A GREAT WRONG,

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10025, 22 April 1910, Page 2

A GREAT WRONG,

CHAPTER XXII. —Continued. tie reached the fnggv old town just as the dreary twilight dosed in. The young nobleman was in wretched spirits. His love for Miss Trevethon had been ardent and abiding, and to stand by and see her put away under the cold marble, shut in forever from the gay world, had torn his heart cruelly, and set the half-healed wounds to bleeding afresh. 'lf she had harkened to me she might be alive now,' he said to himself again and again. 'She did not love Richmond Trevethop, and the marriage broke her proud heart. If she could only have loved me well enough to have let the fortune go. Poor, pretty Lenore." Peeling in no mood for the evening gaieties of his mother's minslon, he turned his step in the direction of hrs clubroom. 1

Threading a dark street, with tlae damp wind in his teeth, and his heart torn with bitter memories; a woman's cry for help startled him.

He dashed forward foiljowing the direction of the sound, /and a few blocks vlt in the shadow of a piojecliug roof, he caugnt sight of a woman struggling in the hands of a tramp.

"You villain!' thundered Sir Harry, making a dive at his throat, but the tramp eluded his grasp and fled, leaving his victim, panting and faint with terror. She was a tall, slim woman, in a flowing m-uitle of black.

' 'I hope, madam, that I was in time to save you from injury?' The woman turned her white, affrighted face toward him, and put forth a slender hand. 'I thank you, sir,' she began, but his cry of amazement cut her short. 'Merciful heavens!' he gasped, catching at her arm, 'am 1 in a dream, or do the dead come back?' 'Sir, Harry Tresham!'

His name broke from her lips in a tone of startled regret, anil wrenching her arm from his hold she,was hurrying away. But here she had proceeded ten paces he caught her agrjin and held hex' fast. She turned un him, her blue eyes blazing. 'Sir Harry Tresharr, how dare you? Unhand me this instant.'

He only held her all the more securely. 'Miss Trevethon! It is you, and alive! Thank Heaven!' His voice broke almost into sobs, so great was his emotion. Lenore stood passive, a smile lighting her pale face. 'Yey, Sir Harry. 1 see there is« no hope of running away from you,' she answered.

'But what does it mean?' he demanded; 'for Heaven's sake, speak. Miss Trevethon, only yesterday, I saw you curied, and to-night I meet you here.' Her blue eyes flashed with a sort of grim amusen.ent. He caught her hand and kissed it in his rapturous delight.

'You are alive! there is some mistake. Oh, Miss Trevethon, this is the happiest day of my life.' She laid her slim, soft hand on his arm, looking up at him with grave, pleading eyes. 'Yes, there is a mistake—a great secret, Sir Harry, which / you have found out, and lam sorry. I meant to keep the truth all to myself, but since we have met, you will keep, of course, the secret at my asking?'

'Assuredly. I think there is nothing you could ask of me that I would deny, Miss Trevethon. But I beg your pardon, I do not quite understand.'

'Let us walk on together, and I will explain. 1 am stopping not far off, and, beins sumewhat of a stranger in London, I lost my way in the fog this evening, which ac : counts for my being out so late. Sir Harry, I am very grateful to you.' He shook frosn head to foot with excitement and emotion as he gave her his arm.

'For what, Miss Trevethon? Because you have made me the happiest man in England ! Half an hour ngo I believed you dead and buried under the dreary- marbles at Lyndith Hall, and'to me life was not worth the living. Now, I look upon your living face, and —' The little trembling hand left his arm, the sad eyes filled with tears. 'Sir Harry, pray do not speak'in that vay,' she implored. 'lf you do I must run away from you this minute, and I am so miserable, so utterly alone, so sorely in need of a friend. Help me, and keep my secret.'

The rapturous glow faded from his eyes, for something in the look of hers told him that the hope.he cherished was a vain one. He answered her like the man he was. 'You shall have 110 need to run away from me. Miss Trevethon. And now tell me what your secret is.'

