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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10006, 31 March 1910, Page 2

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

CHAPTER X.-Continued

Sir Geoffrey Trevethon,' she said, i her voice cool and silvery, 'if you / have decoyed me here for the purpose of frightening me into a marriage with your son, rest assured you have had your trouble for nothing. As I told you in the beginning. I tell you now, I will not marry him. I will die here where I stand rather than speak the words that wiil make me his wife. And you, sir,' she added, clenching her white hand and setting her teeth, 'only let me regain my freedom, and you shall pay dearly for all this.' The baronet laughed softly. 'Regain your freedom, my dear!' he rapeated. 'My dear Lenore, you are not at all likely to be free for some time to come unless you pay the required price for your liberty. Listen to me, Miss Trevethon. We hava no time for theatricals. The night is passing away, and we must get out of this old ghost trap and be on our road to Paris before the day dawns. So listen to reason now, like a sensible girl. As I told you before, it is not likely that I shall relinquish the hopes of a lifetime, and see myself i like a beggar in my old age, and my son cut off from his rightful inherit- j anre, all because of an idle whim on your part. You ara virtually Richmond's wife as it is. You were married to him, at your father's wish, in your childhood, and you are commanded by your father's last will to hold that marriage sacred.' She laughed in his very face, in superb and fearless scorn. 'I repudiate that silly ceremony of my youth,' she exclaimed; 'and you will find it a little difficult to force me to submit to your wishes.' The baronet's smiling face had changed in a fearful manner. It was livid with suppressed passion, and his eyes glared like those of a wild beast. 'We'll see!' he answered, in a low, threatening voice. 'That clergyman there, and the woman who is to act as witness, are both mine, sworn to my service. You marry my son, and to-morrow's dawn will see you on your way to Rome, and to-morrow's papers will announce the alliance.' 'But if I refuse, as I do, Sir Geoffrey, what then?' interrupted Jier fearless voice. »

'What then? Listen, Miss Trevethon, and you shall hear. If you re- | fuse, the ceremony will proceed all j the same, and the witness will sign ! the certificate. The sole difference, Mis irevethon, will be this: The woman Clotilde is sworn to serve me, as I have said. She will accompany my son to-morrow; she will impersonate the bride—an easy enough ; thing to do—and tc-morrow's papers j will announce the private marriage, ' and the departure of the bride and groom, and no one will have a suspicion of the *ruth. And a month or two hence,' he continued, with a fiendish laugh, 'news will come Inme to England that the young wife ot Richmond Trevethon is dead —dead and buried in a foreign land; and then, of course, Richmond Trevethon holds the immense Trevethon fortune left by his deceased wife.' Lenore's eyes widened, and her cheek grew pale, despite all her courage and self-possession, as she took in all the shocking details of this cunning plot. She glanced at her guardian's son, and saw his dark face lambent with insolent triumph. She turned toward Clotilde. The poor creature stood shaking in every limb, her hands clenched in agony, her bloodless face frozen in utter despair, and there, like a black statue, book in hand, was the waiting clergyman. 'A neatly laid plot, eh, my dear' questioned the baronet, observing her with an amused smile. 'I always had a talent for intrigue. But you do not ask what part you are to play Miss Trevethon. Shall I tell you? While Richmond Trevethon and his supposed bride are hastening to Rome, where will you be? Step this way and you shall see.' He seized h< r arm and drew her across the room. Then, lifting the thick, black arras that draped the wall, he ran his hand along the surface of the oaken paneling, and lo! there was a sharp clici<, and a door slid lowly aside, as if by magic revealing a black void, which looked like the entrance to a region of impenetrable darkness. Lenore drew back with a stifled cry, half suffcated by the foul air that came rushuig up. 'An ugly sort of nlace, my dear,' proceeded Sir Gecfxrey. as hereplaced the panel, 'and you have not seen the worst of it. It is an old dungeon in whteh the border chiefs used to bury their criminals when they were doomed to death by starvation. There are dead men's bones, and dead mens ghosts, and other loathsome things down there Miss Treveihbr. Such a place would not suit a dainty lady like you who has been used to satin hung boudoirs, eh, my dear?' I The revolting picture he had drawn made Ltnore shudder. J 'While my son and his supposed , bride,' he continued, 'will be on their | bridal tour, you, my dear, will be J

