Denbighshire Free Press

t (COP1¡rÎg4t.) A DARING 6ME. By HARRIET LHSOS. Author of "The Secret of His Hiitory," The Old Life'i Shadows," u Sundered Heart* Darkwood," 4c. i TCHAETER XLIII. ON TR. RIGHT TRACK AT LAST. The conclusion of the low and caution* knocking upon the office door of Mr. Atkins was lost in a wild-burst of the-galef 'irkrichi. tore along the straatathxiekiug and inmn-ag liie me maddened demon. Sir Harold Wynde and Mr. Atkins looked at each other,, and then both glanced at the clock. It-ww upon the stroke of twelve. "Å late hour for a call," said the baronet uneasily. "I have no-wish to be seen, Atkins. I am in no mood to encounter a possible client of "ours." 'lho knock sounded again, in a lull of the storm, low, secret and imperative. Atkins's face brightened up with sodden relief and joy. "I know that knock," he said. "Please step into the inner office, Sir Harold, You ehall see no one but friends to-night." He opened the door of the aml-dl, dark inner tifiiCt. and Sir Harold passed in and stood in the darkness, leaving the door slightly ajar. Atkins hastened to open the outer door. A gust, of wind swept fiercely in, and with it, and j.* if impelled by it, a man hurried into the office, and closed the door with both his hands. He was slender but, so muffled in coat collar and cap that no one could have guessed his identity. "Lord Towyn ? said Atkins doubtfully. The new-comer took off his cap and turned down his collar. The lawyer's instinct had not deceived him. The. noble face, the bright blue eyes, so full of warmth and glow, the tawny moustache, and the golden hair above a 9 '/rari'i forehead—rail these, now displayed to the 'solicitor's gaze, were the features of Neva's favcared lover. But the young Earl looked pale and worn by anxieties, and although now ilit-re was a glow and brightness and eagerness in his face and manner, yet one could see in all his features the traces of great and recent suffering. "Alone, Atkins?" he exclaimed, extending his hand, while he swept a quick glance about the room. "I am glad to have found you up, but had you gone to sleep I must have awakened you. I- have just reoeived important news by messenger, who routed me up at my hotel. I came to you as soon as I could." •If tha news is unpleasant, do not tell it just yet, said Atkms nervously, with a glance at t-ne inner room. "I hare news too, Lord lowyn. Come to the fire. Blew ug bow th wind howls! The young Earl remove his great-coat and ad- vanced to the fire and Atkins went into the ioner office. The lound of whimpering followed. Lord Towyn heard the sound and started, and at the same moment his glance fell upon Sir Harold Wynde s cast-off groat-coat and hat. Presently Atkins returned, rubbing his hands together with excitement. xou are not alone, I me," said, the young EBJI. I will see von again, Atkins." •tay, my lord," said the solicitor, "I have news, great news, to impart to you. Let me sommunicate mine first. Can vou bear a great surprise—a shock f K T 'TMU haT* h,d from Mi" Wynde ? » criafl f a J\ Jv°U lfcter aew' eyen than same ? Speak, Atkins. Those villains have not succeeded in forcing rher into a marriage with young Black? It is not that-eay that it is not. "It is not that, my. lord. How am I to tell you the startling news I have just leamt ? My lord, I have had a visit to-night from a gentlo- man who has just returned from India. He knew Sir, Harold Wywte-well, and eame to give dith P*rt,CnUra of Harold's .apposed "Support death? How strangely you choose your words, Atkins I Supped death t Atkin*' tfembling and We have-^1 mourned Sir Harold aa aeau. And this gentleman -says—prepare for a surprise, my lot&-he says that Sir Harold wvnde still lives f" • BarV started, and grew white. i- o tL .imP0M'^e'" he ejaculated. "He fates? It is preposterous t Atkins, you are the sport of some impostor I t> 71°' \otd' I it; I believe that Sir Harold lire# n "Have you forgotten the letter of Surgeon Graham, giving a circumstantial and minute account of Sir-Harold's death?" demanded Lord Towyn. «If gir Harold had survived his encounter with the tiger, would he not have ntunwd home over a year ago P "The—the .gentleman who gave me the par- ticulars of Sir Harold's fate, said Atkins, full of suppressed excitement, "Iaya that the barouet was unfortunate enough to incur the enmity of his Hindu servant, who secretly swore aevenge. Sir Harold actually encountered the tiger, wae-said, but a shot from the servant frightened the beast, and he fled back into the jungle. Sir Harold was wounded and bleeding, -tod his horse was killed. The Hindu servant Packed up his disabled