Kate Melville's Courtship,

Auckland Star, Volume XL, Issue 52, 2 March 1909, Page 8

Kate Melville's Courtship,

(All rights reserved.)

CHAPTER XVlll.—Continued.

Tiate, darling," said he. with quite impressive fervour; "I don't want to be melodramatic and strike attitudes, but, as I hope for ultimate salvation, I declare fo you that I cannot answer your questions. I was equally shocked with yourself when I saw her letter lying on the hall table to-day. It turned ray very ieart sick. But when I came to read it!" "What did she say? Show mc the letter." "Show you the letter!" he almost shouted. for worlds. The vile thing is destroyed. It was nothing but an. insult from beginning to end. I would rather carry a live snake in my pocket. T would be ashamed to show such a thing to Sate." "Well, Harry," said she, "you seem frank and open enough, and I am not disinclined tor believe you. But, all the Banie, I do most sincerely wish that horrid woman lived in some other planet." "So do I; from the bottom of my heart I wish it," said he with genuine fervour. "You. are not going to answer her letter, are you J" she asked. "A foolish question that if you believe in mc at all," said he. "Such* a thought has not occurred to mc, and should she ever have the effrontery to write to mc again, I shall return the letter unopened. If I had not been so completely overwhelmed with astonishment and curiosity had not got the batter of mc, I would have, done so.in the present inetance." "Very, well, then, let the subject drop," eaid Kate. "It is hateful to mc. I hope it will never come up again between us." "Amen to that with all my heart and soul," said Harry, with such earnestness arid depth of passion that Kate, finally convinced, said:— "I believe you, dear, and so the discussion is closed. Let us talk of something else, something pleasanter, _. I have been with Mrs Bishop_ to-day as you know, and she tells mc that you are on the warpath—that you will not rest until you can prove to your complete satisfaction that you are really Harry Bishop." "I can never marry you until I do, Kate," said- he. "Nonsense, we are both satisfied—your mother and myself. You have "been shockingly treated "By somebody. We are all agread as to that. There "has been a terrible muddle and a crime on somebody's I earnestly wish you God-speed in your search; but whatever may come_of it, it will not matter. Since the morning I met you in the road, thinking you were the Harry I had known, and greeted you as such—and you said your name was Dick—and you were looking for a mother, and could I point out the way to your home—since that moment, Harry, or Dick if you will, I care not a fig which—l have loved you • and you have assured mc that you love mc." "With all my heart and soul. Kate." "Then be the result of your inquiries what they may, you are still mine and I am yours, whatever your name may prove to be. It must be so -" "Ana so it shall," said Dick, "and so it shall,' as he gathered her to his breast as he had never done before. CHAPTER XIX. KEN3LWORTH HOUSE. About noon. JHLjthe following day, Harry Bishop arrived in Coventry. Depositing such luggage as he had with him in the cloak-room, he walked out of the station and immediately called a cab, and requested to be driven to Kenil-. worth House. The cabman looked surprised. "There is only one Kenflworth House that I know of, sir," said he. ""VTery well, drive mc there." A fifteen minutes drive, and the cab stopped just outside the borough limits, at a pretentious etucco building, with a square crenelated tower, standing in its own somewhat spacious grounds." Harry leaped out of the cab in some bewilderment. Above the wall was a huge signboard setting forth that " This desirable property," etc., was for sale. The signboard was decrepit and weather-beaten, •with its lettering nearly washed out by rain. The double iron gates beside it were fastened together by a rusty chain and padlock. Peering tirough the bars •he caw the garden was a grass-grown and weed-infested desolation. The stucco had fallen in places from the house— leaving ugly scars of yellow brick behind. The upper windows were bleared and grimy, and those on the ground floor tightly shuttered. To all outward seeming the houseJhad been untenanted for years. The whole aspect of the place was dreary and desolate in the extreme. He tried to recall some familiar feature - -in the scene, but all in vain, and it made him shiver "ta _ think that in all probability he was surveying his own birth-place—-though it had been pleasant and attractive enough once, beyond a doubt. "Why," he wondered, "had the house remained empty foT such a long time? There must be some cause. The presence of the sign-board forbade the presumption that the property was in Chancery. Was the house associated with some crime in which his father had a part, and which Mrs. Bishop wished him to find out for himself?" It was a gruesome thought, and he promptly dismissed it from his mind. The cabman had been quietly watching the young man, and wondering what on ■earth had brought him here, when Harry •turned to him at last, and said: "This place looks very desolate, cabby —looks as though it had been empty fot yeajs." "Yessir, it has," he replied. "You made mc stare a bit at the station when you asked mc to bring you here—and no error. I wouldn't have been so surprised •by 'aTf if you had wished to be driven to. tie cemetery. I dont think they'll ever seil it; better pull it down and build over it, I cay." "But why? Wonlt people live in it?" "Nobody about here would; thai's very certain." "Again, why? It isn't haunted, is it?" "Oh, ain't it? I wouldn't go inside that blooming house for a five-pun' note." "Indeed!.. ."Well, X mean to look over the place if I caaJ , ''Good lord! You do, sir?" "Yes. I should like you for a couple of houre.or so. if you are at liberty."

