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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10002, 24 March 1910, Page 2

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

ChAPTEK VIII.-Continued. j He drew aside the silken hangings j which separated the cedar boudoir j from a small anteroom and Lenore, ' barely suppressed a cry of surprise and admiration at the sight that greeted her eyes. The entire room was in a shimmer of silks and laces; robes of the costli- J est fabrics and moat exquisite designs a bridal veil that shone like hoar frost, surmounted by a .wreath of orange-bloom, and on an inlaid table a mass of rare gems that looked like myriads of fallen stars. Sir Geoffrey watched her for an in- | stant with eeager eyes and then continued : 'You can guess what all these fineries mean, of course? Your bridal trousseau, Miss Trevethon, and a more extravagant one never touched English shores. And there are your jewels, all reset and rearranged, and the queen could not wish a finer selection. I hope you are pleased, my dear ' Lenore stood silent a moment from sheer amazement, then she raised her cool, calm eyes to he'r guardian's face. 'I must give you credit for your taste in selection Sir Geoffrey,' she replied. 'The trousseau could not be more elegant; but it would have been wiser to have consulted me before you ordered it. You have wasted considerable money to no purpose.' •Really, now, my love/ the baronet responded, 'you are the first woman I ever met who found fault with her wedding finery because it coat too much money. I fancied you would be pleased at that. However, set your mind at ease, tor you can well afford the outlay. I have managed your fortune well, and the income has been sufficient for all the expense I have incurred, while the principal remans intact.'

The girl curled her lip in indignant scorn.

'Pray, do not affect to misunderstand me, Sir Geoffrey,' she said. * you know my meaning well. Ido not object to the outlay. There was no need to order the trousseau, tor 1 shall never wear it.' 'Why, Lenore, my dear, what can you mean?' 'You know, sir?; but you shall hear again if you like. I mean this: that I have no need of wedding robes, because I shall never marry.' The baronet laughed good-humor-edly. 'Pshaw, my dear; that's all nonsense !' 4 \ beg your pardon, Sir Geoffrey. But lam in earnest. What I told you in the Highlands I tell you here —I never will marry your son. It grieves me to disobey my father's will, and I am sorry to take the Trevethon wealth out of your hands. Sir Geoffrey, but there is no help for it. You know me, and when I tell you that I have fully decided you will not seek to induce me to change my mind, for it would be a mere waste of words.'

She arose to kave the boudoir, but her guardian faced her, a curious change coming over his smiling face.

I'You mean that I 3hall understand then, that you refuse to marry my eon?' 'I do!' "What if 1 command you?' She laughed in imperial,scorn. * 'lf I aaie disouey my dead father's command, 1 shall not hesitate to disobey yours, sir I' 'What if I force yon?' ! Her eyes flashed defiance. 'Force, Sir Geoffrey? Do you venture to use such a word? You cannut force me! If you presume to try, I shall resist and defy you'! J 'I am your guardian, and my power is supreme! Girl, you will do well to submit to my wishes. I have granted you tveiy indulgence all your life; but you shall not thwart me in this. Do you think I will | suffer a wnim of yours to make my ' oniy son a beggar, ir.stead of being | one of the wealthiest peers in Eng- !! lapd? I tell you, you shall obey your ! dead father's will and marry him.' 1 'And I tell you I will not, sir,' she aoswcied fearlessly. He caught her arm, and held it with a grip that bruised the delicate flesh; his cruel eyes glared upon her like the eyes ot a wild beast; his breath scorched her cheek. 'You fool/ he hibsed in her ear, 9 'if you resisc my will. I will murder I you!' I 'i'he girl tore herself free of his | hand, all iht; dauntless blood of her S race glowing in her fair cheeks. 8 'You coward!'she cried,'to insult and threaten a woman, and one of your own name. 'But,' she added, as __ she lurntd toward ihe door, 'you ~ are noi a Trev.ethon; there is some mistake. You and your son are alike; you co nut. come of my' race, for they ■" ' weie all brave and chivalrous gentle--3 I men.'

lie sprang at her with a cry like che growl of a panther. 'Whal?' he gasped, clutching at her dread. 'What do you say? Do you dare imply that 1 am not a l'revetnon?'

ish« iort her skirts fiee, leaving the silken fragments in his hands.

