THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3096, 20 January 1909, Page 2

THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

CHAPTER XXL—Continued. Partly to gratify her husband, whom she worshiped, partly because she liked herself, she entered into all the party-going and party-giving, the ball-going arid ball-giving, the dressing, riding, and merrymaking generally. They spent about' half the time in London, alternating between that and Disbro Castle, that being . close. Edith had married young the first time. She was only twenty-one now, ! and in the glory of her happiness, for , sorrow seemed to have taken wings and flown away. In the splendor of her beauty she was queen of whatever scene she shone upon, ard the idol, the adored ruler, of one heart. True, Rose was with her, and Rose hated her yet. She could see that in j many an envious glance, in the cold, ungracious way she accepted the many favours and gifts Lady Disbro bestowed upon her. But Frank, her i husband, loved her with all his soul, , and believed in her. So long as that j was so. Rose might do her worst. j No-; and then Edith thought of ■ Randal Heathcote. More than once j in the gay throngs she moved among, j she fancied she had a glimpse of a j form, a profile, like his, and her heart turned to lead for the moment. But she would shake off the oppression left by that momentary imagining and be gayer than ever. She was really happy, without any effort to be so, most of the time. But occasionally she thought of Heathcote, who was alive yet, for all she knew, and a sickening, unreasoning terror of him would cross her that the circumstances, bad as they were, scarcely seemed to warrant. It was unlike her, too, this fear of her cousin. She was so strong and selfreliant, so daring and brave. She had not feared him once, and it waa not she who was the guilty one. She had not murdered Captain Tyrrell. Then why should she be so afraid of his threats to drag her down to his own fate if the worst came? Did she fear him because he had told, her that the dagger with which the deed bad been done was her own? Even these facts scarcely accounted for the blind fear she had of him. Dorcas Lynn was still with her, faithful and watchful as any dog to to ward off danger from her nursling and mistress. Dorcas knew why she feared Heathcote. Randal Heathcote's unscrupulousness and recklessness were such as to make him feared by anyone who knew him well enough. Edith Disbro had never known her cousin thoroughly till the night poor Lois was dragged from her chamber and drowned piteously by his cruel hand. That night, for the first time, she realised what a desperate, merciless, and wicked heart her cousin reaUy had. Time passed and she had been married to Lord Disbro two year 3 now. Such a happy two years, without one hint of her dreadful cousin. He must be dead. CHAPTER XXII. THE DESTROYED LETTER. Lady Disbro was dressing one night to go- out. Her maid —a new one since her marriage—had just put the finishing touches to her dazzling toilet, all but the scat let roses in her hair, the arrangement of which Lady Disbro did not like. She had just pulled them out, and stood studving the effect of them in various positions against her magnificent braids, when someone knocked at her dressingroom door. Without turning round Edith called "Come in," and Rose Altman, in full evening toilet, blue silk and sapphires, glided forward. She stopped a moment, looking at Lady Disbro with a sneering smile on her thin lips, and saying to herself bitterly: "Will the day ever come when I shall see that glowing beauty quenched in a night of shame ai;d humiliation? I hope so." Edith slightly turned her head. "Is it you. Rose? Are you dressed so soon? How well you look," as Rose came forwards into the light of the wax candles. It was no flattery, Rose did look well; for her, blue was the most becoming colour, and the shade she wore to-night a selection of Edith's—became her better than any other. "1 thought that rilk would light up well at night," Edith went on, and stopped suddenly, with her eyes on a dainty-lookir,g, lavender-colored letter which Rose held rather ostentatiously in her hand. Miss Altman saw her thange countenance, and smiled slightly. "What have you there," Lady Disbro asked, turning with affected indifference to the glass. "It's a letter William was bringing you, and 1 took it from him as I was coming - right here." Rose tossed the letter down on the dressing table, the superscription uppermost. "Why, no it isn't—its for Frank, she cried, bending over to look at jt, and attempting to take it up again. But Edith was before her. "I will give it to him," she said, quietly, hiding the letter in the folds of her dress. Rose lifted her eyes to see that Lady Disbro's face was death-white to the lips. "Ii likes like Mr Heathcote's writing," she said, with a scornly concealed sneer. "But I don't see why he should writs to Frank—instead of to you." Edith turned cold. How bad this spiteful cieature divined her fear of Randal Heathcote? For that she had divined it she could not doubt, iri hearir g her speak, in meeting her eyes as she made that sneering «.pec<h. But she wert cm fastening *caiU. - ••••-< * ith an •

By HELEN CORWIU PIERCE, Ai.t wr of "At His Own Game," "Carrie Emerson Wilde," "Badly Matched," "Tie Cheated Bride," Etc.

untrembling hand. "If it was from Heathcote, it was very thoughtful of him," she sail.:, calmly. "He must know we have been .supposing him dead, and he probably thought it would give me a shriek to tell Frank first that he was alive." "Oh, to be "jure, I dare say. Where do yuu suppose he has been all this time?" "I have not the slightest idea," said Edith indifferently. She knew by experience that the iciest roldness would * no check Rose when she had a fancy for being impertinent and disagreeable. The only remedy she baa ever found effectual for ridding her of that young lady was supreme indifference, and she most devoutly wished to be rid of her now. But—she gave no sign. She went on v»ith her toilet, altering and realtering the disposition of her roser, and talking to her maid till Rose nearly almost became convinced she ! was as indifferent as she seemed, and left the room. Edith only waited till she was fairly beyond the door and the door closed before she dismissed her maid and pulled the lavender letter from its hiding. She held the letter in her hands and studied the superscription with devouring eyes. "I thought it was from him the instant I saw the colour," she muttered. "How I hate iavender, just because he liked it." She paused. "It must be from him," she said slowly. "What can he have written to Frank for? Not to save my feelings, as I pretended to think when I spoke to ,Rose Not he. More likely he has fulfilled some one of his cowardly threats and told my husband some story to make him hate me. If I thought that I'd burn the letter." She laid the letter en the tabie and sank into a chair, with her hands pressed to her temples, j "Whatshail I do? Frank may I come irj at any moment, and I'm too excited to.think. Dorcas! —I say. Dorcas Lynn!" she called sharply. Dorcas came m an instant from the next room, hurrying forward. "What is it, Miss Edy—my lady, I mean?" I "Oh, Dorcas, he is alive! Here is a letter from him to Frank. Shall I burn it or give it to him?" Dorcas stared from her mistress to the letter and back again in a fright. "Your cousin?" she stammered. "Yes, yes. But don't bother; tell me what to do with it, I can't think myself." i "Why shuula you burn it, my lady?" "Because I am nearly sure he has I written to Frank some horrible lie :aboutme." • I "Have you read it?" I (To be continued).