WITH LOVE'S AID OR, WON AT LAST.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 170, 17 July 1908, Page 6

WITH LOVE'S AID OR, WON AT LAST.

By WENONA GILMAJN Author of "Evelyn, the Actress," "For Love Alone," "The Trials of an Actress," "Stella, the Star."

CHAPTER XXXIII. RUDOLPH'S RETURN". With weary, lagging steps Dorothy ] made her way up to her own room. I She listened until she heard the sound of Cameron's horse leaving the cottage grounds, and then she sighed wearily, ■ closing her eyes that she might still the ache in them. She had lost Cameron forever. To-mor-row—aye, this very evening s he would be known at Peak Castie by all the grand people, who had bowed down before her beauty and grace, as a nameless woman—the follower of a circus! How his words stabbed through her as she rccallod them! Need he have put them so hideously '■ plain: Everyone would be saying what he had said, only that there would be no love to soften their thoughts of her. | But had he loved her, after all, that he could abandon her for even that? i She smiled again, in spite of the ache in her head. She might drive throughout the country to-morrow, and every head would be turned from her. Of course, she would not go to the Massen dinn-er. They would be talking of her there—telling her pitiful secret, knocking her down from the little pedestal she had erected for herself with such infinite pains. Once she wns almost tempted to go i to hear what they would say, to see ' what they would do; and then she smiled again bitterly at her own folly. i Madam Delpre came in. She went to the girl gently, and taking- the little, despairing face between her hands, kissed j it. "Dorothy," she said softly, "have you told him?' , "Yes," she answered, without opening her eyes. "And what did he say, dear? Oh. don't tell mc! I read it in the desolation of, your beautiful face. Oh. Dorothy, how could a man give up a girl like you?" "Because he loved his name, his ancestral homo, better—because he could not give them into the keeping of a nameless woman, the follower after a circu«. the consort of thieves and gamblers!" "Dorothy"—ln a tone of horror—" "Kenneth Cameron could never have said that to you!" i "He did, nevertheless. He said those words, and they were just and right. I have no fault to find. I should have known better, and you should have known better. Ah! well, I don't suppose I shall care after the shock of it is over. I don't suppose 1 shall care!" "You will not! you shall not! Oh, Dorothy, I foe) so deeply, so penitently, the part that I have played in your apparent disgrace, but—l will make amends, dear. I will make such amends that Kenneth Cameron shall come to* you upon his knee.- suinc for pardon. He shall grove! in tlv dust." I'or tin , firs , , time the , girl straightened herself, the cold, steely look coming to her gray eyes that had characterised them several tiraes latelj - . "Of course, what you say is simply ridiculous!" she exclaimed; "but. even if it should prove so, d-o you think I would forgive him? Forgive him? Oh, yes, I have already done that. But do you think I could ever be to him again what I have been? Never! If he came to mc now, begging of mc to 'be his wife, disgraced and humiliated as I am, I should decline. He killed my love with the cruelty of his words. Oh. madam! I know they,were just and right, as I told you: hut do you think Rudolph could ever have spoken them to a woman who had loved him? Do you think Rudolph could ever have spoken them to amy woman that lived? He killed by love with that blow, and it is as dead as if it lay out of my heart —cold forever. Please don't speak of it to mc again. I shall accept my humiliation as a proper punishment for the sins I have commit- ; ted. I shall find no fault when this ' world to which you have introduced mc turns its luick upon mo. I have deserved it. But it is all done and dead now, madam. Lot it rest!" ' Madam Delpre. left her shortly after that, but she wandered about the house like an uneasy spirit. Again and again she looked at the. little clock. How slowly the hours dragged, and how hideously quiet the house was! She felt that ; shr would hay? been glad of any noise, ; of any movement. It was a relief when the lit tic maid announced dinner. She went herself to Dorothy's room, but the latter 'would not come down. "I will wait for Rudolph," she an- ' severed. "And if he doesn't come I shall not want anything." And madam was forced to take her dinner aloue. After it she 'began again her vigil, starting at last when she heard Adam coming down the drive with the pony-carriage to go to meet the train and Rudolph. She called to him, and regardless of. the fact that it was still drizzling rain, she threw a light scarf over her head and sprang into the carriage. She gazed oarlwtly. anxiously as thp ' train drew up to the little station, and uttered a sigh of intense relief when : she saw him step from the last car. ' She went up to him with both hands ! extended. j "Thank God you have come!" she ejaeu- ; lated. ' ' I "How is Dorothy?' , he asked anxiously.' "Why "re you here?" "1 came to meet you because 1 thought 1 should go mad back there in t!v silence ef the house. Dorothy is better, but—the worst has happened." "What do you mean?" "Come to the carriage. This is no ' place to tell you. Don't worry about : Dorothy. It is strange, but it seems to , mc thnt she is looking better and stronger than she has for days. You have the little clothes?" "Yes," answered Rudolph, breathing a J sigh of relief. "And now tell mc!" Ire exclaimed, when they w?re seated in the carriage." "It would be better for her to tell you herself," madam replied. "There has been la terrible crime at Ingle Nook. Dorothy he told Kenneth Cameron the truth of j her birth!"' "You mean " "I mean of her connection with the circus aiul—Para." "Thank <#jd for that! And he?" "Has broken their engagement." "The coward! Oh, madam, how does Dorothy bear it?" "Bravery and well! She—l ought not-to break it tr, yO u, I but that would be amposßiblfi,-*ad,. after -aJL yon axe a

