IN FETTERS OF GOLD.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 276, 20 November 1926, Page 32

IN FETTERS OF GOLD.

BY EDWAJLB PICKERING.

[Anther of "The Friareccrart Kystery," ■ A Winning Hazard," Etc) CHAPTER XXXTT. rhe Wondrous Tnm of Fortuse'i WaeeL Outspoken led- Marsland referred to I&eely s.« the most eeeentrie creatine &c knew. And & harsher name she sllsd her amongst her set. "AEt-onishing isn't the 'word for it," iried the lady. "There vras Qcely Beaurille in the enjoyment of I don't know 10-x much a rear, and she simply hinds t over to someone else. Of course she'd i right to Davenant's money. He meant :o leave it to her, after treating her a* lis own child all those years." '•"Who is the person really entitled to tf" asked ons or Lady Maryland's listeners. "A Miss Merorie Keith—s nurse or something of that kind. Very worthy ■■arson, no doubt.. Yon see, Miss Keith's mother vras Davenant's only fisi^r — only -elarive in fact. She married in opposirion to him, tnd for years they h£d not ; poken t-o each other. Her daughter, :his ilariorie Keith, is next of kin. and is her tmde died intestai-e I suppose she v omes in"-o the money. That's what the a-sryers said, at least, and why Cicely lidn't hold her tongne —she had known 'rom the day Davenant died that she wa.s Duly an adopted child — why she didn't et T.'ninp remain a≤ they ■were passes dt comprehension." Lady ilarsiand's storr was the history in brief of Marjoris'a β-ecession to & :orrune, almost fabulous in amount. jceording to nuaonr. And at first the marvellous change in her life, with its prospect of everything a human being jould wish being •β-ithin her reads, had seen so overwhelming that she failed to realise it. What had pas&ed between Cicely and aerself and the result of it to both no ?ne except the lawyer who was acting for Marjorii knew, and she quitted Lonion, fiying to those she loved so dearly U> find happiness with them in the old home at Marport- And because the svents which had brought an end to rvery anxiety or fear of the future were »o wonderful and stupendous, neither Joyce nor El§ie talked about them. Mariorie was rich now, she could come and 50 as she pleased, indulge in every whiir. her fancy might invert, and mingu amongst the highest in the land did shechoose; these facts sumced to make words quite unnecessary. But there was no change in Marjorii herself; she was just the same gentlevoiced, tender-hearted woman she had always been, and were :t not that fct-r love for Esmond was fated to remaii, unrequited she would have been happy There was no impediment to her mar-riag-e now, she told herself, except —ah ' that thought smote her with almost physical pain. The effect of Marjorie'e changed position had been to steel Esmond against attempting to rece-wiis engagement vriti her. Many a time he had Hoped to d; so, but now he would be regarded as s fortune-hunter, and his pride rose against the thought. "Esmond is coming to bid us good-byt-in a little while," eaid Joyce one morning a.c she and Maxjorie were chatting of old times and the future. Marjorie did not answer. '"Be was down her* juet before ali those wonderful things happened to you." Trent on Joyce. "He was the one to discover them, but he has never told us how Father and he were very mysterious, and Esmond hasn't favoured us with his company since then, but I've had a scrappy letter from him to say he hopes to run down to Myrtle Cottage before he leaves." "He must come to say good-bye to toy and Elsie," "Don't make too certain of that," replied Joyce. "Esmond save he's got a great deal to do. co he only "hopes, which very often is a pelite way of getiing out of doing something painful 01 unpleasant.. Saying good-bye is both." Marjorie was looking dreamily straighi before her, suddenly very quiet. "What are you thinking of*" askec Joyce. "You haven't anything to worry about now." "I'm thinking how strange it is to b« able to think as Fm doing now. I mear to have the power of doing what on« wants to do. What do you say to all oi us going away from Marport! * Not fOl ever, but to have a complete change Somewhere quite away from tourists and trippers. I'm thinking of a place ir Cornwall, where we could spend a very pleasant holiday." "We can't afford it," replied Joyce promptly. "I can." said Marjorie. "You seem tc have forgotten that I shall never bs able to spend a twentieth part of nsy income. Joyce. It : s too much, far toe much, and I tcall have to invent son: way of getting rid of it." "Well discuss this question of going away when father and Elsie come in," answered Joyce. "I neeHn : t say thai you eouMn't have asked mc to do anything more lovely, and I suppos-e yot really could pay all the expenses." "Yes. really," and Marjorie tried tc smile, but her heart was too bean- fo] that. '•T>o you know Cornwall!" c-stinuec Joyce. "I mean any particular pan where we could go 10. You've been £ traveller. Marjorie. and may have seer such a place. I often envied you s-eeinj so much of tie world, whilst' Pve beer droning here in Marport. which isn't g very lively town. Have you observed a change in Esmond?' and Joyce madi the remark unthinkingly. "He's differen from what he was. Not harder really or less cjnsiderate of us, but he seems so I don't explain very well, but perhaps yoi understand." "Yes. I understand, although we havi not seen each other for a very long time And I owe him so much. It was througl him that Fve come into all this money which hasn't made mc any happier. ! t.liinl- I was more contented when I wa: at work than I am now. Anyway, ] mean you all to have a good holiday. Joyce, and it's a real pleasure to be able to give it you." '"■Hark!" and Joyce held up her hand. "That sounds very much like Butler's car coming up the" road. There is only one vehicle that has the peculiarity of Butler's Ford —as if every turn of the wheels would be its last, and there's a rattle it gives out that no other Ford ever did. They say it's the oldest car in England, and —yes. it is the taxi, but what is it coming here for. I don't know. We're not expecting anyone to arrive. 3. She had gone to the window and was looking at the antiquated car lurching along the quiet road, making for Myrtle Cottage. "Xow who can this possibly be. I wonder. WelL well soon see."' she exclaimed, for the taxi had stopped before the garden gate. Then Joyce*had given a joyful exclamation and ms running down the path, leaving Marjorie in the

