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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10010, 5 April 1910, Page 2

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

CHAPTER XII. —Continued

'He came in the storm; let him return in it; no one wants him here. Run up and tell the little one he's i gone.' Maud obeys, and finds the bride calmly reclining on the lounge before the hearth. 'I thought you had all gone to bed,' she says peevishly, 'Has Ambrose come'? '.No love, Dut we look for him every minute. Are you very tired? Suppose you let me send your bridemaids up?' 'No, no, I won't have them—a set ot silly girls--and I won't sit here all night, .either. If Ambrose doesn't choose to come, let him stay away. I, for one, shall not break my heart.' 'Oh, Ishbel, love, do not talk so,' cried Maud imploringly. 'You know he does not tarry of his own will. We ftar he may be lose in the drifts.* 'Psnaw! A great, strong man like Ambrose! What nonsense Maud ! He doesn't care to come, or he would. Arthur Marlowe could get here, it seems.' 'Yes he was in a sleigh, and came across the moors. He went away just now.' 'Who, Arthur?' Ishbel starts upright, with dilated eyes. 'Yes, dear,' is Maud's quiet answer. 'Gone away; and he did not see me after all!' the bride cries. 'Oh, Maudie, why didn't you let me go down?' And, dropping her rosebud of a face into her dimpled hands she burst <nto tears. Maud looks at her in troubl d silence, utteis a deep sigh, and goes down- to her guests. It is nearing midnight, and the searching party have returned. They are buetiing about the fire, all white with snow, their good sheep dogs at their heels, but they bring no tidings of Ambrose. 'The storm is awful amid the hills,' says the suokesman ; 'took us off our feet a dozen .times; but we scoured the way well. If Ambro&e had been under the ariftb the dogs would have had him out.' 'And you went on to the cottage?' 'Aye, sir, and roused up Gerhart and his dame, and she says Ambrose left home a little before dark.' ! 'That's strange.' | "Tis all strange, squire, and the strangest part is we saw the Haunted i Manor alight as we went.' 'Saw what?' Poor, pooh, lads! Your tyes wer* 5 dazzled!' I 'Not a bit, air. We all saw it, ! didn't we, mated? A li.ebt fron. one of the south windows; we saw it plain.' 'Why, there hasn't been a light in the manor for years My good fellows, have you lost your wits?' 'Hope not, squire. But there was a light; 'twas cut, though, as we came back, and the old pile was as dark as a grave. Hope nothing serious has happened to poor Ambrose.' 'Nothing worse than the drifts, boys, be sure of that,' ssys the squire. 'Well, sir, mebbe not; but we thought to stumble on him. Seeing as we have not, and his mother being rather uneasy, and likewise the young lady, no doubt, if you sa so, squire, now as we've smelt the fire, we'll return and try our luck asain.' 'Nay, nay, your suppers first, and a mug of hot drink to keep nut the cold,' interposed the squire. 'Here, Maud, my lass, we've kept our friends waiting long enough. Serve the supper at once, and then the l?ds can make a fresh start.' 'Father, might Ishbel come down?' whispers Maud. ' 'Ceitainly,' responds the old man heartily; 'the little one's lonesome and uneasy, no doubt. Fetch her down, by all means.' But Ishbel refuses the invitation. 'No,' she answers pettishly, pushing aside the shawl that Maud tries to fold about her shoulders; '1 don't want to go down now. You wouldn't let me go whe i I asked you. I don't want to go n*.w. Go have your supper; I shall n. t eat any myself.' And Maud is forced to leave her with a grieved and aching heart, this pretty little sister whom she has loved and tpoiled and petted for so many long years. CHAPTER XIII. THE BRIDE'S FLIGHT. Left to herself IshbelJ turns to the window with a face of childish diecontent. 'What a stupid fellow Ambrose is, keeping one waiting til! this hour!' she complains. 'My pretty clothes are all disarranged and not a soul has seen them. Papa might as weil have saved his money. And to think Arthur was here! I wish he could have seen me. What a goose he was to go away; I suppose papa as good as told him to leave.' She twirls the ruby bracelets on her round wrist, and presses her small flowerlike face close against the glass. Presently she starts back 1 with a suppressed ciy, for standing

