A Daughter of Midian.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXII, Issue 13, 16 January 1901, Page 6

A Daughter of Midian.

By JOHN K. LEYS. Author of "A Sore Temptation," "The Thumb Print," "Th« BroTten Fetter," "In the Toils," "A Million of Money," ttc., etc., etc.

CHAPTER Km. (Continued.)

rfhere was a little inn, where I washfed my face, and got a cup of coffee. 'At half-past eight I set out for Low Fell House, for I wished if possible to see Mrs. Leadbitter before the letter reached her.

Early as it was, I was admitted at once, and shown into a small nicelyfurnished room, evidently kept for receiving visitors. In a minute or two ithe door was opened, and a woman entered —a woman about my own age, | itall as I am myself, with features and eyes like mine. From the first instant I saw her I never doubted who she was. There was a subdued excitement in her manner as she closed the door behind'her and came up to me. "Are you Miss Grant?" she asked £n a cold but trembling voice. "Yes; that is my name." "You wish to see Mrs. Leadbitter? {She is not very well this morning, and she has asked me to see you in her place." Something seemed to choke me. I Could not say a word —only stared at her stupidly. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she said. Her tone was as cold as her words, but I noticed that she twisted my card nervously between her long white fingers. "Has the post come yet?" I blurted 'out. Miss Grant looked surprised, as well fehe might; and yet that tremulous, half-subdued excitement was there in her manner all the same.

"No," she said. "We don't get our letters till half-past nine." "Because there is one coming to iMrs. Leadbitter —about me. I would like to see her before she gets it."

I was speaking at random. Somehow I could not control my thoughts, so as to put the strange story I had to tell in a rational way. Yet I must say something, and that soon. "You are Miss Grant," I said, bending forward in my eagerness. "Would you mind my asking if you have a sis;ter?" It was a second or two before the answer came. "I believe I had a sister who died •when she was a baby." The tone in ;which she spoke was cold as ice.^ "Are you sure she did die?" I iasked in a whisper. "I—i was a child at the time, but I have no doubt that she died, as they told me." "Sidney! Don't you know me/ Don't look at me like that! lam your Bister!" I had sprung to my feet, and was ready to run to her and embrace her; but she remained sitting, as stiff and formal as though she were giving- a Trench lesson. "This is very strange," she said. "What reason have you for thinking ;that you are my sister?" . . For answer I went up to her and took her hand. There was a mirror over the chimney-piece. I led her up to it, and pointed to the two faces side by side. . "Isn't that proof enough?" I asked. "Oh, Sidney, I have never known Iwhat it was to have anyone belonging to me! Don't turn away from me, just when I have found someone to care for me! If you knew what it .•was to be brought up like an outcast " \ I suddenly stopped, for I knew that J was on the point of breaking down. "Sit down, and let us talk it out ;quietly," said Sidney, in a. kinder voice than she had used to me yet. She put me on the sofa, and sat down beside me. "How do you know —what' reason have you to think thafyou are my sister?" ,■.'-■ . '. . Then I began at the beginning, and iold her the whole. story of my life. She listened to me in silence till she understood.that f had had the effrontery to pass myself off for her, and .■was actually staying .at Inveroran Castle itt her name.;" Then she flushed scarlet and rose to her feet, .quite unable to control her indignation; ' "And you dare to come' here and Confess', this to me!" ishe cried;- Alas! I had riot only done it, but'had come ,to Scarton with, no other object than to persuade her and Mrs. Leadbitter to conceal the imposture. Yet I did jiot despair. "Listen to me a moment, sister, beSore you condemn me," I said. "Eeanember that I was like a child lost on one of your hills, and that I had no tother way of finding out the truth about my parents. It was that or nothing. As for Mr. Mitchell, I still think that I was justified in deceiving him. He must have some interest in keeping me in the dark, else why \ should he have taken such pains to tide me away from the world, and separate me from you?" For some seconds Sidney was silent. She seemed to have forgotten for the jmoment her grievances against me. "I believe Mr. Mitchell has reason to "fear us, or to be ashamed for something he has done," she said. "If not, ;why should he offer to settle money ion me on condition that I give up all Claims upon him? What claims have I upon him? I know of none. He brought'me here when I was a mere child, and paid for my education, so I suppose I ought to be grateful to him. ■But lam not. I feel certain that he did not do all this for me without a reason. He says I have no rights, and •I am bound to believe him—-"

She stopped suddenly, and again a fleep blush spread over her face. I knew what she was thinking of. "Sidney, if our father and mother .-were not properly married, it was not their fault," I said firmly. "It was ■an accident that might have happened to anyone living in that unsettled country. Don't think of it again. And, if we are sisters, as I have no doubt we are, that can be no reason for our not loving each other. I am ready to love you, Sidney, if only you ■will let inc."

