A Daughter of Mystery

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10253, 1 June 1911, Page 2

A Daughter of Mystery

BY F. L. DACRE, Author of "Was He the Man?" "A Phantom of the Past," Sir John's Heiress," "A Loveless Marriage," "The Doctor's Secret," etc.

OUR SERIAL.

CHAPTER XXI .—Continued. But Monday was a very busy day for Elneth. Mr Mobberly gave her the use of his study—a tiny room, furnished with a writing desk, a small table, and two chairs. Sometimes he brought homo work from the office, and the desk was littered with legal papers—principally copies of affidavits. There was a typewriter on the table, and Mr Mobberly spent half an hour initiating Elneth into its mysteries. Then he left her, and she gave the machine very littlo rest until he came homo from business. Sho fully believed that her future depended upon her proficiency in its use; quick, supple fingers, and a keen brain did the rest. Mr Mobberly expressed surprise at her progress, and on the fourth day brought home a parchment lease. Ho requested Miss Tyndall to make two copies of it, and if they were all right—well, she could safely take up her duties at the office on the Monday following. In reality the task was a simple one, and Elneth accomplished it without difficulty. Her prospects assured, she replenished her scanty wardrobe, and was beginning to taste the sweets of in-j dependence. Sunday morning found \ her at church again, listennig to the] Reverend Hugh Stanley. The curate i wan inveighing against tho folly and tho sin of overdressing, and his burning, scornful words flowed like a torrent of lava upon the ears of one of tho smartest congregations in London. Every scat in the church was occupied, and tho aisles were lined with emergency chairs. When tho service was over, and the congregation filed out of the sacred building, and gathered in groups to applaud or condemn the young preacher. This sort of thing happened every week now, and crowds flocked to ibc church to be criticised and lectured. "Wait hero a few minutes," Mr j Mobberly said to Elneth and his wife. "Fin going round to the vestry. Mr Stanley half promised to dine with us to-day."

caught Miss Tyndall's surprised gaze, and laughed merrily. "I will admit nothing of the- kind, sir," Mr Mobberly said. "It is my belief you are quizzing." "Wait until you make out your next bill of costs, and see what your conscience will have to say about it! I liavo heard that you are a pastmaster in the art of concocting affidavits calculated to muddle the brains of the judges, and artful affidavits win more battles than forensic eloquence."

"But the foundation is truth," said Mr Mobberly.

"Cleverly hidden by a superstructure of humbug. Mrs Mobberly, I am dying for a smoke. May I adjourn to the garden to enjoy my weed?"

With that he was off,and Elneth listened interestedly to the remarks being made around her. Some of the people were very severe, while others scoffed at tho impertinence of tho curate. Then a sudden hush fell upon all. The curate was approaching with Mr Mobl>erly. They were afraid of this very remarkable young man.

J At close quarters Elneth saw that j the Reverend Hugh Stanley had a, tall, well-knit figure, splendid eyes, and a lofty brow. Ho was clean shaven, and his thin lipped mouth, aid big, resolute chin rather detracted from his generous nose and amiable forehead. After a brief introduction he swung j ahead with Mr Mobberly, laughing and talking, every word of his deep, j resonant voice being clearly audible. | "My dear Mr Mobberly, don't be I a polite ninny! I was only too glad j to get your invitation and the chance jof a square meal. My landlady, pious j soul, refuses to cook on the Lord's j day, and I am not particularly fond i of cold meat, as tough as shoe lea-' I ther, and wilted salad!" "Have you anything to do between now and evening service?" Mr Mobberly asked. "Not a thing! I believe you are going to ask me to make my home and habitation with you until duty) calls, and I accept. lam already an- j tieipating a snooze on the garden seat, i I delight in lying in the sunshine,! with the pungent smell of clove pinks in my nostrils."

