IN RHE NICK OF TIME.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 75, 21 December 1907, Page 17

IN RHE NICK OF TIME.

fHE Warburtons were rich — im-sensejy/.'i^ichj-their - friends said— , but they ..woro their wealth , with . a , pood , gracc.- Tlioy were in- . offerisively people liked'them..' Perhaps ;.thero is ; Willing' so difficult t'i> carry modestly as a great deal of: money.. Genius may exist without self-consciousness; beauty may vraive its privileges ami, ignore .its preoiousriess;! but>it is hardly possible to for--get iponey.,:. In every hour of tho rich; man's existence'; heV ■ of. Jiis Wealth. It sets him on a pinnacle from Which lie sees the ruck of'niank'imf m' a bird's-eyo fiew, and he 'kno#B-lie is'different from them. The things that; are of seriqus'importance t3'"thom*"nre trifles to him. If; his daughter wants to marry a pauper, he has;but to provide for the pauper, and make his child happy. 1 If His sons run wild at tho"'Varsity, he'can forgive their .' follies arid.; pay their debts. When his g7<j\s old he can pension them., No doddonhg' butler, no venerablo »qd .'incompetent cook, need, be allowed to mar his domestic lifo . for old sake's- sake. .In such ji man's household'there should, be | no tears. And how".can- such a ; man help i being; pleased' witK-;himself ? . Arid bisfwjfe and. famiiy ihelp kriOTving that every■thing.; t the}jihaye k iri'. the.\ybrjd is better than anybody olio's best?. The superiority of their surroundings, is with' them in every hour they live. At' home or abroad, 'in Park. Lanp/br <thdy brdathe an auriferous atmosphere; and all that gold'; can buy of "beauty,' art, comfort, pleasure,' is theirs to enjoy. v -