By G. W. APPLBTON. Author of "The Lady in Sables," "Eash Conclusions," etc.)

1 "As long as you like, sir." "Well, then, just drive to the agents. Who are they?" And he referred to the sign-board again. "Oh, yes; Daniels and Daniels, High-street." "All right, sir," said the cabby, as Harry re-entered the cab, which shortly stopped before the premises in question. i Harry entered the front door at once. A boy sat on a high stool behind the counter. "Mr. Daniels in?" asked Harry. "Yes, sir. What name?" and lie boy slipped off his stool. Harry handed him one of his new cards, and the boy disappeared into a private office, whence he immediately returned with: "This way, sir." As he entered, a tall, middle-aged man, with a greyish beard, rose from his seat at a desk. "The name on your card was once a very familiar one to mc, Mr. Bishop," said he. "It was the name of my father," said Harry simply, "and I called to-day to ask for permission to go over the house where I was born." Mr. Daniels seemed dumbfounded. "It seems a strange request, Mr. Bishop," said he. "Indeed, and why? I have no remembrance of Kenilworth House whatever, and I thought it would be pleasant to go over the old place." "Pleasant! "Mr. Bishop!" he repeated, apparently more and more astonished. "I should have thought—to you—it would be exactly the reverse." "But why ? I don't understand you at all, sir," and as Harry said this a look of mingled incredulity and perplexity crept into Mr. Daniels' face. "Surely you must be familiar with your own family history, Mr. Bishop?" "I am not," said Harry, frankly, "and so far as my father is concerned, I know nothing; I have been kept in ignorance all my life." "Very extraordinary! Then what— please don't think mc impertinent, I am simply astonished—what may I ask, is your motive for wishing to see Kenilworth House ?" "I have already seen it," said Harry. "I drove there from the station, and I never saw such a terribly gloomy place in my life. I came to Coventry simply to make a few inquiries. There" is some mystery in my life which I mean to come to the bottom of it. I have recently learned a few particulars, the place of my birth, and the of tbe doctor who, I have reason to believe, brought mc into the world: Dr. Gerald Christy. Is he alive?" "Oh, ye=, and hale and hearty. He would be just the man to give you the information you desire. I would see him at once if I were you. As for Kenilworth House, you are welcome to go over it, if you still desire to do so —but take my advice and leave it alone. As you say, it is a terribly gloomy place. Nobody has lived there for over twenty years. Your father was its last occupant. I 'doubt if it will ever have another. Its owner has long since given it up in despair." "Then it was not my father's property ?*' "Oh, no. He had no real property. His was all what we term—liquid assets. You should know something about that." "Nothing, Mr. Daniels, noihing whatever. I was sent to school and the University, and a few thousand pounds from an unknown house have come to mc recently. But now I want to know—l mean to know all about it." "High time! Upon my word this is the most extraordinary thing I have ever heard. I would go to Dr. Christy at once if I were you. He can tell you as much—probably more than I, and I would rather he should do so. Goodday, Mr. Bishop." Harry thanked him, and at once took his departure. "I have changed my mind,'' said he to the cabman when he had reached the street. "I shall not return to Kenilworth House." The cabby grinned. "I ain't surprised," said he, "you've 'card all about it, I suppose." "Not yet. Drive next to Dr. Christy's house." "Not far from the other place, sir; we passed ifc coming back." "All right, fire away!" And Harry jumped into the cab again. When it next stopped it was in front of a comfortable-looking, old-fashioned, bigb-gabled house —clad in a livery of scarlet Virginia creepers. Upon the high-ly-polished brass door-plate, Harry read the name: Gerald Christy, M.D., and gave a rat-tat on an equally shining ■knocker. The door was almost immediately opened by a servant, who, in answer to bis enquiry, said the doctor was in. Harry gave her his card, and he was shown into a waiting-room. Scarcely a moment had passed when the door opened and a cheery old gentleman with white hair and gold spectacles entered the room. He held Harry's card in his hand, and there was a look of perplexity and inquiry on his face as he approached his visitor. 'T. am a little puzzled by this card, sir," said he; "is it possible that I am addressing the son of the late, or rather : the latest occupant of Kenilworth Hall ? ! You look strikingly like him, and I know that Mrs. Bishop was a Buckinghamshire i lady. Is she still alive?" | "Yes," said the delighted Harry, "and in the very best of health. She wished i mc to call on you. She sends her very | kindest remembrance." "Ah! very kind and thoughtful of her. She was a charming lady. It was sad ! that unhappiness came so soon; very sad. Pray take a seat, Mr. Bishop." "I never knew," said Harry, seating j himself, "that my mother ever bad any unhappiness." The doctor nodded pleasantly. "It was just as well, perhaps. You' -were too young at the time to know anything about her matrimonial j troubles. "Matrimonial troubles!" exclaimed Harry; "why, I never had a knowledge) of my mother's existence even, until a I few weeks since, and I am now obliged, m a sense, to prove my own identity." 'To your mother? Gracious goodness! | I never heard of such a thing." "Oh, no; she is satisfied-enough—but to myself—to my own satisfaction." Tho doctor looked serious ani shook his head. "This is all very cryptic to mc," said jhe, "I can make neither head nor tail I of it," "That is exactly my position," replied Harry, -with a smile; "and I have come to you for illumination. I have had a look at Kenilworth House—and the eight cii

