TRACKED BY FATE.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XLI, Issue 2206, 1 August 1910, Page 2

TRACKED BY FATE.

(All Rights Reserved, i

OR THE FANSHAWES OF HAVILLANDS. BY MAURICE SCOTT, Author of "The Pride of the Morays," "The Mark of the Broad Arrow," "Broken Bonds," etc, etc. ELEVENTH INSTALMENT. A TIMELY ARRIVAL. CHAPTER XIX.

But though ho walked half-way through the night, inquiring at tho local station the nearest junction, even at Exeter itself, no trace of the fugitive could be discovered, nor did the attitude of the railway officials point to the concealment of an> knowledge they might possess. And in view of her indiflerent health he could scarcely disturb Maggie from her hardly-earned sleep, nor, until daylight, could much be done in the way of search.

He returned home, and went to bed for a couple of hours, tossing restlessly from side to side, falling momentarily asleep, only to dream that Mr. Fanshawe, dressed as a gipsy, in brown velveteen clothes and leather leggings, his thick neck encircled by a scarlet handkerchief, was crushing Dorothy to death under the wheels of his motor-car—a fiendish light In his eyes as her shrieks resounded through the air, a satanic smile on his lips as the shrieks grew fainter and finally ceased, and the gipsy knew that his victim was dead. And then, when he had awakened, his brow and hair saturated with cold, clammy sweat, to thank Heaven it was only a dream, and his loved one was still alive, weariness once more got the better of him, and he would fall off again. And this time he saw her, in company with the "partners" singing outside the mu6ic-hall, subjected to the rude jests and coarse remarks of an unreflecting throng which awaited the opening oi the doors. To Maggie who stood beside her, he could see the vulgar fooling fall on deaf ears. She sang on undlsburbed, while Dorothy palpably winced, as though goaded by sharp steel.

He seemed, in his dream, to accost her, to tell her he loved her still, that his love would endure to all eternity. He begged her to come away with to be his wife, to trust her future to his keeping. And even in his sleep his heart ached with a bitter pain as she smiled sadly at him, as she 6hook her head and told him it could not be. There was still the " barrier " she said.

Vainly he tried to tell her there was no barrier-that nothing could ever constitute an obstacle where true and loyal love held undisputed sway; but he was in the grip of a nightmare now, and his tongue refused to move at his bidding. He could only look on in silent anguish while the girl again smiled at him sorrowfully, and raising a cloak which she wore, showed him how she was fastened by a light, though strong steel chain, attached to a band round her waist, to the elder partner, who stood on the opposite side of Dorothy to that occupied by Maggie Dennis. And as he struggled to look into the face of this woman who so dared hold his darling a prisoner, he saw under the hood which protected her head the grinning, triumphant countenance of Clarence Fanshawe ! • * * * Ju Andrews missed her faithful friend and partnor more than she cared to admit. The temporary substitute had not " gone down " with the great B. P., and those in the know admitted that the most critical patrons of song, dance, and drama, were to be found among the habitues of pit and gallery. Moreover, Ju's own health was very indifferent. The bronchitis fiend had gripped them both very badly, and left the hacking cough and shortness of breath from which, try as she would, she could not get free. And how could you sing when a hacking cough stopped you at every line ? People might be sympathetic ; but Ju was no beggar, and would take no money unless she could give her money's worth. And people expected the worth of their money, and quite right, too. So the receipts fell off more and more, and then the temporary partner—who not being of Maggie's philosophical turn of mind, failed to quite hit it off with Ju—advanced the opinion that the pitch wasn't quite what she had expected, and that she felt like chucking the job ; which remark so raised the ire of the already worried Miss Andrews that the " chucking " was mutually accomplished with equal satisfaction to both.