. TheHWarburtous were , rich in the third generation... Mr.. \'v arb.urton, was the head of'a great; cdnyhlerciaP liouse in the north, been, getting richer' as the yqars v -'wen't-'.'.hy .'"and /tho. •'trade '-of"England widened. Mr.; and Mrs. .Warburtori were comfortable; jfcople,' who' made tho best of life , for , themselvej : arid -everybody about them. If it' might be -permitted' to mortals to be inordinary.: rich,, it might ; bo permitted to - the but' .the ' most Eoijr-minded .people* gruidged them their prosperity. . ' V- " - v '. ; " \ .They had ' lib son .'to : 'inherit''.their -' wealth; ,and"tnis," no; doubt,Vwas .'a^thorn, in-their pillow,' ' a thorn in whiclv the Sour-minded recognised -,the., finger.. ofProvidence.. But they "had'.:thre'o. -'daughters}y*lt Tieps stated with' a' positive air by : the <p'epple who dined with' them a good ddal \ t,na£ if .'there had bjen -only ;one Miss >Warburton she- would be the greatest , heiress'in England. Papjsjly', 'for the' three, young'ladies; there were plenty of marrying, men who thought the third part of -tho-great .heiress ■ worth-trying; for.' . Tho ■Warburton girls had enough and to spare of aSulatibri, ! though..-they- .."were -not -beauties, only tall buxom girls' with sandy hair, mflk- : white .complexions,-and innocent brown eyes. at' Cannes ''in;,a springtime of exceptional :beauty- some, years; ; qgo.'*" The anemones wei:e. in ; bloom ■ in "the , hill-side gardens,- the. roses. were :at their:. ; best,. but the tide of 'fashion i ;w.as ■ qn ;.thb ebb. Th~o Prince, of had departed after his annual visit; and a sl-reamof royalties had ■cbrae. arid" goffo; 'but, the. :Warl}urtofis7-wl>o' were no slaves.-.to; fashion,..wore ,still'at their vilja. on; tho dalifo.rnie'.hill, and were .riot"to leaVe'till t]'?;;English jclimat-o : 'was./ ready,; for th?m.- Phoebe,..the yourigestof tho'daugh%s, ~:had . developed a.'-tendency to luog ?°! :?hcebe's,:, sake-the,-'fiiiest -,- I ??t,.Caiines;_had to.'offer .in.exchajigb for wld -had .-keejf hired, ;"and 'Warburtons,; tnpir goyernKs, their cbui'ier,'th6ir;meri 'arid maids, birds and dogs;- had. been brought from Mr- Warburtoh's place in 'Warwicksjlire, -in "a' fine .'htlnting- jQjintrjfn tb a Bonthorn:paradiso, in which th'oJhoad of iho family bored himself unspeakably,, and of *Wch even his wife and daughters were beginning to tii'b., .They.i would'havo'been oven porej wgaryrpf tha.t;land'of flowers, perhapsi had (there not: bfeen.the .excitbriicrit of a love to .keep %ir.. young mfnds. on tho qui" rife. s Marjory,, tho oldest :Miss "Warburton, Was onga£ed; and : h'er- two yoil'nger sisters, liu(;ette v arid Plicebe, wore full - of: Marjory'sengagement, - •:It had been rather '.a long 'time getting itself settled, this engagement'of tho eldest daughter's,-for - Mr.- Trafford -Conycrs wa-i older than the young ladyj And there had been a. sprinkling of; tears and a talK of broken liearts- before Mr; Warburton could be brought, to favour the. match. But ST 1 Ir Conyers was-, of a\very good bhropshii-e: family; and - would -haviv : been' the. Honourable, Traffofd, and heir to a peerago,'but for an uiicle's perversity in' marry-wg-laterin'-life'-'Mr. Warburtoh' was "told fry nif'mmenkind'.that.his.: objections' were unreaBonable, and that his opiijions'were nreiu•o p on y° rs ;had passed his 'life m the Corps travelled • all over : the, surface of -the;globe,as it scorned, Under Secretary, at Warsaw;'-First;Secretafy MmisteV at• Buenos Ayres', Attache, at Madnd.' ;,The of the cities,.' where h'e'.had employed his young energies-m copying protocols and.sealing let--ters,'ha_d a brilliant sound in the ears' of th<s r l ,? 5 "arb.urtons,' accustomed to tho small talk -• of--young 'Warwickshire; Vhicb -was generally limited .to the' incidents' of "the last good run or tho^iast-county, cricket match, '-^ithose cities,. and made history. n '; c d3;l)e.-a bi'illiant man. ■' not rhinds'ome. Even his no't i claim, consideration for hini on- u thp; pcoro;; of good -looks.-:- His nose was :aggresateiy.-aquiline,;:aiid,. had a; decided bend .'the ; ; left, (irregularity Sw him curiously,-. dager-, look,as if - even-' his nose 'lisftnefc. ; )Pethaps .tho..narrow "spaco'-'-be-l ™s® 11 hh a 4: 'part'.in; that; eager n„ '' dark anH flalhing, and always insisted upon; that ment^wheir: Jier i !,p6pple '.called him -'plain.- ■ But she: had little to compkiri of upon that score, for her .mother., and, sisters: admired ■ T- with 'a';fj'ank;'arid generous admiration.; .father.' hkd Vqonsented to.,a setHementithiit.Jneant maihtaihing Mr Conyers in hixiiry; and idleness all:the; rest of his life, Marjory's sky was without a cloud. . - ' -7' m r — ry glafl .'.hV-.isn't- handsome," she said, after ono of .those. friendly discussions, because. he can't: find-fault"with me for Bojb'being pretty; 1 ' Marjon-iwas-not pretty.'ln the mat-' tor .of looks t Marjory' was' orily.'passable. She f. a fcand _rosy,-;;aiid.-had soft;' hazel, eyes arid sandy h"OTr;, .aml.*.sh'e . exactly like her Bisters. -TOey'majde'.a"',^very /good-.effect at a "dance', in 'white frbeks—as ".those' three sandy . girls,. not exactly,: pretty, ; but very nice;"' and, .when ,it' was known .-.that-' the three sa'ndy''girls- were-the iliss Warbtirtons, every young man in tho room was.'anxious to dance,wjth tbgrrr. and yoiiilg rilen"were going about in a flutter of distress all; the; evening looking, for their particular Miss Warburton, and'always finding the wrong one..' there was only, ono person among the.womenk'irid,at'Les Papillons;'tlio.ladies' maids and housemaids, included, who did not admire Tr a fiord Conyers, arid' that person was the litfclo governess, Mary Sedgwick. She had her reasons, arid very istrorig. ones, for not. admiring him,' in, tho fact that lie admired her, and had indicated his admiration in a very ;: offensive-;maiiner; for he had riot been visitihg.a't'Les-l'apillions a wbek in'tho character of Mairjory's "futur," when he caught hold of. Miss Sedgwick's dainty waist as she was following her'young charges out of tho dining-room after'lunch,'and whispered ip- her. ear,-'", You .aro. quite : tho ; 'prettiest little persori ~.1 ',have seen in "Cannes'.'.'.'." •' "'The.little- -pfersori'turned, a 'pair of -flashing Irish grby eyes upon him, -and a'liroV,- like a thn'ndercloud:' She was a-Fitzpatrick on tlu maternal side,''and ."'very proud '.of' her. Irish blood.; "llow dare,-yb'ti?" she. said, betweer lier set teeth, .arid shook herself, free fron: him with as'much disgust; as if lie" had beer a skunk. He wasJndecd quito as loathsome to-her frorii .that hour as aiiy uncleari animal But 'sW was not.afraid .of him. Marv Fitzpatrick. Sedgwick'.'-had never, yet met th< creature or thing that sho feared. But sho . know-liovV to hate, arid. sho. hated the man:,wh"o had .presumed upon her. dependent position to insult her. •' i ft -was' very .difficult' after this' to keer silence -when ttie family were praising 'Trat ford- Conyers, She made several attempt:

to. open-her pupil's eyes to the- real characterj but she only made Marjory unhappy, and. angry, .without shaking the'girl's faith; in:her: lover. -Mary was not .afraid of Mr. C.'nnyers,-. not one .wliit, although he followed-up that- first outrage by other audacities, lying in wait for-her-in the winding. paths' among the pahns "and orange trees, trying to coax her to talk to.him, and, onono occasion, .when ho. -had her to himself for a few minutes, fighting hard for a, kiss. "You .little fury,, he exefaimed on this occasion, "you Have the figure .of • a sylph : with ■ the wrist of a hammor throjvfe'r.',' -. ~ . Perhaps he had been hardened by long experience, and facile conquests in cities where flirtation and intrigue is in the atmosphere men : breathe;-,for even' ; Mary's icy. distance and crushing repulses could'not 'reduce.him to decent' behaviour. He-could not believe that a pretty, woman could dislike; admiration, howsoever furtive and- dishonouring. Tho women lie had known in-South'America, at Florence, at Paris,-wanted to be. admired, and had accepted a certain rouglrvehemeoce as an evidence of,-an' overmastering passion. But hero was a.,little Irish girl, as delicately lovely as Titania, who laughea at his ..overmastering passion, and treated him,like dirt* The situation was piquant-, arid provoking to exasperation. The thought ,of Mary's contemptkept .him , awake in , ; t-he warm spring nights, when the hum of a .single r ' l( Ji? ll "l'ed ,the, room like-:a; trombone. • . Mary;. Mary,-', 'lie exclaimed one'-, afternoon, when he found, her alone in;,the draw-mg-rooni,',at the piano, and saw her start up and -.make, for an; opposite door at- the moment ,of his entrance. "Mary,' you treat, mc shamefully.'' " .. . , . •''lou-treat-me shamefully, sir,; like the cad jvou are.'' '.. "Jsot a csd, Mary!-. Only a . pauper. - If I were-rich I- would -marry you instead of Marjory, arid then how happy we could be." -'Happy 1 "Why, I hate "you ! To, have •you in the. same .room, with .me. makes me sick. And .1,. would ; give ten years of •my life to break your engageriient with Marjory.',' ....' . - : :