master, and, instead of uig him back to Major Archar's bungalow, he «xi«d him forward and gave him into the •lianas or lotne of his own friends and country people, and Uiese friends of the Hindu carried wfffeir Harold further into the hill country, to tbeir home, a sort of mountain fastness. They kept him there cloeely imprisoned, and while ^• mourned our friend as dead he was chained a 0611 but little better than a dungeon." urr *9° still looked incredulous. "did the bearer of this strange. tale AiacoVwf tho etraxjgeiacts, if facts they are ?" he demanded. I efafiiild like to see this gentleman from India ? I Should like to question him He paused, as the door of the inner room opened, and Sir Harold Wynde, pale and haggard, came into the outer office. ijord Towyn uttered a strange cry, and sprang backward, his face whitening to deathliness. Sir Harold approached the young xnan, extending his hand. Behold the gentleman from India,' he said, faintly smiling. My dear boy, ask me as tuany questions as you like. Don't you know rae, Arthur, that you stare at me so ? I am no ghost, although our friend Atkins took me for one." Another cry, but this.time a ory of rapture, broke from the young Earl's lips. He bounded torward and clasped Sir Harold's hands in bis, and both were silent with an emotion too mighty for speech. Atkins turned aside to add fresh fuel to the blazing Are, his own features working. Sir Harold t 0 Sir Harold: cried Lord Towyn at last, in a very ecstasy of gladness. What • joy this will be to my poor little NeTa I She has mourned for you as dead, and I have thought that the shadow of your gap- posed fate would dark all her life. How glad she will be, my poor little girl I" "Your little .girl ? said Sir Harold. Lord Towyn's fair face flushed. I love NeTa, and she loves me," he said frankly. "She has promised to marry me, and I hope, Sir Harold, that you retain your former good opinion of me, and will sanction our union." We will see, said the baronet, pressing the I youag Earl's hand warmly. "It has always been my desire, a* it was that of your father, to unite my family to yours. Your face tells me ¡bat you have fulfilled the glorious promise of your boyhood. If Neva consents to marry you, my :dear Arthur, I shnll sot refuse my con- sent. Lord Towyn looked his delight, and then a a quick, inquiring glance at Atkins. "Does Sir Harold know ?" he asked signi- ficantly. "I have told him," answered the solicitor, "that Miae Wynde has disappeared in the most mysterious manner, and tii.it she is in the power of a couple of adventurers j Sir Harold interrupted Atkins by a passionate gesture. "Arthur,* exclaimed tha baronet, his jproud 01 •iace umwn all p«iii# nAUiu« w -have been deceived in-in Lad's ttltat he has discovered her to be au •.unscrupulous and unprincipled. -prejudice? I cannot give utter civ i "It is God's truths Sir HUDld, solemnly, holding the baronca • -•strong, firm pressure. "It is b,er vou should know the truth from • hear it from strangers, or be fur by the woman you uade *r;i V*. CHAPTER XLIV. BEPNITHD. Upon the day after the storm, a high^wind still prevailed. No sailing vessel dared put out to sea from Inverness. The, skr-wat-dan and grey, with now and then a fitful gleam of sickly yellowish sunlight. The black waters were all aliTe with white caps," and the sullen roar of the waves, as they hurled themselves against the cliffs upon whose summit stood the house of Heather Hills, filled all the house with its monotonous tumult. Lally Bird opent the morning in her own room, upon a sofa in a recessed window. Mrs. Peters came and went softly, bestowing pitying glances upon the round gipsy face lying so white and sorrowful against the cushions; but the dusky eves were looking seaward, with a strange, far-off, stead- fast gaze, and it was evident that the young girl was not even conscious of the presence of her attendant. At noon Mrs. Peters brought up a tray an which was spread a tempting luncheon of choco- late, hot rolls, delicate game, and jellies. She placed the tray upon a low table, and wheeled it beside the sofa. Still Lally did not stir. "Miss Lally," cried the good woman, her lip quivering, "are you not going to eat to-day ? You bad no breakfast. You will be ill. I know that I have offended you beyond all forgiveness and that my face nuist be nnpleasant in your aight. but I would undo what I have done if I could. Better almost any kind of a marriage than to see you lying here looking so wan and hopeless. 