Silas Dennington's Money.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10670, 17 July 1912, Page 2

Silas Dennington's Money.

by f. l. dacre. / Author of "Held in Bondage," "A Phantom of the John's Heiress," "Ibe Shadow of Shame," "A Daughter of Mystery," etc.

OUR SERIAL.)

CHAPTER XXl—Continued, j i In the writing room of the Dover ' hotel, Theodore Grant scribbled ins | letters hastily, one to Jack Ustlc-.., maiue, and one to Dodd and Weeks Then ne .summoned an attendant, and asked the way to the pos fc office "There's a mail box in the entrance hall, sir, and the clerk supplies customers with stamps." "Capital," said Grant cheerfully. "Shall I take the letters, sir? the box is cleared every hour." "Thank you—yes." But when the letters were gone, Mr Grant hecaine faintly uneasy. Castleniaiue might take it into his hear to follow them to Dover, and he was determined that there should he an end to TJastlemaine as far as he and his daughter were concerned. His love for Rosamund was the last fond passion of his life, but the love was as selfish as it was deep. There was this excuse: She-was the one relative left to him, and he shuddered at the thought of a lonely old a<re. Fn never doubted that she would obey his slightest wish, and never yet had their wills betn in conflict. If he had at any time spoken harshly or unreasonably to Rosamund, he had only seen trembling lips, and eyes wet with sudden tears. Thinking hard, but in a chaos of confusion, ho hurried down to the beach. A few people were scattered about in lazy attitudes, for the weather was uncomfortably warm. Rosamund's slim grey figure was easily distinguishable. She was standing erect, one hand shading her eyes, watching the white sails of a yacht. Father away on the horizon the fyntasfcic rail of a steamer's smoke was sharply outlined against a background of pale gold. "Come and sit down, Rosamund." i her father said, pantingly. "I ean't stand ; I'd rather walk titan stasd any day. We can have a little talk here, and settle about our plans. Every- >' thing is yet merely in the suggestive form—in the air, as it were. My de- i sire is to make our holiday enjoyable j, and restful. Perhaps it would be a | mistake to scramble about the Con tin- j ent at this time of year, and the excur- I sions run by tourist agencies are not I exactly play to a man of my years." j "I'm sure of ft, dad," Rosamund j said, with a flash'of conviction. "You I are tired out already. Why not stay here until the season begins? We could then go somewhere' else. We are not bound to any place." He glanced at her with swift suspicion. ! "No, I don't like Dover. We might go to the next town of importance —Deal. It is far more exclusive than fliis, and surrounded by fine country." Rosamund laughed gleefully, and clapped her hands. "You know best, dad, and that sounds nice." "We .might stay there altogether, Rone." There was a catch in his voi'ce. "Your mother and I spent our honeymoon at Deal." He paused to get his breath. "The bustling about has given me a pain in my heart —intense palpitation." "Oh, dad!" "It's nothing, my girl; merely a j warning that I mustn't over-exert i myself. Yes, we could buy a little | place thert, and dream that we had dropped into Arcadia !" Be patted one of her hands affectionately. "I can see it in my mind's eye —an old-'-' fashioned cottage clad in flowering creepers, and surrounded by wellgrown trees, and fragrant blossoming gardens! And with .a plentitude of beautiful things inside, what mure can the heart wish for? Eh, Rosie?"

CHAPTER XXII

The girl returned his look wistfully, and there was a little gnawing pain at her heart.

"With my money well invested with my bankers, we should want for nothing. The Philan,trophie Bank pays seven and a half per cent, interest. Seven and a half per cent, on five thousand pounds. Reckon that up, my dear. An annual income of three hundred and seventy-five pounds! Then there is nfy work for the scientific papers, and we should live in our own ideal home —no rent to pay! What a nest egg for my darling when I go to my last re*!" "Don't dad—don't."

