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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10001, 23 March 1910, Page 2

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

£ BY 2MMA GARKJ ON JONES. ? Author of "Pelf and Power," "Strathmore's Sin," 7 Etc, etc.

CHAPTER vill. | 1 THE WAR BEGINS. j . Lenore sat at the window of her i , chamber at Lyndiih Hall, near the \ , close of a stormy day, gazing far out | at the angry waves beating on the - shore. 'Never cross a bridge till you come ] to it,' she mused, bending her pen- ; sive eyes upon the tossing waves. , 'Sir Geoffrey and his son make no | allusion to this hateful marriage, and why should I? I earnestly hope they : have accepted my decision, and made ud their minds to abide by it, but I fear it is not so. It will be hard with | Sir Geoffrey to lose his lion's share of my fortune. I have a fancy that there's trouble ahead. I think my worthy guardian's face suggests something that isn't exactly quiet submission. 'Well, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof When I get nearer i to my twenty-first bir;hday it will be j quite time enough to give the un- j pleasant affair my serious attention. Marry that wretch I never will! Ah, what a dreadful mistake my poor father made when lie suffered that childish marriage to go on! "And yet," she adued, taking the tiny ring j from her bosom, not bear, to take this little trinket off. I cannot help regarding that marriage of my childhood, which my father and mother witnessed and ! sanctioned, as something sacred and j binding, and which I dare not repu- j ! diate. And yet I can never become ( I Richmond Trevethon's wife. - Was j ever mortal woman in such a strait before?' i With a moan of anguish she bowed her head upon her folded arms, and : her thoughts soon drifted from her ' trouble to that subject which so frequently engrossed them—the mystery of Black Hollow Grange, j A double mystery it had become J since her . feventful visit to the old manor; and the remembrance of that ghostly face which peered down upon her haunted her waking hours and filled all her dreams. Was it a ghostly thing from the land of shadows or a living human face? [ j She was resolved to know, and yet j she could not summon courage suf- | ficient to make a second visit to the ' manor. To speak of her guardian was lout of the question; and when no : i one or two occasions she begged Clo- | tilde to accompany her, and related to her the events of her former visit, | the woman trembled with terror. ! 'Ask me to die for you, Miss Lenore, and I'll do it willingly, but do not ask me to go near that accursed place.' Hence, Miss Trevethon brooded , over the mystery and deferred her i second visit, until a most absurd idea 'go t possession of her mind. She ! fancied that her father might have , been shut up in the old house, and i that it was his living face she saw. , The idea was certainly an absurd one, i but it so possessed her, and her de--1 sire to Bolve the mystery become so 1 great, that she determined to write a ; letter to Ambrose Gerhart, and beg him to assist her.

She remembered his name well, and his handsome face and courteous bearing even better; she recalled also the mention the peasant woman made of him, as being the only person who had ever dared to venture within the Haunted Manor. If anyone could assise her this man could; so the joung la.*y put aside all scruples, and wrote him a frank • letter disclosing tne fact that she was the daughter of the missing baronet and the murdered lady, and begging him to assist her in solving the mystery which hung over tier father's name. She directed her letter to Piedmont Station, and awaited an answer with feverish impatience. 'Two weeks have passed since the letter went, and surely I shall soon get an answer,' she thought as the dusk of the wintry twilight began to gather round her. The door at the chamber opened and Clotilde entered!. The young lady started up with an exclamation of de light. 'Ah, Clotilde, my messenger has returned; you have brought me a letter?' 'No. miss, not a letter only a card. Sir Harry Tresham is in the Blue Drawing-room, and begs that you will honour him with an interview.' Miss Trevethon bit her pretty lip in bitter dissappointment. 'How many of them are there, Clotilde, lhat beg to be honoured?' she cried petulantly. 'lt was Sir Hartwel! yesterday, it is Sir Harry today, and no doubt there will be Sir Somebody else to-morrow? Why didn't you say I was engaged?' Clotilde looked up at her imperious and beautiful mistress with imploring eye?. 'I wi<h you could fancy one of them, Miss Lenore,' she said wistfully; 'it might be better for you!' ■ ■ a 'Su it might, Clotilde, but I can't do itj and I wish they wouldn't bother me. I must go down, I suppose, or we'll have Sir Harry back | again to-morrow. Watch for the messtiigcr, and take charge of any letters that come.' " And the young lady swept out and

