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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10003, 26 March 1910, Page 2

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

CHAPTER Vlll.—Continued

'The entire household is in league j against me,' she murmured, 'and the j sooner Igo to the better. I would j leave at once, only the night is so near. If I could have got the letter I should have nothing to regret. I am almost sure it came, Well, I'll go to Scotland to-morrow and se? if I cannot ascertain Sir Geoffrey Trevethon shall be called to account for his high-handed measures it he has dared ta intercept my private correspond ence.' Meawhile poor Clotilde, driven from the presence of the mistress she idolised, made her noiseless way to a small smoking-room that adjoined the library. She hesitated for some minutes when she reached the door, a curious expression in her poor, worn face, and then she tapped twice or thrice. 'Come in,' answered a gruff voice. She turned the knob and entered. The room was a cozy little den, luxuriously furnished and hung with sporting pictures of a low character. On a velvet couch, wrapped in an j elegant Turkish gown, reposed the young heir of the house, Richmond Trevethon, a cigar between his lips, and a small table, on which were a decanter of brandy and a glass, drawa up beside him. He turned as Clotilde otole in, and gave her an impatient glance. 'What the deuce do you want?' he demanded. Her face was a study as she stood for an instant and looked at bim, her hands pressed hard against her heart. Plain, unutterable love, and piteous despair filled her faded eyes. The young man rose, leaned on bis elbow, and glared across the room. 'I say, what the deuce do you want? Why do you stand there and gape at me likea fool? Out with your business, and take your ghost face out of my sight.' The poor creature winced and shrank away as if a keen blade had pierced her, 'Think of the time when he lay upon my heart a"blessed infant,'she murmured, under her breath, her yearining eyes still fixed upon his face. The baronet's son, losing all patience, caught up the glass from the table with a brutal oath. 'Out with your business, I say,' " he thundered,'and take yourself off. The sight of you makes my blood run cold. I'd as soon see a corpse as you tallow face. Do you hear me? Speak quickly, or I'll let a ray of light into your thick skull ' '1 beg your pardon, sir, f she faltered, creeping a step nearer. *I - came to speak to you about Miss Trevethon.' The young man put down the glass, and a look of interest filled his inflamed eyes. 'Well, what of Miss Trevethon?" he demanded. .'She is coming to her senses, no doubt.' 'She's dreadfully set against her father's will,' Clotilde went on, made bold by the hope of serving the mistress she loved. 'She will be miserable for life if you force her to become your wife; and yet. if she refuses, she loses all her father's wealth.' 'Curse you! donft I know that? 13 that a!l you have to say?' roared the hopeful heir. 'lf you will only have patience and hear me,' continued Clotilde, her very heart in her mouth, yet resolute to accomplish her object. "If you , would only be generous, sir.-and not hold her to" that - marriage of her childhood. You might refuse ,to marry her. you, see, sir, and re- - lease her from all obligations to you; and then she could still hold her fortune, and I am surs she would reward you handsomely, and you would both be so much happier ' 'Did she send you here with that nonsense?' interrupted her hearer. 'lndeed sir, no. Ic occurred to me that if you refused her, instead of she refusing you, the fortune need not pass out of her hands; and I thought ' 'Take that for your impudence,' cried Richmond, his face purple with rage; ai.d seizing the glass again he sent it flying at the woman's head. She dodged it with a suppressed shriek of tenor, and it fell with a crash of at Sir Geoffrey's feet as he .entered the smoking-room. Seeing Clotilde, his eyes took on their wild glare, and stalking up to the poor, cowering creature, he cluteh.it! her arm with a force that extorted a cry of pain from her ashen I lips. I 'What's ihib? What are you doing * here?' he demanded. ' Why. «ne's here to persuade me to nf.se to marry Miss Trevethon.' " put it. me son, sinking back into his rtcujub.nt position, 'and I threw the idhss at her. ,1 wish you would send i' her out of the house. 1 can't see why you want such a dough-face about vou.' 'I can see,' the baronet replied. 'I havu work for her to do. Coltilde, follow me to the library.' ' He looked at her as he uttered the command, and she cowered and crept alter him like a beaten cur. 'Have jou broken your oath?