'You have surely guessed. I live, and I ain not Richmond Trevethon's wife."

'Miss Trevethon! Then there must have been viie falsehood and treachery. Can Sir Geoffrey have perpetrated this great duplicity in order to secure and hold your She bowed in assent.

Or, The Mystery of Black Hollow Grange.

BY EMMA GARRJ ON JOKES. Author of "Pelf and Power," "Strathmore's Sin," Eto, etc.

'And you have suffered the world to believe it? Miss Trevethon, 1 cannot understand.' 'No matter; you understand enough. I wish the world to believe it.' He turned upon her in dire amazement. 'You wish the world to believe ft; you intend to let this shameful plot succeed'/ Is that what you mean, Miss Trevethon?' 'Precisely that, Sir Harry.' 'And you will let Sir Geoffrey Trevethon li° to the world, and cheat it with a mock funeral, in order to hold your wealth? You are willing to give up your name and your birthright. Miss Trevethon. ?' 'Yes, I intend to do all that.' , Her voice was steady, and the hand on his arm, lay quiet and pulseess. The young man looked at tier in sheel* amazement., 'Miss Trevethon, what do you mean?' *Ji:st this, Sir Harry. I could not obey my poor father's last command, and wisn and marry Richmond Trevethon, and thereby secure to him the fortune which should be hj:«; and since they have planned and plotted this immense fraud, I have no wish to expose it. 1 mean that tney shall have it all their own way. They and the world believe me dead, and to them dead henceforth t will remain; then the fortune will be theirs, and in part, at least, ir,v father's v»ish will be observed.'

'Give up jour name, Miss Treethon —your fortune, everything! By Heaven it shall not be! before this time to-morrow all London shall ring with the story, and Sir Gecft'rey Trevethon uhal? be dealt with accorcing to his deserts.' 'Nay, Sir Harry; the secret is mine, and at my asking you will surely keep it? Oh, pray, do not deny me the eole kindness I have ever asked of you! Help me in this my hour of sore trial. Keep my secret, Sir Harry, ui;d be my friend.' 'Always ycur friend, Miss Trevethon,' he answered, utterly unmanned by her entreating manner, 'but this gross fraud and injustice should be exposed.' 'I do not desire it. For my sake, Sir Harry, you will be silent?' 'For your sake, Miss Trevethon, I would willingly do even more than that. But is the world to lose you utterly?' 'The world can well do without me,' she answered, with a raournlul smile; 'it will scarcely miss me. I shall leave England in a few days, never to return.'

He caugtit her hand, and held it close, his eyes burning down upon her

'Miss Trevethon, it shall be as you say; I will keep your secret. You shall die to the world if you will, but live lor me. When you leave England, let it be as my dear wife. I asked you once before, and you denied me. I ask you again. Have pity on a love, Lenore, which never swerves, never forgets, whether you live ro die. Give up your heritage; I have another for you. Relinquish your name and take mine. We will leave England together, and in some far land, with every wish of your heart fulfillad you shall learn to love me. Lenore, you must love me when once you are my wife. Have no fears, hesitate no longer, but lay your dear hand in mine and say it shall be so.' She looked at him with brimming eyes. 'From my very soul, 1 wish I could, Sir Harry." 'You can Lenore.' 'Nay, forgive me; I cannot.' 'And why?' A sudden crimson stained her white face; her head drooped, her clear eyes fell. 'Miss Trevethon, I am answered,' said the young man gravely. 'You love another.' She was silent, burning blushes still mantling her cheeks. He walked beside her, silent also, until they reacned the door of the lodginghouse. 'Miss Trevethon," he said then, 'you will at least permit me to be your friend. Indeed, I think you asked that much of me. Now tell me what I can do? If you cannot love me, surely you will allow me to do some little kindness for you?' 'Yes; you shall keep my secret.' 'ls there nothing else?' She hesitated and said, with some confusion: 'There is but one thing. Come in and I will tell you.' He followed her into the plain little sitting-room she occupied., TO BE CONTINUED