down the stairs to meet her titled lover. He met her almost at the door of the drawing-room, a handsome geritlemai, and one of the best matches of the season. 'Miss Trevethon,' he said, when the comphmemnts of the day had been passed. 'You know why lam here, no doubt, uefore I tell you V I am ordered off to Belgium, and must leave England in a few davs, I have come for my final answer.' 'air Harry, I thought you had already received it?' smiled Miss Trevethon.

The smile encouraged the ardent suitor, and he made bold to clasp the hand he coveted, but she drew it away.

'Ah, Miss Trevethon, 7 he sighed, 'do nut trifle with me. You would not if you could read my heart.'

'I have no wish to trifle with you, Sir Harry. I gave you my answer a week ago.' 'But l come again, hoping you may revoke your decision.' 'I cannot!'

"Miss Trevethon, may I ask why? I have heard that the marriage enjoined by your late father's will is repugnant to you.' 'You have heard rightly, Sir Harry. It will never be formally solemnised by a legal ceremony.' 'Then you will not suffer me to hope, Miss Trevethon.?'

She looked up into his eager, impassioned face. •Sir Harry, do you know that by refusing to marry my cousin, I lose all my father's heritage?' she asked. The young nobleman bowed. - 'And yet you ask me to be your wife?'

•I do, indeed. It is your peerless self 1 want, Miss Trevethon; my own wealth is anough.' She smiled softly, and her eyea filled with tears.

'Despite the mystery which hangs over my poor father's name, you would give his daughter the honour of bearing your own?' she murmured. 'Oh, Miss Trevethon, is it possible that I understand you? Is there indeed hope for me?' cried the young man, flushing with eager delight.

She waved her fair hand with a gesture not to be understood. 'Nay, Sir Harry; I really wish I could reward your generous love, but it cannot be. You see this tiny circle,' and she drew from her bosom the golden chain from which the little marriage ring hung; 'it is a symbol of the bondage which I dare not breaK, which I would not if I could.' 'Then you intend to marry your cousin, Miss Trevethon?' 'Mo, I shall never become Richmond

Trevethon's wife; but at the same time I must consider forever sacred the ceremony which my father witnessed and sanctioned.'

'Why, Miss Trevethon, you cannot mean that you will never marry?' She bpwed her queenly head. 'Sir Harry, I shall never marry. Since I cannot take the husband of my father's choosing, I will have no other.'

He began an impatient remonstrance, but she cut him short. 'Spare yourself the pain and me the hearing, Sir Harry, since our words are wasted. I repeat I wish I could reward your generous love, but friendship is.all I have to give.' And thus they parted as Miss Trevethon and half a score of her suitors had parted before. "That is over,' she sighed, as she

reascended the stairs. '1 wonder if my heart is ice, that none of them has power to move me? I hate my chains, and yet I would not break them if 1 could ' Her guardian confronted her as she was passing the library door. 'Ah, Lenore, rny dear, I was on the point of sending for you. (Jome in; I have something to show you.' rihe followed him in silence through the stately library, and into the cedar boudoir beyond. 'You have had a visitor, my dear?' he remarked as he led her to a seat, and proceeded to draw aside the curtains. 'Yes—Sir Harry Tresham,' re-

plied Lenore indifferently. 'Yes, yes; I forgot to tell you to expect him. He called on rae yesterday with a second offer for your hand in marriage, and, of course, referred him to you. I hope you gave the poor fellow a final answer; he's dreadfully in earnest, and it is cruel to keep him in suspense." 'I gave him a final answer, Sir Geoffrey.' 'Ah, that was righ';. You refused him; of course, my deiu?' Miss Trevethon's ejes began to flash, tut she bit her lip and answered quittly: 'I refused him.' 'I am glad of that, my dear, and now 1 have a little surprise for you. 1 have been planning it for weeks, my dear, and I trust you will be pleased. Now, look here.' TO PK CONTINUED