THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3077, 23 December 1908, Page 2

THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

CHAPTER Vl.—Continued. i On the Monday following:,. Barbara iTane got a telegram from hfer sister, •who lived in a remote county, saying that Ler mother was not expected to I live. She mast come at once, if she j wanted to see her alive. Stately Barbara, usually so selfpossessed, was thrown entirely off her balance by the news. Her mistress herself packed a satchel for her to take with her, and directed all the needful preparations. Only as she was starting did it j enter Barbaras fluttered mind that j Mrs Tyrrell would be left without an attendant. Edith reassured her. "My cousin has promised to get me some one temporarily, and you %.ust come back as soon as you can." Barbara hesitated still, her eyes ■diluting, her lips tremulous. "Oh, mistress! mistress! my heart me at leaving you," she said. "I'm sorely impressed to stay. But I can't —my poor old mother is dying:! I must go to her!" "Certainly you must," said Edith cheerily, though her heart was heavy with that om'nous forbodang which had visit :d i* twice before. "Neva.' mind me, Barbara. Nothiing'has happened yet, and I don't believe anything will." "I'm sorely troubled, mistress, dear, sorely troubled," .'sobbed Barbara, "Beware of any servant he bri.*.gs you, and keep the door of the ".bed-chamber locked." She whispered her last sentence. "1 will, Barbara, I will." At eleven o'clock that night Edith retired to her rooms. She found a Ibright-looking young French girl waiting for her. v She said her name was Fantine, and that Mr Heathcote had sent her. It never struck Edith that her cousin was suspiciously prompt in sscuring for her a new maid. But she eyed her rather suspiciously, in remembrance of Barbara's ingThe girl seemed <dever and deft, irank and wiliing. iSfae had a pretty, .open face and a lively tongue when Edith encouraged her to talk, as she did, for her own thoughts oppressed her, and even this girl's- frivolous chatter was a diversion.

. Fantine was to occupy Barbara's room. She went to it as soon as Edith was done with her.

The night was cold and a low foe burned in the grate. Edith sat in her dressing-gown before it, her feet unon the fender, her cheek supported by her hand, a more than usually gloomy mood upon her. Suddenly a hand was laid upon her mouth, and an arm was flung round ifaer, and she was held gently but jirmly in her seat. Randal Heathcote was beside her, his pale but handsome blond face smiling dowu upon her triumphantly. "I'll take my hand from your mouth if you promise hot to scream, and I'll take my arm from round you if you promise to sit still," he said in a low voice. "You had better." he added, as she hesitated, her eyes flashing angry defiance at him. "You'll only set people talking about you by making a fuss; and your husband is so jealous he wouldn't believe you it others did. Will you .promise'?" Edith signified that she would. He instantly released her, and went aha locked the doOr leadine into the hall and the ane connecting with FantiDe s room, Edith watching him with flaming looks of anger and contempt. He came then and took a seat near her, but at a respectful distance.

"You see, Edith, you can't lock me out when I chose to come," he said in a qiiiet but triumphant tone. "I see/' she said, her lips curling. "The famous secret door is in this room, then?" He nodded his head slowly.

"It's in all three of the rooms. You cannot lock me out of any one of the suite," he said laughing. Edith's bosom was heaving, her delicate nostrils dilating with indignation. "Do you expect me to endure this outrageous treatment?" "I don't mean to ill-treat you," he said gently, his eyes softening as he looked at her, his voice mellow and tender. "Do I harm you by just sitting near you, by looking at you for an hour? I was dying to see you, Edith; I had to come." "I will have Rose Altman come and stay with me. if nothing else will keep you away," she said in a bitter voice.

"She wouldn't come, or, if she did, I should come just the same, and you know what use she would make of her knowledge of that." "Then you want my husband to hate me, to kill me, perhaps, in his rage."

"He would not kill you. The worst he would do would be to separate from you,, and he would have to allow you a handsome maintenance. There would be a chance for me then." "Don't flatter yourself— there would not be the shadow of a chance, in any case. But something worse than a separation would happen. Oh, Randal! be warned; I have had a foreboding of trouble from the first, because of this unman y and cowardly persecution of me." "You did not once call my love persecution," he said reproachfully. "It was not then. It is now."

"I can't help it. Tyrrell may be back any day. I shall never have another chance like this while he lives, and I mean to impi'ove it. I have laid my plans for it, and it is useless for you to trp to thwart me, Barbara's telegram was a pure in£ vention of my own to get rid of her."

"No!" exclaimed Edith, fliaging up her hands despairingly.

"It was. She will find how she has been cheated as soon as she gets !on p. and will then turn back. But tl.«- will be kept absei t three days, if more. She will suspect me of but she cant prove it."

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

Edith shuddered. The desperate determination of this man, his cool effrontery in following her up, filled her with renewed terror and apprehension. "After all, v?hy should you object to my seeing you an hour each evening till Tyrrell rrturns? I pledge yuu my word I will never stay longer." "You arr> mad to think of it! Edith gasped. "What would you do if my husba v nd came unexpectedly and found you here?" "There is no danger of that. No train arrives from the north between eleven and one<o'clock, and I would come between these hours* Consent, Edith; my lost darling, my beloved, say that I nsay come." He knelt beside her, and lifted his handsome face. How blue his eyes were. How often she had looked into them fondly and admiringly in other days. A spasm of recollection crossed her. But she shook her head. "It woulJ be madness—l dare not!" He seized her hand and covered it with kisses, "You must consent." "I cannot! I dare not!" She pulled her hand away from his .lips aJmost roughly. "Get up. Randall" He got up and stood looking at her, his fair face darkening, nis eyes grew sullen. "Shen I shall come without your consent," he said, in gloomy obstinacy. "You can do as you like about keeping your maid with you. She knows nothing now. But she is a .facile creature, easily bribed, if necessary, which Barbira was not. That is why I got rid of the one and obtained the other. You can do as you like about keeping her with you to witness our interviews and gossip about them afterward.! She would enjoy it. I dare say, and I don't think any sum of money could lock her tongue. I shall come between eleven and one every evening till Tyrrell returns. If you try any more schemes for baffling me, you run your own risk of exposing the situation to incidious eyes and being judged by them." Edith rose and stood with her head on the back of her chair. Her face was very pale, her eyes gloomly as his own, her voice stern. "Any risk is preferable to that of having my husband come and find you in my own room. He would be justified in thinking the. worst of me. After this, I shall keep Fantine with na'e day and night when lam in tnese rooms, and. if necessary, 1 will tell my husband all, I risk no more in doing that than in yielding tamely to your vile persecutions," "You may think so now. You will change your mind upon reflection, Anyway, expect me to-morrow night for I shall come if the room is full; or if you stay out of your room to avoid me, I shall wait till you return to it, and then come." With which parting assurance he left her. (To be continued).