"The Chains of Bondage."

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10093, 15 September 1910, Page 2

"The Chains of Bondage."

CHAPTER XLV.—Continued. . "Now the one man who knew is dead. Possibly, if i had chosen, this secret need never have come to light; I could have-retained the fortune. Only I have made up my mind—l can't keep this fortune to which I had no right. I came here •to-night determined to surrender it •utterly." I The faces of her two listeners were neither spoke. But Elsie's igray-'eye's were" bent pitingly on Jud4J&jV - '...■■■. .."•'■'■' >'■'■ ' '■■■' .'..:"" silence, Judith broke out: ' 'lt would have been only honest ■to relinquish the fortune at once. I didn't do that as you know; I told myself at the time I wouldn't give it up I" she cried half defiantly. "It seemed too cruel to expect it. Consider! I had been poor—absolutely poor—and in the depths; and-then, jjas if from the clouds, these riches showered, on rae— riches that I believed mine. Then, after I had tasted the joys of possession—after 'I had found my way back to my 'rightful place in society—to learn in a moment .that these riches were not jmine, that I ?was a pauper again! .That circumstances were against me : —circumstari(»%i£hat had robbed me of my;cMld,,had|lastened an undes>erved stigma upoii y me! Oh, I was tempted—can you to pay this man blackmail, to keep this money.' ■ Elsie had moved forward, to Judith's side. Her eyes were moist and shining,, and full, of deep pity. ' "Oh,: how sorry I am for you!" shej whispered. v •;.".'. ; Judith turned to her suddenly.. , "You—it'is you I have defrauded! It is your-money, every penny.", VMy_ money]" cried the girl. She [stared at Judith in startled, creduk ■•:#>&. j"But how* can that be possableTi;V .•' -■■,'■ : < '%' -

, '."Your money f Your father was George Craven, and we are cousins, Thatda vwha* I learned . from'the man-who isdead.;.And this ffortune that- : 'lbyours, not "mine—X surreader everything:" Elsie seemed dazed at the news. - "But, oh, there must- be some mistake. If he were my father——-" • "He ,wasts;your father, your mother's; husband; I have seen the proofs. Should I surrender this fortune 1 if it were not the truth ?" said Judith wearily. / For an iaetant Elsie stood speechless. Then she cried suddenly : "But how can I strip you of this money you have believed yours—leave you penniless. Oh, no, no?" "It is yours by right, and I surrender it to*you!" said Judith, almost harshly, her nerves strung almost to Then, with a sudden gentleness: 'And it is you who have restored my child W me. To whom else could I relinquish it so gladly?" < [ Wilfred Ellstree had stood by dumb as the strange confession was made. "Judith," he cried. suddenly, "a few moments ago you gave me back my ring. But I refuse to take it back or. our engagement at an end! I hojd you to your promise! Judith Fairfax or Judith Hardress, it is the woman What does the name matter" - . .... Suddenly, Judith's eyes filled with tears. But she answered: ; "No, -Oh, .you'must not think *at your generosity does not touch me very and I thank you, Wilfred. Only it cannot be. You have your name to think of, your race. That must not ind shall riot be tarnished by the shame clinging to Judith a woman pected of a hideous crime; "who/perhapsmay never be able to clear herself.'? '■ Arid there was a finality in-her voice that might have told Ellstree that protests and arguments would beat in vain against her decision.

Just for a moment Jit 'his words the image of another man had flashed up before Judith's eyes—the man whom she realised now she had loved as she had never loved Wilfred Ellstree. She turned suddenly to Elsie "It is urgent that I should see Mr | Treyeha. I was told that he called here and went away with Mr Ralstdn. ■ Can you tell me where he has. gone?" If possilfie she must warn John Treveria before he returned home. She remembered two men like detectives whom she had seen hanging about near his rooms at the Albany. "Yes; They went to fan unoccup-' ied house at. Denmark Hill that belongs to Mr Trevena—a house called Ffoulko's Folly." Elsie gave her the address. "Let me go with you," Ellstree -said/''; f*Thank you; but -I;think I would rather go alone." ..-.■ 1 . Judith turned to Elsie. "May I, leave my boy here in your, care to-night?" she said }/ looking down wistfully at the' sleep-'' ing child. "It; is., good to know I am leaving Him with someone I can •trust." Judith, stooped/and kissed the boy, so lightly so as not to awaken him. She looked up half hesitatingly at Elsie; then, as though the words she spoke were impelled bv some sense of foreboding: "The-fut-ure is always uncertain. 'Who knows what' may enter by to-morrow? s gate ?' Should—should it be that anything happens to me— —" "You mustn't talk like thai," cried Elsie quickly, guessing intnitively what was in the other's mind.