strong man. She shot Philip Hastings this afternoon." "Shot him?" • . "Kot dangerously. I ought to have told you that first. She discovered that he had stolen the jewels. I don't know what others may say, but, in spite of the advice I have given Doroihy on former occasions, I am very proud of her to-night! Her poor little history may be making food ; for comment, all over the country, but I •tave never loved her so well, and 1 pray i God that this thing which We hope for j her may prove true. We will let her I know nothing of this. Miss Dilk will bo at the Massen dinner. May I send Adam i for her maid to-night?" "Certainly, if you wish." And she did wish, so that they had ' barely arrived at Ingle Nook before Adam was sent to Peak Castle with a message to Miss Dilk's maid. Shi? came at once, and while Rudolph was closeted with Dorothy, Madam Delpre had the maid summoned to her own room. "Of course you understand, >7adine, that nothing could have caus-ad mc to send for you on a night like this, save something of great importance," she said, her nervousness showing plainly through her enforced calm. "i— I You told mc only yesterday of the story which had cost your mother her reason. I believe, Nadine, that I have the clue to that child." " You, madam! " I " Wait! I may, of course, be mistaken, i There are many foundlings in the world), ' and the fact that the same incidents sur- ! round the disappearance of one as another may, after all, be a mere coincidence. Of course, 1 should not like to summon a mother and father to America unless there was some strong grounds for so doing, and I want you to help mc. I know of a child, Nadine, who disappeared in one of the Western States about fifteen years ago. She was a beautiful little one, with flaxen curls such as you describe. She was blown up by a cyclone straight under a wagon Belonging to a circus and : guarded from harm by a wolf! " '" Madam! " "It sounds like fiction, does it not, Xadine? but it is true. The child's guardian could not be found, though search was made, and it was believed by the people of the circus that she had been killed while on the limited express of the Atchison. Topeka and Santa Fe Koad." " Oh, madam, that is the one my poor mother was on! " "Then, so far. the circumstances agTee wonderfully well. Now, Nadine, do you think you would be liable to remember some of the clothing the child had when she left France I I|m quite sure that the little clothes in my possession were made there: in fact on the band of a little flannel skirt is the maker's name and address." " Then 1 should know it, madam. 1 feel sure I should, though 1 was littfcj more than a child myself at the time of her disappearance. Madame Delpre went toward her bed. The maid followed , , trembling so that she could scarcely walk. Madame lifted a paper, and exposed the little baby finery which she had placed there. She had scarcely lifted it than Nadine I gave a little cry, seizing the dainty dress I with its small embroidered name and j crest. i " That was hers, madam! " she gasped l . " The crest was placed there in lieu o£ the last name. It is the Marbury crest. Oh, madam, you have found the treasure that has cost my mother her reason, and that will restore it to her again. See, madam, here on the petticoat is the crest again, and the name, Dorothy! 1 remember so well. We had a number of them done at the same time. It is impossible that there should be a mistake. Oh, madam, tell mc where I shall see her! Great Heaven! It can't be Miss Griswold!" " Sh. Nadine. Yes, it is Miss Griswold; but she must hear nothing of it until it is proven beyond doubt. She must hear absolutely nothing of what we suspect." "Suspect, madam? I know! It is the Marbury crest." "Nevertheless, we must be sure. Miss Griswold has sustained a gTeat shock to-day, and we cannot risk another which might prove, after all, a false hope." '"Then what do you propose, madam?" "To cable for Sir Ralph and Lady Helen at once—in your name, perhaps, Xadine. Are you sufficiently sure in your identification ef the clothes to warrant cabling them to come at ence?" "Oh. yes, madam! Cable to-night if it is possible, and to the Countess oi Brudinell as well. Dear madam, I am halfwild with joy. This great good fortune will restore my poor mother's reason, I feel assured. Is there not some way that I could look at Miss Griswold fov just a moment? I nursed her and loved her from o. child. It seems so strange that she should' be Miss Marbury, the daughter of Sir Ralph and Lady Helen. May I see her?" "Not to-night, Xadine," cried madam, laughing through the tears in her eyes. "To-morrow, perhaps, but not to-night. You will hear strange things at the castle, if you have not already heard them, but I a.m going to trust you to keep silent, Nadine: to let nothing tempt you into telling this story to any one." "You may trust mc, madam; but, oh, be sure that the cable is not delayed! I sjiall neither sleep nor eat until I know they are on the way!' , (To be continued daily.)