When Love Rules The Heart.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9578, 26 August 1909, Page 2

When Love Rules The Heart.

CHAPTER XXlV.—Continue!

Duncan was becoming thin, pale and haggard. The conviction was slowly forcing itself upon him that Zilla was dead, and that her fate would ever remain a mystery. Helen Howard had written to him from Rainhill Court—a tender, loving letter -but he had not answered it — he could not. It had contained some reference to his business troubles. He Inughed fiercely. Business tioubles? So Lord Rainhill and Florj ence were lying. Ah, if they were only business troulles! Some day she would know all. Poor, loving Helen! Then what a despicable traitor lie would appear in her eyes. He writhed at the thought. Once he met Cecil Howard in the street, and the young lawyer cut him with a look of hatred. How much had he guessed? How much did he know? Duncan's face turned a duskyred. He felt like a detected criminal. The thunderbolt must fall before long. Another week, into which were crowded the tortures of a lifetime, passed—another disheartening week. There was no news at all. Then one day Mr Etherington burst into his apartments at the hotel. He came in unannounced, his eyes flashing with rage, his red face ominously purple. He waved hi 3 cane over Armitage's head. "You have hoodwinked me!" he raved. "Where is my daughter? You have her in hiding!"

The young man faced hira coolly, tranquilly. "I wish that your words were true, sir!" Etherington uttered a fierce imprecation, and cut. at Armitage with his cane.

"Liar," he cried, "iiar and cur!" Duncan gazed at him steadily, naught'ly. "Your impotent fury, sir," hi replied bitieily, "is gratifying to me in one sens2. I am :iow assured that Zilla hat ihas far escaped' the father from whom she fled as from a pestilence. She preferred death to you. As for myself, I have already taken your measure, and, if you were not my uoor ZiHa's father, I would make you retract your words. Go. before I thrash you—unnatural brute that you are! I believe that Zilla is dead"—his voice faltered, tears rushed into his eyes—"and, if she is, rlejven wi 1 surely not hold you guiUless!" Etherington stood irresolute for a few moments. His lips moved convulsively, and he let the car.e fall from his hand. Outwardly the younger man was calm and dignified, though his heart as.throbbing fast.

"Armitage"—Etherington dropped j into a chair—"you are right, and I am. wrong. I do not like you, I don't think I ever shall; but I honor you ior. being a better man than I ever have been. I thought that perhaps* you were hiding my daughter from me. I see that I wus wrong. If you can find her—if we can find her—l shall offer no bar to your marriage. I cannot, because I want Zilla to learn to forget what I have been—to learn to like me a little. I am a Changed man! I have made a vow that my future shall be very different from my past, for Zilla's sake. Will you take my hand in token forgiveness? You are a manly fe.low, Armitage, and my hatred of vou has been prompted by the knowledge that you utterly despised me, and by the fact that you are the son Lord Rainhill. He and I were, always rivals in the days of our youth. But for his interference, I might never have deserted Zilla's mother. But, there, I am not a coward, and my crime vvili bear no palliation." "You speak like a man at last." Etlierington was silent, Armitage took his hand. "You are my darling's fatherthere is an eternal bond between us." ( ."lw'asmad when I entered this 1 room. J am not quite inhuman," Etherington's voice was hoarse. "You have called rae her murderer. Have you heard anything 1" "Nothing. The silence—the. unfathomable mystery—l cannot bear it!" "My men are everywhere." "*And mine also." "You will telegraph to me when you hear? 1 am offering a large reward—dead or alive." Armitage shuddered, „and held up one hand. "Don't —don't" he said in anguish. "Yes—and I will send to you, sir. We are working now in a common cause." Nothing more was said—not a word of parting spoken. Etherington turned and went siowly away. At any other time Armitage would have been filled with amazement. It had all been so unexpected—so inconceivable! He was concious only of a faint glow of satisfaction—of gratification. Zilla's lather would no longer fight against them, but for them; he was repentant. But the reward of which he had spoken—it was horrible! "Nearly two weeks since my darling's eyes looked lovingly into mine!" he thought miserably. "And a lifetime of torture has been crowded into that brrief space! Oh, when will it end!" A sang floated upward from the noisy street. lie opened his window and listened. A woman was singing. The voice was like and yet unlike Zilla's. The song was one which Zilla

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

I TO BE OONTXNCED.I

loved. He had dreamej many times that she would seek him again this way. He looked down and saw a small crowd of people. A woman was standing in the street, singing. He left the room hurriedly, and made his way to the thoroughfare. "No, it was not Zilla. He bad been mad to fancy 30 for one moment. It was a bold-looking creature with a painted face—a chorus-girl, perhaps, out ot an engagement, Still he stood enchanted; she was singing one of Zilla's songs, and her voice was good. He gave her some silver, when she had finished, and requested her to sing the same song again.' The crowd laughed, but the girl readily complied.

'"Ah, my heart is pained with throbbing— Throbbing for the May; Throbbing for the seaside billows, Or the water-wooing willows, Where, in laughter and in sobbing, Glide the streams away! Ah, my heart—my heart is throbbing, Throbbing for the May! '"Waiting, sad. dejected, weary—..Waiting for the May, Spring goes by with wasted warnings, Moonlit evenings, sun-hright mornings Summer comes, yet dark and dreary. Life still ebbs away; Man is ever weary—weary, , Waiting for the May!'"

Armitage turned away, unable to repress his emotion. The singer watched him curbusly. The heedless crowd passed on. Another incident of the, teeming streets! "What fools some of them dudes are!" remarked a factory-girl to a companion. "Why. he gave her as much as I earn in .1 week by honest work! And all for a silly song!" Armitage as haunted by the refrain : "Man fa ever.weary—weary, Waiting for the May!" He was weary enough in all truth! He saw no hope now—no ray of sunlight anywhere. "Wailiig, sad, dejected, weary— Waiting for the Mav!" Spring goes by.with wasted warnings, Moonlit evenings, sun-bright mornings: Summer comes, yet dark and dreary, Life still ebbs away— Man is ever weary—weary, Waiting for the May. The next morning a telegram was handed to him. His heart seemed to cease beating. A his vision.