THE DOUBLE SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9602, 23 September 1909, Page 2

THE DOUBLE SECRET.

V BY DUNCAN MoQREGOR 7

(g Author of "Kennedy's Foe," '•lshmael Reformed," § "A Game c£ Three," "Edna's Peril." 7 Etc, eto.

CHAPTER ll.—Continued. "So Mrs Ormesby hates weddings! No wonder: she auctioned herself off to a man she really disliked, and she's going to make very little by it. I was mad at old Ormasby's late match, but I need not have been." . "Why not?''said Sir Walter. ''Oh, Ormesby has found out that she destest3 him, and he's made his will, Fifty thousand to her during her life, if the child dies; a hundred thousand for life if the child grows up; all the property to go finally to the child.' "Then you're cue out,' said bir Walter. "Wo,"' said Peter Frobyn, if the child dies, 1 get one hundred and fifty thousand pounds at once, and the remainin " tifiy thousand at Mrs Ormesby's death. Now the poor, puny, premature child of hers is not going to live. Its mother leaves it to nurses, no one cures a penny for it, and it is wilting like a flower in the shade, poor thing.' "'So.' I said to myself, 'Peter Probyn, you ara scorning me, and saying I auctioned myself to the highest bidder! What if I did, one doesn't like f to hear it boldly said. And you : are to be enriched by that neg- j lected baby's death? See if you will | She shall not die! She shall live, -j grow up, marry, have an heir, and laugh in your face.' "So, next day I set off for Lyme Regis, and brought the child back to ■ London, took airy lodgings on Ken. | singtoti Gore, got the best physician and the best nurse in London, transformed mysef into a model mother, | and proceeded to fight Peier Probyn j out of his expectations. j "That pleased Mr Ormesby bo well to see me settle J down and caring for , his child, that I think he would | have revoked his will, and left all ; to me during my life, had he not died suddenly when the child was two years old." | "Yes, and then you went to Bath, and to Brighton, and over to St. Melo" "Always with the child always seeking to restore her health, ai;d fulfil my vow to disappoint Peter Probyn." . I "And then?" ' "Well, you know she did improve wonderfully for a **hile, and people , saw it and talked of it. I hen, at, St. Melo, she look scarlet fever, and i after that she drooped. I had jusc J before this lost my English maid I who married a Frenchman, and I hod taken in lav place a French girl from Sr. Melo. Immediately after Persis had tiie scarlet fever my nurse also left me, as she inherited some thousands of pounds from an uncle in Australia, aud retired from service. The very day she left my doctor told me that he thought the child was in a decline, and could not last over a few mouths. This wad early in the spring, and he advised me to go to some cuoler place for the sum mer. "I need not tell you that my bitterest feelings were concerning the property, thinking that Peter Probyn would soon take from me threequarters of my estate. A vague idea of defeating him. arose in my mind. I felt as if I could arm myself and fight with death and fate against the triumph of my enemy. I made no plans; all was vague and dim before me; my mind was a troubled sea of anger and disappointment. I remember I looked out upon the gray waters of the Channel, tossing in rain and miat between St. Melo and Jersey, and I thought that they were images ot my vexed, comfort' leas spirit. "It was rather by instinct thnn reason that I resolved not to fetter myself with another English nurse. I r.ext concluded to go to the North of England for the summer, i went to Brest, dismissed my m/ud there, and crossed to Penzance in a small steamer. I sent to my banker for five hundred pounds, and, carefully avoided Lyme Regis, went to Binn™ ingham, and thence to Newcastle. I found that, on the Tyne, a few miles from Newcastle, in a hamlet, or hurywain, lived a retired physician of considerable skill. I changed my name- " "What name did you take?" interrupted Lady Astraea "Qjney—qij account of the initial 0 upon my property. I took a lodging in a very pretty cottage, secured the promise of the physician to give advice to m.v child, and devoted my entire care to securing her reovery. Week after week of that summer I battled with death hopelessly, vainJy; the child continued to fade like a flower. "It was when she was very ill, and I used to sit by a window for hours, with her lying on my lap, that I noticed another child of just her age, who had come to ledge in the opposite half of the cottage. This child, with hair a little darker than my babe's, and eyes of the same shade, used to come before the window and look in at the dying little one with a child'? innocent pity and curiosjty. "An emotion of intense jealousy and rage rose in mc. I saw the child of an evidently poor woman, thriving and promising, while my child, a great heiress, though those around ua never guessed that, was fading in spite of all my caie. "Persis died, and i buried her in the little graveyard of Norburywairt,

and set up a small white pillar, with P. 0. upon it. "Two days after this I sat in my room, with rny trunks packed for departure. I felt like one hunted and hiding. How could Igo to London and say, 'iviy child is dead; give Peter Probyn three-quarters of my property?' How, on the other hand, could I hide her death? "As I sat there a terrible sound of coughing broke the air; it came from the lodger in the other side of the cottage, I remembered that I had heard it at intervals during the past fortnight. Just then, my landlady, a plain, kina woman, came in with my supper. "'Eh,' she said, ma'am, yes it lonely without the bairn * and curi ■ ous is the fate of the world! for while here the babe dies yon it is the mother that is dying. She is low with pneumonia, and troubled sorely she is in her mind. I suppose on account of the child—for she is a lone woman.' "Has she no friends?' I asked | listlessly. "No,' said the landlady, and I fear something is wrong with her; «he wears a wedding-ring, but many can do that and have a sore secret behind them. She pays up prompt, but she has no fortune and no friends and she says hour by hour, "Oh, me, oh, me! what can I do with the child" "Just at this minute the child in question came and looked in at me through the window, framing her, small, healthy face in the clematis cilmbing over the cottage. The landlady said, sighing: "'The very age of your own.' "Then all at once either a temptation or a resolution took full form in my mind. I rose calmly, I said: "Did jou say she was dying? I will go and make her mind easy; the child shall be mine.' "I went out and took the child by the hand, and my landlady followed me with blessings, as I went to the other wing of the cottage." , Mrs Ormesby paused for a time, i Lady Astraea had her tablets ready j for a third record I "What was this lady's name?" she asked. "Hannah Bolton," replied Mrs Ormesby, with a sigh. Presently she ! resumed her s*:ory : j "When I entered the parlour of j the other wing I saw on a couch a young woman of great beauty. She was evidently very ill, and the ; troubled look in her eyes, the terrofc and torture on her face, startled mjjjf. I understand it now, Lady Astraea, I feel it now. She was meeting | death with some secret in on her ' soul. You see it did not warn me, for I deliberately sat down fur her j to assume for my own soul a sin and a burden for life's last hour. I But, oh. Lariy Astraea, death then j seemed so far away! I said to her: | I TO BE CONTINUED, j