A GREAT WRONG, Or, The Mystery of Black Hollow Grange.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9993, 14 March 1910, Page 2

A GREAT WRONG, Or, The Mystery of Black Hollow Grange.

BY EMMA GARRJ ON JONES. Author of "Pelf and Power/' "Strathmore's Sin," Etc, etc.

CHAPTER lll.—Continued. ''You think me mad?' he asked, divining her thoungts. "Well, I am mad—drunk with my own good luck Clotilde! There's no neei to tremble so; the tit is off now: it was the sight of that boy there that brought it on; but he lies quiet enough. He won't arise between me and my good fortune again ! Sit still, Clotilde; I have my senses back now; I won't hurt you, my girl; I'm awfully glad to see you and I have a wondrous story to tell you. But get Andre snug in bed, and fetch out some cold meat and a bottle of wine before I begin; that's a good lass!' Clotilde arose ro her feet, but her limbs refused to support her. 'Run away to bed, Andre,' she whispered, clinging to the windowsill for support. 'Run away, like mother's good boy.' Her son, still in terror of his father, crept out, casting a wistful glance at the couch w&e his unconscious playfellow lay. Ihen the wife turned her ghastly face upon her husband.

'Andrew, for the love of Heaven, what is it? Wnat has come over you?' she faltered. 'Are you mad?' He laughed again, that ugly, murderous laugh.

'I think I am,' he answered, 'and sc will you be wheji you hear what I have to tell. Fetch cut the meat and wine, Clotiide; my good luck hasn't impaired my appetite!' 'But the child thare?' she cried; 'the poor little lad, 'he'll die if we do nothing for him.' 'Will he? So much the better! The look in her husband's eyes turned her sick and faint. He used to be a handsome man, tender and gallant, when his hot temper was under control, and nhe loved him to adoration; but now she recoiled from him in shuddering fear. •Ho much the better,' he repeated. *As soon aa it grows a little darker I shall throw him into the Loire.' 'Hut you will be a murderer,' she shrieked out, 'and they'll hang you.' 'I shan't give them a chance,' he answered coolly. I'll thrown the boy into the Loire to-night, and before the. day breaks we shall be on our way to England. Sit down, Clotiide, and hear my story; there's no time to lose.'

The woman dropped into a seat from sheer weakness. 'I 9m not over fond of such jobs/ her husband continued, as he uncorked his wine, 'but once in a while the end justifies the deed. You should not have saved the boy from the wreck. Never meddle with what does not concern you. Clotiide, how would you like to see your son a baronet—a baronet of England, with an income of fifteen thousand British pounds per annum!' •Andrew!' 'Don't call me Andrew, please,' he continued coolly. 'I have changed my name as well as my fortune. Henceforth lam Geoffrey Trevethon, the late Sir Geoffrey's only son and heir, and to-morrow I go to England to claim my title and estate! Fact, Clotiide, upon my soul—and that boy yonder, whuse life you have been so anxious to save, that boy would come between me, and between Andre after me, and all this good fortune. Just think of that!'

I She looked at him with wide, wild ' eyes. | 'Andrew, Andrew, you are mad,' she gasped. 'How could all this be?' 'No matter; it will be, and that suffices.' I 'Sir Geoffrey Trevethon! What right have you to his title and estates? I have heard you say that he 1 never married your mother. You are only an ' I 'Utter it at your peril,' he cried, springing across the room and seizing her by the troat. 'lf you ever allude to that again you are a dead woman! 1 Sir Geoffrey Trevethon did not marry 1 my mother! She was a poor actress, j and he an English lord. No matter; I his title and his wealth shall be mine all the same. Woman, beware how , you ' 'Hist,' gasped Clotilde, someone is coming!' He released her and regained his seat just as a peasant woman came in. 'Why what ails thee, Clotilde?' she j cried shrilly; ,wearing the face of a I ghost, and thy good man but just returned?' 'The poor girl is ill,' answered Andrew quickly, giving his wife a swift, warning glance, 'I found her in bed when I coma home; and the lad there is sick, too,' he continued, pointing io the lounge. 'What, Andre sick?' asked the woman. 'No, no! the other lad; he is a weakly child, and I'm sorry Clotilde picked him up; but Bhe's loath to part with him; so we mußt.take him witii us on our journey, I suppose,' Coltilde glanced at her husband, in amazed awe. Not a muscle of his serene, smiling; face moved. 'What journey? "iou are not ieav- } ing here?' questioned the- neighbor. 'That's it,' responded Andrew pleasantly. 'We start for England in the morning. My business calls me, and ClotPde ib too delicate to be left / behind."