"You will shock Miss Tyndall," Mrs j Mobberly said, in a tono of mild reI proof. "Young girls generally believe that clergymen are generally saints." The curate turned his flashing dark eyes full upon Elneth. "Then young girls must bo very foolish, and the clergymen impostors. But I am not ono of those who preach a comfortable religion for the pleasure of the wealthy, who dream of gliding to Heaven in a gilded chariot. No, I am sure that Miss Tyndall is a lady of sense, and estimates me at my true value." He rose from his chair, smiling upon her kindly. "I wonder," he added, in a tone of abstraction, "I wonder if you and I have ever met before?" Elneth's face flushed. "You are reading my thoughts, Mr Stanley." "Beware of him, Miss Tyndall," Mr Mobberley warned her, good-natured-ly. "Still he is not the awe-inspiring man he pretends to be. His goodness to the poor is well-known." "Bosh!" said the curate; then he turned to*the girl, and said: "Your face is unaccountably familiar, Miss Tyndall. and I have l>een trying to think that it is merely a chance likeness to somebody else; but no. Your eyes remind me of something or somebody, and you have the same feeling with regard to myself." i "Yes," she admitted, after a moment's reflection. "And you cannot for the life of you remember having seen me before you came to Streatham? That is exactly my feeling also." Mr and Mrs Mobberly, Miss Tyndall, and the curate strolled about the garden while the maid cleared away the dinner things. The curate smoked, and Mr Mobberly talked about his garden. There was hardly a flower which ho did not cultivate, and the garden was a blaze of colour from early spring till late autumn. At the, end of it was a little greenhouse and a potting shed, and his story of the roses in the rose season would fill a book.

CHAPTER XXII. CHARLIE LORINGTON IN LOVE. ; "Well, ,and what cfo vou think of Mr Stanley, Miss Tyndall?" The curate and Mr Mobberly had gone to attend church, and Mrs Mobberly and Elneth were seated at the parlour window, watching the passers-by.

"I like him very much." The girl's manner was rather confused, and a lively pink flush sprang into her cheeks.

Elneth could not help smiling to henself. The outspoken naturalness of the man was charming. He was as merry as a schoolboy.

The little, mid-day dinner- was a pleavsant and sociable affair. The curate said grace with all duo solemnity, animadverted upon the discomfort of an overstarched collar and a long-tailed coat, and began with gusto to satisfy the animal part of him with the good things on Mr Mohherly's table. "Good idea-" ho exclaimed, "I'm rather hard up for a subject for my next Sunday's sermon—the morning sermon, I mean. In the evening I' am as meek and mild as a sheep. You haven't heard me preach in the evening, have you, Miss Tyndall?"

Mrs Mobberly smiled. "I noticed that you talked to each other a great deal this afternoon. Don't you think he is very clever?" "Oh, yes!"

"And good-looking? Handsome, 1 should have said. The young ladies of the congregation were all after him when he first came here, but he preached a sermon on the unmaidenly forwardness of the modern girl, and that put a stop to it."

Elneth shook her head. "The evening sermons are lamblike pot-boilers. I get a different crowd of people. Most of them are tiF-ed to the milk and water of mv poor old rector."

"What was the good idea, sir?" Mr Mobberly asked, with a twinkle in bin eve.

"Just another helping of that juicy sirolin, Mr Mobberly. Thank you*! Oh, it just occurred to mo that a sermon on the abominable sin of selfiiulujgeneo 'and fluffing would go down well. What do vou think of the idea?" "Oh, Mr Stanley!" Mrs Mobberly reproached him. "T think it's groat," said the curate. "My rector was a hit shy of mo at first, but the result is alright. The congregation has doubled itself, and the collections ditto. One has to do something in these days to excite public controversy—one must be talked about. None but tho unscrupulous succeed financially— parsons, lawyers, politicians, and traders are all tarred with the same brush. My dear Mr Mobberly, you are a man of worldly deeds and experiences, and! you must admit the truth of my remark*. We are all humbugs!" ' He'

Elneth laughed softly. "I can imagine his scorn. He handles nothing with kid gloves. "I hope you won't fall in love with him, Miss Tyndall," Mrs Mobberly eaid gently. "I don't think that he is really a good man." "I fall in love!" Elneth ''echoed faintly. She pressed one hand over her heart. Oh, how it ached! The words stabbed her like a thrust of a knife. "Please don't suggest such a thing again, Mrs Mobberly." "I .am sorry, my dear; very sorry. I did not mean to hurt you. I rather wondered at the sudden friendship, because Mr Stanley rarely notices a young lady. When I said that I did not believe that Mr Stanly was a good man I meant in a religious sense. T may be wrong, but he strikes me as being worldly. T know that he is kind to tho poor." Elneth murmured something, and very soon afterwards made an excuse to go to her room. Never again did Mrs Mobberly commit herself in the same way, although, as time went on. the friendship between Miss Tyndall and the Reverend Hugh Stanley'ripened into a warm regard. (To be continued.)