Novelist. [ALL RIGHTS RESERED.] TWICE TRIED,

Waikato Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 2578, 19 January 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist. [ALL RIGHTS RESERED.] TWICE TRIED,

BY ANNIE S. SWAN, AuUior of " Aldei'syde," " CVirlmvvie," " Acrnss Hei'Patli," " Sundered Hearts," &c, &c.

CHAPTER X.—continued.

Robert Angus thought much of Joan as he strode onwards towards to the Thorn. Khc was certainly not other women, and had a way of surprising you, and making you think when you least expected it.

As he passed the old bridge he looked at it not without tenderness, for it had been a favourite trystingplace for him and Amy, and many sweet, though some half-bitter memories elung about its mossy parapet, and the tinkling burnic underneath had borne upon its breast many a sweet word and earnest vow. It was quite deserted now. The pair which Joan had disturbed had made good their escape, and Amy Burnett was nearly home. Robert could scarcely realise the fact eie to. morrow closed, ho should call Amy Burnett wife, and that henceforth he should have a home of his own, whether for weal or woe he could not tell. It seemed to him almost as if he were only an onlooker ; not the principal person to take part in the event of tomorrosv, and upon whom its after consequences whether happy or the reverse, would fall. These somewhat strange musings were ended by his arrival at the house, and, pulling out his watcli before he knocked, he saw it was twenty minutes to ten. But they would be indulgent to him to-night. Mary opened the door to him, and looked surprised to see him. " How did yen come f she asked. "Amy went down to the bridge to meet you, she said : she has just como in. She got nervous waiting ; it was growing dark and late." "I am sorry for that. She might havo waited long- enough," Kobort answorotl. " I did not say I would come that way. Amy knows I prefer the highway. Where is sho Polly ?" " Upstairs. Thero is no ono in the drawing room. If you will go there, I'll tell Amy," Polly said, •with her usual quiet consideration. Robert nodded, and ran up to the drawing-room two stepsat a timo. It was not lighted, but ho made hisway through the confusion, which Mrs. Burnett, in despair, had abandoned till morning, and was already in Led, for she was completely worn out. Ho waited a few minutes, and was beginning to grow impatient, when Amy came in. She entered the room hesitatingly, but Eobort met her half-Avay, and gathered her to his heart. She shivered a littlo, and then lay still, and for a brief space thero was nothing said. " My darling, I am so sorry you had to wait, You should scarcely should havo gone out to moot mo. You know I could not tell when I should como," hosaid, gently. "Did you walk down with .loan Laurence? I mot her at the wickot."

The slight figure in his arms gave a violent start.

"Oh did you meet Joan ? No I did not see 1n". , ," flu> whiter ■' at length. " Slio must have gone round l>y tlio stables. It is quick 3'ou know." " Ainv, did any niio try io frighten you in the glen 'i 7)ow-\ seemed in a novvo'.i.s terror, and .LVII 3' said you were afraid." " No, not very. Did Joan say she g - ot a, fright Y" " Yes, but she would not toll mo how or where. But enough of this. Come tell me, my pet, are you to bo a bravo woman to-morrow, eh ! ; ' " I—l don't know. Light tho gas. will you, till I let you see what Joan brought me," Amy said, hurriedly, and drew herself away from him. When tho bright light shono on Amy's face, ho was struck by its exceeding paleness. There were purple rims about the big brown oyes and somo lines about tho childish drooping mouth he did not like lo soo. " J[y darling," ho said, almost passionately, " you look very ill. It is quite time I had you in my care. We will have a delightful time of rest at I'enzance when wo get there. We will not coma back in a hurry, I promise you." Amy smiled faintly, and, opening tho clasp of the morocco ease, hold it up for inspection. " Is this Joan's present, Amy ?'' " Yes, isn't it lovely ? It is very uood of her ; far, far more than I deserve from her, for 1 have not been kind to her/' she said a little, brokenly. " I want you to take this home, and keep it for me, Robert."

