When Love Rules The Heart.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9569, 16 August 1909, Page 2

When Love Rules The Heart.

CHAPTER XVIII.-Continued. He heard her in amazement. This beautiful, graceful girl a street singer! His better nature was stired to pity, but only for a moment. "You will come?" he asked j.bruptly. "Yes," Zilla replied.

CHATPER XIX. ETHERINGTON'S STRATAGEM^ Clarence Mountarbon was satisefid. The girl's flushed face was pitiful in its loneliness; the dusky eyes shone with a brilliancy that was not natural. He saw that her halfparted lips were quivering;. Again his conscience troubled him. He turned to ,Vlrs Chatto, who was standing between rim and the front door, "Has Miss Seton been ill?" he asked. "She seems dazed, and does not appear fully to realize what is passing around her. Or is it the evil news concerning her father which has unnerved her?"

"She will be very ill soon." Mrs Chatto replied. "If,you take my advice, sir, you will not let her leave my house.until Mr Armitage comes." "Impossible!" Mountarboon said. "Miss Seton knows her duty." An ugly frown disfigured his face "And you may tell Mr Armitage that Miss Seton went away willingly with Clarence Mountarbon, at her father's request—remember!" he added, in a sharp undertone. Zilla came forward buttoning her jacket, and he turned to the door.' Mrs Chatto kissed the girl's cheek impulsively. "1 wish my Charlie was at home!" she said. "He should go with you, Miss Seton'" , Zilla made no reply—she did not seem to hear.

"I am going to my father, Mrs Chatto," she presently murmured. "When my lover comes you will tell him. He may never want to see me any more." The front door was wide open now. The horse was pawing the roadway impatiently. Clarence Mountarbon was standing on the pavement. "Good-by!" said the girl dream iiy. "Not 'good-by/ my dear! It will be only an hour or two. I shall send Charlie 10 Bow Street the minute he comes in, and he will bring you home in his cab!" "I am so tired!" said Zilla. "I wish that I . coulJ rest somewhere, and that my ;sl<;ep wou d «nd in death! Good-bye, Mrs Chatto!" Mountarbon opened the carriagedoor. The cabman's wife wiped tears from her eyeß. The girl louiced back once, and smiled sadly. She did not 3;e the crowd of vulgar gossips on the pavement: she did not hear their giles and jests. She entered the carriage and recoiled at the sight of Gus Etherington. lhe pause was but momentry. Mr Mountarbon had prepared her for tiiis —Mr Mountarbon was beside her. iutherington took off his hat respectfelly, and bowed, thus hiding the sudden light that flashed into his eyes. The bloud rushed.to his face. He uttered a few words, but thpy were lost in the sudden whirl of the carriage. Zilla leaned back and closed her eyes. A strange drowsiness stole over her, to which she succumbed without an effort. A restful, satisfied sigh fluttered from her lips, and she slept as peacefully as a little child. There was silence for a while. The horse's hcofs rang sharply on the hard road.. They were not going cityward. The houses became scattered; the country 1 iv before them. "It is lucky that she sleeps so soundly!" remarked Etherington. He touched one of the girl's hands almost reverently. Mountarbon's eyes were fixed upon him curiously, doubtfully. "It is a great responsibility," he said, a t«-ueh of scorn in hia smile, "If that man Seton has lied to you?" f "Lied? I never doubted him! His- scheme of vengeance was horrible enough! 1 was attracted to the girl from the first. I cannot explain ihe mysterious magnetism which drew me on. I am a bad man, as the world goes—a blackleg, according to the ethics of society. But no man is utterly bad j —as they have made me nut to be. 1 am not quite past redemption!" Mountarbon was silent. He was filled with amazement. The wolf had become a Jamb. "For your share in this," resumed Etherington, "I thank you. I may have misjudged Lord Rainhill's son —I believe that I have. I feared for Zilla a fate like her mother's—the i woman whose faithful heart was broken by my neglect and cruelty. I And she is 'a mere child yet, with Bessie's eyes. I will devote my life to her." "And wnat of Seton?" "The trumped-up charge against him will avail nothing. I will use money and influence to get him out of the country. I think that his hatred of me is extinguished at last. He was my valet upward of twenty years; and I took away is sweetheart —my gamekeeper's daughter—the girl I married —the mother of this child. I templed her with money, dresses, jewellery—l promised to

BY OWEN MASTERS. Author of "Captain Einlyn's Daughter," "The Woman Wins," "The Heir of Avisford," "One Impassioned Hour/' Etc., Etc.

make her mistress of her household. Instead I took her abroad, and left her there ot die ! It is a back page in my life; but I was ashamed of my peasant wife. The man who calls himself Seton discovered her—poor Bessie!—in the last stages of poverty and starvation, with a little child. Bessie told him everything, and the story [only added fuel to the fire of his hatred of me. He was resolved to punish me through my child, of whose existence I never dreamed. He.drifted to the haunts of criminals, was sent to penal servitude, and returned cleverly disguised. I had known him as a slight dapper man, clean-shaven, and with sandy hair. He has grown stout, and dyed his heavy beard black. To you wonder that I failed to recognise him?" Mountarbon sighed a little wearily. "1 had it in my heart to tall your daughter all," he said. "Mine is the villain's part. Armitage and I were once comrades—nhe reminded me of that—but his handsome face and pleasant manner have come between me and the woman I love. I did net tell you the absolute truth. Hatred and disappointment poisoned my tongue, and some day you and Armitage will clasp hands, as he and I may never do again." "When Lord Rainhill gives his consent," Etherington muttered. •'There is plenty of time. She must learn to like me a little first." A brief silence ensued. The horse's feet clanged merrily. Brixton was miles behind. The road before theni green fields, with occasional patches of woodland. The carriage wept into "a valley; the hills on each side were crowned with cedars. A gloomy-looking house of red brick lay in the hollow, completely cut off from the world. "This is the home of some old pensioners of my family," Etherington rapidly explained. "They will take care of my daughter." The vehicle stopped, and Zilla'a eyes unclosed. Mountarbon opened the door and jumped out. Zilla followed him mechanically. She was utterly dazled. "Is my father here?" she whispered. "This does not lcok like a London prison." | TO BR OONTIN JED."!