it gave mc a chill. My mother told.me I was born there, and that you presided over my advent into this world. "Quite true, quite true, Mt. Bishop," assented the doctor. '1 went to the office of Daniels and Daniels, sent in my card, and requested , permission to go over Kenilworth House. They seemed horrified that I should do such a thing—Mnted at some ghastly horror connected with the house, and strongly advised mc to keep away from it, while declining to give any reason for such advice. This only piqued my curiosity, while cooling my courage. Casually mentioning the fact that I proposed calling on you, I was assured that you knew more about the tragic events in Kenilworth House than anybody in tho country." "Quite as much, at least, quite as much," said the doctor. "And that," pursued Harry, "you might, if you would, give mc full particulars of the same. But "he added, "before we come to that, if you can spare mc the time " "I can—l will, lam deeply interested," answered the doctor. "Then I will give you a brief resume of my life's experiences up to date. You will then quite understand my position." "Much the best way," said the doctor, wiping his spectacles. "Much the best way, Mr. Bishop." Whereupon, he gave him, as concisely as possible, the story of his life —omitting only its love episodes, as was but meet and proper, and at the conclusion, added: "That, Doctor, is my present position. Is my mother mistaken, and am I, therefore, an impostor? Or am I the legitimate son of Henry Bishop, whom you | assisted to Bring into the world one I January night in the year 1877? Should the latter presumption be true, I shall want to know the meaning of many things which, at present, are inscrutable mysteries to mc." (To be continued daily.)