" To-night, do you mean."

" Yes, now, take it,'' she said, shutting the case with a sharp click and offering it to him.

" Won't you wear it to-morrow '?'

i: No, I shall not wear it to-mor-row ; do tako it ; ifc will bo safer with you. 1 have no right to it. I'f Joan knew all i>l3 , waywardness she would not have given it. It was for your sake, 1 know." Robert Angus put the case in his pocket without a word, and looked foarchingly and gravely into the white face of the, girl before, him, but she had never be.ui any clearer to him thnu now. He took her to his heart again, calling her by every endearing name, but no word of response fell from her pale lips. " Will you forgive me, Robert, for ill I the way I have done to you : I never was worthy of your love j have tried lately to bo better, but } was not strong enough. j-viy you i'orgiro in:; : yen, ye*, say it." " .My dearest, it there: is anything to forgive, i do forgive it with my whole heart,'" , he said fondly. "And now lam going away. lam alraid when I sec you, you loo!: so white and ill. Get to Ik'cl at once, my darling, so that you may not look so haggard to-morrow, when so many eyes will be upon \'ou. I wish the ordeal was over, ami I do wish it had been quieter."

" What if all the people came and here was no marriage—wouldn't that lie funny V she asked, with a

range smile

" How no marriage 1"

Oh. bridegrooms sonu-timos don't turn up, you know ; but I dare say it will bo all right, Yvoll, goodnight and jiood-bye, Robert Xofc good-bye, Amy : only goodnight for a few hours, and then we never part," ho said.

Then she drew herself away from him, and ran sobbing from tlio room.

CHAPTER XL—Caught

It was after eleven o'clock when Robert Angus reached home that night, to find the household in bed. liven Rolfe, who was generally the night bird, had retired to rest.

Robert was Ttot sorry. He had many things to think of, and the perfect stillness in the house was grateful to him. Ho wont into the. dining-room, where the thoughtful Christina had left the supper tray ; but he did not touch either food or drink. He threw him the into an easy-chair, and sat in the dim light, looking straight before him, his face wearing a look of deep thoughtfulness, which was almost pain.

To-morrow lie was to take a woman's life and happiness into his keeping. It was a solemn thought —he had a vague feeling in his heart, too, that all was not right. He could not divine whether it was with himself or with Amy that the discording element lay, but there it was, a cloud no bigger than a man's hand, but which might ere long overshadow the horizon of his life. It was nearly one o'clock when he raised himself, somewhat heavily, from his chair, put out the gas, and mounted the stairs to his

own room ; little guessing with what strained anxiety a pair of cats were listening for his step.

Thero was only one bedroom on the first floor, next to the drawingroom, and which was occupied by .Mr and Mrs Angus. On the second lloor there were four bedroom;;, that occupied by the servants, one by Rolfe, the guest-chamber, and Robert's own. The last mentioned was the first room on the landing, while Rolfu's was quite at the other end of the corridor ; had they been good friends, ono room would probably have served them. As it wsas, the farther apart they were the bettor, both by day and night. The moonlight was streaming so brilliantly in at Robert's chamber window iliat ho did nob trouble to

light the gas. He stood a few minutes looking somewhat abiently

across the wide stretch of fertile landslip-.', on which the wavin:.; corn gleamed white in the deceptive moonlighV, though it had no!, ye! ;\