'ljttle. riper.... You'll never do that." ivho kijowsH lqiilye dropped your mask: tome. It wasn't .wiso of'you.' If I. were to toll her the truth.about, you ."She'd .swear you wore lying. : Dear simple Marjory! I'm not afraid of \ any harm you can do mo there." "If'l were to tell-Mr.' Warburton riii j oejwr ;b0„ such a -dishonourable little devil, he exclaimed. "No, no, Mary. ' a My: "\ou'd always play fair." ; Perhaps., But I'might strain a point .'to unmask a villain. . I might forget that I am a;'lady, and only, remember that I am a woman,' ' . . ■ The sound of carriage .wheels on the gravel provent£d his ' reply. .Electric bells .-rang'— dogs barked-biitler and footman- hurried TO 0 *®)"? hall, ; and Mrs.-Warbiirtori and .Marjory, alighted from .the landau in;whieluthey ■had made theirVsoleqin round of! afternoon calls.

/Miss.. Sedgwick's declaration of < followed by. an. armed:, neutrality.' Mr; Coriyers had always:i ignored, the .'pretty •• little governess in publip;; indeed bis fiancee, had remoristrated with liiiii for'his '\y<int of.pro-•p.e'c.-attention • to'- her-ydear.Molly:) He- now igilored her" in; private, and would meet and passihpr irit tlie ; \ garden. ; or. in the-drawing ■room -,in; a sullen.sifehbjSiV -A . very:'ferveiYt admiration /had. been, succeeded- by: an-angry, sense' of- defeat ;thiit -made her almost' hateful to liim. had-.-never .'been able- fo.-forgive a .woman .who- repuked'-.-his -'attentions; and •the -repulse .he had: suffered ■ from' Mary yliad been: accompanied. by :a - - cause!! •birii some uneasiness.' V.;v>';' (i h av ß, been he", told'himself, sho . -tell old Wnrhurtori, ■ Mi'pre.fl -be the devil to pay. ITo'cl believe her . fast, bjiough,' though. wouldn't; and it would-tako a lot of hard to get'uie.:out. of' tho'muddle.. -But I. don't think sho'll poach.; Her Irish pride wouldn't let"her.-gb.--to her master and chargo me with-'iflaKing • love - to -her.- It would be too much, liljo a housemaid." , '.

No, he did, not think that Mary would peach; .yet he' felt ;uncomfortablo Mn her pi'cscncc, And as licr pupils wore <vorv fond of her she wasseldom absent from the family circle, bhe was not , the common order of governess rwarranted 1 - to teach everything from thorough bass. and the , higher matliematips to. satin. stitch and : scientific dressMary was a bom musician, one ,'of those, happy .•beings with'whom "music is-'a ?ixth .sense, and she had been engaged to finish- the-Miss Warburton's musical education, .whereby there - had - been a : greal deal more of violin and piano, at : LesPri'pillons than Mr, ■ Conyers liked. I ; Marjory was to be. married early in' Juno; ;and- it was. now. the ■ •beginning of "April. Mary., began, to despair •' of. that intervention of Providence for .which she had hoped at the beginning of - her pupil's . engagement, that something" which was -to occur* unexpectedly. to save a good woman from marriage with a scoundrel,; for. Mary was fixed .in/her- idea thata man whq'mado dishonourable: advances to a dependent -in hisfiancee's home must 'needs be a' scoundrel. ' She could •' make' 110- excuses • ■ for him. .There was nothing' of the feather-brained- flirt in his- conduct. - Not once; iu Marjory's ,:pre-; senco had he cast so much as an admiring" glance at, Mary. ,Ho had been distant, even to• rudeness; and he had shown : himself at once a hypocrite and a profligate. ' ' The ■ girls . talked of hardly anything but the'redding and tho trousseau. They wore to leavo 'Cannes'-for Grosvenor Squaro in a' fortnight.; . Tho' invitation cards were being printed ;• tho dressmakers . and \"lingercs" woro, at work in Cannes, whero a considerable part of Marjory's finery was being made.v Mary Sedgwick felt'hopeless:

. They were all • sitting • in the verandah after-tea,-watching one of those sunsets which are worth, a journey: to the south: The dark line of-the Esterolles stood out • against a : splendour of-crimson arid : gold, while'a : H v the sky above was a pale lilac,, that-flushed, into rose.-as the crimson deepened on the'edge °f -the hill tops, deepened, and darkened, and melted' into: purple, -night. ■ , ,They had'sat later than usual-at tea-,- because Trafford Conyers, had been more/ than usually gay and 'talkative. He had been doing .his utmost • to juyuisg IVlrs. W<irburton, to whom he was, always' particularly attentive, and with whom he had made himself a ; grcat. favourite. Perhaps' he knew' that in iMarjory.s mother's friendship ho.had even'a 1 strongor rock than in the trustful Marjory's ; JOVC/ •' * • They had'been talking about the cleverest poop e they, had - known, and Conve'rs had supplied -three, or four Cosmopolitan' ex-' amples—all consummate scoundrels—but their villany had'been presented in so humorous an aspcct as- to delight his auditors— always except Mary, who sat in her corner watching, mm. ?? u • clever people, Mary.-" Mrs. Warburton asked, always anxious that the'governess should have her share m the talk.- . - "Yes, Mi's; Warburton, lots; but thev were all musical people, and only clever'about one thing. The iloverest man -1 know is a private detective.'" . v ' ■ ' - "Oh I" said the company'generally:' : "Don't be shocked. My detective is' a man of honour ; and just as kind as he'is clever. He has retired from the force", and lives quietly at Putney, and only interests himself in. special cases—when people' insist upon having his holp." 1 'Mary was sitting at f one, end of the family group, and Trafford ,Conyers was standing at-'tllo otbor'ond, leaning against-one qf the rose-wrcothcd 'pillars; his face in the shadow of, the verandah; but evon in that, shadow Mary's keeii cyos, happening to~ glancsi th'at way, noted'a sudden'intent look in the face she hated. " ' , . , ' . ' "And how did you come'to know such a person, Mary?" asked Mrs; Warburton.' - " Ho helped my father in a very serious business. A cousin, of -mine was missinghad disappeared mysteriously—an only' son; idolised by'his widowed mother. 'It was a story of folly rather, than' wrong-doing, hut the poor lad had got under had 'influence, and was afraid/to como back to'his people;' and'my, never have seen'her son again'liad it/, not been .for Mr. .Faunco':" '"-Fa-tince!" • Thistime there was no doubt

iis. to the effect of that name upon Conyr-rs. His lips' repeated the nninc automatically, arid his. face paled in. the twilight.. "We really oughtn't-to. he' oiit .here at. sunset!'' lie. said,, suddenly, and hurried his fiancoo and her mother and sisters into ( tho drawing-room, Mary following them. • She slipped past (ho family group while he was: shutting the window, ran -up.to her room,, and seated herself at her desk in a (Hitter of emotion. -";Faunce! Fannce!" she repeated. ''TTJty did'[ never think of him? Faunce! The one chance of help. And he winced and paled the name. There is a wicked spot in his life; and he is afraid of Fannce.'''

