IN CUPID'S CHAINS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 90, 14 April 1908, Page 6

IN CUPID'S CHAINS.

SY CHARLES GARVICE

CHAPTER HI. Lord Norman ran along the garden-paf-is and across the lawns towards the urineroal entrance to the great house. The sun was shining full upon the longsiretchirig facade, of old red stone, and causing the innumerable windows to like so many huge diamonds. The place was palatial in its size and architecture and a wide terrace stretched, alon" the whole length of the building, against which gleamed at intervals.superbly executed marble statuary. A broad flight of white stone steps led to the terrace, flanked on either side by a life-size leopard—the crest of the Cheneys. These heraldic monsters, crouched as if for the spring, seemed, with their half-opened mouths and startine eyes, as if they were waiting to pounce upon the lad; but they made no imoression upon him, for he, boy-like, even touched one on the nose as he ran lightly up the steps. The-hall door was open, and he passed in. It was a vast place, which would have been-sombre but for the sunlight which streamed through the open door, and softened the oaken panels and antique furniture, and gleamed upon the breast-plates of the men in armour, and the gilt frames of the big family portraits. Lord Norman looked round in search of a servanifo announce him, but there was be seen, and he stood smoothing his tumbled hair, uncertain what to do or where to go. He was half inclined to suspect that Silas Fletcher had invented the message just to get rid of him, and was thinking of running back to the cottage garden — Madge and "Robinson Crusoe"—when he heard voices proceeding from what he knew was the library, though he had not yet entered it.

He flung himself down on an outer seat near the door of the room, thinking that some one would be sure to come out of it presently, and idly began to examine an old cabinet oi ancient arms which stood near him. It was a delightful cabinet full of the most charmingly blood-curdling weapons —swords with hacked edges, clumsy pistols, such as Dick Turpin might have carried, sinister Malay creeses and deadly looking daggers with jewelled handles —and he was so absorbed in these treasures that he had almost forgotten the earl and Ms message, when some words spoken by the earl's voice itself smote upon his eaTs, and forced him to listen, whether he would or not. The earl's voice was never loud, but it was particularly clear —clear and hard, like the fall of a piece of metal on stone —and every word reached Lord Norman as distinctly as if he had been in the room itself. "Fletcher," said the voice, "you are, as you always were, a coward. Oh, I do not blame you. You but follow the instincts, display the nature, of your class. One does not look for spirit, courage, in such as you. You can not help it. But you waste yonr breath when you endeavour to infect mc with your craven fears and timid apprehensions. Pshaw, man! do you think that I am likely to turn back now, after all these years? Do you think—you, who should know mc if any man should—that I am likely to swerve from my purpose at the bidding oi your croaking! If you do, you deceive yourself. Granted that what you have done, and what I have done —for I am more than content to take the whole responsibility—is a crime. What then?" There was a pause, and another voice, which Lord Norman recognized as that of Fletcher, the steward, Silas's father, muttered something. "Pshaw 1" retorted the earl, "that is an idle superstition. Crimes are not always discovered. There is no adage so false as the one which always makes your white-livered class quake and tremble. "Murder will out!' Murder very often will not out. There are scores of murders, the perpetrators of which have never been discovered. They are not only not hung, but, in all probability, are leading respectable and extremely prosperous and comfortable lives." "'This was not murder," Lord Norman heard the steward falter. ''Exactly; and, therefore all the less likely to be discovered," said the Earl's metallic voice. '"Who is to peach upon ns? Who is to discover it? The secret is yours and mine. Only two-: — " ' 'You—you dont know that, my Lord." There was a pause, then the cold voice sounded again. "You think she may have confided her story to some one before she died? I think not. I knew her better than you did, Mr. Fletcher. You and 1 are the only two who hold the history in our hands. Mine will not open and disclose it, and yours " There was a significant pause. "You can trust mc, my lord," came the steward's voice. The earl laughed, an unniirthfnl, contemptuous laugh. "I know that. You dare not open your lips, even if you wished to. You are a participating criminal —you see, I do not shirk the work—you concurred in the plot which I conceived I dare say, if justice overtook ns—l think that is the kind of phrase in vogue —your punishment would be more severe than mine. I am a peer, you see, and they let us off easily; while you—well, you are —nothing, a nobody, and would probably go to penal servitude for as long a term as they could send you." The steward muttered , something hoarsely, and the earl laughed scornfully contemptuously. ''Tut. man, you are out of sorts; your nerves are out of order. Why have you become so scrupulous all of a sudden? The boy is well enough. He will make a very fair earl. He Is strong and handsome enough." "Tie is wilful and headstrong," said the steward. 'T can see that, my lord." The earl laughed again. "All the Chesneys are and were," he said, abruptly. "But headstrong as he is, he will find mc stronger; strong enough to map out his future for him.