But left alone Ju's fortitude was often on the point of giving way, for to work unaid&d she felt incapable, and there was no telling when Maggie might return. Maggie was bound to stay until she heard news of Dorothy, about whom Ju had not had one easy moment since the abrupt departure of the Fanshawe family from Rutland Gate. And now funds were very low. The rent, for the first time since they joined forces was in arrears, and while poor Ju's health called for good and nourishing food, she was really denjing herself the necessities of existence in her proud attempts to conceal the real state of the case from those who would have tried to help her. Occasionally she would take her guitar and make her stand in a quarter where she and Maggie were unknown—no use queering their own pitch by giving inferior performances —but the results were poor, and the realization that the few who contributed pennies to the bag did so out of charitable pity for her obviously poor health aroused in her a sense of indignant humiliation that forbade a repetition of the experiment. And then came a collapse, a sense of hopeless breakdown ; and the hitherto indomitable Ju, in the solitude of the fourth-floor back, gave way one night, and cried like a baby.

Her grief, or weakness, for which lack of food was principally responsible, was broken in upon by a timid, hesitating knock at the door of her room.

The landlady, she supposed, to say they must pay or go. She was expecting that as a last straw ! The woman was not hard, but had a drunken husband, incapable of supporting her or even himself, and she depended on her boarders for bare sustenance.

The knock sounded again. Well, the thing . had to be faced. She could scarcely feel more wretched, whatever the alternative, though it would be hard to leave Brick-street, where — " Come in Dorothy !"

Dorothy, who, looking almost as famished as Ju, though handsomely dressed, was in the next moment laughing and crying hysterically in Ju's arms—Dorothy who seemed to suddenly radiate an aura of comfort and happiness around the poor singer to which she had long been a stranger—Dorothy, who, well knowing the possibilities of the fourth-floor room back, at once grasped the state of affairs and saw that Ju was ill and weak for want of nourishment.

" Don't try to talk through that cough, dear Ju," she cried. "You don't know how glad I am to be back with you both. Will Maggie be in soon ? Never mind, we won't wait for her to bring the supper. I have not forgotten the shops. I'll do the marketing: ; for with that cold on your chest I forbid jou to stir. And I have some money—see, money Maggie gave me when I left you." She held up the little old purse to quiet Ju's scruples knowing the pride of the elder partner would refuse even food purchased under other conditions. And then, with a reassuring smile, she seized the well-remembered market-basket from Its accustomed peg and hurried out Into Old Oomp-ton-street. Matters were evidently at a low ebb in the fourth-floor back, and here had she come back to add another burden to the already overweighted women, on whom the rainy day had mercilessly descended, when, owing to the charitable efforts on her behalf, they were most unprepared to meet It.

But she must not be a burden ; she need have no scruples. With the stigma of the baseborn burning into her soul, what further degradation could attach itself ? But this was not a time to indulge in self-pity. Ju was ill, needing all the sympathy and practical help Dorothy could give. Of the two sovereigns originally contained in Maggie's purse, only about ten shillings had been left over after the expenses incurred during a long and tedious journey. But in Boho food was plentiful and cheap, and with a view to Ju's invalid Condition Dorothy included a readycooked chicken and a flask of Burgandy among her more economical purchases, and arrived back in Brickstreet elated with th 9 success of her achievements.

And then, throwing off the weariness of the journey, under the strain and fatigue of which she would, under other conditions, have completely collapsed, Dorothy removed her outdoor garments, while Ju sqt quietly admiring the Redfern coat and donning one of Maggie's white aprons, set to work to lay the table and prepare the supper. Ju watched her lay three places without a word, until at last all was ready, and the fourth-floor back had seldom seen so inviting a repast as that displayed. " Maggie's unusually late, isn't she ? " asked Dorothy, trying to coax a fire into life with the limited material she found at her command. Her short-lived luxury under Mr. Fanshawe's roof had not obliterated the recollection of her own days of poverty previous to her mother's death, and on all sides she saw evidences of hard times in the fourthfloor back.

" Do you expect her in soon ? " she continued, a feeling of uneasiness creeping over her. Ju was ill and alone. Was Maggie— No, no ! Surely Maggie could not be dead ! But Ju's silence was ominous.

" Best not wait for her," said Ju, at last. "Get your supper, my dear ; I've no sort of appetite myself." " Then you must find one for the occasion," said Dorothy, with the intention of forcing Ju to eat if neces-

sary. " And if Maggie isn't up to time, you'll have to take her share in addition to your own. Ju, Maggie isn't ill, is she ?"

