AFTER RELEASE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10604, 10 April 1912, Page 2

AFTER RELEASE.

OUR SERIAL.

By VIOLET M. FLINN, Author of "The Master Passion, "What Shall It Profit?" "Veren«," "By Devious Paths," Etc.

CHAPTER XVll—Continued. "If she were /free she would marry me!' he answered. V.C.'s heart sank at the quiet note of determination. "But I am not free —and I, well, I have no reason, not the shadow of a reason,' he repeated doggedly, "to think that Miss Grainger regards me in any other light than 'any other man she may have known." He paused, but V.C. did not speak. • "What does it matter, then, what my feelings are? They don't affect her. They are no reason why I should cease my. acquaintance with her. I have 'been «ble to help her a little, and I if I tako the risk; " " 'I eonld not love thee dear so much, Loved 1 not honour more." Y.C. quoted under his breath, but Ludworth heard it. He stood irresolute clenching and unclenching his '•hands./ ' •' "Do you tiieaxi she wants to 'break I off?'lie asked'hoarsely. • , j "Yes." ■ ' ■ . - , j There was a short pause !' Liid worth I had not a very steady hand as lie lib-i a- match. "The women have heen talking, I suppose—that always hurts a Svoman —or —or—l have bored her. I am not a clever diaip. She must have •found me an awful nuisance. But I i only meant to—to help her." > "Oh, Jack, dear tboy!" Ludworth stood looking into the fire for a minute or two, and his 'blue : eyes were full of pain. Suddenly he flung his cigarette into the lire and drew a quick'breath. "Well, that- vision has pro veil itself a mirage. I have [been just a fool for my pains. The least said soonest mended." He drew his chair up with his foot and sat down. V.C. could not guess the effort that it cost him to resume his usual tone/ to speak as if nothing had occurred. "It's a heavy (burden for a, girl to carry, V.C. Is there nothing that can. be done. I ■suppose not .now. I —l wish you would tell me alwut !" "There is so little to tell," V.C 1 . - 'answered, looking and feeling: very miserable. "Her mother came from my father's, parish in North Devon. I have told you that. The were, the (prilnpipal people v in it at the time. I was a young mail growing up wlien they, had dwindled down to | mother, son and daughter, poor as they were proud. The daughter"— there was a little thrill' in his voice—"was one of the prettiest/ sweetest little things I have ever seen—just aV ihmg of sunshine/.aiid light and roses, one of those-fragile, dainty little things that get close into one's heart and never relax their hold. And they j wither at the first cold breath. I have never seen anyone .ljke her; "vou "mikl I not imagine that Eldyth was her—daughter. She must be like her fath- j er, though I havo often seen her mother's beauty in her eyes." •- ''Who was he?" Ludworth asked. Even in his own trouble ho felt that he was drawing vep- Qlofse to V.C.'s :hidden romance. i shook liis head'sorrowfully.. "No one knew. They , were poor, 1 horribly poor, and poor Annie ( could not stand'it. They did not want lier to leave home, but she had areat kteas for making her fortune. Poor, dear, helpless, innocent child. She came to London to be a governess or something like that; I never,heard exactly in what capacity. For some time she 'wrote home regularly, happily. There did not appear to bo anything wrong. Then suddenly "her letters ceased, ahld for months they heard nothing of her. • Peter, her brother, some fifteen years older than, her, came up to London to the .address she had given him. ;. Tho house had changed hands; the new occupants knew nothing. And then then one morning Peter opened,!.-the hall dotir amd'tfoWtf. Heir unconscious, •on the steps with Eldyth, ; a baby, only a few weeks old, in her arms.!' V.Cr's voice 'broke undisguised}.}-. He rubbkl his hand over his eyes with no attempt at concealment. ■ "She; was only a -baby herself, Jack —sUch a lit-tl'e, thing to;ibe soi cruelly nised! (They iftuuifj -out aftenvai-ds t*at she nnist have walked across the moor •from" 'St. Benet's, but she nmqr 'recovered consciousness. She died a few days later, prying out to them to help her, to save lier. They never found out 'anything. She wore la locket round her neck, but it had only a scrap of dark hair in it, and there was nothing else—only Eldyth." He held out his hand to the younger man. "Do you wonder, Jack, that i who —who loved the mother so dearly, and saw her die, would give my right hand to protect her daughter. To me Eldyth is her mother's child, and yet —and yet— I am certain that thero are traits, thoughts, instructs that be]ong elsewhere.. To me they are the taint in her iblood, and she feels- them too, poor child. Life has :been full of hidden dangers to her since she learned -of 'her fatal birthright." "I don't believe it !' Ludworth said doggedly. "There is" not ; aii instinct in her that is not true, and pure, W iaSwrtmging' her" to her (relieve otherwise. If I were free - —" And then his head dropped. "But I am not free," he said dully, "and if she had cared she would not have let a morbid fear 'stand between V.C. said nothing. It would have us." _ '' : only made things worse for Ludworth if he had told him what it had cost Eldyth to arrive at her decision. Morbid it might have 'been, but that sho had done wisely lie was convinced.