He shall not make the mistake I made. I have taken steps to prevent that already. I wrecked my life because Lhad no one to point out the shoals and rocks' in the cart. I will take good care that he does not follow my example. In half an hour I shall have set him upon the course I intend him to sail over, and I will take care he follows no other." "You mean, my lord —" said the steward. "I mean —you shall see." "My lord, take care!" murmured Fletcher. "I can conjecture what you would do; but he is a lad as yet—a mere boy." The earl broke in with a kind of cold ferocity: "He is not too young to know my will, and learn that he has to bend to it," he said. "From him I will brook no disobedience. I maue him; I can mar him." Lord Norman had listened up to now in a kind of stupor. But at this point it came home to mm that the lad they were talking of was himself; and being an honourable boy, he sprang to his feet, and with a flushed face, pushed open the door and entered the room.' Tlie earl —tall, thin, and gaunt, with shaggy brows over dark' and piercing eyes—sat in an elbow-chair by the table, on the other side of which stood Hiram Fletcher, the steward, his long, claw-like hands holding a sheaf of papers. Fletcher started, and allowed a faint murmur of surprise and consternation to escape his thin lips as the lad entered; but the earl expressed no surprise by word or gesture, but frowned fiercely down at the boy's flushed, handsome face, and regarded hiim in silence. It was Lord Norman who first spoke. "You sent for mc, sir?" he said, raising his eyes steadily to the earl's. "I did," was the response in the bard, metallic tones. "How long have you been herf —in this house?" Lord Norman reflected for a moment. "I don't know how long. I was sitting outside in the hall. Fletcher clutched his papers convulsively; but the earl did not move a muscle. "Outside the room here? Then you have been eavesdropping—listening?" he said, with icy contempt. Lord Norman's face grew redder for a moment, then pale. "No, I haven't," he said, with a kind of indignation. "I couldn't help hearing what you said. The door was open— you spoke distinctly " Fletcher gave a kind of and the earl glanced at him with haughty displeasure. "It is of no consequence,'' he said, coolly, after a moment or two of reftec-. tion; "but for the future remember that when you are listening to the conversation of persons who consider-, themselves alone, it is.your duty to acquaint them with your presence." "I, came in as soon as I knew—or • thought—you were talking of mc," said Lord Norman, his bright eyes meeting the earl's stern ones unflinchingly. There was a spell of silence; then the earl; said: "You are right, we were talking of you." Then, without looking at the steward, he said: "You can go, Fletcher." Fletcher straightened his bent back, gathered up some papers from the table, , and with a singular glance at the lad left the room. - The earl leaned his head upon his hand, and seemed as if he had forgotten the presence of the lad lor a time; then, with something like a sigh, he let his hand fall upon the table, and raised his head. . "How old are you?" he asked suddenly. "Sixteen, sir." , "Sixteen. At your age I was a man. But they manage things differently nowadays. But you are old enough to understand what I have to say to you. And, first, forget what you have heard just now; "it was not intended for your ears; it does not concern yout" "I will try, sir," said Lord Norman, but with a certain hesitation. "You had better," continued the earl, bringing his heavy brows down over his eyes, so that they looked like two oblong fiery slits. Lord Norman looked at his stern, fierce face calmly, attentively, but without the least sign of fear. "I sent for you," continued the earl, "because I wish to introduce you to the lady who will be your future wife." Lord Norman's eyes expanded, and he stared first at the speaker and then round the room. The earl smiled grimly; or, rather, the sternness of his countenance relaxed slightly. "You are surprised, I dare say," he said. "It is very likely that you have not thought of marriage." Lord Norman's face flushed as he thought of Madge and the bargain they had just made, but he said nothing. "You are young, even for sixteen, and your life has hitherto been that of a child, a school-boy. I can quite understand that what I have said _ should startle you; but I wish, I request"—the terrible voice grew sterner, harder, at the words — "that you will try and consider what I am going to say to you; try and realise that, for reasons best known to myself, your future life has been planned out for you. I said for reasons best knowii to myself. All those reasons I do not intend to tell you. You would not understand most of them. But this one you can understand. Look at mc, Norman!-"' There was no need for the command, seeing the boy's frank, startled eyes had scarcely left the earl's face; but he, however, gave a slight nod, as if to indicate that he was obeying. "Do I look a happy man?" demanded the. ear-. ■ . . Lord Norman felt that he" ought in politeness to answer in the affirmative, but his innate honesty and something in the face before him compelled i him to tell the truth. "No, sir," he replied. "You are right," said the earl, gravely. '•"Triers is no more wretched man on the face of God's earth." There was a pause, during which Lord Norman's eyes strayed from the harsh if ace round the room, with its carved ipanels of rosewood, its magnificent bookcases, its thick, silken hangings, the rare pictures and precious bric-a-brac, and then I to the open window, through which the famous Chesney Park stretched away. ; as it seemed, into infinity. : S The earl watched him. and, as if he •■■§? thoughts, said: l \ AtJ£. d " tha *- to believe, you are saymg to yourself; <He is Jan earl; this house, C*hesWchasf be jtlongs to him. He is rich, has ;.|of servants, and a hosTof hordes

