A Daughter of Midian.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXI, Issue 310, 29 December 1900, Page 6

A Daughter of Midian.

By JOHN K. LEYS.

Author of "A Sore Temptation," "The Thumb Print," "The Broken ■Her/ "In the Toils," "A Million of Money," etc., etc., etc.

SYNOPSIS OP PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

CHAPTER I.—Professor Zucatti. an Italian palmist, is consulted by a lady Miss Grant, as to an undertaking oi> which Is about to embark. iie has met Her previously at a garden party at Spezzia. He consults her hand and tells1 her that her future is fraught with great danger. She desires to look in a magic crystal which the professor has lying on a" table, and she makes the necessary arrangements.

CHAPTER II

WHAT WAS SEEN IN THE CRYSTAL.

The crystal seemed to gather up Into itself what little light there was in the room; and the lady soon found

that the natural effect of looking at it

under such circumstances was to make it difficult for her to turn her eyes away from it. The dull light which it emitted fascinated her. She felt that she was not quite herself—that she was being subjected to an influence which she neither understood nor desired. And yet she could not break the spell. She could not rise up and leave the room. Her eyeballs ached with continuous gazing, but she scarcely dared to close them.

At length it seemed to her that the crystal "was gleaming with an increased brilliancy. It seemed to be emitting light, like a lamp or a candle, not merely reflecting it. And while Miss Grant was trying to decide whether this was really the ease, or whether she was the subject of an optical delusion (natural enough under the circumstances) a luminous haze spread over the crystal, and the lady shuddered as if'she were in the presence of unseen Powers. She knew that the haze could not be caused by anything in the room.

Gradually the mist cleared away, and a picture was visible, shining up, as it were, through the crystal Involuntarily the lady's fingers clutched those of her companion, and sne bentcloser over the table, devouring the picture with her eyes. The next moment she sprang to her, feet, throwing the Professor's hand away from her in her excitement. "It is the very place!" she exclaimed, in a low, awe-struck voice. "Don't you see it?" , "You forget that the vision is for yourself alone,'-' returned the Professor. "I see the surface of the crystal and nothing- more." "It is strange—very strange," murmured the lady. "What is strange, Miss Grant? Can you not describe what you see?" "It is the garden of the house at Spezzia where I met you last year! I recognise it perfectly. There is the villa, with, its shaded windows, and the scrap of lawn, and the hedge of myrtle separating it from the road, and the clump of olive trees to the

left, t is wonderful Her voice died away, for even as she r,poke the picture faded from her Bight, leaving- the cloudy surface empty. She re-seated herself, and the Professor again took her hand. She continued gazing, and presently the radiance became brighter, and a landscape became defined, as soon as it was visible the Italian, who was looking at the crystal over the lady's shoulder, startled, gave a cry, and dropped her hand. Miss Gront scarcely noticed this, she was looking so intently at the picture before her.

This is what she saw. A range of mountains, and in the foreground a precipice. At the foot of the precipice lay the figure of a man, motionless, dead. It was evident that he had fallen, or had been pushed, over the precipice. On the verge, peering down, as if to judge of the result of Jils handiwork, a man bent over; and a ■woman was crouching- behind a rock ar the foot of the cliff, only a few

yards from the corpse. This picture remained visible longer 4lian Ihe other, though the light dickered, waxed and waned, so that it was n."t always clearly recognisable. Sliss Grant sat gazing at it as if fascinated. Could that woman be meant for her? Did it mean that she, she herself, was to be an accessory to a *rime —to a murder? For there could joe no doubt that that was the meaning of the mysterious picture. Was this the -disaster the palmist had spoken of? £he shuddered, and drew back and at £he instant of her moving the picture iegan to fade. When she looked again the crystal -was still dimly radiant, but mo trace of form was to be seen. Turning- half-round in her chair the lady

sat for a minute in silence, then looking- ujd her eyes met those of the Italian. He had seated himself at the other end of ihe table, and she imagined, though it was difficult to be sure in the semi-darkness of the room. that he was paler than he had been. Then she remembered his sudden cry. '"I understood," she said with a half smile, lithat only the person consulting the crystal could see the picture that is formed in it." "As a rule, no doubt, that is so," stammered the Italian. "And yet you saw this one?" •'lt must have been—the effect of

the personal harmony between us at the moment. I saw —or thought I saw — something. But tell me what appeared to you." '"It was the scene of a murder. A man had thrown another over a preci-

