SIR JOHN'S HEIRESS.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9672, 21 December 1909, Page 2

SIR JOHN'S HEIRESS.

CHAPTER XIII.--Continued. "You must await Miss Carrington's orders," Mr Molson answered. "A different Captain Carrington will come downstairs. He has not Bean his daughter since she was a baby.' Another carriage rolled along the drive, and Barlett went to see that the footmen did their dutv. The new arrival was Victor Linton. CHAPTER XIV. THE FATHER'S THREATS. Captain Vane Carrington summoned a suave smile to his daughter's boudoir. 1 heir first meeting after so many yi at &ne could not re member tiow many —ought not to be a stormy one. Moreover, Hilda was a child still, and must be treated as j such. He was a little curious about her, too; she had been so small and | so odiously plain in her childhood, j and had been inclined to be wilful. And she was wilful still, if the story of her engagement were true. He tapped his breast pocket, wherein was a London newspaper, and smiled scornfully. A low, clear voice bade him enter, end he flushed angrily again. How dared she? It was her duty, her filial duty—to wtlcome him nome. She ought to have opened the door to him gladly, cheerfully, and wept upon his shouldtr. The insult recurred to him which she had cast upon his wife —her stepmother —through the medium of a lackey; but it would be unseemly -to have any bother upon that day of all days. Let the dead be buried in peace. He opened the door, and found himself in an ante-room. He remembered it well enough no\p, and ehud- 1 aered slightly. 'These had been the private rooms of Lady Mary Idwal. Then he pushed aside the heavy crimwhich screened the room beyond, and saw his daughter. Hilda was standing almost in the middle of the rooir, one hand resting on the back of a chair, really for the purpose of steadying herself. Her face was pale, but the dark eyes glowed with an almost sullen fire. "Good Heaven!" her father thought—"ahe ooks five and-twenty! And what a pretty woman her mother was!'" Hilda waited for him to spuak, and he put on his most pleasing smile, as J he surveyed hpr fr.jm nead to foot | apd bowed. There was i.o similarity between them except that they were both tall. Vane said, holding out his hand. The giri made no movement to take j it and a dull red flush mounted to his cheeks. With well-assumed nonchalance he dropped into a chair, and twisted the ends of his muscache, a perfect volcano of rage within him. "l ean hardly realise that you are my daughter," he went on; "and the likeness between you and my poor dear brother is remarkable. Perhap? you do not remember me?" "Oh, yes!" Her lips curled a little scornfully. She sat down. "I thought what a bif?> brave man you were — then!"

"You got my telegram?" "Yes." She said no more, but eyed him steadily. "What sort of welcome home do you cail this?'' he demanded at last, his temper getting the better of him. "You confess to naving received my telegram, and when I arrived 1 am positively insulted by my own servants! Your mother is waiting below like'a pauper soliciting alms!" He was lashing himself into a rage. "My mother?" repeated the girl, contemptuously. "My mother was a lady, who died of a broken heart. The person of whom you are speaking was .your colonel's ci-ok, I believe, or something of the kind! I remember that she was particularly cruel to me when 1 was a helpless child; and I shall a'ways hate «er for it. Now, what is it that you require of me? It can hardly be affection for me, or for the dead man in this house, which ha? broug«it you here." Captain Carrington bounded to his feet, unable to contain himself longer. "What do l require of you, Miss Insolence? Nothing I And 1 shall know how to punish jou severely for this"—he paused—"this tomfoolery! Why am I here? To claim the heritage which is mine! And you shall ask my pardon, ani Mrs Carrington's pardon, or quit Woodcroft Castle for good and all! Probably you have been packed up in this mutinous conduct by that lawyer-lover of yours? Tha silliness ot it passes belief!" He kicked a stool across the room with such fury that it v struck a mirror and smashed it. "There must be no unseemly disturbance to-day, but I shall assume the r ; ins of control at once; and the crowd of idiots you have here shall leave to-morrow! 1 have my own friends to entertain. As fcr you, I will deal with you later!'' With a bitter sneer, he turned as if about to leave the room. Hilda's flashing eyes and contemptuous laughter constrained him to pause.

BY F. 1. DACKE, Author of "A Lossless Marriage," "A Change of Heart,"" •'Tronholme'a Trust," "A Case for the Court," Etc, etc.

