THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3070, 15 December 1908, Page 2

THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

CHAPTER ll.—Continued. However that was, Edith refused to even see him after she promised to marry Captain Tyrrell, or to hold the slightest communication with him. His own relatives made every attempt to bring about a reconciliation, going so far as to appeal to Captain Tyrrell himself. A very foolish and useless proceeding this last, and one to which'that haughty old Turk replied with such a fierce and wrathful outburst of denial and invective as fairiy scorched the souls of the Heathcote ambassadors. Mrs Heathcote, Randal's mother, one of the proudest old ladies in existence, went on her knees, as it were to Edith, to entreat her to lorgive her son. But she would not. "It is my turn now," was all she would say. "I adored him once, but I hate him so bitterly now that there is not a creature in England so low and infamous that I would not marry him sooner than Randal Heathcote!' In a month she was Captain Tyrrell's wife, and her cousin was at the wedding, and the first to offer his congratulations. If he did so with any sinister or hypocritical motive, there was no sign of it in his handsome, smiling face, no glitter of enmity in his large, light-blue, deprecating eyes. Apparently, whatever wrongs he believed himself to have endured at the hands of his cousin, he had forgiven her. When the happy pair returned from their bridal travels, he was among the first to welcome them, and from that hour coolly established himself as a regular and frequent visitor at Blackmere.

The mystery of why these two had quarrelled remained a mystery. If Edith knew, she would not tell even her husband; and Heathcote, after keeping the secret so long, was not likely to tell it now. Considering the peculiar circumstances,of Edith Heathcote's ma;riage with Captain Tyrrell, his jeaolus and tyrannical disposition and her haughty and ungovernable spirit, the two had not differed so fiercely as might have been expected. They would doubtless have got along rather amicably if Randal Heathcote and Rose Altman could have been dispensed with. As Edith entered the dining-room her husband looked up, scowli-ng. But he could not resist the bright toward him.

The frown disappeared, though he said crossly, in response to her salutation of welcome:

"Most women would have waited up for a husband on such a bitter night as last, instead of going comfortably to bed and locking their door against him." "So he did try the door, after .all," thought Edith. "Thank my lucky stars and Barbara, it was locked." She laughed lightly as she answered her husband:

"Ah, but you know, I'm not like most women. I went out for a walk in the afternoon and lost my way, and by the. time I got home I was too exhausted to sit .up for a moment longer, so I lay down and Barbara locked the door to keep out intruders."

"You don't mean to say .you .went to bed before dark," questioned Rose Altman.

Miss Altman was Fairfax Tyrrell's grandchild. She was very vain and very homely almost ugly, and she hated her grandfather's young wife with absolute venom, in a bad, viperish way that was perfectly patent to every one, for she was not clever enough to conceal it if she tried. "I retired very soon after I came in," Edith answered Miss Altman carelessly. "And have slept till now?" "And have slept till about an hour ago." "You must have been tired," Rose observed, with a faint sneer. She always sneered at her beautiful step-grandmama when she dared. "I was," Edith answered, without noticing the sneer. She despised Rose too much, as a general thing, to notice her. "Did you see Mr Heathcote while you were out?" "I did not." Edith coloured as she said it. It was the first absolute lie she had told. Fairfax Tyrrell looked at her sharply. "I saw Mr Heathcote drive past in his new phaeton," pursued Rose. "I thought perhaps you would try it. Odd that he did not overtake you." Fairfax Tyrrell started, and turned another dark and piercing glance on his voung wife. "Yes, I should perhaps have asked him to bring me home if he had overtaken me," Edith said coolly. Mr Tyrrell leaped from his seat in a furious passion. "Lucky for both that you did not!" he shouted; "and if you ever so much as get into that phaeton with Randal Heathcote, I'll—l'll murder both of you!" Edith ufted her ca;m black eyes to his face. "Then I shall be very careful not to do it. I should have to have you hung on my account," she said quietly. Tyrrell scowled at her. "Ifjever I am hung, it will be for killing one of you two." "Or both, as you just proposed," returned Edith.

i'.ose Altman went on with her lunch during this interchange of courtesies between the husband and wife, her appetite greatly increased by the altercation. Until Fairfax Tyrrell's marriage with Edith, Rose Altman had expected to be his heiress. That was why she hated her. Her hope now was to sncV"? >er crrindfather to alter bis

"Mil \et bt-fo-e died, or else destroy it, in which last case most of the

By HELEN CORWIN PIERCE, Author of "At His Own Game," "Carrie Emerson Wilde," "Badly Matched," "The Cheated Bride," Etc.

property would come to her as next heir. Edith was perfectly conscious of Rose's dislike and its cause. But, with all her faults, she possessed too large a nature herself to retaliate in kind the ill turns Miss Altman did her at every opportunity. On the contrary, she never permitted a chance to go by to do the girl a kindness; and Rose really enjoyed more privileges since her corning to Blackmere than she had before. "I know you hate me, my dear," Edith would say in her light, frank way, and 1 know why. But don't be cross, Rose. If ever I do come into your grandfather's money, you shall have half of it." "I'll have all of it, if I live." Rose would mutter, under her breath, in reply. Randal Heathcote did not come to Blackmere for some days, and when he did call the mistress of the house was absent. Mrs Tyrrell heard of his call from Rose wjth sharp misgivings. Miss Altaian's blue eyes seemed to hold such a wicked light. "What a pity about your cousin's beautiful horses?" Rose said, at dinner that night. Fairfax Tyrrell looked up with the scowl usual at the mention of Heathcote. His wife, for three seconds, suffered sharp pangs of doubt and anger. "Can he have been so abominable as to tell her?" she thought. But she controlled her countenance and only looked blankly inquiring at Rose. "What is such a pity about the horses?" asked Mr Tyrrell. "He was out in the stcrm Tuesday night, and they were both killed by the lightning." Rose looked sharply at Edith as she said it. "Of couise you knew it," she said. Edith shook her head. "I am very sarry for his loss," she said. "Then I'm not," roughly spoke Mr Tyrrell. Edith merely looked at him and said: "That was not to be expected." CHAPTER IIL BARBARA'S ADVICE.

As she had promised, Edith went in a week to the mountain cottage, to pay her debt of fifty pounds. She had meanwhile inquired about the family, and learned that they were noted all over the mountain for their honesty and strict rectitude. "They'll keep their word, then, and not gossip about me, if I get their promise," she thought. She paid Donald his fifty pounds, and made Mrs McVeigh, his mother, a present of ten more. "That was my cousin here with me," she explained in her frank way to the old woman. "I loved him once, and was to have married him. But I hate him now, and my husband is jealous of him. My husband is a man of violent temper. I presume you know what Captain Tyrrell, of Blackmere, is. 1 am sure he would murder one or b.ith of us if he knew I was out with my cousin thejother night, though it was not my fault." (To be continued).