0 Miss Lally, if yoli would only speak to me j Lally turned her face slowly, with a look of •UfP™ mingling with her expression of pain. Why, Peters, she said kindly, "I did not Jcnow you were so troubled about me. I am not angry at you. You meant what you did for the best. There, don't erv, Peters. I am not angry; indeed I am not. You are as much my friend as ever. Sit down by me, and. we will eat our luncheon together." Peters complied as soon us she could command her emotion, and Lally roused herself to speak cheerfully, and to inquire concerning the results of the storm. After the luncheon, the vonng mistress of Heather Hills announced her'intention of going out for a solitary walk. The wind was not so high as it had been in the morning, and Mrs. Peters did not venture any objections. Lally attired herself in a bombnzine walking dress and astrachan jacket, hat and muff, and about two o'clock she went out alone for a walk alone the cliffs. ° For an hour or more she rambled on, stop- ping now and then to rest, and keeping near tL •ea, over whose wide, wild waters her gaze strayed and fixed itself with singular steadfast- ndM. At last she sat down upon a great boulder, and the slender black fieri! l*A nrao I tinctae«fain#<: gF6y vrith 8tartling die- Before her lay the wild and restless sea, behind her the undulating fields of her new domain. At one side of her, in the grey dis- tance, was the house of Heather Hills, and on the other hand, and nearer, was the low range of heath-clad hills which gave the estate its name. It was a lonely epot, that upon which she had Kusad to rwt, with a bold cliff surmounted a V,I7 chaos of rocks, npon whose summit she had perched herself. A few sea-gulls were moreaining in the air, but besides them and the wild birds on the heath there was no sign of life, far or near. An hour passed. The wind still blew strong and fierce, tugging at her hat and garments with strong, despoiling hands. Her veil was swept over the cliff into the abyss of waters, and her hair wm torn from its caning braids, and tumbled over her shoulders in a duskv cascade. But still Lally ml high up upon the rocky mass, paying no heed to wind or murmur of wave, her soul being busy with the great problem of her destinv. And so, looking seaward with great longing eyes, she did not see liu^an figure coming towards her over the fields. It came nearer and nearer-the. figure of Rufus Black The young man had gone back to Inverness upon the previous night, but he had not been content to accept his dismissal at the hands of Mrs. Peters. His old love for Lally was strong and fierce, and he was determined to win back his lost young wife, if energy and patience, and love and sincere repentance, could win her back. So, after a sleepless night, and a morning spent in indecision and irresolution, he had come out again to Heather Hills. Mrs. Peters was in her own room, and the housemaid had answered his knock. Rufus had inquired for Miss Bird, but the housemaid had never heard the name. He then asked for Mrs. Black. That name wu also unknown at Heather Hills. In. this dilemma, believing Lally to be at the Hill., as companion to Miss Wroat, and believing her to have taken a new name as a disguise, he boldly asked for Miss Wroat, determined to see Lally'a supposed employer, and to entreat her to intercede in his behalf with Lally. The house- maid had told him that Miss Wroat had gone out for a walk, indicating the direction, and, calling up all his courage, Bufsa had started ;n pursuit. He saw the dark and slender figure perched on the rocks while yet afar off. Something in its droop reminded him of Lally, and he came on at a swinging pace, his eager gaze never swerving from her; and as he came nearer and yet nearer the conviction stole upon him that it was Lally henelf at whom he looked. "She mast have'come out with Miss Wroat, he thought. "Rich ladies never walk without an attendant. She has dropped behind, being tired. It is IaUy-it is—it is He came up swiftly, the damp soil deaden- ing the sound of his footstep* He gained' the rocks, and began to climb them to Lallv'» aide but the girl did not sti4 nor notice his approach. A sudden sound at her aide at last startled her. With a quick exclamation, she tarned her head-and beheld him! She did not speak, but her great black eyes I grew larger, and her face grew suddenly so deathly white that he thought she nuwt be '1 fainting. "Lally! O Lally!" he tried to her,, in an, anguished, broken voice. "Thank God r It have found you! Oh, my darling, my little wife, whom I have mourned as dead! He knelt down before her, in the shadow of a projecting rock, the tears streaming over his face, and his eyes regarding her in wild- implor- ing. So a devotee might have knelt