"Your heritage?" Again she laughed. He urew a newspaper from his pockut witri a flourish, and pointed to a marked paragraph. "I shuukl not have l.een here now had not a lrianci sent me this. Read it, and you will know how I obtained my information, not only about my brother, but about yourself, also." Hilda took the paper, the strange smile on her lips never fading. The paragraph announced, with bold headlines, the very sudden death of Sir John Carrington. His diplomatic career was lightly dwelt upon, but of his recluse life in later years and his eccentricities the most was made. There was no doubt that he had been suffering from incipient softening of the brain, and during one of his absurd wild rides he had practically killed himself. He had been selfishly cruel to a niece, the only child of an only brother, who had for year living in the neighourhood of Llanberis at a thirc-rate school. At the !ast moment, howevtr, he had ent for the ill-used girl, and she ad arrived just in time to see him ie. Unfortunately, had he desired o make provision for her, the course was rendered impossible by complete paralysis, and he diea intestate. His brother, being next of kin, was heir to the large estates, and it would ba interesting to see how long Captain Vane Carrington was in taking possession. No doubt, a certain section of the public would remember that gentleman's unenviable notoriety some years earlier, in connection with a duel on the Continent, which arose out of a quarrel over a profes sional beauty! Perhaps Captain Carrington would now make amends to the daughter whom he had to all intents deserted. Latterly, the young lady had heen taking matters into her own hands, and had became engaged to a young lawyer who dabbled in journalism, or a jcurnalist who dabbled in luw—it was uncertain wnich, as he was a success in neither. And there was more to this effect, written in a half-humourous, halfmalicious vein. Hilda's pale cheeks flamed with indignation, while her father regarded her mockingly. Of course, the newspaper had obtained its information uponjunimpeachable authority! "Tne duel was a woman. I will demand ah apology, ~or horsewhip the writer! I am a power in the land now i" He wheeled round.

I VWeli, Miss Carrmgton, are you satisfied"' At first I was inclined to be generous towar.i you. alter dismissing your impertinent lover; but tru icbellious spirit of yours mutt be checked. Yo»» have gro sly insulted me and Mrs Carringtori; you have But we will no more until the guests are out of the house. The servantj will now take th ir orj ders from me." He ceas2!% a little perplexe t by the 'half-dcornfui, half-exultant smile on Hilda's face. iSlte eyfcd him fruu head to toe j)i&irigly. I "You have called the news-paper scurrilous aii.d • irresponsible," she said ini cold, even Atones.; "1 quite believe you, yet it contains some truths. I was deserted by my father, and 1 h-ivo leally engaged u yaeif to a poor man wtium I in euu u« .i,arry at once if he will acceje to my wishes." Carungton rapped out an imprecation, kn dis uaughter's haugmy and disdainful glance silenctd him • In s other things, the scerrii ous and it responsible paper lias erred grievously. My uncL oia nut uie int.stale; and tverithi. g that w*s ms is now mine." Captain Carrington smiled. "Bah!" —he exclaimed—"it's untrue! His sudden Illness, the attack of paralysis, prevented it. Trie naws is reliable it was supplied by someone here un'iir this vtry roof. I was eonvinced of that." "You are my father, and, though, I cannot like you, I am sorry for you," Hilda said. '*l know so much about you that is bad that is good! You will be present when the will is read, and then will be satisfied that l have spjken the truth. There must be no question of authority here—no noise, no scandal; and, if ycu behave' youraelf She did not finish the sentence. The demonical glaie in her father's eyas made ner shudder. "Delightfully kind of you, Miss Carrington!" iie retorted. "Oh, believe me, I am completely overwhelmed! Yes, I am your father a;.d blood is thirkcr than water, and I can'c thii.k why I have been such a fool, to be gulled by someone w. o is now laughing in his sletve! 1 never doubted its truth for *a rrnment never. But it need not make much difference batvvetn us, Hilda. Your fortunes are tj a great extent bound up in mine; and you will not see ir.e drown, Inst you get drawn intojjthe w irlpool yourself! Excuse me, ma dure. I must get some brandy ; I am shaking like a man with the lalsy." He patssd out of his daughter's boudor just as Victor Linton was {announce*!. ! TO BE CONTINUED.