BY EMILI B. ; EETEJBI^OIOH. Author of— " His Colleg Cl u ~," " Wl.u ilglen's Pledge," "A liejs-en'fnt F,a/ b».o. »

"But I am always your friend and his"—and she glanced down at the child—"always, under any circumstances. You may rely upon that. "Thank you!" said Juriith, in a low voice. Then: "And the fortune your father left—l shall lose no time •in doing what is right. No, please say nothing. There is nothing more to be said. 7 .. i ■■' .■ And the woman so widely envied for her great wealth went out of the room, stripped by her own confession, bankrupt of hope even tor the future. ':■■■■ '""'■■, th, j. Side by side she aud Ellstree walked down the stairs, those, two, who until to-night had .been, layers. 1 "Judith," Ellstree. whispered suddenly, ' 'you have surrendered this fortune, and I honour you for it, dear: but what will you ;do now, stripped of everything? How are you to face the future alone under such altered circumstances? -• Come back to me . I love you!" ■ But he read his answer in the pale beautiful face at his side'. "No," she said. "Oh, it is generous of you, Wilfred; but for your sake, if for nothing else, I should still say no." . As the words left the woman's lips there came the sound of a violent ring at the front 'door. They were at the top of the long flight of stairs leading down into the hall; they lingered,' as Tom Saxon came forward, to open tke door to the caller, ihe light from the hall fell across the threshold upon the scowling, evil face of Vernham. The man looked a deplorable object. His clothes were muddy and torn; there were stains of blood and bruises on his face. Probably, but for the opportune arrival of two policemen on the scone, the women who had: attacked Vernham would have half-lynched him. •'', -■ > '!,. He had: not .dared to show his face again in :fc?lat street,.where the .two. policemen ; had dragged him from the infuriated women's hands; but in the public house, where he had : Indeavdured'td"' solace his wounded feelings, come; across a reputable" acquaintance, by means of* whom he contrived to obtain the address: given by Jim Ralston of the girl who had taken away the boy. An. access of Dutch courage had come with the drink he had consumed. He would go to the house where she lived. The possession of Judith Harness' brat meant money to him. After all, how could these people prove that he had no right to the custody of the child, he reflected. And, fortified by djink, he had come to the house. ; At- the sight of the man at the door as Tom Saxon opened it, a little startled .7 exclamation broke from Judith.-'.'',"■ ■•"■•■■"'■ ■';■'■■'. ■ A'sudden impulsive suspicion had swept into her mind, even before Elsie suddenly cried out excitedly: . "That is the man—the man who was ill-trea/ting your child." Vernham! She might;have known i-it jvas Vernhanx! ;. , e A sudden, passionate light had lfeapt into Judith's face. This, the man who had stolen her child from and'by his dastardly work had caused her K untold misery. MYqu! Then it was you who kidnapped my boy! 7 You inhuman s«oundrel!"7 I / And Verhham fell back, startled and aghast, before the white, passionate fury of Jier face. "Oh, if I were onlyy a man for five minutes to thrash you within an inch of your Ife!" Tom-Saxon had heard all, about Elsie's adventure.and : the little chap sfre had .brought to his mother's house. He caught a; glimpse of Elsie's indignant, face as her eyes rested oh the man on the other side of j the doorway. He heard Judith's passionate words that told him she was the child's mother. He sprang forward. A -•'

■ "You can't; but I can. do it / ior you,":he cried to Judith, "and only too glad of the opportunity." Andj almost before Vernham realised what a hornet's nest he had brought about his ears, he found himself in Tom Sjaxon's muscular grip, without much prospect of being .released with a whole skin. -. All his Dutch courage had ebbed out of him. The man gave a cry of terror, as he vainly tried to protect himself from the rain of blows. "Call this man off, it will be the worse for you if you don't!" he screamed desperately to Judith. ' 'lf you dbn't I'll shout all I know in the I street—l'll go to the police to denounce you!" Judith heard the breathlessly gasped threat—knew perfectly that the man would keep it, unless she inters between him and Tom ,Saxon. And she thought, too, of all the poignant anguish this man had, wantonly, caused her—his cruelty,'to her reckless of the consequences, the only answer she made was: l ' .. "No; I only hope he thrashes you as you deserve." And Tom did not spare him, uh- " til attracted by the man's cries and the gathering 'g ,- oup of bystanders, a policeman mada "his way up. ."Here, what's this?" he demanded.' ■.: Vernham, pale and breathless, arid with his collar t«rn away, screamed out malevolently: "That woman there—that's Judith Hardress, murderess! I tell you that's Judith Hardress!" •■■■•' (To Be Continued.)