Sidney said nothing, but she shrank a little away from me. I could see that there was a struggle going on in her mind—a struggle about me; but what the nature of it was I could not tell.

"You must tell Mr Mitchell who you are," she said at length. "Not yet, Sidney!" I pleaded. "Don't force me to tell him until I can prove who I am, and can learn what it is he is so anxious to conceal from us. Do you think our father can have left money which Mr. Mitchell is keeping from us?" "No. From all I have ever been told, my father died a poor man." "But he may have been entitled to some property. Did he leave any will, do you know?" "I believe not. I never heard of any will." Again, there was a short silence. "You will keep my secret, Sidney?" 1 said, timidly. My sister shook her head, and my heart sank. It was hard that the only relative I had in the world should take part against me! At that moment a tall figure that I recognised as the postman's passed the window.

"And the letter, Sidney?" I ventured. "Will you not help me a little?" "What is it you wish me to do?" she. asked, stiffly. "Ah, Sidney, how cold you are!" She looked troubled, and turned away her head; but there was an obstinate look on her handsome face.

"What is it you wish me to do?" she repeated. "Only to persuade Mrs Leadbitter not to answer the letter from Miss Dalrymple. After all, Miss Dalrymple and Mr. Durant are both of them strangers to Mrs. Leadbitter. There is no necessity for her to answer the letter at all."

' Sidney did not answer me, but she rang- the bell, and had the letters brought to her. I easily picked out the one I had followed all the way ' from Scotland. "I will take it up- : stairs with the others, and see what j Mrs. Leadbitter says about it," said Sidney, as she left the room with the letter in her hand. In a few minutes she came back, her hands empty. "The letter from Miss Dalrymple is exactly what you supposed it to be," she said. "Miss Dalrymple says ! she believes Mrs. Leadbitter has a i governess called Miss Grant, and she begs to be told whether Miss Grant is still an inmate of her house, and | whether she is at home at present, Mrs. Leadbitter did not pay any particular attention to the letter, and when I offered to attend to it jshe said that would be the best way." "And you won't answer it, Sidney? Tell me that you won't'answer it!" "Not at present," said Sidney, _as quietly as if she had been deciding some point of school routine.- "I will ; "-ive you a little time to carry out your plans with regard to Mr Mitch- : ell. I think he deserves no consid- : eration from either of us, for I agree with you that it is not a philanthropic motive that has prompted him to act as he:has done by us. But of course I cannot allow you to go about the world under my name for an indefinite time. In a week or two, you must tell Mr Mitchell plainly who you ' are, or I must write to him myself." ! - "Thank you, Sidney " ' And in | spite of all my efforts my voice broke. i "It is more than I had any right to i expect from you." I I suppose something of what was ;iu my heart was visible in my face, j for Sidney's face altered a little, and once more she turned her head ! away as she spoke to me. "I suppose you are my sister, though we have no proof of it," she said, in her cold, ! even tones. "But, even if it is so, I 1 can't pretend to be able to feel as I you would like. I can't get up an i affection at a moment's notice for any I one. By and by, perhaps, it may be ! "different."

The last words were spoken abruptly, hurriedly, as if they had not been premeditated, as most of Sidney'swords seemed to be. She kissed me coldly on the cheek, and I went away. The tears would come in spite of all I could do. I felt as though I had lost a sister rather than gained one. It was small consolation to be to remember that in a sense I had succeeded, and that for a few days, at all events, the imposture I had been practising was to be concealed.

I caught a return train to Carlisle and was in time for the day express, reaching Inveroran the same night.

(To be continued.)