UNDER OATH.

Auckland Star, Volume XXII, Issue 135, 9 June 1891, Page 6

UNDER OATH.

By JEAN KATE LUDLUM, Author of M Was Hβ Wise?" "The Minister's Wife,' , " Called," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XIV.— (Continued.)

So the evening passed, and Edith someway left the conversation to her companions, sitting very quiet and cold beside Mrs Mansfield. But by and-by the feeling grew in her heart that after all it was but a foolish dream of hers that Allan had told her he loved her. He could not have ever told her that. Did not these two women Bay be was a man to be proud of ? He loved her, and then to cry out of some woman whom he knew. She had heard from Mr Endicotb, in a mosb innocent manner, that some guest arrived that first morning at an unearthly hour, and when she had asked Allan, he had hesitated, and turned tho question. She could forgive an unkindness to herself alone, but she would never bear any man's deceit. If he did not wish her to know why he had arrived at such an hour—perhaps she was doing him an injustice, but she doubted that—he should have told her frankly where he had beeß.

Was it any of her concern whether he remained at the lake ovav night or rode out at the hour they named ? But for him to attempb to deceive her, to turn her question aside, as though she were nothing to him, as though he had not; shown her in every way a man could show a woman that he cared for her, was quite beyond her endurance. She was sorry, very sorry, that he wae so ill; and she had forgiven the few words of disagreement they uttered upon that morning, bub here had his mother told her of some mystery that must affect her—thab Allan declared that 'Edith , must nob know.

When Mrs Mansfield rose at last to leave them, eho drew Edith in her arms with sudden emotion new to her pride, and touched her sweeb, cold face with her lips, as she said, softly, for the girl alone :

' You will be good to him if thero is ever need, dearest?'

And wibh a swift softening of her hard heart, Edith murmured than she would, her eyes suddenly filled with bears of regreb for her unkind thoughts already reigning in her heart. And when she was gone, the girl threw herself upon the couch in a passion of tears, burying her head among the cushions in shame for her fleeting selfcontrol.

•My poor, dear, sweet girl !' whispered MrsCastlemon'a musical voice,as her gentle hands smoothed bhe half-buried head among the cushions. 'My naughty, hard-hearfeed girl ! As though her Marie could not see with wide eyes what is wrong with the dear, wilful heart !'

'You don't know!' cried Edith, suffocatedly, burying her head still deeper in the stuffy cushions. • You could not guess one half bhe meanness of your naughty girl's heart, Marie! lam very, very unkind and hard and unfeeling ! I am so sorry I could for one minute let such thoughts come about the nicest —' ' Oh, yes,' said Marie, in that fond, foolish bat comforting way she had with this girl. • Wβ know jusb how nice and how big and good he is, my dearest girl ! We would bury our pretty heads quite out of eight, because we are so ashamed of ourselves ! And you deserve bo do it, boo, you unkind girl!' 'And I couldn't even hide that from you!' whispered Edith, by-and-by, when she had grown calm enough to withdraw her head from the cushions, and lay with her beautiful hair disordered and falling upon the pillows, while Mrs Castlsmon's sofb hand touched the bright head tenderly. _' There is just nothing you cannot see, Marie ! If I had committed murder, you would find ib out at once ! I wouldn't have bhe slightest hope with yon !' She lfffced up her face from the cushions, rery arch and sweet and beautiful, with the traces of tears still upon bhe long lashes, and then suddenly reached up with a startled cry : ' Whab Is the matter, Marie ? You are ill—you are faint. Lefc me call Dr. Mainton or Mr Deland ! Let me do something for you ! Whab is ib ?' Mrs Castlemon pushed her down among the cushions again and said, quite steadily, though the pallor had not left hi 9 face nor the fear died out of her eyes : 'Ib is the heab, perhaps, my dearest Edith. 1 am already better. We have had considerable excitement, too, you know, of late. lam such a quieb body the least excitement undoes me for a long time ! 1 think the most sensible thing for you and for me is to go to bed afc once and rest. To-morrow may bring us some good news of Mr Mansfield—' « And solve the mysbery about Mr Montgomery, too!' added Edith with a new bone of roice. She rose from the couch, and rang the bell. ' What are you going to do ?' asked Mrs Castlemon, now quite herself, though bhe colour did not reburn to her cheeks. «I shall order for you whab I think best,' was the quieb reply, an albogebher new teuch in Edith's manner. 'You are ill, Marie, dearest, and I shall take ib upon my hands' to see that you are baken cars of. You may as well be still,' as Mrs Castlemon would have spoken. ' I shall do as I please in this my dear. I think ib time some one looked afber you. You are always devobine yourself toothers.' A slow flush stole into the pale cheeks, a3 Edith ordered a glass of wine and a biscuit from the waitress who answered the bell. 'It is good to be taken care of,' she said sweetly, ' bub ib is quite unnecessary, Edith. , Edith only shook her head gravely, and said she knew best that time. ' And in the morning, when Mrs Alansheld went to her son's room to inquire as to his condition, Mr Deland told her with his face lighted by pleasure that Allan wa3 starting off in a good way toward recovery. ' He slept well and naturally, for the fir«t time, last night,' he said. ' And he woke up quite himself, although of course very weak. You shall see him presently. Mrs Mansfield.' But when Mrs Mansfield was at lasb shown into the room, and Allan was emiling up into her face, his hands held in hers, he turned to Deland and asked, with a sudden bhoughtfulness chasing the smile away: . ' I have had a sort of consciousness all alon<-- that there had something happened to Montgomery, Deland ! Has he burned 'He'll turn up all righto, by-and-by, old fellow,' Deland said, with an encouraging smile.' You needn'b bother about him.' But Allan's face grow rigid with some hidden tear, and his voice was scarcely audib'.e as ho whispered hoarsely: 'Merciful powers ! They have got him 7ten !'

