A TERRIBLE MISTAKE

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10030, 2 July 1910, Page 2

A TERRIBLE MISTAKE

<3HAPTBK XXXIII -Continued. He stood up, and groptd blindly for the door. The rain had ceassd to fall, but the sky was thick with heavily charged- clouds; the thunder rumbled, and intermittent flashes of lightning flooded the eanh with a lurid light. Without speaking, Mary hastily put on her bonnst and led the way. Insensibly the conviction was gaining upon her that this man had teen wronged n some way.Such intense griet as his could not be simulated even by a heartless aristocrat. She had little sympathy with the sufferings of highborn and titled men who thought it pastime to play with the affections of innocent girls.

"He calls her his wife," she thought disdainfully; "but it was without book or ring! I know that Mrs Frost would not tell me an untruth."

Mary plodded through pools of water formed by the rain, nad over several fields of dripping grass; then she paused at the gates of an old churchyard, and Lord Manthorpe saw that he was surroucded by tombstones, which gleamed white and ghostly in the strange light. "She is restin'there, poor soul!" Mary said, pointing to a mound of freshly dug earth, thiitkjy sprinkled with flowers. "She loved the sunlight and the blue skies; and I shouldn't wonder if she doesn't listen even now to the sound of the sea. She was always talkin' about it." Lord Manthorpe turned upon her abruptly.

"You can leave me now," he said. "You can leave me with ail that is dear to me. I ask Heaven to forgive those who poisoned my darling's mind against me, for I never can—those who were her murderer?, as they are mine!"

He fell face downward upon the sodden earth, and Mary's rugged cheeks were wet with tears. She stood still for a little while, and then turned and went away. "I will come back by and by," she thought. "I believe that he is sorry now when it's ton late."

It was midnight when Lard Manthorpe leeled blindly in the direction of the lights ot Deal. They shone weirdly through the mist and the rain, and the wind moaned from the sea.

"It is all ended—love, hope, life —all!" The same thought was almost constantly before him; it recurred again and again in a maddening whirl. He lost all count of time. "My darling wife is dead, and I have no furtner desire to live! The poor clay shali be taken to Manthorpn, where it may rest with the dead who bear my name. And then " He laughed wildly. There was madness in his veins; his tortured mind was in the grasp of fierce delirium. He was found the next morning a long way from Deal; he had wandered on and on, until he fell senseless and exhausted by the way. A labourtag man discovered him, and he was borne to the bouse of a gentleman famous for his benevolence—a retired physician, whose name in the locality was a household word. j

The experienced eye of Doctor Munro saw that Lord Manthorpe was in a dangerously high state of fever. The patient was put to bed and skilfully treated; but it soon became apparent that his illness would be long and severe. There was absolutely nothing about the clothes of the sick stianger which revealed his identity; and when several days had passed the old doctor began to wonder. "The man is a gentleman," he thought; "and it is my duty to make a searching inquiry." He spoke to the local police, ar.d advertised in the newspapers; tout nothing came of it. Nobody of importance appeared to be missing, and Doctor JMunro decided that he must wait until the delirium bad spent itself. He bestowed every care upon his .unknown patient, and the days lengthened into weeks, , Une morning Lord Manthorpe opened his eyes and gazed half dreamily atjhis surroundings. Then he closed them agan and tried to think. The effort sent [a sharp pang of pain through his head, fie raised one hand wearily, and he knew that he wa» very weak. He looked at the white, thin fingers as they lay on the coverlet, and was bewildered. Was thnt the hand of Percy Clifford, the athlete? He had been one of the biprgest and strongest men in his college. Fortunately, his memory extended only to his college days, and he began to wonder if he had had an accident in the football field, when the door opened, and na saw that a tall, white-naired gentleman was regarding him attentively. CHAPTER XXXIV. DOCTOR MUNRO QUESTIONS THE INVALID. Lord Manthorpe moved uneasily, irritably. He never remembered having seen the intruder before. The white haired gentleman approached the bed and bent over him, and Percy