, She yroto a letter of six pages in her neat little hand, a document, of which the most accomplished■ detective need not have been ashamed, so clear, succinct, and to the point was..hov description of Trafford Convers,■ his character, manners, and position in the Warburton. family, and as much as she had heard of.' his antecedents. Of course' there was no •word of his obnoxious attentions to herself. S,he orilv • said that she detested him, suspected him, and would give much to .prevent his marriage with her-pupil.- ' • She; was ever, so much, easier ..in, her mind, after she had seen the butler put her. letter 'J lO post-bag, which one of the servants carried down to Cannes every evening. '"She watched Her opportunity, and gave the man her letter .'at the last moment, when the. messenger stood-by waiting for'the bag,; so that there should be no risk of Mr. Con,vers stealcPu s . ancl 'suppressing that particular let cor. , ?™tched the man out of the house, and then went out by another door, ,and stood on '? ;^ rrac . e of orange trees and magnolias jva.tclimg him as he walked down the hill, so mucli did she, fear foul play. •' vlvUry- detected. a 'change, in Mr. .Conyers •after that evening in the verandah. He \va» top -clever to make a marked alteration in his..- manner to her; but- slio was clever enough to see .his drift. The change of rriannp'r. camo'about gradually, like a chaugo of key in music, and it took him three days to pass ■ from almost open enmity to an. appealing Vf™ndliness'. Once more. .011 the third «?yj.n6 found her at the piano in the draw-ing-joom,'- quite alone, and this time- he walked, straight up to her and held out his hand.',.".'-" . , ' '; ..'''Forgive.; .me,, Miss ; Sedgwick," . he said..With,an engaging.frankness. " I never knew that litwas, a crimo to admire a pretty girl. But yoii'ye made me i feel; like a criminal." ~;'.',ls,..that -.a,- new feeling .ivith you,?" , she said; tlopkins-him full in tho facc, and ignoring, that-outstretched hand. . ...This;time she.took hiin off his guard; and he 'stared'.at her-like 'a man transfixed. -■;':'You..-turn' tbo commonest attentions to tragedy," ho said, recovering himself 1 with a.'laugh. : "Upon my soul, Mary,, you .are 'unpayable'!!, You had'. • better' not shake hands?''. • \ "-Much, rather not.''. •"TKat.-means , war. ■ Well, there's, somethirig:: piquant, about your' if oi)o ltatl found a butterfly,.tliat could sting.'.' ;He v ; vturncd. on his heel and' left, her, to parte, the,-garden with a- nervous "activity. ..

--What did that little devil mean?" he asked himself. "Is sho in Jeague with Faunjio?" ■ ■ ' Mr:. Faunee's answer came by return po.st. ".Dear Miss Sedgwick,—Your' instinct'did not 'deceive you. .1 have little doubt that tKe'.subject' of' your' letter is a consummate scoundrel ; : and' if you. can prevent, the int.ep'ded/marriage, you will save an innocent -girl from almost certain misorv.. I think you can do 'this with tho help of documentary evidence which I' hope to he able , to sond you in a day or two.; and which it will be your duty to lay before the young lady's fatherl The'business which mado mo acquainted. with' this man's character was' about, as'bad a case as ever came, in my way —so bad. that-' I cannot give you the details. It.is'sufficient for you to know that,a very beautiful—and unhanpily lian' g'irl'died suddenly, at Buenos Ayres. in most mysterious circumstances, and that Conyers- was suspected of poisoning her: Luqkily. for him, people only began tq'associate him with the tragedy some time after the .public, inquiry had been held, and the : girl.''had been buried, and forgotten,by her very .disreputable belongings. But the scandal was bad enough to call 1 • for some kind of notice from the Foreign Office, ifi'o're especially as T. C. left ' Buenos Ayres suddenly; on sick leave within . a month of the' girl's death. •.."'The man has influential connections,, as no doubt you know, and I believe there was overy wish |o avoid a public scandal, if it were possible; but' it was felt in high quarters that., the affair bad to be investigated, and I was, sent-out to. Buenos Ayres to, look- up. the evidence, and find nut what ground there was';for'.,tlie scandal. .Well,- I heard enough, aild discovered enough, to come back to London with the. 1 conviction, that - Conyers oyght to,have spent the rest of his days in a Brazilian prison, or swung on a Brazilian rope/;:, but ..the., evidence, that .was strong 0 enough to convince me—and my employerswas'not strong'enough to: justify .the.Brazilian Government, in reopening the case even bad'.it' boon desirable to call .their attention to -An .'English diplomat's iniquity.■ The verdict'of the-Foreign Office on the.evidence I brought,-them was ' not proven',' but it was followed by the intimation that Mr. C. was .expected tQ retire from tho Diplomatic Service without .loss of time; and I believe it was tllo -same influence which led him to resign his membership of the Travellers' Clilh. " I tliinlc when you lay these facts boforo Mr. Warburton'iivtho copies of official letter's which I shall send you. there will be no doubt , as-to the course'he will take. In the meantime I must beg you to keep cool and quiet, arid, wait-'the hour'in which , to strike your blow. "I remain, dear.Miss Sedgwick, " Yours sincerely, ■ "JOHN FAUNCE." The days during which Mary waited- for Mr. Faunco's second communication seemed like'a'bad. dream. She had a'dazed feeling, as if hardly conscious of the life that, was passing around her, or of the things she had to do. She walked and' talked with her