" Not that I know of," replied Ju. "She was as well as I am when she went out."

" But that's not saying much;" and Dorothy vigorously attacked the chicken, separating its joints- with more strength than skill.

" Oh, well, we both got bad colds," admitted Ju ; " but, after all, what's a cold ? You're lookin' a bit pulled down, Dorothy, my dear." " Yes. I had quite a severe illness —nearly died, I believe ; but, now, I refuse to say a word about myself until you've eaten and drunk under my directions. When I was recovering from the fever I had to be obedient to mj nurse, and now you are my patient until Maggie comes in to relieve me of the responsibility." " She ain't likely to do that just at present," said Ju, yielding to the girl's pretty assumption of authority, and tabing the seat placed for her at the table.

Pressed to the point of insistence by Dorothy, Ju did justice to what was set before her, and the selfappointed nurse had the satisfaction of seeing a decided improvement as the food and wine sent a glow of invigoration through the sick woman's enfeebled frame.

Dorothy, too, was in need of sustenance, having taken nothing save a hurried cup of tea and an unappetizing bun at one of the stations, where the train stopped sufficiently long for the purpose. For all through the night, during which she had been compelled to wait long hours at a junction for the morning train, she had been terrified lest Mr. Fanshawe or Clarence might overtake her and drag her back again,

and " dared not court recognition by seeking refreshment. And Ju, under the influence of the girl's unmistakable hunger, lost her own self-consciousness, and ate in company. Her mind was at rest, too, in one way. Dorothy was now safe and sound, at any rate, and Maggie could take care of herself, and was bound to turn up soon.

And then, the meal ended, the table cleared, and Ju comfortably settled in the old easy-chair by the fire, Dorothy began to feel nervous under the realization that the time had come for an explanation of her presence and to remember she was In Brick-street, an absolutely uninvited guest. " You—you must think me very bold in coming down on you like this, Ju, dear," sht said, timidly. " I should think you verj foolish and wrong if you felt you wanted to come and waited to be asked," retorted Jul with a spice of her old spirit. "We ain't in the way of sendin' out invitations, especially when people go off out o' town forgettin' to leave any address." Clearly Ju had benefited by the consumption of a decent meal, for when Dorothy first arrived she had appeared not to have the spirit of a mouse. "But, Ju, didn't you understand that I was scarcely a free agent ?" said Dorothy, imploringly. " Had things been otherwise you could not think me so ungrateful " " No, my dear, we didn't think that nor ever could ; but when we got no answers to our letters " " Letters ! You wrote to me?" " Yes, three or four times." " But I never heard a word from you after I left Brick-street. I wrote to you again and again and got no answer of any kind. And Mrs. Panshawe objected to my coming to Brick-street, and the journey was not spoken of at Rutland Gate until the morning of departure." " Then the letters—ours and yours —were made away with," replied Ju, bluntly , " and that in itself looks fishy. When folks can't act straight, there's every reason to suspect their intentions o' bein' crooked. I've said so to Mag a score o' times, an' perhaps by this time sho can see I warn't far out."

" I wish Maggie would come," said Dorothj, uneasy again. " She hadn't used to be out so late. Ju, you—you and Maggie haven't quarrelled, have you ?" " Law, no," replied Ju, " not more than usual. Don't you bother about Mag, she's all right. An' she mayn't be back at all to-night ; she's workin' out o' London till my chest gets right again. She may turn up again any time ; I do' know when, but you don't worry about that. Here you are ; an* if things ain't to your likin' where you've come from, here you'll stay as long as we've a roof over our heads, an' welcome, my dear."