picv. And there was a woman —who apparently had been a witness, perhaps an accomplice. Tell me—do you think this means that I am one day to take part in such a tragedy?" "Xo. Oh, no. I do not think it can mean that." "Did you see what I have describ:ed?" demanded the lady. "Yes—something of the sort." "What made you cry out and shrink back when the picture appeared?" "Did I cry out? It must have been

surprise. T don't think I ever before saw a picture reflected from the mmd of another." It appeared as if Miss Grant had scarcely heard this explanation. Her eyes had fallen on the floor, and her eyebrows were knited in thought. Raising- her eyes suddenly. she searched the face of the Professor, as if seeking there a clue to the problem that was puzzling her. "I suppose all this means that 1 ought not to go on with the scheme I mentioned to you," she said, quietly. "But I cannot give it up. I am, in a sense, committed to it; and besides, the temptation is too strong. It has occurred to me that perhaps—for a consideration, perhaps—you would be willing to help me with it. There is just this difficulty, that we are all but strangers to each other." Instead of answering her at once the professor rose, and, muttering an apology, began to draw back the curtain that was stretched over the window, and to pull aside the blinds. He did this in order that he might be able to conceal his agitation. Ever since he had entered the room he had been puzzling himself to find some way of forming a bond of some kind between this woman and himself. It had been to him an intolerable thought that in a few minutes she would be gone, and he would see her no more. He could hardly hope, he had told himself, that Fate would ordain that her path should cross his again. He had found her only to lose tier. And now with her own lips she was inviting him to join her in some 1

enterprise, to become her partner, her I friend. Was it not possible, at least, ' that this intercourse would lead to ! the fulfilment of his hopes? ' | Bivfc even when he is in love an Italian retains something of his native shrewdness. He remembered that he must not seem too eager. If lie of- • fered his services at once and unre- ■ servedly, as he felt inclined to do, the j lady would be inclined to undervalue j them —perhaps she would begin to '. suspect that he had some ulterior | motive in acceding so promptly to j her suggestion. He therefore an- i swered politely, but in general terms, and without displaying any great enthusiasm, that he would be honoured ! at being allowed to serve her in any way. "Oh, wait till you know what I

want of you before you say that!" she exclaimed. "But of course you are not in earnest." "But I am," said the Professor, with a look that told the lady more than he meant her to know. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be able to help you in ?iny way. I am only telling you the simple truth." "I believe you, Signor; and thank you a hundred times. But I say again you do not know what you are prom- ', ising. In order to get your help, ' which I believe would be very valuable to me, and ma}' be absolutely necessary, I must confide in you. And if I confide in you I put myself in your power. But I am ready to do this. One must risk something, and I think I can trust you." "Indeed, madam, you can!" "I will think it over," said the lady, ' after a moment's pause, "and if tomorrow I still feel inclined to make

a confidant of you. I will come to you again. Will you pardon me if I say no more at present?" The smile with which this was said made it impossible for the Italian to

take offence, though his disappointment was keen. She gave him her hand, and he raised it respectfully to his lips. He opened the door for her, and escorted her to the street door, and then returned to the room he had just left. His face wore a troubled look, and he paced up and down in great perplexity of mind. After a time he threw .himself upon a couch, and lay there for some minutes, brooding. He was startled by a low growl of thunder. "I knew it!" he muttered to himself, as he slowly got up and glanced at the large skylight in the ceiling to make sure that it was close shut. There was no other window in the room, and he went down to the ground floor and looked into the street. A lurid light filled all the air. The sultriness was unbearable. The Italian's nerves were tingling in sympathy with the electrical condition of the atmosphere. Making his way to the top of a flight of steps which led down to the basement, he called softly —"Pietro!" A door opened' somewhere in the gloom below, and a voice answered in Italian. "I am here, master!" "Come here, Pietro." A tall, swarthy youth, with magni-

ficent dark eyes, slowly ascended the stairs. "Do you know, Pietro, that you made a mistake this afternoon?" The youth started, and a look oi' fear came into his face. "Impossible, padrone! I am always most careful. Surely that cannot be!" "It is. nevertheless, certain. But do not be afraid. I am not angry with you. It was t\e finger of Destiny. Don't tell me that it was an accident! Nothing happens by accident —nothing—nothing!" The Italian's strange words, and still more his wild manner and the steely glitter in his eyes, terrified the boy. He shrank away from him. de-