"And yon never gave tv a •β-ord of | warning, Esmond," she cried as she ! greeted him. For it was he who had | stepped out of the car. '■TYhy didn't yon ; say yon were eoaingV "I oiJt determined this morning on running down to Mfcrport..* he answered gravely. "And that after a long debate with, mytelf." "You knew Mariorie •α-as here." "It -sras one of tie reasons -wfcT I debated. Bat I wanted to discuss some little affair -of business with father, ana that decided mc." he replied. "And yonii stop cow just a* long as yon can. VotiVe a TEOEth before yon go abroad, and it's only fair to stay -ss-ith • us. Esmond.'' He vs.: glaseing t«frards the house. ' unheeding her, for Murjorie, standiag at the doer, seemed to engross all his atien- . tion, and a fiood of biiter recollections came to him. Then be had ! adTaneed holding out his hand. ncurinEr ' the eol&ness of Marjories as she returned i his greeting. 'Tt"s a long time since tob and I satr ee-ch other. Miss Keith." he said. Miss Kesth: It —as the death-kEel! of her hop*. I i CHAPTER XXXV. j Of all those to -srhom the discovery of j her being the heiress to a huge fortune j ha<3 coirie so Mariorie was. i X-O a.]l apr-earancf-f. the lea?: concerned, j There was no exultation experienced that she -was rich; it vras rather the mournful consciousness that Cicely had suddenly become poor that she felt, and j she resolved that they should share Mr. I Davecant'e rnone-. Marjorie aike-d ro advice in deciding that this should be done; h -K-a.s the right thins: t-o do. and, ] ia spite of the energetic protest of the ! la-wT-er engag-ed in settling the rather intne-ate business of tie succession, she j was resolute in her decision. "There is more money than 1 shall ever want," she told the old solicitor. "And I am quite £ma in what I -K-ish to be I coiie." "B-jt I am looking fonrard t-o eventualities, my dear Miss Keith." he replied, ""'ioa may meet oiber people t-o whom the j matter may be of consequence in the ! future, and will regret having actevd in this wey. It is impossible to do-jbt that you will marry." '1 do not think tre se*4 epeak about that," said Marjorie. "And st least I am my own misiref-E, at present." "But we la-a-yers are accustomed u> 'ook forsrsrd to contingencies, and for I you to make over such a large proportion 'f your income to another person 'is very unusual." ilariorie iras not to be thwarted, bow- i ■ver : and in due coar?e ample provision j was made for Cicely. She was no: aware of this being acne at the t:me, be: j Mariorie's generous action •β-as kco-wn ' later on. j Yet trithal Marjorie failed to find hap. i piness. Tne bujv lift she had led ! ss a nurse had provided some di?- I traction for her mind from the memo- I ries of the pact. but now -ihere wi= j nothing to prevent them from being i F-OBtiauall.r before her. Efroocd had ? 2To-«-n colder than she had ever kno-src ' rial to be towards her and the fttlf be- ' •.ween them had widened. He avoided i any direct conversation with her he was at his father's house, and there ] ••vas a constraint in his manner that j T-roved indifferent he was. Even ! ■.heir old "camaraderie"' was gone, and j -he seemed no more than a stranger u> ! :m, t-o whom he was distantly" civil, j I or be had so tutored himself "agajns: Wtraying his love as to err on the other ride, and Marjorie for her part, held herself eioof from him. and in this fashion did their meeting* -with each other pass. Elsie's wedding day had dawned at last. -.he wedding party was assembled. Joyce and Marjorie were the bridesmaids, and. as Esmond entered the room Mariorie appeared more beautiful to him than she ; .lad ever been. She was dressed in a costume that enhanced every charm and grace, and although her voice and manner were subdued, here face was lighted with s look that added an unspeakable loveliness to it. Esmond held her hand for an instant, not daring to speak to her, and then Elsie entered the room, in her bridal costume. 'Somebody say something, please ?* she eaid, "whilst I'm waiting for the car. ShaH I do!" "I think everybody will be envying Harold," replied Marjorie, "1 hope you're not getting nervous,' Elsie."' "But I iffl," answered Elsie. 'Tin trying to appear calm and collected, but you must know what the feeling of being led out to execution is like." Then the car was at the door, and Marjorie and Joyce together with Esmond had driven away, to be followed by Elsie and her father. And presently the little room wa» crowded, for Harold and Ms wife were come from the chureli, and in due time he and Ekie were gone again, leaving a dreadful blank that could never, never be filled. The r-ere-mony had been done and ended very quickly it seemed. There was an eir of desolation about j the house, after the excitement of the morning, a reaction that dulled everyone's spirit, fell on those from whom Elsie had parted. The sense of a loss which comes when one we love hag gone from the home circle, though the brightest future lies before them. oppressed Joyce, whilst Marjorie listless and distrait, tried vainly to acpea* a = usual. Mr. Trndall had gone to his room, and Esmond would be obliged to leave them in a short time. "I would like to stay with you. Joyce." be told his sifter, and Marjorie noted the omission of her own name, "but I've some people to see." ''Can yon come hack later J" she asked. "I shan't feel Elsie's * o much, then." 'Tm afraid not," he answered.. "And you must be prepared for losing mc too. presently, Joyce." Mariorie's heart gave a sudden leap, and there came a catch in her breath as she listened. "It will be for the best,' , he went on, conscious that Marjories gaze was un him, and he waited a moment. For one word, or Eign that §he -as moved by what he had jmt said, his answer would have been changed, but he waited in vain.