SIR JOHN'S HEIRESS.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9687, 11 January 1910, Page 2

SIR JOHN'S HEIRESS.

CHAPTER XXV.—Continued. g> Hilda moved impatiently. 'Don't—don't' There were tears in her eyes. 'And now one word, Mrs Maxwell! I never wish you to refer to Mr Linton after this hour. We have had no quarrel, but I love him too well to drag him down to my own miserable level. lam the daughter of a criminal, and am leaving Woodcroft Castle so that I may never meet Mr Linton again. We must waste 110 more time, as 1 have two calls to make; I cannot go without saying good-by to the rector and to Miss Lewis. They were both kind to me. Call the servants together, and tell them that each will receive three months' wages from Mr Molson; 1 will give orders to that effect. And let them know that I am leaving immediately. The carriage at eleven — not a minute later?" Mrs Maxwell went from the room, and Hilda sat down at hsr desk. She had a letter to write —a farewell letter to Victor Linton!

I CHAPTER XXVI. i

'YOU GO AGAINST YOUK OWN WIFE TO DEPEND THAT HATEFUL GIKL!' The writing of the letter was not a difficult task. During the awful night that was just past Hilda had thought it over a hundred times, and it was based on the belief that her father's body would not be found; for the lake was deep, the bottom was covered with weeds, and, years beiore, a drunken coachman had reeled headlong into the water, and his body had not yet been found until the weeds were cut away by an expert diver* HHda praye'd that her father's body mightjremain undisturbed for a little while, lest the man she loved should be suspected of having killed him. He had klled him, she believed, but the blow had been struck in selfdefence. It was known that they had "quarrelled bitterly. The search in the lake had, however, been abandoned for the present. Several drags had been lost, and the to indicate that L the water contained a human body; in fact, Mr Perrin felt certain that the captain had not committed suicide, and that the latter which he had left for Miss Carrington was a mere blind. 'A babyish trick!' he deci.'ed. 'But I must keep his daughter under close observation. She will pobably join him in Londor, if he has, by some miraculous piece of luck, actually got away.' So Hilda wrote this letter:— 'Victor. My Darling: The end has come, and I am going away forever. You must know that marriage between us is now impossible. Filled with fear for your safety, after my father's threats, I broke the promise I made to you laafc night and left my room. I saw you and him at the lakeside, and then you rode away on Black Bess. lam writing this after a night ot anxious thought, and — must I confess it?—hours of sobbing. But it is over, and I am perfectly calm. I do not blame you in my heart. You struck my unhappy father in self defence —you are too brave and chivalrous to take advantage of an old v man. He shot at you—l heard the report —and he might have killed you, I acquit you of all, save one thing—Why did you seek him? Why did you not go straight awayjfrom the castle, as I thought that you would have done? lam asking questions which I shall give you no opportunity of answering, because you have looked upon my face for the last time on earth. Sometimes i shall think of you, and of the mine, and pray for your happiness. 'Mr Molson will be instructed to sell Woodcroft —even if he can obtain only on-half its value. I hate it, loathe it and nobody likes me here! Once more, Victor, I bitterly regret that Sir John Carrineton ever thought of me with kindly feelings! From that very hour our happiness has been blighted—yours and mine. 'I wonder how I can write this cold-blooded letter—at least, it seem cold-blooded,, to me now. Perhaps it is has been carefully thought out, and that my nerves have, in a manner, become torpid. Throughout the long and horrible night I have been quivering with pain; I have wept bitter tears; I have cried aloud in my anguish, fbut now I caniaugb, even if my laughter is mirthless. The tietective-s have not found my lather's body, and I don't think that they will find it for days and days. This is good news, but it may be stale news when you read it here. I have only one favour to ask of you, Victor, and that is that you will give my puor father decent burial when you think that it is safe to do so. And it has come to this! Good by, Victor dear, forever. 'HILDA.' [ She finished the letter hastily, for her deadened nerves were becoming sensitive again Then, having sealed it, she put it into the pocket 01 her

