PRIMROSE DELORAINE

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10277, 3 July 1911, Page 2

PRIMROSE DELORAINE

j ■' ■ By MAISIE PENDENNIS, i Author of "Sir Reginald's Whim," "The Forgotten Heir," "Rival Beauties, 1 'etc.

OUR SERIAL.

' ' ' ' THE MISER'S DAUGHTER.

CHAPTER lll.—Continued. "I—l thought it—it was one o. the | women from the camp come "o he!]' ; me " she faltered. "I am in great j trouble to-night. My father is dead-- i ! and I—l am aN alone." [ "All alone, are you ?" said the man, and his sullen eyes glinted with triumph. "That's all. the better for me. I'll come inside. I have something to say." Primrose looked round her with a wild, appealing glance—the gaze of a hunted creature that finds itself trapped by the hunter, and knows that there is no escape. , , «j__l am in great trouble," she faltered again. "Won't you— Oh, you surely can wait till another day with what you have to say." ' "No, I can't," Poker Bill retorted. "That's where you make a mistake. It must he said to-night, and I mean to come into the hut. I must come into the hut, ?nd I don't want to be rough with a lady." - Primrose became as white as death as she looked round her once more with that hunted, terrified look. If only, she thought, some help were near —but there was none. If only somebody would come to her aid—but there was nobody. She strained her eyes in the direction of the camp, but all was quiet there. Red Tree Camp was asleep. So, with shaking hands and quivering lips, she stood aside from the man, and Poker Bill strode heavily into the hut, closing the door behind him. "I'm not," he said, "the only visitor you have had to-night, so you need not make a fuss. > I saw you, not an hour ago, saying good-by to—Captain Jack. It just happened that, for about the first time .in my life, I had come out without my revolver. If ii hadn't been for that, there wouldn't be a Captain Jack at the present moment. " Primrose flushed hotly, and then becariie deadly white again, as the fear deepened in her heart. What terrible thoughts were running rife in Poker ■Bill's evil "mind? she wondered. Did he mean harm to Captain Jack or only "harm to her ?

"I don't see," she said, with a brave little attempt at defiance, "that it matters to you who comes here, or what I do." Poker Bill laughed. "Then you don't see very far," he retorted brutally. "I thought women were supposed to know these tnings by instinct, and if that's true then ought to know that I love you." fie went nearer to her, but she shrank away from him in horror. ' 'I-—I am sorry,'' she began nervously, "but I don't love you, and—and er, and covered her face with her hands, and fell to crying piteously. "I —rl wish you would go away," she sobbed helplessly. "It's cruel and ungenerous to take 6uch.advantage of my loneliness." y By way of answer Poker Bill threw himself into the- nearest chair, and look out iris pipe. ■■ • "If wishes were horses beggars might', j-ide,'" he said. "But, you seej they aren/t; and so I'll just sit here and talk." '/

He looked at the pale, pretty, wistful face turned so pleadingly towards him, and, as he looked, the desire that possessed him—the desire to make this girl his wife—rose up stronger and stronger iii his turbulent soul. Hemade a>quick movement toward and his eyes glowed into hers. • "By Heaven I'.Mie muttered unsteadily, "if Captain Jack or any other man dares to come sneaking round here, and attempts to take you away from me, I'll do for him, or for you, or for -both of .you. I- want you for my own, and I'm going to have you, and the sooner you realise it the better. I want you for my own —do you understand that?" Primrose was almost too frightened to speak, but she knew Poller Bill's temper well enough to be aware that it would be, better to say, something. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "butl —I don't We you." Poker Bill lighted his pipe, "I don't care whether you love me or not," he said. *1 don't care a snap. I n-ean to have you for my wife, whether you like it or not. Ton are the prettiest girl I've seen since I came out to this confounded place, and if- a man has a wife he may- as well have a pretty one? "It seems to help matters along, somehow. rtT ' Then he drew his shaggy brows together in a heavy, barid frowri. "?fb more- nonsense," he went on harshly. "This isn't a game we are playing. You can fix the wedding for any day you like; any time will suit me. You don't want a trousseau, I suppose?" Primrose shivered, but her pretty, frightened eyes looked steadily into i his. [ "I can never marry you," she said.

