UNKNOWN

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3151, 31 March 1909, Page 2

UNKNOWN

■DP B. HARLAND. 5 7 in's Secret/' "A Harvest-of / v e Elder Son," "Lord J fteeir," Etc. i f i

'' the done Miss extended he she was no favourable sjmpwere other sympHPPHHBMJfwhich promised well B-her ultimate recovery—a slower Hkse, a cooler hand, and her breathwas less laboured and more regWhether this could be atthe major's influence was the problems De Vigne solve in the course of experience. is a marked improvesaid to Mary on the fact, it is little less and I am curious it is due to the not, but it would noc do the experiment to-day. Let her to-morrow, when I am not before." were strictly obeysoldier saw Dora the next almost exactly similar Mary wished he had come at the same hour as she had heard his voice ou s afternoon; Dora berestless and expectant; over the silken in search of something she Hflmissed and could not remember, Hd she watched the door with a ■isfcful yearning that did not leave Hbr eye till he came in, and then she fwas a little child again, talking to " him in the soft, low, Hindoostsni syllables of her infancy, with her pretty head it its old place on his shoulder. The doctor saw her, and was satisfied; he would not have her disturbed; he saw ber many times in "the same condition, and heard what she bad to say. Here was a remedy ] hitherto unknown in all the resources of medicine; but as he told Mr Dacre, he could not find a Major Lugard for every young lady patient who had the same complaint. "And if you could," Mr Dr,cre said, with a smile, "the remedy might be worse than the disease; but how do you account for his singular power over her?" "It.is purely sympathetic. Lsy one of those vagaries of the brain, peculiar to her malady, her memory has gone back to the very early days of her childhood," and in those he was closely connected with her father, it is no longer as if he were lost or dead; 'when her mind leaves the past it rambles on to the time of the major's arrival in England, and there it stops. She thinks now that the colonel is coming home." "And I trust he may be," said Mr Dacre, with subdued fervor. "There i 3 nothing I would not do to bring him back; but this reward has been entirely unproductive of results?". "Entirely; I have seen the advertisements day after day. I often pass the walls where the bills are posted, and I see them soaked by the rain and tattered by the wind, but that is all." "I knew it would be so," Mr Dacre observed. "Whenever Col. St. Hilary is found it will not be by the detectives or the reward hunters: money is useless here." "That is wha". Mrs Dacre said, nearly word for word," said De Vigne. "I see her every day, under a promise to let her know from my own lips how Miss St. Hilary progresses, and you may expect to see Mrs Dacre here at any moment; she is coming to see my patient and you." Mr Dacre half rose from his chair, then sank down again, as if the quietly spoken announcement had paralysed him, and many seconds passed before" he could control the muscles of his mouth and articlate clearly. "It is some time siru a Mrs Dacre honoured me with a visit," he said, at length, "and I wish she had chosen a happier occasion. Still, let her come, and When by coming here she breaks prehaps the must solemn vow a woman ever made, I have only to wonder what will happen next." Some days elapsed before .Mrs Dacre fulfilled her promise, and then sha came one evening wjth Leonard; and during this time Dora made considerable progress, her fever-wasted figure began to look less fragile. She took a little solid food in its modified forms, and at the sound of Mary's or Lennox's voice she would listen with uplifted hand, as if trying to remember. * It was left for Mrs Dacre to tear down the thin veil that obscured her reason. When Leonard's mother went softly into the room, Dora gave her an eager, questioning glance; and then her voice was conventrated with a low, glad thrill in one word: "Mamma!" It had always been her pet name for Mrs Dacre when the lady took charge of her, after the death of Dora's own mother. For a lons time both were silent. Dora seemed qi;i f e content to find herself folritd in tht» widow's arms. It was as if she had awakened from a protract-, d dsep, and found herself in the old home oiKe more; and at fir3t the faces' of Lennox and Mary Walton were strange to her. Then* she began to remember, and as she remembered her eyes began to fill, "I hav.i been very ill," she said, looking at her slender little hands; "and you will tell me, mamma, was j it a dream-or was it true—that

Aunt Hannah showed me a paper, in which there was something about my father 9 No," and then a fiood of tears came, "that was not a dream, I recollect it now to:> wall. My dear father—my murdered father!" "Dora, darling," Mrs Daere said, in the firm and gentle tone Miss St. Hilary knew so well, "you and I were together a great many years, and I never deceived you once, did I?"

"Never, mamma." " And you know that if I made a promise 1 always fulfilled it; and you and Leonard used to say I was like the fairy godmother. If I told yon something would happen, it was sure to come true."

"Yes, dearest mamma, it always did: but I had not lost my father then."

"You have not lost him now, my darling. These stupid people have been making needless misery and trouble, offering rewards, and advertising in the newspapers for a strong brave soldier, who is well able to take care of himself. lam sure he will not thank them for it. And now I sm going to make you a promise. I will be the fairy godmother again. Your father is alive and well, and you shall see him in one month from to-day."

Dr. De Vigne, about to enter the room, halted under the curtained doorway, at a sign from Miss Walton's finger, and he heard the promise given. At first he thought it was said for the sake of soothing his patient, but when he looked at Mrs Dacre, there was that in her face which told him she meant every word. It was, for the moment, the face of a high pri«stess, or a prophetess; he could picture her standing knife in hand, by the sacrificial altar, ready to slay her son, her husband, or herself, in the atonement or expiation of a wrong. "Then you know where he is," Dora said; "and where he has been all this time?"

"You must believe and trust me as you used to do. and ask no questions," was the reply; "it has be°n a blunder from the first. If people had not interfered with those letters «and telegrams that were sent to you and only mean* - for you, there would not have been all this trouble and 'delay; but it shall not happen again, and I will see you again presently. Mary, you can tell me, perhaps, in which room I shall find Mr Dacre?" * "In the drawing room; he has been occupying that since he met with his accident; it saves the trouble of ascending and descending so many stairs. Leonard and the major aro with him." "The major!" Dora repeated. "Have I dreamed it, or did the major come to see me?" "We will tell you all about it, soon," Mary said; "so many things that were real seemed like dreams and so many things that were dream 3 seemed not, that it will take us some time to disentangle them." Mrs Dacre went downtsairs. De Vigne was onjjthe landing. [to be continued.]