pupils, and played tennis-and golf, and listened conscientiously while they threaded the mazes ol llecthoven's sonatas, and grappled with the difficulties of. Chopin or ft a ff, and her quirk ear never suH'ercd so much as a false interval in a bass chord to pass uncorrected ; and she assisted at conferences with the...Parisian dressmaker, andgavo her advice with careful considerationyet in all she/ said and did the. thought of Trafford Cmiyers 1 crime 'was ever foremost in her .mind —horror for his iniquity, pity'for this frank, and-joyous girl exulting in her happiness and her wedding finery, dazzled by the mirage of a future which was never to he.

Her heart heat furiously when the promised jiaciket .name. ; It'-contained a copy of Mr. Faunce's instructions - from the Foreign Office before he started upon his inquiry, and a copy of Mr. Faunce s report to the Foreign Office 011 'his return from Buenos A'yres.- These two' documents contained all that was known of.the tragedy with which Trafford Gonyers' Gad-been closely, assoc'iatecl, even if it were.not his hand that had brought' about the fatal end. " You are to deliver -the enclosed papers to Mr.. Warburton unread, and to refer him to m'o if'he has'any doubt of their signifir cance," Faunce wroteand.Mary, obeyed him implicitly. . - , She replaced the papers in Faunce's envelope, and sealed .it;, and with this packet in-her hand'she ran down: to: the room'in which the master of the house wrote his letters and read his "Times"' and." Globe." Marjory came singing across'the- hall while Mary waited for an answer to her shy little knock at the study door. - "'Were you-wanting.'father?asked-Mar-jory. : " Father has gone to Monte Carlo." "Oh!" exclaimed Mary, dreadfully, disappointed. She'so longed to discharge herself of her terrible'trust;-to shift the hateful burden to stronger shoulders. • " Gone 1 to 'Monte Carlo?" she. repeated. • ■ "Did you.want him very badly? - It was for a cheque, perhaps?-" said Marjory, with whom .any. special. need of father's presence was associated with his'cheque-book. ".Oh. no.- no. But I did'want to see. him— most particularly." , "Well, dear, you won't have long to-wnit. He'll be home to dinner. . How. white and ill'you look,-Mary! You've been looking ill ever- 50 long,- I'm such a selfish wretch —so absorbed' in my- own happiness—or I ought to have put'mother up to making you see our doctor." . .. .• ,v> Mary declar@'-thnt-she-was .perfectly well, and ready for the morning walk upon the Croisette.- And -then ; she ran ;back' to her room, and locked .Faunce's. letter in a trunk with a'reliable- Seven o'clock! They •dinod at eight! No doubt-Mr.'Warburton would go straight to'his dressing-room,' and :would not . appear till ten minutes before dinner when' he 'Would be in the; drawing-room-with the family. And after dinner he would still.be with, the family,, or- playing billiards with Trafford Conyers. Mary would have to .lie down, at night with her. burddn, and wait for the quiet morning hours-to find the master of the ho\ise-alone, and'able "to listen'to her. She would'have to-carry her