"Never!" , Poker Bill calmly puffed at his pipe. "We'll see about that," he said. "I say you must marry me, and I don't mind taking the odds that you shall marry me." Whereupon he strode toward her, and put his arms round her, despite her pitiful struggles. "Come, be reasonable," he went on. "You've taken my fancy and I'm bound to have anything that takes my fancy. I will not be a tad husband; I won't knock you about or ill-treat you. I love you,, and that's the truth, and you shall do pretty much as you like when you're —my wife." The girl struggled wildly in his vicelike grip, but he held her as easily as if she had been a child. "Let me go," she panted. "I don't, love you. I'm frightened to death at you! I wouldn't marry" you if you were the only man in the world! For' pity's sake let me go!" But Poker Bill's grasp only tightened. "Mind what you say," he muttered savagely. "I like pluck well enough, but you may got too far, and " He broke off suddenly, and his arms loosened. '"What's that?" he said, and went to the window. Primrose stooij where he left her, ; still, silent, motionless. She was free now —free from his hateful embrace, but she could not move. The deadly, sickening horror of it all paralysed her. She felt as if she must go mad. "It's some fools of women from the camp coming up "the hill," said Poker Bill. "I suppose they, ar ecoming to help you, so I'd better clear."- He strode to the door, and let down the heavy bars. "I'm off now," he said, "but I will pome back. You aren't going to get rid of me so easily. I'll give you three . days to think over all this, and then I J will come for my answer. You'd better j mind that it's the sort of answervthat j I want, for I mean to have you, and (if I can't have you by fair means' I*ll have you by foul means! I swear it, so look out." Then he disappeared into the shadow of the trees on the rise, and once more Primrose was alone.

CHAPTER IV. DANGER. : A funeral at Red Tree Camp was a very simple ceremony, and did not take long to perform. It was a bright, hot day when some of the men of the camp carried. the body of the Honourable Hugo Deloraine out <>f the hut on the wooded rise and laid him to his last long rest. Most of the members of the camp attended the service, by way of showing their sympathy with Primrose, who was the \ idol of the place; and the ceremony was performed by a disreputable digger who had once been in holy orders. * When**the solemn words had. been said, an. dinedearth Tvas.ialling, with ji mouffflrul thud on the rude cof- ; fin, Primrose turnedaadly away, sick at heart, and oppressed by a terrible sense of desolation. Everything was over now. This was the end of the old life—a life that, despite its wildness and roughness, had been very dear to her. To-morrow would be the beginning of the new life, and whither it would lead her she knew not. Her simple arrangements were already made. The two'most trusted boysof Red Tree Camp had, on the day following Mr Deloraine's death, ridden rapidly to the nearest town; and deposited his hoarded wealth safely in the bank. They had also despatched a cablegram to Primrose's guardian, in England, Sir Gerard Lesbie, ; telling him that Mr Deloraine was dead, and that Primrose' would sail, for England by the next steamer. All this being done, and,her small possessions packed, nothing remained for her but to say good-by to all the old associations and to'leave her old ' home. That she was going to do the. v next mornirg, and the two trusted; < boys who had done her business for; her were going to ride with her to tb;^' ; town; and see her safely through that part of tho undertaking. ► Poor Primrose! She felt sad indeed as she climbed slowly, up the wooded-, rise to the empty hut. She was think-,. ing of Captain Jack. She would have liked to say good-by to him, she mus■*d;;»| liked \to. see him once fore she went away forever from the life that held him. : ~ ; , As she passed into the hut a heavy figure rose slorrly from-the armchair. Just at first her eyes, dimmed with sorrow, and blinded with tears, failed to recognise the unexpected visitor; but a moment later she shrank back with a startled cry of horror. . •'"' Poker Bill stood still and looked at her. -....',. -(■; (To be Continued). : I