I BY EMMA GARRT ON JONES. T Author of "Pelf and Power," "Strathmore's Sin," / Etc, etc-

'I aay you are a coward, sir, and your son inherits your fine qualities,' she repeated, her voice ringing like a trumpet; 'and I do not believe one drop of the Trevethon blood runs in your veins.' She strode like an empress from the library, and he stood where she left him, his face white, his eyes glaring. 'What does this mean?' he panted. 'lf 1 thought she suspected the truth she should not live an hour.' Lenore went straight to her apartments and rang for Clotlide. •I shall not dress,' she said quietly. 'You can have my dinner set up. I shall be busy this evening and shall need your assistance, i want my oest clothing packed up, for I shall leave Lyndith Flail tomorrow.' 'Miss Lenore!' 'Yes, Clotilde, 1 am going. Sir Geoffrey and I have quarrelled and I must leave Lyndith Hall.' The woman's eyes filled with tears. 'Mv poor, dear child, where will you go?' 'Lenore put forth her elim hand, j and patted her attendant's pale I cheek. 'Don't fret, Clotilde," she said; I shall find a home somewhere. The litile brown birds live in the hedges, and not a sparrow falls without God's notice. Are we not worth more than many sparrows? We shall not starve or perish from cold Of course. Clotilde, you will go with me?' The woman clasped her hands with a gesture of unutterable pain, her eyes full of a dumb misery that was terrible to see. Lenore looked at her in utter astonishment. 'Why, what is the matter with you, Clotilde?' she cried. For pity's sake, do not wear such a face as that. You need not go with me unless you are willing. I was sure you would be, or I would not have mentioned it.' 'I am willing. Oh, Miss Lenore, I would follow you to the ends of the earth.' the poor creature sobbed, 'but—but—l dare not.'

* 'You dare not, Clotilde? and why, pray? Do you fear Sir Geoffrey? You need not look so terrified. Answer me. Why do you fear to go?' 'Don't ask me, Miss Lenore I cannot answer.'

The utter agony of the poor soul's manner made Miss Trevethon pity her, impatient as she was of such mystery. 'Well, I will not seek an explanation,' she replied/ 'and you can remain behind. But you will assist me with the packing, I hope. I wish to leave to-morrow, and I desire to get among people who have no disguises. The people in this house all wear masks, it seems to me.' 'Do not blame me, Miss Lenore,' faltered Clotilde, as she set about her task.

'Do not blame you for being so silly, Clotilde? Well, I suppose I should not. Are there any letters for me ths evening?' In silence Clotilde bent over the trunk she was beginning to arrange. 'Clotilde, did any letters come ttris evening?' repeated her young mistress. The woman made no answer. Miss Trevethon turned upon her with flashing eyes. 'Clotilde, why is it that you do not answer my question?' she demanded. The woman turned round, knealing as she was, and raised her streaming eyes. 'Miss Leuore, forgive me, but I cannot answer.' 'You cannot answer?' repeated the young lady, her temper rising. 'Are you demented? I tell you you shall answer me. Did any letters come?' Clotilde's ashen lips uttered no =ound.

'I see, I see/ cried Lenore bitterly; they did come, and you have given them into Sir Geoffrey's hands. Ah, you cannot, deny it. side with my enemy—you, Clotilde, whom 1 have loved since my infancy. I expecteed,better things of you than to desert me in my hour of trial.' 'Oh, Heaven was not my cup already full to the brim?' moaned the woman, letting her head fall forward on her arms. 'Could not this have been spared me?' 'Get up,' Miss Trevethon commanded. 'You need not trouble with the packing; I want no traitorous services. Leave me and go to your master, Go, I command you and never dare to come into my presence again.' Without a word, Clotilde arcse and crept out of the room. Lenore sank into a chair, and looked out of her windo.; on the wintry stm below. TO FJt OONrfNUED • I I | J I -1 I