A Daughter of Mystery

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10269, 22 June 1911, Page 2

A Daughter of Mystery

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

OUR SERIAL.

CHAPTER XXXlV.—Continued. Elneth's decision was reached before she had finished reading Morosov's letter. Of course, she would go to New York; it was in the interests of all concerned. The voyage and the change of scene would do her good, and her heart thrilled at the prospect of seeing Mrs Morosov and the children again. She put on her outdoor things, and went to Mr Stanley's lodgings.. The curate received her in his study. "News, Miss TyndallP" he queried, with swiftly awakened interest. He noted the hushed face—the added sparkle in her eyes. "I am glad that something has turned up, for I was feeling abominably lazy. The same old, weary grind—the same people, the same old grumMes, the same old platitudes. The sad side of life is dwiaya presented to the parson. What brings you here so early?" Eineth gave him Paul. Morosov's letter to read, and from time to time he nodded approvingly and there was a tender light in his big, dark eyes. "Paul Morosov," he murmured. "Oh, yes, your guardian. You' will go to Aemrica, Miiss Tyndall? This opportunity to perfect your , work must not be lost." He got up aind paced the carpet. "Yes," Eineth answered. " "I want to cable this morning, and make the needful arrangeimen/tjS." "You want me to heip you. ' Well, I'm not feeling like work to-day, and iv,s had better get through with the business, at once." He packed up a morning paper and looked at the shipping advertisements. "Thesteamship New York sails for New York on Saturday from Southampton. To-day is Wednesday. H'rci! I think it may bejione* The Americans' making hoMlay this side wdai't go home until next month, only in driblets, so that there should he' plenty of vacant berths. I wash I could'go with you. Wait here, Miss Tyndall, while I change my coat." He darted out of the room, bait was back again "in, a very few minutes, ready to go out. "You are quite sure this rushing about in torrid weather won't he tod much for yon?" he kindly said. "No; I like it. The change us most opportune. I did not treat Mr Morosov very well," she added naively," "I ran away from him." "Faults on both sides " "Well, he was not exactly truthful, and rather overbearing. Still, he may have had strong reasons for his conduct." They were stepping along the street now. "I guessed there was some- love affair at the back of it," Hugh Stanley said tenderly. "I've been studying you for weeks, little sister, and you shall tell me all about it some day." Elseth'is face flamed and paled. "Bon't, please!". "It will be cheaper and more expeditions to take a taxioab," Stanley said. "The shipping office is at Charing Gross, and. then you will have to go to Threadineedie Street, .to cash your draft—two miles farther. Perhaps you want to do some shopping?" ' "No; I've got a good supply of clothes and tilings." They were soon being whirled Londonward, and within two hours Etlneth's passage was booked to New York, her draft cashed, and a cable mesage sent to Paul Morosov. It had been quick work, but delightfully gladdening, and Eineth was in the best of spirits. . ~ . "And the next thing?" Stanley said. "I am beginning to feel peckish, " and I've had no breakfast yet." ' ."Why?" .•■■:....■, . ■ " • •:.■.;■■ "Well, you bore down upon me at such an outlandish hour," he laughed. "I'm not an early rie- ' 'How selfish I am," Eineth said remorsefully;.. ' 'Why didn't .you" tell ine?•■''Let tts drive"tb'Ojcfdro! Sti-eet' and lunch at one of the best restaurants there. Mrs Mohberley's hashed mutton doesn't apeal to me after so much exertion, and I have lots of money." "The very thing!" They both laughed, and the curate gave the driver his order®. "It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a day of it," he went on. "You can send a letter of explanation to Mr® Mobberley, by special delivery, and she will get it in an hour or so." "I think I. will," Eineth said recklessly. "Let us go to the White Oity. I have a five-jpound note to spare. It will be our last day together, for a lorn* time.' - ■■■lt's, a -sort'of gala day at tiije White City—celebrating;* some notable event. .Any:-amount of .fun.: Ts it a go?" '■.. "■■" : '... ■ .{■• ; . "Oh, yes, I want to carry away., with me all the pleasant memories I can." , .'.■■"■ * She looked at him with kindling eyes, and lie felt almost a boy again. He glanced at her from time to time, as though wishful to say something which was trembling upon his lipsi, but there was such a din around them he refrained. Eineth was unconscious of all this; her thoughts were with Mr and Mrs Morosov and the children. Hugh Stanley stopped the taxicab in Oxford Street and told the driver