to hia patron saint, feeling unworthy to approach her, but longing and praying with his whole soul for forgiveness and mercy. Lally felt her soul melt within her.. "0 Ruiulf I" she gasped, in » ohoking whisper. He put up his arms to enfold: her. She shrank back, not with loathing, but with a sudden dignity, a sort of majesty, that awed him. "You must not touch me, Bufus," she com- manded. "I am not your wife." You are You are Before t-lod I declare that you are my wife." u llusb. Rnfus 1 You wrote to me that I was not yeur wife. Don't you remember? You said that our marriage was null and void.' "I thought it was. My father told me so," cried Rufus. I!Q Lally, I have been a poor, weak-souled wretch. I am not worthy of your love. I should have stood by you instead of bosely deserting you through my own personal cowardice. My father threatened to have me mdict.ed for perjury, in swearing that 'we were of age at the time of our marriage, and I-I was afraid. You can never respect me, Lally, nor love me again, I know, but if you knew how I have stiiTered you would pity mo." "I have always pltid ou," she murmured. "I tlioug'.rc you. I mutilated, drowned:-body -in my dreams. Day and night it hauntod-oue. I was nearly -beside myself. I thought. I should go mad. M< father's mind was set upon my-.marriage with i great Kentish heiress, who loved another thai me. I appealed, to her to save me-to- sr ve rr from my anguish, torture aud remorse, pro- duced by continual thoughts of you. I had n« heart to give her. I was base and unmanly i; offering her the dregs of the cup that had bee: filled for you; but oh, Lally, I was half-ma ar.d wholly despairing! I wanted the love o; some good woman to interpose and save me froi; going to perdition." "I heard your offer of marriage to her," eai Lallv. And you are engaged to marry her ? "No—she refused me. I am free, Lallv and I thank God for it. What should I illm' done if I had married her and then discovere that yon still live? I love you and you alon in the whole world. I am of age, and my ov*. Waster. I bare thrown off the shackles c:; Wynde is an adventuress, bold and false and wicked. "You forget that I knew her history even back to her childhood, cried Sir Harold eagerly. "I did not marry her with my eves blindfolded. 8h. never attempted to impose herself upon me as other than she was She made known her whole life to me. She wtw the daughter of a naval officer, and the nisoo of Mrs. Hyde, a lady of good family and position, who lives a very retired life in Bloomsbur; Square, London. We ate our wedding breakfast in Mrs. Hyde's house. Lady Wyll de's first husband was the Honourable Charles Hathawav the younger son of a viscount. Lady Wvnde's family connections both by birth aud marriage are excellent. I knew all this bevond a perad- venture before I married hor. And yet you call her an adventuress 1 "And 9«Vhti wa0' ,Sir Harold," exclaimed Atkins. Her past life, and iier connections were all you say. Her record was all fair. Not a word had ever been whispered against her reputation, and she wont into the best I society, and had admirers and suitors. All this I grant. But she was none the less an adven- turess at heart. She bad an j,rome Qf three I hundred pounds a year and spaut a fchotuaad, sponged from relatives, or given her by Craven Black, from his winnings at the gaming table or at the races. She was engaged to marry Craven Black soon after Mr. Hathaway's death, and before her marriage with you. Mrs. Hyde is not over-fond of her niece, and told me this fact herself. This marriage, owing to the meagre I fixed income of the pair, was deferred, and finally they conceived the idea that Mrs. Hathaway should contract a wealthy marriage, secure a comfortable jointure, become a widow and then marry Craven Black. There can be no doubt that your marriage with Mrs. Hathaway was the result of a conspiracy against you by these two villains, male and female—that thev had set a trap for you, Sir Harold, and that you fell into it." Lord TWyn^ turnw* haggard eyes npon It is true," said the young Earl, full of the tenderest sympathy. "You were imposed upon, Sir Harold. The woman you married, so fair and spotless in seeming, was like some fair fruit with a worm at its core. There are adven- turesses in good society, of good birth and spotless reputations, as there are well-born adventurers. Mr. Atkins is right. Craven Black and Mrs. Hathaway have played, a daring game but they have not yet won. Thia is a terrible atroke to you, dear Sir Harold but bear it bravely. You are not desolate because Lady Wynde feigned a love for you, and has proved falsa