scending in a stealtny way two steps of the stairway. "I told you that you need not be afraid," said Zucatti in a milder tone. "These things happen by the will of God, or by " He stopped, for a loud peal of thunder broke over their heads, while at precisely the same instant the dark passage in which they stood was lit up by a blinding flash of lightning-. The Professor staggered against the wall, and hid his face in his hands. Pietro tumbled headlong down the flig-ht of steps and disappeared. At that moment .1 loud peal sounded on the door bell. Zuentti crossed himself without knowing- it. and made his way along the passage to the street door, and threw it open. Two Sisters of some religious order stood there, crouching as near as they could to the door to avoid the rain, which was now coming down in a sheet of water. The Italian's face lighted up with joy when lie saw them; and he welcomed them with an effusive gratitude that would have been almost comical,if his terror had not been so real. '"Come in, come in, Sisters!" he cried, holding the door open to its utmost width. "The Blessed Virgin has surely directed you to me. You are a thousand times welcome!" Another blinding flash of lightning fell from heaven, followed by a crash of thunder, as he was in the act of closing the door behind the two Sisters, but Zucatti did not seem to fear it now. He led his visitors into the small sitting-room from which he had watched Miss Grant, and made them sit down. "But yon are wet! You are dripping wet —is it not so?" he asked in Italian, forgetting- for the moment that he was not in Italy, and then repeated what he had said in English. '"We are not very wet, thank you. We got to your door just in time," said -the elder of the two Sisters, raisingl a pair of soft brown eyes to the Professor's face.

"Then you wore not intending to come to me?" He asked the question as if he would prefer to hear that the visit had been an accidental one; ajid the younger Sister assured him that it was so. "We have been collecting money for 3ur poor children," said she; "and when the storm came on we did not know where to go for shelter, and noticing your name on the door, we ihought that, being an Italian, you

would perhaps give us shelter." "Indeed, yes! lam most happy to see you. It was my good angel guided ; you to me." |He spoke with a fervour which made I the sober, matter-of-fact sisters stare a : little; but seeing- that he had noticed ' their look, with one consent they dropped their eyes. i "Let me explain," he began, as if ! anxious to continue talking-. "The thunder, it affects me dreadfully. It sounds like the—like the voice of the Judgment fceat. But while you are with me, while I am performing an act of charity—though a privilege—l am safe. lam not afraid." "If one has a good conscience, one is never afraid," said1 the elder Sister, again raising her sweet, serious eyes to his nervous face. "Ah, yes!" He shrugged his shoul-

ders. "But how many of us, living in the world, have good consciences?" "My friend, if our consciences are not in a good state, we ought to cleanse them. Otherwise it- is not

safe." And as if to corroborate her words the thunder once more cracked and pealed over their heads. The Italian only sinilect, and looked I down. j "It is not the thunder that makes it i dangerous," said the Sister, but Zucatti had lost his terror. ''By the saints, you are right; but I the thunder is terrifying, nevertheless, j except to those who are devout. And i you—you who are engaged in such a j work of charity are doubly safe. You said you were collecting money, did you not, for your orphans?" "Orphans and penitents,1' struck in the younger sister. She was a stout, comfortable looking little person, with a good-humoured, not to say jolly, look; while her companion with the speaking brown eyes was thin and fragile looking1. '"You will permit me to aid in the good work?" said Zucatti, taking a piece of gold from his purse, and handing it to the younger Sister, who bore the bag. Botli Sisters murmured their thanks, and after a short time prepared to take their leave, for the violence of the storm showed signs of abating. But the Professor would not let them go. He managed to engage them in eon-

versation, and paid no attention to the thunderclaps that had terrified him before. They talked of Italy, and the position of the religious orders there and in England. "We are a modern congregation, not an enclosed Order," explained the elder Sister, "and we call ourselves Sisters of Bethany, being- chiefly engaged in works of charity. We should be glad to see you if you care to visit our house." This, however, the Italian would not promise to do;, and the Sisters no-: ticed with pain that he always mar aged to avoid any direct reference i< the practices of relic-ion. But at length the sky cleared: the

thunder muttered and growled, instead of crashing with soul-terrifying nearness, as it had done half-an-hour before. The Sisters rose, and the Italian foMowerl them to the door, thanking them again for their visit. As the elder Sister passed out he stealthily bent down and kissed tho edge of her robe. Then he raised himself erect, and t new strength showed itself in his eye, in his bearing. "T will write it all to my old friend!" he said to himself. "That will fortify my mind and make me see things more clearly." Sitting down at a writing-table, h" chose a larrre sheet of paper, and wrote rapidly for the greater part of two hours. (To he continued daily.)