anything she may do, but still I cannot help feeling deeply troubled over this business. The woman's story may be true (that she undoubtedly had some bitter claim against poor Lacklyne I cannot but accept seeing what terrible consequences followed on their meeting); nevertheless I have a very great affection for Cecil, and I shrink from the thought of her being tuft utterly alone with this woman for her conj stant companion. Wronged or run wronged she has been an inmate of a prison for a number of years and her mind whatever its original nature can be in no desirable condition. Till the will is read and we learn whether Lacklyne has appointed a guardian for his child we must let things rest" Paul added; "but if 1 could act as I wish I would have requested thi» lady to leav3 White Abbey at once. Cecil is a highly strung imaginative girl; she is not fit to make so tremendous a sacrifice as this suggested union must signify to her future." Doctor Thorold was unable to deny the good sense and wisdom of what Paul Darnley said but he had upon him still the influence of that painful pathetic interview and some portion of his sympathy and respect had gone out to the alien woman who had cast at once ambition and revenge to the winds at the sound of the word "mother" spoken tenderly by the girl's lips. He was not a young man like Paul, nor was he a worldly man so perhaps that was why he was not so ehocked at the prospect of a future for Cecil spent with this woman. "We must wait till the will is read," was his only answer to all Mr Darnley had said. I But the reading of the will> left things exactly as they were, for there was no mention of any guardian to Cecil Lacklyne; nothing, indeed, but the bare statement that everything of which the dead man had been possessed —land, investments, and income—passed wholly to the girl, who was his only child. Though few had expected anything different, there were odds and ends of people present, cousins and other relatives of the Lacklyne family, who felt faintly aggrieved that so much weaith>should pass undisturbed by even some small legacies to one person, and Cecil's jpod fcrtune was much extolled. To Paul Darnley the will was a disappointment only on Cecil's account. He had hoped that Charles Lacklyne might have put the girl's future into the hands of some 01 e who could have been a definite, and practical protection to her. Left as she was, Cecil would be, he feared, too carefully watched by those whose first thought would be her money. Although the position would have been heavy with responsibility, Darnley would have unhesitatingly accepted the guardianship of the girl had Sir Charles named him for the post; and, truth, to tell, the ycung man hud half-expected this. With ' sincere regret he relinquished the thought ?£ 3?rY:ng and guarding his friend's daughter. Cecil had sent him word that she wished to see him before he went away, and as soon as all the formalities were over and most of tho people scattered Paul sought out a servant and sent a messjge to the 1 girl's room to say he was at her disposal. Cecil's answer was given in person. Sha came down the broad stairs for the first time since her father's death. Bho was altogether changed. The tall, boyish figure was gone for ever; in its place Darnley saw a vjry graceful and beautiful young woman, wearing a close-fitting black gown and moving with the ease of one who had been always accustomed to such garb. It was not merely in her method of dress that Cecil had changed. Paul saw in his first glance at her face that the experience of the last week had swept the young

By Effie Adelaide Rowlands, Author of "Hugh Gretton's Secret," "A Spleudid Heart," -'Bravo Birbara," "Tl:e Temptation o£ Mary Barr," '-Selina's Love Story," etc.

ceaturre out of the aimless drifting of youth out of the path of vague thoughts and yearnings into the storm and stress of real life. She did not seem to have shed many tears, but there was a look in her eyes that told of suffering and trouble too deep for mere weeping. Paul clasped her hands in silence for a moment. He lost at this moment something both of his own disappointment and his fear about her future. She looked so strong, so proud, so self-reliant in her new-come womanhood. "You have heard your father's last wishes, I suppose?" 'he asked her. She bent her head. "They are simple enough," was her answer. They sat down together in the dining-room, which had a cheerless and comfortless air, with the many electrical contrivances which no longer fulfilled their purpose, and an empty grate. Outside, the weather had grown more autumnal. It was raining, and the trees were shedding leaves at every gust of wind. "What are your plans, Cecil?" Darnley asked. She looked at him with her beautiful, sorrow-touched eyes. "I scarcely think I have any, save to remain here." "You will make t>ome changes?" She paused before answering. "Yes," she said at last. "I shall have change in a good many things. I could not carry on the workshop, for instance, even if I wanted to do so; and with the closing of that we must fall back on more primitive arrangements in the house. I gave orders to my lawyer to have everything paid up in full to my father's work people. I suppose they have gone by now." Paul shook his head. "Michael Everest is here, I know. He has been so troubled about you, Cecil. I wish," Darnley said a little hesitatingly—" —"I wish you would see him before he gees. He seems to me a really nice t young fellow, distinctly a gentleman. I am sure he would like to say farewell to you in person." "I will see him, most certainly," Cecil answered. "I have always liked Mr Everest, from the first day he came here."

Then ttiey talked of many things, but somehow Paul found it impossible to broach the subject that was weighing most on his mind. It was Cecil herself who introduced it. u l want to make the house comfortable —more habitable —if I can. You know I shall not live here alone." Paul just bent his head, and there was silence between them till the girl spoke again. "I want to atone," she said then, and har voice was neither clear nor steady. "I want to give back in a little degree some portion of what has been lost in all these years. Perhaps Doctor Thorold has told you everything. I asked him to do so." "He has told me everything—yes," Paul answered; and again there was silence between them. Cecil sat looking out of the window—out on the desolate, raindrenched garden, on the tall trees, with their scanty raiment of dying leaves. "I could not have acted differently. Something in my heart tells me I am doing right, and she—she asks for so little —just for recognition and sympathy, and a home to end her days." "What shall you tell the world?" Darnley asked. Cecil half-smilad. (To be continued).