BY If. L. DACRE, Author of—The Doctor's Secret, A Case for the Court, Sir John's Heiress, A Loveless Marriage, Trecholme's Trust, Etc.

saw that he had a clever, benevolent face. "You will recover, sir,"hesa\d. "At last I see the light of reason in your eyes. Compose yourself; do noi try to think. You are in goou hands." "At least tell me where 1 'am,'' Lord Manthorpe fretfully exclaimed, "and to whom 1 am indebted for a. kindness which I am as yet unable fully to realise and appreciate ! My head pains me abominably" he added, with a groan. "You need only a lone, refreshing sleep now," was the reply; "and to-morrow I will permit you to talk. Briefly, you were brought to me prostrate with fever nearly four weeks since My name is Munro, and I am a retired i.ondun doctor. This is my house, and I live here alone. I have ro relatives -my wife is long since dead The name of the village is Crowhursr, and we are within ten miles of the town of Deal." Before the doctor had finished speaking the young earl's interest was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of weakness. His tongue and lips were parched and dry, and he drank eagerly of the cordial which Doctor Munro administered to him—a cordial the sedative qualities of which soon sent him into a deep sleep.

Again it was morning when he awoke to a knowledge of life. The heavy damask curtains that draped the great bay window had been drawn back, and his eyes rested upon an immense sweep of undulating country, the rime of an autumn frodt glittering like jewels in the sunlight on every bhide of grass. A robin was singing shrilly outside the window, the music of the chiming bells floated on the crisp, clear air. He sighed a little wearily, and immediately became conscious of Doctor Munro's presence. The doctor glanced at him critically.

"I shall soon have you convalescent," he said, with a grave and tender smile. "You have had a terrible bout with death, young man; but a marvellous constitution has triumphed. Plenty of nourishment and a peaceful mind will complete the cure. Not a word at present! The nurse is bringing something o! which you must partake, whether you liKe it or not." lie spoke halt playfully, but there was keen anxiety on his fine old face. "For a little while," he added, "I must leave you to the nurse. Obey her in all things, if you value life. When I return you may talk to me."

"Thank you!" Lord Manthorpe replied "One word, doctur. Why are the bells rhiging?" *" "It is Sunday morning. You have been listening to the church bells."

Doctor Munro was far more anxious about his mysterious patient than he cared to think. The deep mental anguish which had overthrown his reason might recur, and the weakened mind and frame would no longer be able to bear it.

When he returned to the sick room he saw that his patient's eyea were eagerly fixed upon him. Doctor Munro laid one finger upon Lord Manthorpe's throbbing pulse and said quietly : "Now we will try to understand each other a little; and I want you to tell me how you came to ,Crowhurst. You were found in the fields, your clothing muddy, and saturated with rain. There had been several violent showers during the night," 'l' have not the faintest idea," the young earl replied, "and 1 dare not try to remember, or my head will pain me acutely- I have had a bad attack of brain fever, doctor" "One of the very worst in all my j experience," was the grave rejoinder. "People usually talk a lot of nonsense when delirious—do they not?" "Sometimes." Doctor Munro paused awkwardly. "Is there no one whom you wish to see?" he presently asked. "Your friends must be anxious about you, sir?" Lord Manthorpe looked dazed for a few moments. "1 am so bewildered!" he said weakly. "I took it for granted that my father knew of my whereabouts. It seems but yesterday that I was one ' of a picked team in the football field, and you say that 1 have been hera nearly a month. I can make nothing of it, doctor." "I do not even know your name, sir. Your linen is marked with initials only —'P.C—and I could make nothing out of them. I have advertised in the newspapers, but without result. You were well supplied with money, and it is locked away safely; but there are no papers about you. With one of your bands you grasped a small beck of poetry." TO BE CONTINUED