CHAPTER X\ r .

ON THE LAKE. Edith and Mr Mansfield were rowing upon he lake. Evening shadows were setting down and out from the mountain, leaving the boat upon the water solitary and almost motionless. There had been other boating parties on the water during the early evening, but this one boat was then the only one stirring. It was very still, and the air was heavy with the odour of balsam drifting down from the trees above. The west was soft with faintest rose of after-sunset. The

world was full of peace and beauty stretching ou'o and around the two in the boat, drifting aimlessly with the lifting and falling of tli.j water alontr the shore, that) set Hfetle rippled surging to and fro and widening toward the heart of the lake. Silence falling upon them, Allan had let bhe oars lie in the rowlocks so bhat they just trailed above the lako, making tiny ripples a.nd marring the reflection, and leaned forward, one elbow on his knee, watching Edith's eloquent face under its shadow of falling hair. His heart was in his eyes, and sine must have read his secret there had ahe raised her eyes ; but she kept them studiously upon the mad litfele eddies made by her hand in the water and the dancing glimpses thesa allowed of the bending face. They drifted beyond the gaze of those upon the hotel pizza, and Allan spoke suddenly, his voice very grave :

' Of what are you thinking, Edith ?' he asked, and he reached out to take in his the hand that was trailing along the water. But sho laughed wickedly, and drew it back. * You are not angry with me, dearest? , he added, hastily, glancing swiftly up into the bent face. ' What have I done to offend you ?'

She shrugged her shoulders wilfully, and would not answer, her head bent still lower to hide the mischievous lips that would smile in spite of her silence.

' Yon know that I go away to-morrow, and it is but- kind for you to parb friends with me after what you said to me that day—'

She interrupted him with a swift movement of her hands. She shook the water from the hand she bad trailed in the lake, and wiped it carefully upon her handkerchief as though that were her whole object in life. Then she lifted her head, and met his eyes steadily.

' Where are you going, Mr Mansfield ?' she asked, calmly. He had not told her yet. and she would know his errand or they could not part friends indeed, as she felb certain, after the mystery of his delirious ravings. It was but one week since he was able to leave his room and enter the life of the hotel again, and he had regained his strength very slowly. She was tempted to relent when she realised how weak he was, foe he grew pale to the lips at her question, and put his hand to his head, as though it were pain to think even of the old trouble. But when he answered her it was very calmly, and ho did not attempt to touch hßr hand again.