C* Author o£ "A Loveless Marriage," "A Change of Heart," 1» 1 Etc, etc. /

} dress. No other hand must touch it, no other eye fise it, until it was committed to the mail. She walked to the window, and a ] deep, quivering sigh passed her lips. i How glorious was the face of nature • after the night of storm! The ! heavens were brilliantly blue, and i the earth sparkled with diamond i drops. Two men crossed the courtyard—- ■ big, broad-shouldered fellows. ; Hilda left %he. window, remember- » ing that she had not yet spoken to 1 Mrs Carrington about the future. : She half regretted that she had not > , been to her father's wife. How could she approach her? And 1 must she tell her the truth? s While gathering together the th'ngs which were to be packed, she I thought over the matter. If Mrs ■ Maxwell would undertake it—but no—that would not be a graceful or a kindly act. The clocks struck the hour of ten. 1 How swiftly time was flying' Mrs Maxwell and two female servants came into the rooms, the housekeeper red and prespiring. A pile of luggage had been got out into the curridor 'I have spoken to the servants, Miss Carrington,' she said in an undertone, 'ttnd they are very grateful to you for your kindness. Quite half of them, who were faithful to Sir John, will be ready to come back here when you return. I have told some of them they will bo required to stay to take care of the place, but that they must look to Mr Molson for instructions.' 'Yes,' assented Hilda. 'My own things are packed,' Mrs Maxwell went on. 'Are you ready, miss?' Then Hilda sought Mrs Carrington. The unhappy woman's face was red with weeping, but her eyes flashed resentfully at sight of her stepdaughter, 'I hope you're satisfied now,' she began—'now that you've driven him away.l He wished me good-by last night, but 1 didn't think he was really going.' A fresh outburst of sobbing cut short her speech, and she rocked herself to and fio. , 'lt is Detter so, Mrs Carrington,' Hilda said gently. "He has gone to — to avoid being arrested. You understand? And I want to know what you intend doing.' Mrs Carrington dried her tears, and looked defiantly at her stepdaughter. r^m , 'I suppose you want to turn me out, now ' 'I am not here to discuss such questions! I am going away myself immediately.' 'Well, I'm not! Where's my poor dear to find me when he wants to?' 'Of course, you are quite at liberty to remain at the castle—until it is sold. And I intend giving the lawyer instructions to see that you.are well provided for.' 'Going to sell Woodcroft over my head!' sobbed Mrs Carrington. Hilda withdrew the woman's taunting voice ringing in her ears. "I shan't go for anybody but my husband—not if you do sell Woodcroft —so there!' A feverish desire for haste now passessed.the girl. If Victor should come? Oh, she could not face the ordeal! The luggage was dispatched to the railway station in a cart, and Hilda said good-by to the servants, who had gathered in the entrance hall. Perrin approached Mrs Maxwell. 'When shall I see you again 9' he asked. 'An ugly break-up this!' 'And who is responsible for it?' retorted Mrs Maxwell. 'I call you an underhand sneak—pretending to be a r63pectable butler while you were nothing but a common policeman ! I have no desire ever to see you again!' The detective laughed. F^il 'l've the greatest respect for you, ma'am!' he said bowing. 'And my contempt for you couldn't be measured, sir!' Mrs Maxwell sailed after her young mistress and Perrin hastened forward to open the carriage door. 'You and the rest ot them have done all this very cleverly, Miss Carrington,' he.whispered, looking full into Hilda's eyes. 'But be careful! At first I was angry at being hoodwinked; but, for the sake of the good old name and the confidence the late Sir John'reposed in me, I won't have ! you shadowed. I've secured the archconspirator—the master mind —and the rest of his confederates, so I will be satisfied. Good morning !' Hilad inclined her head slightly, speech being impossible, and the carriage drove away. Had Perrin discovered the truth?* The coachman had beeii ordered to drive rapidly, and, as they were whirled along, a feeling akin to desolation crept into Hilda's h?art. As she beheld the peak of Snowdon, the noble forest trees, the undulating meadow,land, the gleaming expanse of a wide-spreading lake, she real- ) ised that she was putting behind [ her fovever the past with its shadows an its sunshine. TO BE CONTINUED.