to come back in an hour. He pointed to a restaurant. "You will find u>s there. Theni to the White City, and from the White Oity to Streatham, so you are engag- , ed for the day. May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb," he added to himself. "I must tell her the trutn, since I've seen Paul Morosov's letter.. The ways of Providence are wonderful, indeed." While the meal was being prepared Eineth scribbled a letter to Mrs | Mobberley, and the curate dlispatchjed it. They were much too early for luncheon a la carte, and the cutlets were a long time in cooking. There were only half a dozen people in the dining room, yet, and one of them, an elderly man, smug of j face, and with downcast eyes, had been furtively watching Hugh Stanley for some little time. Presently he rose and left the restaurant, his nose in the air. Stanley flashed after him a glance of rage and contempt. "What is the matter?" Eineth asked. "You saw that man? He is one of my parishioners, and one of those abominations in the sight of God and man—a mischief maker." "Oh!" Sheraised her eyes to his. ' 'We have never been friendly, and he once accused me of 'preaching at him.' A church congregation is always composed of two or three claques, and the pastor is never popular with all of them." "But you are perfectly independent—you do not care for the creature's opinion." "Not an atom." He snapped his fingers. "But he will make a scandal." Has eyes darkened, "it is not usual for a clergyman to be flying about London with one of the young ladies of his congregation." gracious!" EJmeth exclaim,ed. The carnation lelaped. into her' ''cheeks. "I had not looked at it iii | that light, Mr Stanley. We are I .business friends— partners. Must jwe proclaim ' it' from the house- } tops'?" j "It would be useless. I have a better explanation. We will be brother and sister." He bent his head towards her from the, opposite side of the table. "I will call you El-, neth, and vou must call me : :sH,ugh." : "Oh, that would, only make matters, worse, Mar Stanley. What is the matter with you ?" "I don't agree with you. We are wonderfully alike, facially. Several people have suspected the relationship I suggest. We are both gifted in much the same way. I am afraid that I am spoiling your appetite," "It is gone utterly. Mr Stanley, you have taken the pleasure out of this beautiful day; now take me honue, please; and I suppose we shall have to say good-bye." Her face was< pale now, and she was locking and unlocking her fingers. "We shall say good-hye at.Southampton on Saturday morning. Eineth;'but only for a little while. H you can't come back to England, I shall follow vou —for I am your brother i"-'; V/'3ly "brother!" she whispered., "Ass true as gospel, Eineth. I have marvelled at the likeness between us, but that letter from Paul Morosov settles the doubt. I knew that I had a sister, but I was under the impression that she had died whan quite a little child. . Her name was Eineth, but the Tyndall baffled me. Your name is Eineth Stanley, and Paul Morosov will, have to make mamy tilings plain before I can find it in my heart to forgive him." Elneth's pale lips moved, but no words, escaped them. Astonishment and joy were--strugglingfor the mastery in her leaping heart. "He is our mother's brother," Hugh Stanley went on, "and perhaps you were of use to him. At any. rate, it was never a question of money, because there was none. But there-—it's jvaste of. timei to attempt ■to u fathom.Jiis;motives' at,this ~(dis•- • tatnee. Thanit heaven we are brought together at last, my dear little sister!" • She turned her humid eyes to his. "Paul Morosov once told me that my mother was living, 'Hugh." ; '"' (To Iki Continued.)