When Love Rules The Heart.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9572, 19 August 1909, Page 2

When Love Rules The Heart.

' CHAPTER XX.—Continued. "A blind girl, ma'am," explained the bmler. "Got in here, ard has been singin'. John thinks she's shamir.in', ma'am." "Tut—tut! Let me see for myself," the old lady interrupted. "I have toid you repeatedly to keep zhe f gates locked after ten o'clock. Stand aside, blockhead!" Zilla was lying motionless on the ' dump lawn. The light from the moon fell full upon her upturned face. The lamps flickered in the night wind. It was a strange scene. "This is no common street hussy," mumbled the mistress of the house. "I heard her voice—it was angelic. Ha, ha! I tali: of angels! I was in [ my' room, ar.ci I came down just in time to catch these overfed mongrels harrying the unfortunate child. And blind too! I shall done little enough of good in my life. She shall not be turned away. 1 want to hear her sing again. Now, you clods, bestir your selves, and briny the girl in! Handle htr gently! Quick, I say!" An 1 she rapped her stick angrily up n the ground. Zilla was blissfully unconscious of it all. The pompous butler and the aggrieved footman carried her into the house. Their mistress walked behind. The senseless girl was laid upon a couch, and simple restoratives were applied. They were useless. She was put to bed and a doctor sent for. The servants were completely bewildered. Had their mistress taken leave of her senses? ''lt's simply audacious, Mr tirown!" the footman said to the butler. "A common tramp, an' a fake at that! I ready must lesign!" "Don't be a fool, John." the butler replied, with a wave ot the hand. "There's mora in this than appears on. the surface! Jt does go against the grain for a gentleman as is a gentleman to have to handle such ruhbish;,but it isn't done with yet! Fancy—a blind trampin' woman!" "It's audacious!" repeated John. "But 1 gave her a pinch she won't forget! The idea!" CHAPTER XXI. LORD RAINHILL'S GENTLE KEBUKE. Duncan Armitage was oppressed bj vague forebodings of evil as he started lor Brixton Hill the day after takiing Zilla to Battersea Park. He did not connect the forebodings with Zilla. His darling was safe, he felt sure ot that. He was going to her now. and civ the morrow they would be made one. A thrill of joy passed through his heart. As usual he was driven to Brixton, and when the cab pulled up at Charlie Chatto's door, he glanced up at Zilla's window. She was not there, and he remembered how feverish and imaginative she.had been the evening before. His fears revived—his anxiety was intense. He leaped from the caD, and pushing open the door, walked in. "Zilla—'Zilla" he called. He could not contain himself. Zilla I was ill—he felt sure of it. The death like silence sent a chill to his heart; ' everything about him seemed to swim round. Then he saw that Mrs Chatto was standing before him, her face pale and scared. "Zilla is ill—M ; ss Seton is ill?" he hoarsely questioned. "No, sir. 0, I hoped that you 1 might have heard! Her father is in | great trouble, ai.d she has gone to i him. Charlie was so angry with me! But I couldn't help it—Miss Seton was determined to go." Mrs Chatto burst into tears. "She has gone to i Bow street police-station. Her father } has been locked up on suspicion, and i his daughter's evidence, it is hoped, will clear him. lam sure that it is terrible for a gentleman like you, sir, to be mixed up with the disgrace of it; and I am as sorry for Miss Seton as I am for you. She is an angel! The story of the robbery is in the papers, and she is mentioned, though the poor lamb is as I innocent as I am. Tlvre, Mr Armii tage--just read it for yourself." "Where is your husband" Duncan asked in a hollow tone. "He followed Miss Seton and the gentleman to Bow Street. He will bring her back safe enough, sir. Oh. pray, don't look ftt me like that!" "The gentleman" repeated Duncan. "What gentlemen?" "Their cards are on the sittingroom table, sir, They are both friends of yours, and Miss Seton went with them willingly. Only one of them came in, the other remaining in the carriage." Mrs Chatto went into the parior, and Armitage followed her. He read the names on cavcls which had been left behind by Montarbon. "There is some foul plot on foot," he said, pressing one hand to his brow to still the throbbing. "Both of j these men are my enemies—the only I enemies I have, possibly! Do you remember what they said to you?" "I only spoke to the younger oneMr Mountarbon, he said his name was. He told me to tell you that Miss Seton had gone away with him willingly. And indeed it is quite true." "How loner have they been gone?" ! "About two hours, sir. Will you j tell me what it is that you fear?" Armliage did not leplv. For fully [ a minute he stood thinking, then he i lurnpd tn the di>or.

V BY OWEN MASTERS. 0 1 1 {g Author of "Captain Einlyu's Daughter," "The Woman (, V Wins," "The Heir of Avisford," "One Inipas- <J / sioned Hour," Etc., Etc. /

"Won't you wait until Charlie comes back, sir''" Mrs Chatto asked anxiously. "1 am sure that he will bring Miss Seton with him " •,.;„ 2 "Two hours!" muttered Armitage! "By Heaven, the traitorous scoundrels shall soon know how English law regards the crime of abduction ! They have a desperate man to deal with! Oh, Zilla—my Zilla!" He strode to the door, and met Charlie Chatto on the threshold. The man'a face was pale. His eyes dropped before A mintage's fierce gaze. "Well?" "She—the lady—Miss Seton, sir hasn't been taken to Bow Street at all!" said Chatto. "I knew, it!" Armitage groaned. "This is abduction! This is an infamous outrage' Bluod will be shed, • 1 fear, even if I have to follow them t: the ends of the earth!" "It may not be quite so bad, sir. The old man —that is, Mr Seton—was liberated this morning. It was all a blundering story by the police. The right parties hive been caught You see, he was spotted—Leg pardon, sir! talking to some crooks. An' then he was an old jailbird—done] two turns sir. You can't blame the police, though they do give the tavernkeepers a rough time of it. Mayhap Miss Seton's with the old man somewhere." Chatto was talking of Zilla's father! A look of repugnance clouded Armitage's face. "Good morning!" hefsaid abruptly. "Won't you let me drive you, sir?" "No—you have bungled quite enough! My cab is waiting." With his head bowed low, Duncan Armitage was driven cityward. His direction to the cabman had been brief enough—the word "Home." Gradually he realised the misery of the blow that had been dealt him. He became preternaturally calm. In his siler.t, bitter wrath he thought only of vengeance. That one of his own order—one who had been his comrade—hhould stoop to such dishonour! "He shall suffer for this!" he muttered, then laughed wildly. "Did you call, s.r?" The cabman pulled up. "I? No! Where are you going?" "To the place where you engaged me, sir—Picadilly Circus, sir." "Take me to the Strand!" Armitage ordered. "Very good, sir." | TO BE CONTINUED. 1