THE TRAGEDY OF REDMOUNT.

Auckland Star, Volume XXVII, Issue 270, 13 November 1896, Page 6

THE TRAGEDY OF REDMOUNT.

£F 3f£S E. M. HOLMES.

Jmbhor of • A Woman's Love,' ' Her Fatal

Sin,' Etc., Etc.'

OHAVTER XXII.

Thbt sought far and wide for Eunice, bub found no brace of her. She had gone-how or where nobody could tell-and if Raoul knew, he kept the secreb well guarded. They could leara nothing from him ; hia ete.rn silence might mean excessive grief or cold indifference for aushfc they knew. Ho Helped to their remarks and to Sidney s bursts of passionate reproach with his lips bq%, and an expression dark as guilt. If Bunice had come to shore with him, »nd had gone to her room that day, it was curious that none of the servants had aeon her —nob even her own maid. • Dead or alive, she Bhali be found ! 56. Clare had said when he realised the appalling truth. . Bub several days had passed since then— ehe was still absent, and they did not know wbere to look for news of her. If Sidney had disliked Raoul before, he now hated him too profoundly to care to disguise the facb. The two rarely met, and when they did, would exchange words of danperoua bitterness and enmity. Once in hia violent, headstrong way ho «aid : •If my grandfather and the servants hadn't known better than me, I should have aaid from the very first that you were no relation of mine !' ARd Raoul gave one of his slow, ineompreheuiiblo smiles, and looked down at hia frank antagonist with glitbering, halfclosed eyee. llb would take a wiser head than yours to prove that I am not,' he answered languidly. And then he burned away with a low laueh of subdued amusement. Sir Richard's sudden death had lefb Eaonl two weeks of undisturbed peace from the worry of hia tormentors. He did not delude himaelf with the false hope that they had forgotten him; he knew Bernard was ooly awaiting an opportunity to call, and Hilda bo accepb the offer of his hand, directly the time of mourning had passed. His promised meeting with fche gipsy had been delayed, and she had kepb away from KedmounD, knowing tho causo—afraid of the deception, that in the presence of death aeemad to her more berribld than when Raoul had been only aecoad in the home he now commanded. She half expected that he would go bo her and bell her again thab ehe should share his wicked triumph; bub day afber day sped by, and she never saw him once.

At last she made up her miad fco go tohim bo watch near the house until she could sea and speak with him. She bried to make herself lesß wild—more fib to be seen with him, and to put away the suspense and misery from her heavilyburdened hearb.

Her face wore a sweet, pale look of anticipation as she hurried down the long pathway to the house door, and hid beneath the shadow of the high portico.

It was raining slightly. She did nob expect he would venture oub- of tha house, for the evening- had set in cold, with fitful gusts of wind and misty vapours. If she were bo knock and estreat them to let her see Raoul, she knew she would be inataatly dismissed with threats, that would be carried oub if ebe refused to obey. She wondered how she could get into the house withoub being seen.

It was a daring thought, bub her eyes ached for & sight of Raoul. She felb that she coald dare anything to see him, to remind him of his promise, and thab the time of its fulfilment had come.

She waited there some minutes, determined to succeed in the purpose for which eho had gone there, and when the door preaently opened, and the ball figure of Raoul came out from the lighted hall, she sprang forward with a low, glad cry.

Tho morose darkness that had settled on his face since the disappearance of Eunice lighted with a sudden, swift) anger whoa he saw her, and stepping before her, he said curbly :

' Well, what do yon want now ?' She clasped her hands in intensity of feeling.

1 Only fco see you, Raoul—to know if you are well. Why have you not been to mo? 1 have waited quiefc so long ?'

•Then you might havo waited a little longer. Will you never learn to be diacreet?'

' Then why force me to this humiliation —this secrecy ? Can I bear more than I bare already borne for your sake ? lam tired of the life I am leading, and thore is bo need for waiting now.'

1 Yojn will nob have to waib !' lie said, with a darkj>Bmilo. 'Come Ela, pub aside that dismal look ; it is out of placa at a time like this. Do you not congratulate me ?'

' Hush Raoul !' she whispered, in a frightened tone. 'There is danger still. Woolff knows that we havo a secret. Morn, noon and night, he is near, watching ma. Sometimes I feel sick with terror of whab he may say next. lam afraid of him, Raoul —afraid that he may turn on me some day and kill me.'

Her voice sunk, and ehe looked back •hudderingly, as if she expected to see the dwarf following their steps.

' You are always fancying something ridiculous,' he replied, with a mocking light in his eyes. ' Perhaps you will suggest next thab it is possible for a dead man to be liring.1

She turned her face from him shivering, and a great labouring sigh broke from her pale lips.

' Raoul, never mock at that terrible past; I can't bear it. Had I loved you lgss, the truth would not havo remained hidden. I could not have kept silent. Don't remind me of my wicked part in what has been done.'

' Your part geeina to have been in trying your hardest to betray me,' he said sarcastically.

An expression of bitter disappointment crept into her face, and her eyes seemed to catch some of the shadows from the gloomy, depressed sky.

'I have been as patient as I could be,' she said in a dull voice ; ' and when I saw that you were likely to forget the promise you had made me, I could not keep away ; besides, I paw you with her,' she added in a low tone.

Instantly his fnce changed ; the look of fierce passion that swept over ib almost rendered her breathless with the dread that he meant to turn and strike her ; the pupils of his eyes dilated, warning her that he was fairly roused by her chance mention of Eunice.