harvest tinge upon it. After a lit tie he leisurely undressed and got mto bed, ;>iii sleep was very far indeed Erom his (.'yes. lie had newr fell. so wakeful in hi-; lite. Very si<iwly the dawn of dav beg,in to creep over th' , earth, causing the brightness of tlio 1110011 to wane. 80 stiil was tho house that Robert could hear quite distinctly the ticking of three clor-ics, which presently struck (.wo : the, hall clock and the dining-room one .simultaneously, and in a few minutes the sweet tinkling chime of the timepiece iu the drawing-room. Not many seconds after that he heard another noise—-that made by someone moving in one of the bedrooms. That noise ceased, however, and he was beginning to feel a little drowsy, when he heanl the creaking of a door, lie turned iiis head and listened, and, as his own (loo; , was a few inches ajar, he henrd quite distinctly a stealthy footfall p:(".-i it and steal down stairs. Curious, though not very suspicious, tor it, might be one of the maids, he crept noiselessly out of bed, threw on dressing-gown and slippers, and with a swing which prevented his door from creaking he opened it and stepped out on the landing. The light had now grown a little liroader, but the hall was still in semi-darkness. Glancing over tlii* balustrade, he saw quite distinctly a portmanteau standing on one of the chairs, and, though lie could not see the front door from where he stood, he know it was open by the current of cold, air which came, sw, oping up stairs. There w;i ■; a door on the ieft side of the, h ill whi \ V>-1 i'llo the bank, and winch mv Angus hmis"lE locked every night, taking the key with him to his dressing-room. With suspicious now thoroughly aroused, Robert stood almost breathless till lie heard a key turn in the lock with that subdued and easy click which indicated that it had boon very recently oiled. Owing to the way in which tho door was havng on its hinge s it opened without a creak, and immediately closed noiselessly. Without hesitating a moment, .Robert ran downstairs, pushed open the baize-covered door and entered the bank. What was his astonishment to sec the door of his father's private room open also, though Ik; was most particular about. locking it every day when ho left it. Robert stepped around tho end of ilio counter, and phml him.-ir-lf dii\et!v acros.-i the threshold o'i. the inner room. And ho saw Roiie. Raii:>oniu standing by the safe, which was open, and with his baud busy among the; contents.

" You thief!"' he said, in a low, '-tided voic.'c, and, springing for'./ard, ifi'ippnd Ransome by the collar. It would be impossible to describe the expression on Rolfo's face. AmiiziMiient, chagrin, bitter angur were commingled, but gave way at length, to a look of black, utter hatred, and a terrible oath fell from his lips. He raised his clenched list, hut in Robert Angus's giant grasp his puny strength was as nothing. " (So this is your gratitude for the countless benefits your employer has heaped upon you," Robert said, slowly, and with measureless contempt. "1. thought you weak", foolish, contemptible, but J did not deem you so utterly vik\"

" Let me go V muttered Eansome. " Let me get clear away out of this '•ur'i'jd place, and I'll never darken it again. I have taken nothing, see ; search me iiiyou will," he added, doggedly. " The few shillings I possess are the remains of my salary. Let me go 1"

Robert hesitated a moment, keeping the culprit iirna in his grasp. What would be best 1 " Let me go, I tell you !" hissed Ransomo. '' If you'd only been five minutes later, you sneak, I'd have richly paid you out, I would. Let me go.' , " No, I shall not," Robert said, firmly.

'• You must ! I must get away, I tell you ! Let me go !" he repeated, raising his voice in his excitement,

"If you want to rouse the whole household, and to be given into the hands of the police, just make a little more noise , ," said Robert significantly. "If my father should catch you here lie would have no mercy on you, but I would spare you for your sister's sake." Rolfe preserved a dogged silence;, but his eyes were glaring, telling of a baflled and terrible rage. But that Robert was so completely master there would have been blood shed in the bank that night.

" Tell me before 1 take you up to bed where you got the keys. Did you steal them iirst ?" Robert asked.

" No, I didn't steal them. How do you suppose I could get them '. Go into the governor's room for tiiein, I suppose; eh f he nsl-refl, mockingly.

" i see," said ilobert, quietly. " (live them to me, ii" you please.''' Slowly 111>1 I'd produced the duplicate.-; from his pocket, and in a moment they were transferred to Ruliwt's own.

"Now, what do you suppose I'm to do with you?" lie asked, looking him full in the face.