BY SMMA GARRT ON JONES. Author,of "Pelf and Power," "Stratbmore's Sin," Etc., etc

CHATPTER XI.

there, where the dead men's bones moulder, dying a living death!' The girl's lips quivered painfully, and a deadly faintness crept over her, but her glorious eyes still flashed indignantly. In the face of the merciless guardian who ht Id h>:r life in his hands, in the face o.t his son, watching her with evil exultation, in the face of this horrible death he had threatened, she did not quail. 'I say nothing, only what I have already said, Sir Geoffrey,' was her quiet answer. The baronet chuckled incredulously. 'A life of luxury and pleasure, as my son's wife, is certainly preferable to being buried alive, my dear, and you are too sensible a girl to waste an instant in deciding between the two. Come, now, take Richmond's arm, and let the marriage proceed. Once his wife, of course, you give your word to keep silent touching to-night's adventures, and not another thing is required of you. If you and your bridegroom do not happen to find yourselves very much in love after marriage, you will not be forced to bill and coo. You may set up separate establishments, if you like, follow your own wills, and please yourselves as you fancy your fortune will warrant it.' Once more the waiting bridegroom advanced to take his bride's hand. She turned upon him with haughty indignation. 'lf I had ever dreamed of obeying my poor father's will, if I had ever thought of becoming your wife, do you think I would do so now?' she cried. 'I know know you both as you are, father and son, a pair of murderers! I say agaih, as I said before, j there is some mistake "Xou are not 'of the Trevethon race.' Sir Geoffrey, gnashing his teeth in his anger, drew a dagger from his breast, and flashed it before her eyes. 'Silence!' he thundered, 'or I'll drive it, hilt deep into your heart.' i She eluded his grasp, and darted across the room, tore aside the tattered curtain, and shivered the glas3 in the window with a single blow of ber dainty hand. 'Murder! murder!' she cried, her , voice ringing like a silver trumpet j above the clamour of the storm. J The baronet and his son both burst into mocking laughter. 'You may shout yourself hoarse,' said her guardian, 'but no one will her you. Do not forget, Mies Trevethon, that you are in the Haunted Manor.' The girl shuddered from head to foot, but she put her face to the bro - ] ken pane, and cried out again: 'MurI der; murder!' ! Sir Geoffrey strode across the j room, and clutched her arm. 'Come, we have had enough of this,' he said, his face working with anger, his cruel fingers impressing themselves upon her arm. 'Lenore Trevethon, for the last time I ask you, will you marry my son?' 'I will not, was her unhesitating answer. 'So be it,' replied her guardian; 'if you prefer the dungeon, you shall have it. Take hold of her, Richmond, and let the ceremony go on." The young man at once seized her ■ left arm, and they drew her before the clergyman, who stood motionless in his black robes. He began the marriage service in a deep and solemn .voice. " 'Clotilde,' cried Lenore, as she struggled to free herself, 'will you stand by and witness such a crime as this? Will you, whom 1 have loved and trusted, join in this plot against my life?' 'Oh, Miss Lenore!' wailed the poor creature, making a step forward. 'Silence!' thundered the baronet. 'Move an inch, or , utter a word, and I'll cut out your tongue!' She fell back, trembling in mortal terror, her face like that of a corpse. 'Proceed,' commanded the baronet, and again the clergyman went on. But by main force Lenore tore away from them, ahd, darting across ! the room, threw herself against the j window. i 'Murder! murder! Oh, Heaven, j wil no one help me?' she cried. I But only the wild roar of the storm answered. *

A WILD WEDDING NIGHT. a wild night shutting down upon the Scottish hills', and il is Ambrose Gerhart's wedding night. He stands in the doorway of his father's house, arrayed in his holiday garments—a tall, handbome youth, with an eye like an eagle's and the bearing of a prince, albeit he is the son of humble parents. His mother comes forward, with his heavy coat in her hands. 'lt is high time you were off, my son.' she says. 'The dark comes swift these winter evenings, and the 'walk you have before you is long and dreary. So get thee gone, Ambrose; it won't do to keep the little Isabel waiting on her wedding night.' TO BK rONTINUED