"The Chains of Bondage."

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10055, 1 August 1910, Page 2

" The Chains of Bondage."

CHhPTEK IX.—Continued. Trevena listened, startled. He found himself mechanically offering words of congratulation, but the news had taken him utttrly aback. When he had promised Judith that he would keep her secret, he had titver dreamed of such a thing as this—at least, that such a contingency could happen so soon. Judith was engaged to marry Ellstree—and she a "woman wanted by tbe police for murder! And he had pledged himself to silence. Throughout that evening he had no other opportunity of speaking to her alcue. He felt convinced that Ellstree had no suspicion of the circumstances of her past life tl.at he had a right to know before he married her. Would Judith be honest and tell him! If not, had he the right to keen silent? Yet he had pledged his word. As he was saying good right to Judith as they left the theatre, she found an opportunity of whispering to h i ii;: "I h i\e your promise, and I thaak you with all my heart;" Before he a.uid answer, Judith had turned away with Ellstree, who was taking her home. During the bort drive back Ellstree was in the highest of spirits, and did not notice ik . rather 3ilei.t mood. "Judith, no need for us to wait long, is the-? You don't know how impatie n an.! 1 wa.it to bi marrieu s«,on, swieiheait. If I had my own wa>," he cried gayly, "I'd bui a ap.cia! ncei.se to morrow, and marry you the day aftei.'." ... udnn Lughed. "Wnat an impatient iuver! And you've only known me a few short weeks. But 1 like you to be so impatient, because it tells me how much you want me," she whispered. If she could only have gone tj him without the thought of that menace of her past to cast its ever-present shadow over her! "Yes, you shall marry me soon, Wilfred. And thtn we'll go away. You shall take me out into the big world, to tne strange places and far off countries I've dreamed of—a long. long honeymoon. And we won't be in a hurry to come back to England." j He little knew the thoughts behind i her words as she sp ke wistfully. I Yes, she glad ne wanted their marriage to be soon. Once they nad left E gland she would feel Bafer, and they would stay away a lone, long time. With every month that passed, her chance of security would be greater. No, she would raise no obstacle to his wish for their speedy marriage. Judith went into the house after parting with Ellstree, with a weary look in htr face. The evening that had brought her an offer of marriage had brought two shocks to this woman; the strain of that interview with Trevena, and the agony of that glimpse she had caught of her child, had both told on her. "I must get Gilbert away from those people somehow," she suddenly told herself. She could not leave him with her dead husband's relatives in that atmosphree of cruelty and neglect; she must get him away somehow, and placed in other keeping, with people who would be kind to him, where she could see him sometimes, even though she could never acknowledge the relationship. Kidnap her own child, get him away secretly—was it possible? The desperate plan had flashed across the woman's mind. Money could do everything. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted. A servant had approached her, carrying a letter. "A gentleman called this afternoon, ma'am, who said he wished to see you on very urgent business." "Who was he? Did he tell you the nature of his business?" asked Judith. "H 6 said he was from Australia, where he had been connected with the late Mr George uraven. Since you were not at homt, he left this letter, ma'am." Judith took the letter and opened it mechanically, still thinking of the boy whose pleading cry and gesture to her that night circumstances had compelled her to disregard, her mind full of the new, desperate plan tnat had flashed across her. To kidnap her own child—why should it not be possible? Money could do everything— I no, not everything; there were things ' money coula not oo for her, as she had realised to her bitter cost. But surely this at least would be possible to her unlimited wealth? Then the sight of the few lines that the note contained, rushing up swiftly to meet her startled eyes, drove every other thought out of the woman's mind. if the contents of that letter were true, she ha j no right to the vast fortune she was enjoving now—no right j to as much as a penny of it! j This was Fate's final blow. To be I stripped bankrupt in a moment of everything! After all it had cost ter to attain this position—at the .cost of that grim, dead charge i hanging over Judith Hardress, at the ! sacrifice of her child—to find that, if the writer of this letter were not lying,all George Craven's great fortune must pass utterly away from , her!

BY EMILY B. HETHEBINGTONAuthor of—"His Colleg9 Chum," " Worthington's Pledge," "A Kept niaxit Foe," etc.

CHAPTER XII.

She stood staring horror stricken at this unexpected, fateful message. It told this desperate woma-i that Geoige Craven, who bad died intestate, had years ago been secretly married—that he had come to Eng land to find the wife and daughter whom ye<*rs before, under strange circumstances, he had lost sight of. And, therefore, this wife and daughter were the dead man's heirs, and rot she. She was entitled to nothing!

FATHEK AND SON

As Elsie Hood and her companion came out of the theatre that night, Jim caught sight of his father a£ain in the vestibule. .Paul Kalston's iips were compressed a little more tightly : than usual. If he saw his son, he gave no sign of recognition. Jim's words to Sybil RUstree that night between the acts had been his unconscious intimation to his father, too, that he was going to marry iDlsie! Jim had turned to see his father standing in the aisle behind him—to read something like a threat in the hard eyes. Paul Ralaton had waked away without speaking. i Jim eecured a cab, he took his seat by Elsie's side, and they boiled swiftly up Shaftesbury Avenue toward Oxford Street. Elsie and her mother had rooms in an old fashioned house in Bloomsbury. The passing lights of the street, falling through the upen window 01 the cab, gleamed on the winsome, beautiful face, so close to hiu own that the sott hair brushed his cheek. He had imprisoned Tne of the little hands in his own. How good it was to be young and in love, and what a good , ace t .is old world was for loveis! "The only pity is that it's such a short drive, sweetheart." Jim said, as the cab turned into the street where Elsie lived. "Why. what's that?" ; it was the sudden sound of a scream close at hand, startling them, that drew the exclamation from him—a wild, terrible cry. The door of one of the houses in the street had been dung open almost as the cab was passing it, and an elderly woman had rushed out, screaming wildly. Her face seemed to reflect all the horror i and agoDy that a human being could I know as she dashed blindly, like one demented, past the cab, down the i street, still screaming madly as she j ran Elsie had caught a glimpse of the grey haired woman's face—recognised it as that cf a neighbour. "Jim, Jim! What can be the matter?" cried Elsie, white and startled. They could still hear the woman's screams receding down the street, bringing excited faces to windows and doors. The cab had stopped outside Mrs Saxon's door. As he jumped out. Jim saw that a policeman had come up—bad stopped the half demented woman, and was trying to get some coherent explanation from her. Presently they saw her returning, still moaning and crying pitifully, with the policeman to the house, followed by two or three persona who had come up, among th m Tom Saxon. He nodded as h- ~.,.. Jim. The latter cross?d the sciec-t to speak to him. "Her husband has shot nin.;-,-... It seems she had just returnee u>. ....; went into the room to find hiiij i. <ijg there dead. She says he's been iui..ed by one of those confounded "bucket shops,'" cried Tom Saxon. "No doubt that's the cause of the tragedy. Poor old Spence! Such a decent chap, too. I'm going in to see if I can be of any help." Jim returned to where he had left Elsie on the steps of the house where she lived; it was almost opposite the house of this tragedy, from which they could hear plainly across the street the dreadful crying of the woman within. Presently, when be bad said coodby to Elsie and was walking away, Jim came upon Tom Saxon again, pushing his way out of the house through the little crowd that had gathered about the doorway. ' Mere police and a medical man had arrived hurriedly on the scene. TO BE CONTINUED