The night came on, and after some little chat, and many regretful adieus, the woman took her departure. Andrew accompanied her to the door, locked it after her, and pocketed the key. He lifted the handkerchief from the child's face as he crossed the room. It was ghastly white, and to all appearances lifeless. 'He is alright this time,' he muttered with fiendish content; then he turned to his wife. 'Cotiide, get your crucifix,' he commanded. Tremblingly she produced the crucifix, and while he held a pistol to har brow, he forced her to swear that she would never betray him. 'Remember.' he added, 'I am your husband no longer; neither is Andre your son. lam Geoffrey Trevethon; my son is called Richmond, and you are his nurse and companion. Swear also to this!"

She looked up into his merciless face with imploring eyes. 'Oh, Andrew, 1 cannot swear to this. Would you cast me off forever? Think of the past, and how we have loved each other.' 'Old things have passed away, all things have become new. As to the love between us, no need to meddle with that; you can be my_wife all the same, only the world must not know. I am Sir Geoffrey Trevethon's banished son and heir, and my wife died abroad. Do you comprehend? Of course you do; and if you are a good girl, Clotilde, and love me at all, you'll be willing to help me to bring all this about.' 'But I am not wihing,' she replied. 'lt is all a wicked 1 le. Your wife did not die abroad; and if Sir Geoffrey Trevethon was your father, you are only an illegitimate son Crack! went the revolver; the flash blinding her, scorching her very face, the bullet whistling within an inch of her head. The poor creature uttered a wild shriek. Her husband caught her by the shoulder, and shoos her till she was breathless. 'Silence!' he thundered. 'I missed you this time, but my aim will be sure next. Woman, make your choice at once, and abide by it. Will you do my bidding, and go with me and your child to-morrow, or will you die like a dog, here at my feet? As sure as there is a Heaven above us, I mean to kill you unless you swear to aid me in the work I have in hand. I Come, now, • you can have your choice! I would sooner take you along, and I'll do well by you. What do you say? Take the oath, or in one minute your doom is sealed!" The kneeling woman, with the crucifix against her quivering heart, glanced toward the window. The had fallen dark and rainy, there was no help within hearing of the lonely cottage. She looked up at her husband's face, which mocked her with fiendish cruelty. 'One! two' ' 'Oh, Heaven pity me! Yes, I will swear.' The pistol was lowered from her head. 'That's a sensible girl now,'commented her husband. 'l'll take you along and you shalf share my good fortune; and you'll lead .a jolly life, Clotilde. Even if I marry again, as no doubt I shall, when I come into possession of my title and estates, I'll provide for you handsomely; and I'll not forsake you either, for in spite of all this, I'm fond of you, Clotilde. And you will have the satisfaction, too, of seeing your son the heir to a peerage; for I shall make the lad my heir and successor.' She leaned her head upon her clasped hands, and made no movement or answer.

'Well, now,' he went on, 'One thing more, and we are done. You must swear never to leave me. You are to slick to me and my fortunes. Come- swear.' The cold steel touched her throbbing head again. It was a hard oath to take—to stick to this man and his fortunes, to aid and abet him in his crime, and yet not even be his wife. But she did not hesitate, after that other oath, by which she surrendered both wifehood and motherhood, nothing could move her; 'Yes, I swear,' she answered quietly. He returned the pistol to his breast, and buttoned up his coat. Clotilde looked at him, as she still knelt, wondering vaguely if he could be the man who wooed and won her girlish love? He had changed terribly in the brief time since he hadsurrendered his soul to th 9 power of sin. But his voice brought her to her feet. 'Come, come—look hl'we. There is no time to lose. You must pack up our best things, and have the boy ail ready, and I will call upon Larcom. and instuct him as to what disposition to make of what we leave behind us. But this job must be done first' TO FIS CONTINUED