money can buy; he can't be wretched and unhappy.' Is not that what you j were thinking?" ■ ■'-'-'•'i'■'". „ Lord Norman nodded. "Yes, si r -" " | "I thought so," said the earl. "And 1 yet, within your heart, as you look at mc, you know that what I.say. is true — that all the money in the world, or all its rank and honour, could not help mc. Do you wish to know what it is that has robbed mc of the power of enjoying all these good things, and has made me —what you see mc? I will tell you, Norman." He hesitated a second, and scanned the lad's face as if to learn whether he understood, then went on slowly, gravely: ""When I was a young man, scarcely older than you, I made the one mistake in life which can never be repaired—l made a foolish marriage. I bartered my happiness-,,for a foolish fancy. I thought myself in love, and only discovered my mistake when it was too late to break the chains that bound mc. Are you following mc? Do you understand?" Over the boy's frank and open countenance a kind of cloud had gathered, a look of troubled perplexity, as if he were trying to understand and realise what all this meant. "Yes, I think so," he said, in a low voice. "Yes, I think you do," said the earl. "At any rate, you comprehend sufficiently to understand why I am anxious to guard you against a similar mistake. I want you to realise that you are not free to waste your life as I have done. Remember that you will be the next earl. All this"—he slightly waved a long, thin hand—"will be yours. All this, and more than you can well imagine. You will be a great man, if you do not ruin your life as I have ruined mine. And I am going to try and prevent thai." . There was a pause. The earl looked not at, but through, the boy. The boy stared with a slight- frown of trouble and perplexity through the open window. Then the earl, as if awaking from a reverie, went on: "In less than four years you will be twenty. I intend you to marry then, and the lady whom I have chosen for you. Keep that thought before you. You- need say nothing about it to your school-fellows and friends, but bear it in mind. Say. to yourself, lam not free as other men are; I am pledged. My life is planned out for mc by one who is much wiser than I am, by one who has learned, by bitter experience, the pitfalls into which a man may fall— the things which bring ruin and misery.' I don't expect you to be grateful to mc —there is no such thing as gratitude— but I expect you, young as you are, to understand that what I am doing is for your good, and yours mainly." Lord Norman raised his eyes from the open window to the earl's stern face, and his lips opened, as if he were about to speak; but before he could utter a word, there came a knock at the door, and a servant entered. "Lady Delamoor, my lord," he announced in the hushed voice with which servants of Chesney Chase always addressed their master, the great earl. (To be continued daily.) The sweet girl strolled along the block. The cheeky dude remarked: "Ahem!" Not dreaming of the sudden shock That would reward his stratagem! The maid remarked, with humour grim: . "Tour cough seems bad to-<lay! I'm sure -You'd best take this!" and handed him A bottle of Woods' Great Peppermint Cure.