"Let me i;o, I tell you," siid uolt'c, struggling anew, as the town clock rang three, and the fiivt glory of t'io sunrise Infill to Miillice th-. , :■;!■•.V ivii'.il ii. "\Vi.il]:li-Uilo tender ;;!:>v."

of loveliness. l; Let me get awny and ill never trouble you again.

You'll never hoar of me again, I promise you." Again Robert hesitated. It might brj the better way, and yet, Rolfe's flight would cause Isabel anxiety and p.iin, and caut a shaddow on his wedding-day.

"No, I will not," he .said, at length; "I'm going to give you another chance. Swear to me here that you'll never attempt such a thing again, and I'll promise to keep your secret.."

llansome's eyes shone brightly; ho hid scarcely expected such mercy at the hands of Robert Angus—nay, when he had felt his heavy hand fa.ll accusingly on his shoulder, he had inwardly decided that the game was wholly up. " Will you really not peach ?" he asked, with a curious, sly, upward glance of his shifting eyes. "When I s-ay a thing T mean it," said Robert, briefly. " CHvo me the promise i require, and I'll let you go hack to bed."

" All right ; I promise." " On your honour, if .yon have any," Robert said, with a faint smile.

" On my honour, if I have any," repeated llolfe. " You won't catch me at this again, T. promise you ; now let me go." Robert, at once relaxed his hold, followed Ransome out into the hall, pointed to the portmanteau and then significantly upstairs, llolfe sullenly lifted it, and obeyed tho second gesture also. Then Robert locked the doors, and followed the culprit upstairs right into his own room, and. deliberately stood till lie had undressed and got into bed. Then he took the key and fitted it into the outside of the door, saying as he did so —

" This is iu case you should change your mind, you know. I'll let you out in good time for breakfast. Good night —or, rather, good morning,"

Then he locked the door and went back to his own room, quite unconscious of the muttered imprecations which followed him.

Ransomo leaped out of bed directly ho was left alone, and, striding over to the window, appeared to be calculating the distance from the ground. It was fully thirty feet—too serious a risk, thought Mr Rolfe Ransome, and crept back to bed. It will not be wondered at that he did not sleep.

Whilst this strange scene was being enacted at the Bank House, there was something curiously like it going on at the Thorn. The tired household were all sound except the bride-elect, who was up and dressed at two o'clock in the morning. 15y the faint light of the dawning clay she noiselessly packed a few necessary things in a new and handsome bag, which had been one of her wedding presents, and which was supposed to lie going to i'enzance with her. When that was done she sat down, pale and trenilJinrg violently, with her watch in he hand, to wait till the appointed time. At half-p-ist two, unable to bear the suppressed excitement and the painful nervous tension any longer, she took her bag in one hand, her boots in the other, and stole noiselessly downstairs. Once on the ground floor she was comparatively safe, for there were no sleeping apartments there, and no one whom she could disturb. She went into the diningroom, and glanced at the timepiece ; it was only the half-hour yet, and three o'clock was the appointed hour, yet she dared not tarry longer, lest she should be discovered. She had taken the precaution to run downstairs after they had all left the dining-room for the night, and set one of the long windows a little ajar. So she had only to step out to tho terrace and she was free 1 Once out into the chill morning air she fled away from the house like a hunted thing, and only relaxed her speed when the leafy trees safely hid her from view. She had never been out so early on a summer morning before, and as she sped across the dewy park she wondered at the strange still beauty of the dawning. In tho blushing East the sun was ready to burst his golden chains, and to shed his Cii'ulgent radiance on the awakening earth ; the sky was a ripple of tender silver grey, against which the opening glory of the sunrise showed in a contrast which was exquisite. The daisies were opening their wet and sleepy eyes to meet the sun's kiss, and a low, brooding twitter in the leafy bo ghs told that the drowsy birds were tuning their morfiing hymn. Across the park, round the end of the Castle, and down into the glen sped Amy Burnett, and only halted when she reached the tryst-ing-bridge. x\_ quick sigh of d isappointmont escaped her when she saw there was no one there, and yet she was ten minutes before the appointed hour ; doubtless Rolfe would appear in ample time. When three came pealing through the silent air, she ventured in her impatience as far as the wicket to see if there was any sign of the laggard, little I dreaming who had him in iirin grip j at that very moment. Quickly, I very quickly, the minutes sped, and Amy Burnett began to be sick with apprehension. If he were many minutes late it would be impossible i'or them to walk across the fields, as they had arranged, to the little wayside station at (he hamlet of Oraigieburn, where the early train stopped on its way to Glasgow, and where they would not be recognised.

