THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3091, 13 January 1909, Page 2

THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

CHAPTER XVl.—Continued. • And yet what a triumph to prevent her ever marrying Frank -Lord Disbro now—to take from her Blackmere and all the fortune her grand- ; fathev had left—to see Edith, in all her stately haughty beauty, humbled to the position of a criminal, immursd in a prison, irons on these slender white wrists, perhaps, instead of those glittering diamond ornaments which had been one of her dead husband's many gifts to her, and the possession of which 'had ever filled Rose with yellowest envy. All that would certainly be worth some risk. .Besides, she must have done the deed. Miss Aitman had always believed it, and no'V here was James Rial ready to swear to the fact. Guilty? Of course she was. Rial would never be willing to swear to it if he didn't know it was true. She stole a look at the man. He stood, with his tail, slim form slightly bent toward her, his dark face turned that way, a greedy, waiting lodlc in his keen eyes. ''What do you mean by conditions?" Rose asked in almost a whisper. "I mean exactly that," the man briefly answered. Rose was silent a moment. "What conditions?" He leaned toward her again. "I warn you, you'll think it a heavy price to pay!" "Name it." The man stood silent, watching her face, while Rose ran over in herimir.d the sum of money he would be likely to demand for helping her to the gratification of her long-cherished hatred of Edith Tyrrell. "Whatever it is, even to a thousand pounds," she reflected, "I'd give it in a minute to have absolute proof that Edith did the deed. Well?" she repeated, wondering at his silence. "You needn't be afraid to name your price. I haven't agreed to give it, you know." "You'll think I'm insolent," Rial said, looking less so than he had at any moment yet. Rose tossed her head. "I presume I shall. You're sure to name an exorbitant sum." "1 want more thau money." "More than money?" Rose looked at him. "What do you mean?" "Hear me first. Once more hear what I can do before I tell you what I want for doing it. 1 can furnish what in law would be accepted as absolute proof that Mrs Tyrrell killed her husband. If I do it, she's sure to be " Re stopped and an ugly whiteness crept over his dark face. "You're sure to get Blackmere," he went on in an intenso whisper. "You'll get nil the property your grandfather left; you'll be the richest woman in the country; and it will all be through me." He paused again. "Go on," said Rcse impatiently. "In return for this, I want your written promise beforehand to " He stopped again. Jt was very hard to get it out at last. Was eve'r bashful lover more relnctHiit than this wretch to name the price of his infamy? But at last he spoke, hanging his head an he diu it, afraid to look in the face, ugly and false, as she was, of the woman he insulted. "1 want you to promise to marry me \vh'3n all is done."

CHAPTER XVII. A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL. It war, a still night and bitterly cold. Tnerc was no moon, hut the snow and the starlight were enough to show Rose Altaian's changing face. She had not the hot, quick, flashing temper of her impulsive stepgrandmama. But she had, in her way, a far more bitter and blacker one. In her way, she was prouder of her position, more intolerant of presumption and insolence, than Edith herself. And this wretch had dared ask her to marry him! This servant, this brasher of men's coats! How do you think she answered him? Not in any refined and ladylike manner, dignified but cutting. No. Sh°, had on gloves. She pulled one off. "Kneel down here, James Kial," she commanded, pointing in front of her. "I haven't hud many offers of marriage in my life, but I knovv such propositions ought not to be made standing. Kneel, sir!" Rial stared, hesitated; then, awed by her manner, scared at his own daring, and perhaps unable to resist the habit of obedience to a superior, dropped upon his knees in the snow. The act brought his head on a level with the insulted girl's hands. The other glove was off by this time. Both gloves were flung on the snow, and two strong, nervous, angry hands bestowed on Mr James Rial's thin, smooth cheeks such a shower of sharp blows, first on one side, 1 hen on the other, then both together—stinging, blistering fclows--bdforf< which he cowered like a whipped hound, without thought of resistance. Not a word spoke she, not one. But when she was done she turned and ran up the walk to the house, like a d<=er, leaving Mr James Rial to get upon his feet at his leisure. * Mr Rial got up slowly, rubbing his smarting cheeks as he did no. He looked after the fleeing lady. He was rot angry; far from it. He knew a little of human nature, this sleek, slim Mr Rial, and he knew all the height and depth of chat shallow nature which was Rose Altman's. ",I. didn't expect she'd like the idea much at first," he muttered; "but she hates Mr Tyrrell so bitterly, and she loves money so much, I didn't know but both together would tempt her to even that. She has repulsed ire, but 1 don't, despair yet. I'll go

By HELEN COKWIN "PIEKCE, A, thor oE "At His Own Game," "Curb Emr-vson "Wilde," "Badly Matched," "The Cheated Bride,'" Etc.

now. No danger of her forgetting what I have said to night. Every rime her hatred of Mrs Tyrrell .vises, every time she envk.s her, she will think of what I have offered to do tonight, and the Ihoag'it of me will grow less and loss unbearable. Bat 1 must come in different shape next time. She shall see how well I can plav the uer.f Ismail. *' He smiled conceitedly. He was as vain, almost, as iviiss Aitman herself, an I he was very clever, hutnot clever enough for that. Not all the artifices of tailor, barber, and dancing-master combined could ever give James Rial even the outward semblance of a gentleman. He was right, though, about Rose Aitman remembering him. Before the week was out she would have i given him any price, almost, except the cne he asked, to have seen Edith Tyrrell hopelessly degraded. | "How I hate living in this stupid, | minlike way!" Rose said peevishly, j the week before Christmas. j Edith had just signified that she should neither accept invitations nor invite guests during the coming holiday season. "How I hate Blackmera!" Rose repeated. "Why do you stay here? No one wants you to stay- against your inclination," said Edith, in her cold, stately way. Rose shot her a vicious glance. She knew that Edith would be only too glad to see her go. "I said when grandpapa died," she whined, "that I'd never leave you, and I never will! I know I'm throwing my life away, but 1 mean to stay." "Very well," said Edith coldly. "Perhaps you'll be glad to hear that company is coming on Christmas, though not of my inviting or choice. Lord Disbro has written to ask permission to spend holiday wesk at Blackmere. with a friend. And as there's not time to send a refusal, I shall be obliged to let them come." "Who is the friend?" 'entreated Rose eqgerly. "It is the young Baron Arundel." "Baron Arundel! I know him. He must be coming to see me. Oh, Edith, you are an angel!" Edith's lip curled, but she made no answer. In due time Lord Disbro and Baron I Arundel came. The latter was mild, inoffensive-looking young man, handsomer than he was smart. "But I think he's got sense enough to keep out of Rose's clutches, or I wouldn't have brought him," Frank —Lord Disbro—muttered to himself, as he watched xMiss Altman's effusive greeting. Edith met my lord gravely. If she smiled at all, it was in a most mechanical way. Her face was white as driven snow, her very lips like sculptured marble. "You don't seem to be glad to see me." Lord Disbro said, the first moment they were alone, "and I hoped you uouici be, after so long." "What makes you think I'm not glad to see you?" Edith queried, with a faint smile. "You're so grave and cold." Edith lifted her beautiful, sad eyes. "I've cause to be grave and cold, Lord Disbro." "On Heathcote's account?" he asked bitterly. "Perhaps partly," she said. (To be continued).