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

just below, his handsome face uplifted in the whining whitd snow, she sees Arthur Mar'lowc. 'He has not gout ; he's out here in the cold yet,' she murmurs, clasping and unclasping her hands in nervous excitement. She stands there a minute; then she approaches the window again. For her life sue could not keep away. He is there; she can see his face clearly in the reflected light of the lowtr windows. He smiles and kisses his hand, and foolish Ishbel raises hers and kisses it in return —the hand upon which the sho»vy diamond flashes. It glitters in the white light like a star. The baronet's son catches the gleam, and hia mad heart leaps in his breast. She wears my ring yet!' he mutters; I'll be sworn that boorish lover of hers could not afford to give her a diamond; and that's a diamond on her finger. This marriage may be forced upon her. I'll to her and learn, if it costs me my life. A huge knotted vine covered the entire side of the old house. It is all hung v. ith drifted snow; but Arthur swings himself up by it, and is on a level with the window before startled Ishbel can get her breath. 'lshbel, Ishbel, let me speak to you, for Heaven's sake! he implores, his handsome face close to hers. 'Open the window just a little way.' .She flushes and trembles, and tugs at the oaken casement with her dimpled hands till' it slides to one side. The snow . comes flying in, covering her glistening dress. The barouet's son gazes upon her with passionate eyes. 'Uh, how beautiful you are!' he pants. Ishbel, Ishbel, I never dreamed you could be half so lovely!' Ishbel's vain heart dances with joy; his praises are very sweet to her. Suddenly he reaches forth and seizes her hand. > '¥uuwearmy ring,' he whispers. 'Yes, it is mine. Ishbel, for mercy's sake tell me the truth; do you love this man, or are they forcing you to marry him? My darling, have you forgotten me? Are you glad to see me?' I Her cheeks flame and she shivers | in the cold blast like a leaf, but she cannot resist him. 'Yes, I am glad to see you, Arthur.' she falters; 'but papa would be so angry it he knew. He wants me to marry Ambrose ' 'And you do not want to marry him! Ishbel, would you rather marry me?' Her round eyes dilate like a child's. 'Yes. Arthur, indeed I would,' she answers simply. In a twinkling he leaps through the casement and has her in his arms. 'My darling? my little moorland blossom, my only love,' he murmurs, dropping fierce kisses on her face; 'I have tried to forget you, to give you up, but I cannot. Ishbel, they shall not part us. That laggard lover of yours cannot love you as I do, else he would be here now. All the storms that ever blew could not keep me from you. Ishbel, if you love me, come.' He looks at her with mad, entreating eyes, but she struggles from his arms in helpless terror. ! 'Oh I cannot! What would papa and Maudie say?' 'No matter! if you loved me you would not care. Stay, then, and marry this Loor, and live in a hovel to the end of your days; you, who, with your bright beauty, might grace a court. Good-by; I am going. In a month thty'll persuade me to marry Lady Bianca Driscol, and you'll never set eyes on me again.' He turns from her, and. in her weakness, she puts out a hand to detain him. He wheels and clasps her again. . '¥ou do love me! My darling, come! My sleigh is below, and before to-morrow's sun rises you shall be my wife instead of his. Ishbel, there is not an instant to lose. Decide quickly. Will you come, or must we part, forever?' Ishbel clings tu him with a little gasping sob He glances about the room with eager eyes. 'There is a dark mantle on the bed; he seizes it and wraps her in it. Then he throws the casement wide open and clasps her in his arm 3, as the snow comes drviving in. 'Cling close to me, darling,' he whispers, as he passes out, and in two minutes we are bafe!' She utters a piteous cry, but she clings to him with trembling arms. He leaps out and clambers down the gnarled vine, clasping her with his strong arm. They stand on the snowy walk below, just opposite the gleaming windows. TO B3 CONTINUED I