THE DOUBLE SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9625, 18 October 1909, Page 2

THE DOUBLE SECRET.

CHAPTER Vll.—Continued. "I can easily promise that," said Pauline. "I am not given, to curiosity." The woman turned away her face with a satisfied smile. She knew the world well, and had counted on the guileless open nature of this girl, before she proffered her services She who has nothing to hide is but seldom suspicious. The room in which Pauline pursued her daily employment had been the drawing-room of Marke Holme. It was well lighted; the curtains once of a blue satin brocade, had faded to a dusty gray: the well was in oak, carved, with large oval panels of embroidery let in at intervals; a Turkish carpet, faded to a mellow sameness of tint, covered the centre of the floor, and scattered over it were carved tables, with claw feet and inlaid tops. In the corners were ancient harps and guitars, and old cabinets of precious workmanship. The chairs were straight and high backed, long and slender in the legs, with seats of embroidered satin, wrought by successive dowagers of Harcourt. At the eastern end of the room, bright until noonday when therewus any sun, a modern writing table, furnished with paper, pens, ink, paper-knives, and white willow waste-baskets, gave Pauline conveniences for the pursuit of her task. For more than a week after Mrs Bemis began her duties Mr Rowley, the rector, was not at the castle, being confined at home by a cold; and after that lie resumed his visits, and even Pauilne noticed that Mrs Bemis seemed uneasy in his presence, she kept herself m shady corn e r s, her face averted, her tongue quite silent. At first the rector scarcely noticed her; then, if she muved, his eye rested curiously on the lithe form. He turned ever and anoa with a puzzled look to scan her face, her air; yet if he sought to associate her' with any figure of the past, he failed. One morning, Mis Bemis was busy with her binding at a table next to Pauline's— for Pauline was jealous of Lady Astraea's trust, and would not allow the letters and papers to be removed from her own supervision when the widow's white muslin cap. with its black bows, slipped from her head, and without her knowledge lay back her neck. The cap had been displaced by a large hairpin slipping from one of the heavy twists that crowned Mrs Bemis' head. Occupied in her work, the woman bent forward, bringing her head with its heavy crown oi hair into the full light of the sun" streaming in at the window. The hair shone like ruddy gold, the sunshine restoring it the lusire of youth. The.rector fixed his eye on the picture for some moments, and then Spoke out eagerly: "Mrs Beti:i. u , have you ever lived in this place before now?" The widow turned hastily, and her hair rolled ov<.r her shoulders. She sprang up. "Uh, I beg. pardon! hew very dis* orderly I must Icok! Pray excuse me."

She fled fratn the room, unci returned no more that day; she had a headache and did not fee! like working more

Mrs Bemis the next day asked Pauline to allow her to work in her own room; she did not feel able to come down. "In that case," said Pauline quietly, "it wold be cruelty to a&K you to work at all. We can wait " Guileless and unsuspicious as she was Pauline was firm as a rock in any position which she had chosen, and Mrs Bemis perceived that she must either carry on her handicraft in the old drawing-room or give it up altogether She returned to her place, solacing herself with the remark : "The old man will forget." idlut Rector Rowley had a singular pertinacity; each of his thoughts seemed to move in straight lines, until they arrived at their legitimate conclusions**, interruption of their course, however long, never broke their continuity—they resumed progression from the spot whare they had been broken off. Thus the very next day tha l t he saw Mrs Bemis bending at her work he wheeled around in his chair and said: "Madam, did you ever live here before?" ,

"Sir,'" said Mrs Bemis, "I was born, brought up and have worked in London."' "Yes? Well, you remind me singularly of some one who has been here. Stay—let me see, I begin to catch the connection. Your bending before that window"—Mrs Bemia rose to search for some gold foil, and sat down elsewhere—"reminds me of a head on which the sun shone through the gallery windows of my church. Ah! now I reach it! she was a singer in our choir! Mrs Bemis, are you a singer?" "On the contrary, 1 utterly abominate all music." "Is it possible? I am sure you would have felt otherwise had you been here when our church music was in its glory, when Gervase Lewis was our organist. Miss Percy, then people came from a distance to hear our service; our organ seemed a thing inspired—in fact, it was inspired by

by duncan McGregor Author of "Kennedy's Foe," '•lshmael Eeforme "A Game of Three," "Edna's Peril," Etc., etc.

the soul of a master musician. Ours is a grand instrument, and never before had hands warthy of its power laid on its keys. Since his time it has been for the most part silent. Yes, Mrs Bemis, you remind me of a soprano singer of that time; but for her I might have had my organist yet. I wish shs had never come here. But why wish? God orders ail oar ways."

As the old man spoke the widow in her inmost heart accompanied his speech as a fashion of chorus: "So do I wish she had never come here. Oh! Heaven, if the church of Marke Holme had never known her. What, is it God who orders all our ways, or do your wilful passions cross the ways of God, and He permit them to go on?" Then she rose.

"Miss Percy, excuse me, I must go to my own room to look for some patterns for side stamps." She was gone. Pauline sat smoothing letters into a letter-pres?, and leaning back in his chair the old man pursued the theme in which he had bscome interested:

"Miss Percy, this young .woman, I fotget her name, boarded with an elderly woman in that cottage now in ruins near the church. The girl was the daughter of a captain in the army, who had married beneath himself, his wife being this old woman's niece. This girl was remarkable for beauty. Do you remember the jubilant angeis in the first corridor of the Uffizi Gallery, those angels . which representing the angelic choir surround the Virgin and child? Well, this giri looked like one of those angels; tall and graceful, fair-faced and deep eyes, her head crowned with glowing hair. Our organist fell in love with, her, and every one said they were to he married. I often met them wandeiing in the lanes or in this oak or fir wood. Then a gentle man—l think I heard his name was Morecomb—came here for a visit. No one knew exactly who he was, and I began to see him walking with this girl, or sitting with her at her aunt's door. I think my housekeeper siid the girl hid jilted our organist, and that he was most unhappy; and yet, after two years, she noarried the organisr, very suddenly,'to every one'n surprise."

"Was it a happy marriage? asked Pauline, who saw that the old gentleman enjoyed the detail of his reminiscences.

"Quite the contrary. She deserted him twice, While she was gone the second time he died. I remember I buried him; my curate wa«i away, and we never heard of the youngwoman Some natures are so sadly wilful, arid have so lutla groundwork of moral principle, that they seem bound to ddbtroy themselves. We humans are usually our. own worst enemies Some people pray 'Lord,, save us from our adversaries,' others, 'Lord, save us from our friends.' I would pray, 'Lord, saveme from myself aa no one might be more dangerous to me." "How can you say so?" cried Mrs Hooper, waking up. "I'm sure no one can be a better friend to me than lam, and if I were dead I'd like to know who would be left tj care how I got along?" I TO BE CONTINUED. 1