and wicked. You have the holy memories of your first wife to keep pure and steadfast yonr faith in woman. Yon have Neva to love you. You have your friends." But Sir Harold threw up hit arms with a gesture of despair. "I loved her!" h«r said brofcenly. "I have thought of her in my Indian dungeon, and on the lonely oea, and have planned how to break to her the news of my return tenderly and gently, that her reason might be spared a shock which I l'eared might destroy it. And, 0 God, all the while she never loved me! While I thought of her upon the deck, with longing, for wings, that might sooner reach her, ah. was the wife of another, and exulted in the thought that she was rid of me for ev«r J Ah. this is a dreary coming home "It is, Sir Harold," aaid Lord Towyn eorrow- folly; "bot the wickedness of one person whom IS, you have loved need not darken your life or paralyse your energies. Neva is in peril. Rouse yourself from this great grief for her make. Think what joy your retarn will be to her. We muet find her. and saw ber." The young Eaarl bad touched the right ehnrd. Sir Harold rooeed himself froia hia despair, and mid "Yes -T we must find her, and tttft her. Bat where are we to lima for her ? If the detec- tives have failed to And a alue to, her wheroo. abouts, how are we to succeed ? "I have been upon. the Continent^ said Lord Towrn. wand haTB* travelled from one end of England to the other. I have been upon a •cow of false trails., and failed to M a trace »f those I sought. I have now bean three or* four days in this tows, consulting every day with Atkins or Sir John Freise, while detec- titee continued the search. And to-night I bawe received news which for the- first time givee me hope that we we Bearing the end. A. messenpr, sent by eoa of my detectives, cam* *°. °7 l"t dewa train from* London, with a report of discoveries." "They ha.1. been; faood ? cried Sir Harold eagerly. JTot yet. The object of Craven "Kfrrk and his wife —I hardly know bow to call, her, Sir Harold*—was to-marry Neva to Black'& son, and 10 obtain control oyer the Hawkburst property," Did Lord Towyn. 'ra is tc cffect this mar- riage that Craven Black and his wifi are en- gaged in persecuting Neva. Whe» they left Hawkhnrst, they left Rufus Black behind them. It occurred to me that when they shaald deem matters in a fair state- of progress, or when Neva shewed signs of relenting, they would send for Rufus to come and plead his came, or to marry her, wherever they might be. I therefore hired a detective to watch Bufus, and it' is from this detective, and not from those isisaareb of Neva, that I hvre to-night heard." "And what dow he My t" demanded) Atkins breathlessly. "Young Black has remained at itikwichurst. ever since the marriage--some five weeks. Two or three days ago he went up to London. The detective, who has been stopping at Wyndham In a commercial traveller in broken health, went up in the aame train. It seemed at first, BRY messenger says, as if young Blaek had had so- object beyond a day's saunter ia town. Ha visited picture shops and so on, but that night le went to the Great Northern railway station, d found the train gone. That movement of ws, as the detective said, began to look lika> easiness. Black went to his hotel, ttle detectiva still on his track. The next morning young Black sold his watch and chain, and the next evening he was off again to the Great Northern, evening he was off again to the Great Northern, railway station. He caught the night express^ and went in it, the dvtoctive in the same train* The detective sent a note from Edinburgh to a fellow-officer, who brought it to. me to-nighl I am convinced that Rufua Black has gone- to rejoin his father, and that if we fellow Tiim wa shall find Neva." To what place did he book ? ashed Atkins, "To Inverness. It is plain that while the Blocks tried to persuade us that they were upon the Continent they were safely hidden with Neva in the Scottish Highlands. They may have gone there from some idea of bring- ing about an informal Scottish marriage between Neva and young Black. Neva can know nothing of the marriage laws of Scotland, where a laration from a woman that a certain man is her husband, when he hears and does not contradict the assertion, and viee-verti, consti- tutes a legal and binding marriage. The Blacks may calculate upon Neva's ignoranoe, and hope to avail themselves of the facilities of Scottish law in marrying her to Rufus." "It is very probable, said Atkins, knitting his brows. "Young Black has the start of ux. He must have arrived at Inverness to-day. I came here.to propose- kti ins-that we start for