"But, please God, that is a long way off. I'm not a bit afraid of death, but I want to stay on earth as leng as 1 can. I want to live now, because there is something to live for. And I wants my Rosie with me, always —always." „ And so it was decided that the holiday should be spent in England, and next morning they would go to Deal in a cab. The trunks left at the station could lie sent after them by train. Mr Grant made all the arrangements in feverish haste. He appeared to have taken a violent dislike to Dover. Before nine o'clock on the morning following they were driven in a four wheeled carriage through the few miles of grand and rugged country between Dover and Deal. If there was any sadness in Rosamund's heart it was only fleeting. She was too young and too hopeful to be imbued with a brooding .sorrow. She had an illimitable faith in the goodness and justice of Providence. By noon they were established in pleasant appartments on the sea front

SELFISH LOVE

in the verv same house that Rosamund's mother and Mr Grant had occupied thirty years before. The present landlady was a- little child then, and she had carried on the business, and was in possession of every register from the clay of its inception. "I remember you quite well, Mr Grant," she said, after hearing tho old man's half tearful story. "Isn't it wonderful. I've never been mar- ! ried myself, my lover was a sailor, and once he didn't como home again ; but I'm going to wait. They say the ship was lost with all hands, but I've seen him in my dreams every night. Sailors are cast on unchartered islands, and ,get picked up at last. I'm expecting Jim home any day." She suppressed a sob, and hurried from tho room, to return in a little l while with an old book in her hands. It was only a record book, such as small tradesmen use, and on the f;ice of it was the year, in figures, when its records were entered. "My mother was always a methodical business woman," the landlady said, "and she brought seven of us up honest and respectable. She died last year," she added, in answer to an inquiry from Mr Grant. "Here's your name, sir—Theodore Grant and wife, written by yourself, and a little testimonial for other visitors to show that we did tho right thing by you." Mr Grant took the hook with tremhling fingers, and passed it to Rosamund. ;'Oh, dad," she half sobbed, "I think I love Deal already. And my mother was onco in this house—in this room?" "At the very same table, miss." "Your name is Thurstou?" Mr Grant remarked. "Milly Thurston, sir. You gave n.e sixpence a week for fetching your newspaper while you stayed here." "Give me your hand. Miss Thurston. Nothing can break the bond of sympathy between us." '' His voice ended in a quiver.

I Tkeodore Grant was full of his new J scheme. When hurrying away from { the London the idea of even visiting I Deal had not entered his mind. He had hurried there from Dover to again thing, the place held many .panful memories. Once only after his wife's deatli had he visited the scene of their early married days, and he had gone away in deep anguish of mind, with the determination that he would , never repeat the experiment again. I Solemn vows are made to be broken by the most trivial circumstances. He had directed the cabman to drive along the sea front, keeping an eye to the apartment cards, and had seen that there were rooms to let fl t Miss Thurston's. He had knocked on the door and 7nade inquiries, just as lie had done thirty years before, and ho believed that the spirit of his dead* wife was with him all through. That afternoon he and Rosamund went for a drive. He wished to show his (laughter the pretty spots within a mile or two of the won. He called nt the office of real-estate agents for ! descriptions of available - litble properties, together wiffh permits to view them. Ther was only one which appealed to him —quite in the country, yet a bare mile from the shops, the "'' station and the post office. It was called the Cottage, and lay back from

the road in the centre of tastefully planned gardens, two acres in extent. Tlve little property was entirely surrounded by a quickset hedge, eight or nine Sect high. 'Phis tall hedge was strengthened on the inner side hf .dense holly bushes. Thus th© Cottage was protected from the cold winds that swept along the clowns in winter, and its situation was ideal in every way.

"A dream garden," Rosamund criod eestaticallv. "A garden of enchantment, dad!" The old man was (blissfully -Jlent. He had never doubted tha-t this was his last earthly home wlien the agent described it. It never occurred to him that the agent was plying the lies of the trade. He believed every word that was told him, and be was in nowise disappointed. The house itself was not pretentious. Eight medium-sized rooms, built in a two-storey square. A broad verandah ran round three sides of it. Roses red, and roses white, clematis and honeysuckle, climbed up the walls and o-ver the windows. The garden was filled with mazy ways and pleasant surprises. A break in a bit of dense woodland revealed an extensive lawn, as smooth and soft as a velvet carnet. The lawn was completely enclosed by a deep hedge, similar to the one surrounding the little estate. (']'■? he Gortinued).