'As you know, Miss Hallston,'he said, quietly, 'nothing has been heard of Mr Montgomery since he stood with us upon the mountain that afternoon, three weeks ago ; and I shall take it upon myself to go to his home in Canada and learn if there has been hoard anything of him there. If not, I shall follow up what little clue I possess, and not stop till I have either found him or discovered where ho is.'

She glanced up swiftly from under her lashes, bub let her eyes drop immediately upon meeting his steady gaze. 'Then you have some clue?' she asked, aimlessly. She did nob kno # w what to say, and this came into her mind the first.

'It cannot be called exactly that,' he said, smiling ; ' it is nob even so much as that word implies, but it may lead mo to discover his whereabouts, if anything, else fails.' ' It hasn't anything to do with murderers and strange women and the heart of the woods, I suppose,' began Edith, with no other object than to tease her companion. But the consequence of her words was star.tling. Allan started, dropping one of the oars in his excitement, his face like death, and a horror in his eyes as he glanced across at the girl. His oath flashed befcre him in letters as vivid as fire. His hand trembled violently as he leaned over the side of the boat, reaching for the oar. He could scarcely control his agitation.

' What do you mean ?' Allan aeked, as, wibh a powerful effort, he regained his self-command and bhe oar. Hβ raised his hand to his head with bhab pathetic motion, that brought bhe swift pity to the eyes of the girl, though she would not yob give up her endeavour to make him tell her whab she desired to know in regard to bhe mystery half revealed by his delirium. ' How do you know anything of whab happened thab night, _ Edith ? Iβ it possible,' a deepening of the dread on his face, ' that I told anything of thab during my illness ? Will you nob tell me, if you have one atom of love or pity in your heart— . He was growing rather incoherent.

Edith lifted her head proudly. Whab was ib to him whether or nob her hearb was hard or pitiful ? Had he ever renewed the subject begun under the black heavens on thab afternooß that came so near ending his life : She shrugged her shoulders with great carelessness, and raised her eyebrowe in mild disdain.

' I'm sure I never professed to own such encumbrances as eibher love or pity, Mr Mansfield. And whether I had or not, what is ib to you? You are going away to-morrow, and will soon forget such matters in the new excitement of your old murder and strange women whom you have known and the mysberious woods—' • Forbear !' he cried, in sudden, uncontrollable excitement, reaching out hi 3 hand toward her, as though to silence her harsh words, ' What are you saying, Edith ? Do you know—can you not realise what you are doing ?' Then once more, with that stern struggle with his weakre&s, he added, more quietly : ' Edith, my dearesb, I have nob asked you to renew the sweat promise you made me that afternoon when we were on the mountain. Do you wonder at this ? You cannot know my reason for my silence, nor of the strugglalhave had tokeepthiseilence. Bub ib seemed to me the only honourable course. There is some terrible mystery upon me thab I have given my oath shall not be revealed for one year. I have sworn it, Edith, by all my hope ot your love, by my love for my mother, by my hope in a hereafter, and if I should break this oath there shall come upon me not only death, bub also the death of her whom I hold the dearest thing in the world. Do you understand, Edith ? Do you know why I can tell you nothing yet ? Thab my only hope for the future is to keep from you or anyone the knowledge of whab 1 passed through that endless night of my fir6b arrival. Ko word of ib can pass my lips until the year has gone. Even a hinb will bring the terrible revenge. Ib seems to have made an old man of me, dearest, in these three weeks, more than the fever could have done. •And I could nob, I told myself, ask for your love—this I said when I was calmer, as 1 grew better—until I could tell you what I passed through thab firat terrible night. I said thab I could nob come to you and ask for your love, and keep thab secret from you. I musb have the mosb perfect faith in ray darling and she in me.' He paused from sheer weakness, and his white face was very pathetic, appealing to the girl's warm heart. The words of his mother flashed back upon her as she sat for a moment in silence : 'You will be good to him if there is erer need, dearest.' Had she forgotten that ? Had she for one moment forgotten the tender pleading of the mother's voice? She leaned forward. They wore in the shadow of the underbrush growing on the edge of bhe lake, and with her bwo small hands she drew down the hands with which he had for a moment covered his agitated face. There were tears in her eyes, and a quiver around the sweeb red mouth that must have melted the sternest heart. 'My poor Allan !' she said, softly—ah! very softly indeed, as she met with this face the pallid face of her companion. ' Did you truly bhink Edith Hallston has no heart, no pity ? Are you not very, very sorry for so slighting her ? Are you not to

beg her deepest pardon for such sin ? Are you nob to say bhat, even if you cannot tell her this dreadful mystery-as though a woman could not trust the man she loves to that extent! Poor woman indeed she must be, if she cannot ! Is that all the faith in the sex you have learned from your mother—'