With a shrinking from putting her guest under a further obligation, Ju determined to try at all events, to conceal the cause of Maggie's absence from the fourth-floor back as long as possible, though her heart sank at the fear that unless matters mended themselves/ considerably, and soon, the roof she invited Dorothy to share might shortly be wanting. But the ice thus broken, Dorothy seated herself on a small stool beside Ju's chair and told the story of her adventures after becoming a member of the Fanshawe household—of her impressions of the master of the house, of Clarence's presecution, of the journey into Devonshire, the carriage accident, and Mr. Fan&hawe's startling announcement, and her own subsequent illness. She dwelt, lightly upon the name of Dr. Trevedyn, but the astute Julia saw the heightening colour, the telltale eyes, the unconscious softening of the voice and drew her own conclusions, though not for worlds would she have uttered one syllable to force Dorothy's confidence. And then the girl told how—with every prospect of being forced into this hateful marriage—she determined

to run away, to walk to London, and but for Magpie's welcome sovereigns she must inevitablj have had to do so.

" Walk to London from Exeter ! Why, my dear, you'd ha' been mad to try it," said Ju. " But I knew I had no money," replied Dorothy. "And only for good, kiind, thoughtful Maggie "

" Oh, that's nothing to talk about, my dear," broke in Ju, to whom expressions of gratitude appeared a source of embarrassment. " If you'd have thought o' such a thing you could have raised seven or eight pounds on that coat at a pawnshop." " Could I really ? But I look upon it as Mr. Fanshawe's property, and would like to send it back." " Quite right," returned Ju. " I only meant you could have done it if you'd been in a tight place." Dorothy had no more to relate. Of her suspicions regarding her parentage, and the crushing disclosure made to her by the master of Havillands, she spoke not one word. The secret belonged to the dead. Her beloved mother had gone down to the grave believing herself an honoured wife ; it was not for her child to cast a slur upon her memory. And Ju, divining with a woman's intuition that love for Dr. Trevedyn was at the bottom of Dorothy's terror of a forced union with Clarence Fanshawe, lay awake that night for more hours than even her cough rendered compulsory trying to fathom Mr. Fanshawe's motives in thus taking possession of a friendless—almost nameless—waif, found drifting among the flotsam and jetsam in London's continuously shifting stream of humanity " For a motive he's got," vowed Ju to herself, " and it ain't Christian charity, let Mag say what she will. An' now I wish Mag would come back, for that man won't give up the job easj. It's like there'll be more trouble, and with this coughAnyhow, thank God she's here !" And tucked up in her truckle-bed in the little alcove, which the partners had kept unaltered under an instinctive feeling that their protegee

might again require its sneiter, ootothy was echoing Ju's prayer »f thanksgiving and invoking a blessing of her poor friends and on the head

of the man she loved. And tbea, exhausted between mental anguish and physical weariness, she cried herself to sleep.

CHAPTER XX. THE REDFERN OOAT. " I said it before, and 1 Bay it again j as long as we've got a bite an' a sup an' a place to lay our kead*, there'll be a share and a corner for you, Dorothy, my dear. But go out singing again with us you don't, and you may as well make up y«*r mind to that first as la«t." " But, Ju, dear, I ean't live a useless burden on you, especially wkile you are so un "

She hesitated at completing her sentence. To tell Ju she was unfit for work might terribly wound her susceptibilities. " I mean, too, that I shouldn't mind it a bit now," she continued. " I was nervous and frightened at first but now everything is so different it couldn't matter in the least, really." , " 'Twould matter to us," said Ju. "But I've no breath to spare for arguments, my dear. We're all In for a streak of bad luck, and whatever way we pull through it, 'tain't goin' to be that way." The discussion took place next morning after breakfast, while Ju, awakened to new responsibilities by the fact of Dorothy's presence in the fourth-floor back, was preparing to do that which she had hitherto scorned—go down to Charing Cross Hospital and seek medical advice for her cough and bad chest. But she would not hear of Dorothy's accompanying her.

" You better not go out," advised Ju ; " leastways not till we Bee if they're goin' to follow you up. And that young Panshawe's a bad lot, whatever poor woman gets him." " I'm sorry for his mother," said Dorothy. " She tried to be kind to me all through. I hope she won't be made to suffer through my running away."

" Well, my dear, in case any of 'em are bobbin' around, you'd better lie low for a day or two ; and Mag must be on her way home, as there ain't a letter this mornin'."

