The Colonel's Enemy.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3167, 19 April 1909, Page 2

The Colonel's Enemy.

" CHAPTER XXXVI. —Continued: "I do not think lie has left London yet," De Vigne said. "And I hope he will not," St. Hilary interposed, "till I have seen him. He has been a second father to my child. I can never ihank him sufficiently. Few girla, left as was, have found such friends." "If she were his ovsn child," said De Vigne, "he could not be more attached to her. 1 hope, colonel, ym will bear that in mind, if you fcave occasion to change your opinion •of him." "Why should I ever change my opinion of him?" the colonel asked When De Vigne had gone. "There can be but one opinion of a man like Dacre; his name is a household word, a synonym for boundless charity of the wisest kind, and his private character is unblemished. Few men can show such a record; not one can be more deserving of the world s respect and mine." While he was on that subject the major encouraged him by talking of all that was best hi Mr Dacre's conduct—the thoughtful help he had rendered to so many, his unassuming life at home, his modesty 111 public. *His whole character, as Frederick Lugard deputed it, was calculated to win St. Hilary's warmest aemiration. "He is the sort of man to know and cherish with a lifelong) friendship," the colonel said, "and we shall not quite meet as strangers. It was a curious remark the doctor made. There can be hut one ©/pinion of Mr Dacre; it would not be possible for me to change mine." "There are those who say that he was not always what be is now," Lugard observed. "Ha has (detractors who hint that some of iiis .antecedents would not bear the light >o<f day, &nd that much o* his far-reaching munificence is prompted by a wish to make atonement for wrongs done in bis earlier days." "He would be sure to have detractors," St. Hilary .-said.;'";and even if v?iiat tney say is true, what can a man do mora than try to atone? I have no patience with the hard selfrivrhteouaneas that cannot overlook a fault, and will not forgive in injury done and repented. If he were a cruel fraud, a hypocritical importer lika Dallas Crombie,, it would be different; but he stands alone in his matchless villiany.. Another miscreant of his calibre was never bOrn."

"And yet," said Lugard, "even he mteht be able u> urge .some extenuating circumstances." The lurid fire that leaped into the colonel's eyes warned him that it would be a dangerous topic topur.sue. "Let him urge them wheaa lie is tin the felon's dock," .St. Hilary said, "before a jury who will hear my stdry, and a judge who can give him tfte sentence he deserves. I shall never rest until I liave hunted Mm down, if I have to search the world through ard through for him." "You think 60 now/' Lugard .said ot himself; '"but Dor,a will plead for hm, and then there is your promise to De Vigne. £ hope most fervently that Mr Dacre wiJ] take advantage of the opportunity, and put the Channel between them before th.e day is over." This, perhaps, was what Mr Dacxe would h»ve done, nut he was not at home when the doctor went to Canon Street. "He has gone out on foot," the servant said, "and would not be long." De Vigne wondered whether he had heard of the fire, but did not question the girl. He could only wait and see what would hajpen, determined to stand by his benefactor to the last. Dora was with Mary Walton and Mary's mother when Da Vinge arrived. Miss St. Hilary had recovered wonderfully guilder his care and their nursii;g, but her sweet face had a pensive expression, that had made the doctor's heart ache for her many a time. He forgot for a moment Mr Dacre's peri), when he thought of the pleasure his tidings would give her, he and had no sooner entered the room than she saw he had something to tell. Mrs Walton, not :.o keenly observant, saw nothing unusual, and drifted at once into ordinary gossip. "Lennox tells us there has been a dreadful fire," she said. "She heard it from one of the gifcls in the kitchen, and she heard it from the postman, or the policeman. Is it true?"

"Quite true/'he said; "I was in the major's rooms when the engines went tearing down Piccadilly. It broke out at a private asylum at Fulham, but I have more important things to tell you than that. Some good news—the best for Miss St. Hilary." l "My father," she faltered. ■ . "If you were not so brave and strong, 1 should be afraid to tell you; but we have heard of your father. You have to thank the major for it; he fjfind the colonel at last, safe and well; it is not for me to say how or where; that you will hear from the colonel's own lips soon." "Safe and well, and I shall hear it from his own lips soon!" Dora exoiaimed; "and the ; major sent you here to tell me. Then it must be tura, he would not deceive me, and I shall see my father soon. Do you mean to-day?" / ___________

} s "I should not,,bej|surpnsed~to*see your father and the major here withn an hour. Lugard likes to be sure, or he might have told you last night that his quest was nearly at an end. £You, Miss St. Hilary—you will see jour father soon; and in your gladness, I should like you to remember that his return wil be a death-blow to one—perhaps to more than one —for whom you have a tender regard; more than this I cannot say. ;Butffi JyoUfcCan find it in your'

By WINTHRO? fi.- BARLANCAuthor of "Lady Mgi&'s Secret, A H-"' 1 - 1 *' Shame," "The Elder' Son," "Lord Ashton's Heir," Etc.

heart to stand between the clonal, and his enemy--a.ve, even go as to put in a prayer for the man *rho wronged him —it will not ba away." "The man, do you meap," Dora said, with her hand to her troubled j brow, "who has kept my father from j me?" "Yes," he said with gentle firmness. "tie man who was driven to desperate measures by St. Hilary's unrelenting animosity : but who, when he had your father in hn power, spared him, perhaps, for your sake." "I do not undeistand you," Dora said, with a Hash of htr eyes that toid him she was St. Hilary's daughter, "and i make no promise, Dr. De Vigne. You ask me to stand between my father and his enemy, to ask my father to have mercy on him, the one who kept my father from me, and spared him, not for my sake, for what could hu know of me or care for me? —but because he was afraid to run the risk of adding murder to the rest of his crimes. If you . knew what I have suffered since that day when Mr Dacre and Major Lugard went to meet my father, and came back without him, you would not ask me to plead for his enemy." "Wait." Mary Walton said as she saw AthoS's pain and disappointment, '"till she has seen her father and heard all the truth. You will not find her so forgiving then." The doctor said nothing-, but _he had walked from the back drawing room to the windows of the front, ; and as he stood there the major's carriage arrived, and a minute later Lugard brougth St. Hilary in. Dora wiuld have gone down the stairs to meet them had not Miss Walton restrained her, •"Yourstrength might give way," she said; "you had better meet him here." it was a well-timed caution, for as the colonel took his daughter in his arms she turned faint and dizzy from excess of emotion; but not till, from her father's shoulder, she had given Lugard a swift and grateful glance. Mary thought, with a sigh, of poor Leonard.; he. seemed to drop so hopelessly dh the background, while the major became more and more Dora's hero.

There was pathos in the very rapture of that reunion which brought tears to Mary's and Mrs Walton's eyes, and Jmade the two men direct their attention to the not far distant park. One of the gates was visible from where 'hey stood, and they saw ttie tall, sinewy figure of a pedestrian pass through and cross toward the angle of Canon Street with long, resoilnte strides; he could not have been far from the door when Dora put her first question to St. Hilary. "Where have you been, my own dear father, all this dreadful time, and who was it that kept you away?" "The story is a long one, darling," he said with a simle, "and I will not let it trouble you this afternoon. Let this, at least, be a day of rejoicing.. W« can think of that to-mor-row. lam sorry Mr Dacre is not at home." As he spoke, the drawing-room door was opened, and the master of the bouse stood on the threshold. [to be continued.]