There was never any conclusion to this very pretty speech. Miss Hallsfcon's hands were taken with considerable energy in the hands she removed frem the man's face, and the same man, with remarkable assurance, changed his seat for one beside her, setting the oars quivering through the water and thick ripples surging out from the boat as though the lake had suddenly gone crazy with happiness. Miss Hallsfcon's face, having no sofa cushions handy, was iorced to hide itself upon Mr Mansfield's shoulder, and her beautiful hair became dreadfully rumpled, with his lips against it in a. most familiar manner.

Nevertheless, Miss Hallston made no objection to this exchange of resting-places, and took it quite coolly, all things considered, as though this were, in truth, the better resting-place of the two ; and the boat drifted on with reckless ripples, with the oars trailing aimlessly in the water. By and by Miss Hallston remembered that ifc must be time to return to the hotel, as darkness was fast settling over the lake, and her companion, very unwillingly, it must be confessed, resumed his former seat, and took up the oars. • l r ou will sing for me fchis last night upon the water, my dearest?' he asked, as he burned the boat's head up the lake. ' It may be a long cime before I see you again, and I shall remember your voice in the stillness, and with the fragrance of the pir.ea, as though you were somehow with me, even in my absence.'

' I am afraid my voice isn't in singing order, Allan,' she said, softly, a slight break in the low bones. ' Bub 1 will do my besfe for you. I shall remember, maybe, as well as somebody else, that wo rowed here in the shadows—'

He came near endangering their lives again as he leaned over to silence the faltering words. 'Give mo that old, old—oh, dreadfully old song of the " the moon falling over the fountain and the days among the hills." It is always sweets, dearest,' said Allan.

And Edith, with a new sense of submission, lifted her really pretty voice in the serenade to Juanita.

They came out in sight of the piazza as she finished the soft old song, and leaning , over tho side of the boat, she trailed her hand as carelessly in the dark waters of the lake as when they floated away not long before, in a far different mood. There was a light above the mountain as though beyond were some mystic fire to flame the mist into roso, and Edith, looking up as though her song were, of a trubh, her own heart's voice, said wistfully : ' Whab a wonderful moonri3e, Allan. I wonder if your mystery is as strange as thab light yonder !'

He turnad his gaze upon the mountain peak invisible in its hood of gauze, and an expression of awe fell upon his face. The eyes of the girl were bright, and as she turned her gaze she saw the look upon his face.

Obeying a sudden impulse, .she said softly :

' That rosy mist is bub a fit emblem of the mystery set in the very heart of bho mountain, isn'b ib, Allan ? Have you forgotten how near we both came to seeing beyond all mysteries thab day, not long ago? Whenever I think of that hideous serpent, and how soon ib would hare been boo labe—' He hushed the sadness of her voice with the reproachful look from hie eyes. Id was marvellous the way she obeyed his slightest look, when but one short hour before she had enjoyed, nothing, more than tormenting him, by utterly ignoring any tie of friendship between them. The boat ran up among the long grasses of the bank at that moment, arid he shipped his oars; rising to catch the anchor line. ' You are never to think of such horrible things, my dearest, any more,' ho said, as he helped her from the boat. There were too many eyes upon them for any warmer expression of sentiment, but to her, the tone in which these words were uttered told her moro than innumerable caresses could hare done. 'And it's very nice to think you're not sorry you saved me,' she said, laughing saucily, as they walked up the road to the hotel. ' It's very nice to feel that one belongs to some one who can give orders in such a peremptory manner, Mr Mansfield.' Then they both laughed like happy children, and the night wind bore, perhaps, this sweeb submission to the rosy mist wrapping the mountain-peak in its folds. ( To be Continued.)