' Are you angry btcause I spoke of her?' ehe asked, the bitterness in the question floo.ding her soul. ' Kaoul, you were cruel to let her love you.'

He glanced down at her and laughed strangely.

• The cruelty was in my having met you

too soon,' he said, with a calmness quite apart from the tumult on his face. Her hrow grew hob with a sudden flush that burned there and then faded as she made answer:

'Ib ia too late to regrob. If Miss Carlisle knew all would she consider ii a matter for regret ?'

He clenched his teeth together. • I would rather nob discuss thab lady with you,1 he said, in a tone that withered up her daring &nd made her feel that she had spoken far too recklessly. « 1 will walk back with "you to the encampment throagh the woodlands,' he Raid, presently, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. 'We can talk over the future and arrange for the marriage.'

Her face brightesed wonderfully with a sudden joy, but with a quick remembrance she hastened to say : 1 You shall nob come all the way with me, Raoul. Ido not want bo drag you into danger,' 1 That is a new idea,' he retorted, with the old sneer. ' You were not always so caroful of me ; besides, who ia there to harm me '!'

1 I would rafcher thab Woolff did not see H8 together, he is co fierce ot lute. I live in dread of him now, nnd he may try to harm you if he has theciianco.' • That is not likely, Ela. Ho would be afraid fco touch me '

She looked up in soma wonder. The confidence in bis tone seb her heart beating in a stiangp, startled manner. 'Are you sure?' she questioned, in a puzzied undertone, glancing round half ahudderingly ftt fche sodden branches, shivering and making weird gestures in the uncertain gußteof wind. ' That ugly little dwarf will live bo eervo me sooner or later !' he replied, with one of his fiendish amile*.

• How, Raoul 1 What service can he render you V 'One thab my win him my lasting grafcifcude. Much as he hates me, he would become my slave if I choose.' She tried to read his face more closely, nob understanding him by hia words. But he kept it still and changeless as a mask. 1 If he seems your slave, it ia only that he may more easily betray you !' eho insisted, with her face deathly white and her hands clasped with nervous force as she tried to still her fears.

What had she to fear ? She did nob know —she could nob bell—what it was filled her with cold shudders, as she moved with Raoul oub into the road, and into tho greyshrouded wooda.

The rain tailing more steadily now, fell with a miserable Houad againsb the myriad of lcavea, already soddened out of all colour. JSia asked Raoul why he chose to walk in the damp wood instead of taking her back tke usual way, and ho satiaficd her inquiry by telling her he had leo many things to say to her,' and could epeak there without dread of interruption. She could never afterwardß recall the time of thab dreadful walk withoub a feeling of acuteab aversion for its memory. She could never blot ib from her mind, though she hated to think of ib, nor would the sting of her wounded, mistaken faith ever leave her.

Ela was easily persuaded to believe that Raoul meant to atone for past neglect and wickedness,

She scarcely heeded thab they were going right into the thickest parts of the wood. Ib was only when some chance recollection brought to mind the spot where she had seen Duke lying lifeless under the trees thab ehe shuddered and said :

• Why did you bring me here ? I wish you had nob. IB is like an ill omen to have crossed this ground to-day.' Raoul glanced down in eosming carelessness. Tfaero ab his feob ho could still imagine ho saw the silent form, the poor bruised face, his own unsullied. Ho asked Ela why she trembled, in a voice that made her again afraid of him ; it was bo cold and void of any trace of feeling.

'I snppoee some of your people have made him a grave, Ela V She did not speak, she could not; but she ehook her head.

•Then, how could it have disappeared, clothes and all?'

Hh mouth lost its habitual line of mockery as he questioned her, and he looked bard into her face.

• How can I tell you what I do not know ?' she eaid, with evident agitation. ' You ask me what I can't explain.'

The intense anxiety writton in her dusky eyes, tha suppressed excitement in her tone?, were not lost on him. Ho said, slowly, watching her through the miat that penetrated to them : •You seemed disturbed by my question, la there anything in it to frighten you ?' Sho hesitated ero eha answered him, and some of the grey vapour eeemed creeping over her face, showing whitely against her dark hair.

'lam disturbed by recollections that ara too powerful to bear a thought. Kaoul, I'm sorry we've come hero. Oh, I wish wo hadn't—l do wish we hadn't.'

• Nonsense!' he muttered, harshly, • What have you gob to be afraid of V

Her former terror was with her again, the quailing, and tho wish to be with some of her own people. Sho turned once to hor companion with almost a prayer on her lips.

' Raoul, shall wo find happiness in the possession of that to which we have not the slightest right? Munb wa always live a life of deception, and go on struggling to nppear what we are not ?'

' You aro growing unusually conscientious all at once,'was Raoul's reply. • You should havo thought of that before. Thero is time yet for you to back away from the overpowering responsibilities of concealment you seem to dread. You can say eood-by to me, and save yourself all further trouble, it would bo your wisest plan, Leb mo nrge you to go away with your people—to remain with them, find give np all thoughb of a marriage thut can only make your life a curse.'

She lifted her hand, and touched him with a tenderness thab showed alio felt hia words wero spoken with a disinterested purpose, and she said, passionately :

'What you ask me to do I cannot. There is nothing so terrible to me as the thoughb of leaving you. I have told you that alreidy : why do you torture me afresh V

He would have to outwit thorn all ; ho meanh to try. He had begun with tho gipsy, whose only fault <vaa that &he too fondly loved him.

{To be Continued.)