THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3094, 18 January 1909, Page 2

THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

CHAPTER XlX.—Continued. "I will think of all you have said, my lord," Edith answered in tha same lew tone, her facts averted and her cold hand struggling to release itself from her lover's impassioned clasp. He kissed the little hand tenderly and let it go. He waited with what patience his impatient soul would let him t. 11 that hour the next day. Then he went for his answer, with soul in his eyes CHAPTER XX. "WOE TO THOSE WHO TRY TO SEPARATE US NOW i" Edith met Frank, grave and sad to sternness. "Will you answer me one question, my lord?" she said. "'Whatever you may think of me in the future, whatever you may have thought of me in the past, you must believe in rne at this moment, or you would not ask me to bo your wife. Is it su?" "Ido believe in the you—the noblest, the purest, the " Edith lifted her hand. "Spare me, my lord," she said, gravely and proudly. "I judge," she resumed slowly, "that you have well weighed the responsibilities and dangers involved in your strange proposition to me yesterday." "I am sure Lhat 1 have, dear Edith," he eagerly answered, his eyes luminous. She lifted her hand again imperatively. "Have you reflected that the very fact of my consenting to marry you, in response to such a threat as that, would be against me? How tould 'you believe in me if, having refused before, I consented because you made such a threat as that?" Frank Disbro's eyes flashed. "I do believe in you," he said almost angrily. "Do you doubt my word?" Euith looked at him a moment sacsJv. "I warn you," she said, "that the day wiil come when you will curse the hour you ever offered me such conditions." "I have not come here to discuss that," Lord Disbro said sternly, his eyes darkening. "True, yet I must warn you. You have doubted me; you will again. For I can never veil you my secret, neither now nor hereafter. My lips are locked with a solemn oath. No matter how terribly appearances may be against me m the future, no matter hew you may entreat me, I cannot, answer you. Are you util! of the mind yoj were yesterday, Lord Disbro?" "I most certainly am." "Then, if you will wait six months and no news by that time of Mr Heathcote, I will marry you." Lord Dishro's handsome face, after brightening vividly with the first of this speech, clouded at the last. "Heathccie again?" he muttered gloomily. Edith locked at his downcast face, hesitating a moment, and then extended her hard. "Mot because I love him, frank, or have ever loved him for years now." Frar.k caught T hat lily hand raptuously, i'o his lip?. , "Truly ?" he said. "You know it," Edith answered sadly. | .3•• • • | Six months later summer had come, I nd Edith Tyrrell, the pale shadow j of herself, paced the garden aisles j and scented the fresh-smelling air with more of delight than she had felt in anything in all the long months gone since Christmas. She had put off her blacic robes j for the first time. She wore a dress j of some exquisite soft, white crape j material that clung about her lovely form like the carved drapery of a | statue. A cluster of white violets were on her breast and mother in her hand. She looked pale and grave, but oh !so beautiful! Nothing —neither sickness nor sorrow—seemed to impair that waxen-fair loveliness of hers. She was thinking, as she walked alone, of that day, six months before, when Lord Disbro had come to her with the torn scrap of Lois' dress in his hand. Frank had consented to that six months' probation reluctantly, however. Edith hart immediately set on foot such cautious inquiries aS' she dared for Heathcote. Those inquiries could not well begin at the point where he had disappeared, for tear of bringing out the connection Edith believed him to have had with poor Lois' death, and she still wished to avert from him the consequences of that evil deed. But as thoroughly as she dared, she had searched for that strange, wicked cousin of hers, that man who had made po much of her life wretched. _ Six months she looked lor him—in London, on the Continent;, wherever she thought there was the least likelihood of his going. She advertised for him at home and abroad, even in America. But she could learn nothing. His friends generally believed him dead, and it is not too much to say that, without expressing so wicked a. wish, even to herself, Edith Tyrrell cm), unconsciously, perhaps, hope he war. He had been such a cursu ami terror to her ever since her man c to Captain Tyrrell. There was fair reason for inferring that Heathcote was dead. Why, else, had he written to r.o one? Not even i/j his lawyer? tie must be without money, too, and when he had disappeared from Blackmere he had gone without even a change of clothes. The valise with which he jad come there that ill -fated time

By HELEN CORWIN FIERCE, Author of "At His Own (.nin.-e," "Carrie Emerson "VVililo," "Badly Matched," '"J'l e Cheated Bade," Etc.

remained still in the room he had then occupied. Edith had locked the donr herselt, and been tempted to fling away the key, in her horror of him and everything that had been his. Randal Heathcote's mother had died soon after Edith's marriage, and his only sister had followed her after a few months. There remained of his near relatives only Edith Tyrrell, and, in case uf his death, his property all fell to her, as Rose had taken pains to remind her. Edith shuddered at the idea of owning Heathcote House, and registered an inward vow that nothing should ever tempt her again within its hated and, for her, haunted walls. She stiil said nothing to any one of having met Heathcote that day in the grounds. She did not even converse with Dorcas about ic. The very thought of everything connected with him was intensely painful to her, and as for talking of him when she could avoid it, she did not and would not. She tried to believe he wasjjdead, as others did. The six months ot Lord Disbro's probation had passed, and Randal Heathcote had not been found. For the first time in years, Edith Tyrrell allowed herself to rejoice in the sunshine without fear, to look forward to a future so glowing with promise that, after all she had undergone, it almost frightened her to contemplate it. Any moment now her lover, her promised husband, might be here. He was sure to come to-day, for today his probation expired, and in anticipation of that event, and in outward sign of her own rejoicing htart, her renewed hope in life, Edith had put off the black robes so long worn and donned white. The violets, too- she who loved flowers ho had not worn one since her unhappy husband's tragic death. She bent her beautiful head now, and srnelled those in her hand with keen delight. She looked up at the sunshine and round at the waving trees, and wondered if happiness could really be coming to her at last. She would not allow herself to have any forebodings now. She forced from her thoughts at this moment, at least, every vision but that painted by hope. Dorcas, that staid old woman, came suddenly hurrying down the walk at a run that threatened to give her an ignominious tumble. Edith started forward to meet her. "He's come, my darling one!" the old womn's lips syllabled before she got to her, and her shining face told the news before that. The next moment the tall, upright form of Frank. Disbro himself came i n view, approaching at a swinging pace. He had followed Dorcas. Edith snrank within the 3hadow of the shrubbery, her face whitening instead of flushing, but her eyes filling with happy tears. In a second more Frank had her in his arms, careless if all the world, Rose Aitman included, had been looking on. "Mine! mine! mine!" he reiterated rapturously. "Oh, my Edith, can it be true?" (To be continued).