friendship between Ludworth and herserlf, and she had done Ibravely in recognising the fact. It was not until V.C. left him that Ludworth really began to realise the lot that was involved in EMyth's decision. Imperceptibly hers had grown to be a leading interest in his life. J For the last few months everything j had centred in and around her. And it was all over. She had asked V.C. to tell him that their friendship must cease. Why had she not told him | herself? Was it that she dared not trust herself to do so ? ' He found some crumbs of comfort in the thought. For the first time in his life he found himself face to face with one of those troubles that make .or mar a man, one of those griefs whose influence is on character rather than on circumstances. He .could face the .possibility of losing his estates :and position with : : an undaunted front—they were of him but not himself. At one moment it was anger that stirred him, the wish of every man to keep what -was his own —rat another moment he sought to emulate lier self-abnegation, yet the hope of - mutual knowledge was at once pierced by the doubt of her feeling toward him. All through the night he fought his battle, and when the morning came with the cold, gray light that peeped in the blinds, a dull acquiescence took place in him. Eldyth-was right. For them there could he no middle way. His duty lay with Hermione. ' The- .thought of his half-forgotten cousin''brought compunction .with it and a sudden resolve. Hkv last letter' had been very brief and Curiously aloof. She might have been writing to a stranger. Perhaps she was feeling neglected. His conscience reproached him that he had not been to «ee her for some time. "The ass, though fatigued, carries liis burden!" lie said to himself, with ! a grimace.' "I will go and see her. But I had better keep my' word "to Tresiddey, and go and see Fluff first. Going to Hermione will be a good excuse for a visit."* ' ■ The reoollection of his-aunt brought with it 4 memory of his fruitless chase after Jfeal. He was undoubtedly living in Golden Street, and' Von iMarkheim had said that he had seen her in that street. Ludworth wrinkled his brow with perplexed' distaste. What possible connection couldl there be (between Fluff and the evil genius of the family. j

CHAPTER XVIII. v j "Rawarde come?"- \ "Not, yet. He's a bit late -this morning. Hope he'll lie in a better temper when lie does come, anyway." The two men meeting on the hospital steps p» use d for a minute to exchange confidences. • "He is overdoing it. No man can stand the contuuid l efcraih'«t3iat he isj . putting on him-i"if. He ha s been iook- ' ing like a harassed ghost .foi , ; ; .past."', ■ x " "Much .would have naore!';the : .-othei,' ; replied «apiently. "You'd think that even he would be satisfied with what : he has done without wanting to grab a}l the plums."' "A fellow like Bawarde is never satisfied so long as there are hieghts to scale, "but I, don't think it |is work that is too much for him. To mo he looks worried, if he couldn't i make up his mind." 1 "Perhaps he is thinking of getting married," the other suggested -with a laugh. " 'The Princess' and lie are very friendly, by all showing. That's ; Rawarde's luck all over. He is the only man whose existence she recognises. Ah, here lie is!" " ~ ; > The familiar green motor brougham had stopped at: the gateway. Rawarde paused to give some directions to the i chaifeur, and then came slowly to-; ward the door, so engrossed ill his i thoughts that he started when'the two men spoke to him. . "It's not like you to be developing nerves,' one said chdffiugly, and Rawarde frowned a little, then smiled. ; - "I'm ali-ight," he,«aid, "but there is a good 'deai "to think about ." ■ He wondered what ifcpy would say; if thoy knew what the problem was that was exercising his mind day and night. • ' He was the rightful Duke of Ludworth! It was a dizzy thought, satisfying even his ambition a thought that was a truth, vHe had no reason to doubt the story ,tliat Bovill had , told; it had been circumstantial -n the extreme; and his own knowledge' ! of the family history had verified much. that might have disproved the unexpected revelation. Bovill had, he declared, all the proofs of the story nv > I his possession. It was plain that if he. were not Stanton Neal himself, he had | Neal's entire' confidence. He made, no ' secret that he expected to 'be, hand-: - somely paid for the information,; and -tintil he got the promise of it he would withhold the proofs on which: the ■whole hinged. Ilawaxde had, he hoped, kept his : head and ibetrayed himself in no way. Bovill had gono away, gaining nothing from him ? but, on the oth-i, er hand, Rawarde had not wholly disicountenanced hiin and his-information'. He had. played with Rawarde as a; skillful angler would play with a fish; (To he continued.)