Halt-past three! And still no sign. Amy Burnett's limbs were trembling beneath her, and could scarcely sustain her tottering weight. Her toeth were chattering with cold and dread. What was she to do '!■ What- did it mean ? Had Wolfe repented at the last moment? Then he. might have at least come and told her so ; it was cruel, cruel to subject her to this, and yet it was not unlike him. She hated herself ; sho was brought face to face with her treachery to the good, true man who expected to make her his wife that very day. In these moments of sickening suspense and desperate dread, all that was best, and sweetest, and most lovable in Robert Angus rose up bofore her mind, and she aimost loved him. Oil, how foolish, how mad, how wicked she had been, and this was her punishment for her sin 1 When tho town clock rang four sho caught up her bag and ran away home; ran with a flectness of step which amazed herself. Her thoughts and fears centred in one idea, that tho servants might be astir at the Thorn, for she had heard her mother tell them not on any account to be later than five, bat to rise before it, if possib'e, assuring them that there, would be rest after the wedding was over. She had smiled drearily to herself when she heard the order given, thinking what desolation and

dismav would reign at the Thorn on the morrow, when there would 1.10 no wedding, because the bride was gone. The dining-room window was still open as she had left it ; she listened a moment : oh, joy ! there was not a, movement stirring in the house ! She sped into the, room, pulled oft' her boots, and slipped noiselessly upstairs. When she was in her room, with the door shut safely upon her, she sank on the floor and burst into tears. The relief was too great. When she was calmer she tossed the things out of. the bag, hastily undressed, pulled clown the blind, and got into bed. Her brief dream of romance was over, rudely dispelled for ever, and the sober reality of life would commence in a. few hours, when she should utter the words which would bind her for life to Robert Angus. There was rest, rest unspeakable in the thought. She felt as if she had been saved from a terrible leap in the dark, and that she owed her deliverance to him. Therefore, she thought of him with a gratitude that was almost love. Oh, but she would make up to him for thus swerving from her path ; she would In; a dutiful wife to him, and make him happy, if she could. Of IJolfo Raiisonu! she dared not trust herself to think. His treatment of her was too base, too humiliating to be borne. But she would reward him with her scorn, with a contempt so immeasurable that he should sink beneath it. The b:'.st plan of all would be to pretend that she, too, had rued her promise to elope with him. You will observe that a petty falsehood did not alarm Amy .Burnett, or cause her any serious thought. She thought it justiablein certain circumstances. She had not been many minutes in bed when she heard the servants go downstairs. When the housemaid entered the dining-room and saw the open window she stood aghast, and finally called to her companion. "Annie, what d'ye suppose is the meaning of this?" sh" asked, pointing to it with trembling linger.

" Meanin'?—that the house's been broken into !" said the cook, vigorously. " See there," she said, pointing to wet footmarks on the carpet. " Mercy me ! let's look in the sideboard and see what's been took."

There was nothing " took," greatly to their astonishment, and, on investigating the drawing-room, the valuable gifts belonging to Miss Burnett were all intact. .

As there was without doubt nothing missing, the two discreetly agreed to say nothing about the open window, as it was Jane's duty to see that the windows were closed, an item she had neglected on the previous night.

Meanwhile, Miss Burnett was lying wide awake, listening to their movements and their whispers, divining them all as plainly as if she had been beside them.

But, fortunately, they had no sus picion on the truth.

{To bo continued.)