BY EMMA GARRJ ON JONES. Author of "Pelf and Power," "Strathn:ore's«Sin," • Etc, etc.

CHAPTER IX.

Have you dared to tell my son?'demanded Sir Geoffrey, as he closed the library door. 'No, I have not broken my oath. I have not told him ' The words dropped from her ashen lips in husky whispers. "It is well for you' the baronet made answer, clutching her bruised arm again. 'Let me even suspect you, and you shall die a death of lingering torture!' 'I have suffered that for years. Oh, Heaven, will the end never come'! she moaned. He threw her from him with brutal force. 'Silence!' he thundered 'No whimpering. Sit down and hear me; I have work for you.' Without a word she regained her feet, and sat down in the seat he indicated, her hands folded, her ashen iace like stone.

LENORE SWALLOWS TB& BAIT. The next morning Lenore sat in deep thought at her chamber window, half inclined, tc send for Si'r Harry Tresham, and repudiate the marriage of her" youth by accepting him. She felt herself alone in the world, and the sense of her desolation brought tears to her eyes. She arose as the breaktast-bell rang, hurriedly dried her eyes, aid went down to meet her guardian. He received her at the door of the breakfast-parlor with a pleasant smile and a profound bow. 'My dear Lenore,' he began at once, 'I have been waiting for you this hour, to pardon. I am a passionate man, my dear, and my temper and my disappointment got the better of me yesterday. You will forgive me, my dear, and forget my hasty word*?' K£ifi«E£?~ The young lady bowed frigidly. 'lt matters little. Sir Geoffrey," she replied, 'whether I forgive or not. Your words of yesterday have changed our relations for all time. I leave Lyndith Hall to-day.' *.; A curious smile was visible in the baronet's gray eve. 'Lenore, my dear child '. 'I leave' Lyndith Hall to-day,' in- ! terrupted his ward. 'No words of yours, Sir Geoffrey, can induce me to remain; hence I beg you will not trouble me with importunities. The Trevethon wealth you can manage as you see fit, until it passes out of your hands. Henceforth the small income left me by my dear mother will suffice for me; and now, if you please, I will have my breakfast.' She swept by him, and into the breakfast-room. - 'As the queen wills,' smiled Sir Geoffrey, with a second bow. The baronet's son was not present. He had left the Hall at an early hour to ride with the hounds from Deerhurat, a country-seat not far distant; so Miss Trevethon and her guardian breakfasted alone. 'My dear Lenore,' began that worthy gentleman, stirring his coffee, 'if you must leave Lyndith Hall this morning, may I ask where you purpose going?' 'I have not yet decided as to my destination,' answered Lenore coolly, "and if I had, Sir Geoffrey, I am quite sure I should not gratify your curiosity. As I told you a minute ago, your words of yesterday have changed our relations forever. When a man (l will not say gentleman, Sir Geoffrey, for gentlemen never insult women) insults me once, I make it a point to give him no chance to repeat the indignity. You insulted and threatened me and henceforth you and I are strangers.' The baronet's face whitened and ! his eyes flashed, but he bowed again | and repeated: 'As the queen wills.' At the same moment' a footman entered with the morning mail, wnich he placed beside the baronet's plate. 'Are there any letters for me toay, Sir Geoffrey?" Miss Trevethon demanded, with marked emphasis. 'lf si), I hope you will let me have them. It is rather dangerous work, I should say, for even a guardian to tamper with his ward's letters.' Sir Geoffrey arched his brows in well-bred surprise. 'lt is indeed, my dear,' he answered. 'Surely you do not mean to insinuate that I woul 1 tamper with my ward's letters? Assured you shall have your letters, Miss Trevdth»n. Here they are!' Lenore received t^em—two or three from London, 01, • from Fern Rill, the seat of her chaperon, Lady Halstead. and another from Scotland, 'bearing tt.e Piedmont postmark. She gave a start, and her face flused hot with shame. Here was her letter at last, dnd she had accused her guardian of intercepting it. She tore it open with trembling fingers, and ran over its contents. TO Bfci roSTtNUED