Dorothy, suspecting Ju of trying to shirk the question of her comrade's whereabouts, made no further inquiries, though she longed for the sight of Maggie's honest face and tip-tilted nose ; nor could she rid herself of a vague sense of uneasiness at the younger partner's continued absence. Ju was detained an unconsciously long time at the hospital, and meanwhile Dorothy had a lengthened opportunity of indulging in day-dreams pictures of what " might hare been" —in which the handsome face and steadfast eyes of Ernest Trcvedyn occupied a foremost place. She would never see him again now of course—must never allow him to see her again ; for the frail barrier which previously she had looked upon as so insuperable was now hedged over and around by a granite wall, which must for ever stand between them.

And with this wall invisible to him he might even try to seek her out, on hearing she had left the Fanshawes. But she must be strong—strong to endure, strong to suffer. Her terrible secret must remain one, locked away within her own breast, unless — unless— Surely Mr. Fanshawe could not be so cruel, so merciless ! Often and often did the hope, the almost belief come to her that it was not true—that he had fabricated the story, that the loving father who had been all in all to her mother, who had petted, spoiled, and caressed her before her schooldays began, could not have been so base as to deceive the woman who loved and trusted him. Yet why had he not returned to Quebec ? Why .leave his wife in ignorance of her rightful name ? If only she had some one whose advice— There was Ernest ; he had claimed the right to he her friend. But no ; the story was not hers to tell. It affected her darling mother's honour ; she must preserve that at all risks. She was roused from her meditations by a knock at the door, and jumped up, alarmed —startled out of all presence of mind. Mr. Fanshawe ! Clarence ! They had come to fetch her, to drag her back whether she would or no ! " It's on'y me," and a woman's head looked in to the girl's intense relief. " Come in, Mrs. Burris," she said. " Lor', Miss Eliot ! You don't mean to say you've come back agen ? " cried the landlady in astonishment. " You as went off in a kerridge " " Yes, I've come back, but please don't tell any one so, Mrs. Burris, will you ? I—l don't want to see any one. Should any one ask you, would you mind saying I am not at home ?"

" I'll say anythin' you likes, miss, even to swearin' I've never set eyes on you if that's more convenient. But it's a godsend to 'em you've come ; they've had a shockin' winter an' now you kin do back the good turn they done you when your pore mother "

Mrs. Burris stopped and sniffed as in sympathj. Her eyes were taking in the details of Dorothy's well-cut and expensive, though plain serge dress, her dainty Russia leather shoes and the Redfern coat that lay across the foot of the bed. " I'm sure I've got that respect for 'em," continued the landlady, " that I'd 'a' let the rent run on fer a twelvemonth an' glad ; but with my husband out o' work, an' not likely to get a job as'll soot 'im in a 'urry, an' lodgers shootin' the moon an' leavin' boxes full of bricks by way o' rent, I've got to do what goes agin me. I'm threatened wiv the brokers, Miss Eliot, this very day, an' if you kin advance, 'em the three pound fifteen what's owin' " Three pounds fifteen owing ! Times must have been hard in the fourthfloor back.

•• I'll talk to Miss Andrews about it when she comes in, Mrs. Burris, said Dorothy. " And I think it may be managed this afternoon." "An' if it may it'll be a weight off my mind, an' off Miss Andrews's too, Miss Eliot," answered Mrs. Burris, her wan dragged face radiant with delight. "For Ido believe worry 'ave been 'arf the battle with 'em both. But I won't stay ; I think I 'ears 'er comin' up the stairs, an' she can't abear a bit o' gossip." But her efforts to slip away unseen proved unavailing, only Ju was too tired and disheartened to evince her usual indignation at what the landlady feared she would resent as a liberty. Dorothy hastened to remove Ju's hat and coat and force on her a glass of the cherished Burgandy.

" A week in bed, they told me," she half-groaned, presentlj—" a week in bed, now, or a bust up later if I tries to hold out."

" Well,but Ju, that's so easy to do now I'm here to look after you, even if Maggie doesn't come back in the meanwhile."

" Easy ! Not that I could earn anything if I went out. What did Mother Burris want ? But I needn't ask. Did she threaten to turn us out ? "

" No ; nor would she, I am sure," replied Dorothy. " The poor creature is herself in trouble. But now, Ju, you mustn't hide anything from me. There is no money left in the bank now, is there ?" "No," ahmitted Ju, with reluctance.

"It was drawn out to bury my darling mother, and pay our rent. And the winter having been a hard one, you have never been able to save anything to put back." " That's just as it happens. We might have had a rippin' winter. But I don't want to talk about what's been done. The thing is what we've got to do. There's no money in the savin's bank, and none in the house. Mag may be doin' well an' bring back some when she comes ; but then again, she mayn't." " Ju, dear," said Dorothy, alter a pause, " when things are put in a pawnbroker's shop—with money borrowed, I mean —are they taken care of ? I mean clothes, for instance ; would they be preserved free from moth, and damp, and all that sort of thing ?" " Yon bet they are," replied Ju. " Kep' a precious sight more carefully than when in their owners' possession. How else could they make their money on 'em ? But why ? You're not thihkin' of " " Ju," said Dorothy, seriously, " I am thinking, and we must both put scruples aside and avail ourselves of the only rope thrown out to save us. You said that seven or eight pounds could be borrowed on that coat"- " No, no ; I never meant " " You would not have said so on mere supposition, Ju. And wc must get the money, pay the landlady, and the balance will tide us over until you have pulled yourself tog-ether and Maggie comes back to resume work." Ju hesitated. The pro»pcct was tempting. That debt of three pounds fifteen laid heavily on her mind. And also Maggie's silence was ominous. She might have had bad luck and be stuck somewhere, and need a fare to bring her home. Then, too, Ju knew an accommodating 'uncle' who would probably advance even ten pounds on that coat. And ten pounds took a lot of saving, and the coat would have to be redeemed ; besides just think of the interest !

"Ju, you said I might have done it had I been in ' a tight place,' did you not ?" " I did, but " " But surely, we arc in a tight place now, Ju, dear ?" True, the position was little short of desperate. " I would not sell it," went on Dorothy. " In fact I would not have worn it away, nor the dress either, but that I had absolutely nothing else. Celestine, the French maid, got rid of all my awn clothes when first I went to live at Rutland Gate. But I can write to Mrs. Fanshawe and explain that I mean to return the coat as soon as I am in a position to do so." " I don't like doin' it," said Ju ; " though e\*en if you did send it back the French hussy 'd he the better for it. Still,back iffe got to go, sooner or later."

" It seems the one way out of our present difficulties* Ju. And think of poor Mrs. Burris !" " I've done nothin' else but think of hen," replied Ju, with a sigh. " She*s bin on my mind mornin' noon and night." " Then get her off your mind, Ju. ADd Mrs. Fanshawe got the coat for me without any kind of stipulation. Besides Ju, dear, when I am able to go out I couldn't wear it while looking for work, could I, even were it my very own to keep ?" " No," said Ju, decidedly, " you couldn't." It took still more -.argument to break down Ju's relucttmce, and then corned by tjhe conditions- surrounding her, and feiaring that Dorothy, if again subjected to severe- privation and insnffirient food, milght become broken in health, she consented to the proposition. It seemed the only way out.

So the coat was made into a parcel, with which Ju set forth to the neighbourhood of Golden-square, to return in a very short time laden with ten bright, glteaming sovereigns.

" He said it mest have cost nigh on forty pounds," she remarked ; " but you didn't do it much good scrambling down that tree, my dear, though Cur's always worth its money. He was quite curious as to who it belonged, but I soon told him that was none of his business. He knows I ain't likely to have stole it, and that's good enough for him." And then the heart of Mrs. Burris was made glad by the payment of her debt, and, in, accordance with the doctor's orders Ju tntikad comfortably between "the sheets to remain there the prescribed week, of " rest and freedom frci*n worry." And only for anxiety about Maggie Door Ju would", have beam,in lotus-

land. It was a hitherto unknown sensation of luxurious comfort to lie there watching Dorothy's lithe, graceful figure moving quietly and easily about the room ; to be nursed and tended by the girl's slender delicate hands, carrying with them a magnetic touch, and which even the functions of fire-lighting and room-sweeping could not render red or roughened. (To be Continued.)