hateful knowledge about with her all day, and see Con vers meekly worshipped by that poor foolish Marjory. - They all wont down to the Croisctto. : The port and the old town, and the church tower on the hill. were- steeped in sunshine, and the ivhite-fronted houses sparkled in the light under tho low red roofs. All was so slovenly, so shabby,' so picturesquo! And all the colour and sparkle of port and hill-side houses stood out. against. a background of .purple mountain, peak melting into peak in a warm azure haze. The sun .was making a yrako of silvery light behind an outgoing yacht: and there is no other blueness in the world as blue as those dancing waves in the April light. The. piano .trees ivere bursting iuto leaf,' the flower market was a paradise of roses that are common here a'nd choice everywhere else. And along the Rue d'Antihes. diverging', towards the sea by Brougham's statue, came a troop of personally-conducted tourists, beginning their twenty-one' days' toiiv from Charing Cross to Rome. . There was 110 mistaking them.. The weariness of a thousand mile's of hurried travel—mixed class —was in their eyes, struggling-with the rapture of., looking oil a scene so fair. Luggage scares aiid cares, hard . seats; and irregular meals had made their faces wan, while their tumbled garments and dishevelled hair testified to a night in tho Rapide. Conyers, who was walking beside Marjory and her governess, made these, good people the-mark for that cheap wit which is ever keenest 'when it-exercises.-itself upon the. disadvantages of narrow means. "Heavens, what a crew! They will rush from the .port to the Tir aux Pigeons, and then tear hack to take tho omnibus to Golf Juan. Some of. them will cross to the islands, and givo each other useful information about the man in the iron:'ma.sk, culled from the-Standard Reader, No.-4, andtheir men will go in and stare at the monks on St. Honorat.. .Wherever we go we shall meet them; but. at, eight, o'clock they will have dono Cannes, and will be off to Nice, and then, to Genoa, Pisa,- Rome,-Milan,, Brixton, and Highbury." • 'Mr. Conyers was supposed to live at- the Califftrnie Hotel; "but lie spent his days at Los Papillons,, and only absented himself for an'hour, or two daily to look in at the Ceiclo .'Nautique,. He played a .double set at .tennis with the three girls after, lunch, Mary' Sedgwick refusing to' play, on .the ground' of " being tired. She was a ' much better player' than any of her pupils, 'and indeed excelled at every exercise' requiring strength and agility.. Conyers had first begun to admire hoi- when ho saw her flying i. across tho tennis ground-, light as a'sylph° with an oye that-never-failed; and-the'anil of a'young athlete. And thon gradually,he had : been awakened to the : charm of hor fresh .young face, the. small, clean-cut. features, .the brilliant grey eyes that, looked at him and' measured; him with , such'''fearless scrutiny."'

To-day while he and Marjory played n gainst' hor two sisters, his .eve 'was on Mary's movements, and he' saw her.'disappear by a path . that' M .to' the upper boundary of the gardens, and which ended at a little gate, opening on the hill side, Tie

hill was Mary's chosen resort, and her solitary, walks were always in that, direction. .She was going for 0110 of her rambles this afternoon, lie thought,'and .there might ,'be a chance of finding her alone on the road that winds upward to the Observatory, where ho would have time, .and opportunity to; find out what, she knew about him, and what she meant to do with her knowledge; whether she could be. trusted, to keep «i----lenco as-to anything Faunce might have fold her; whether she might he wen to think kindly of him, .who so passionately -admired her.:, "-What -does a .man's past matter to the. woman who loves him?'' he argued. "Not a jot! 'But Mary has a heart.of ice." . He. played -baaly—threw down in disgust, suddenly remembered haying promised to meet a, n'ian at the Nautiquo, put on his hat, and -was gone. But not r,o the lN'autique.-'-Ho went, out by the little gate on the hill; and made for the summit-,.know-ing-.Mary's;fancy for hill tops and-far-teach-ing views.- : . tie had guessed right. Marv had climbed the hill; Her mental fever could "only be kept under by rapid movement. She wa2?sed as.if 011 air. She had gone,- up. to the Observatory'-,. and was on the homeward way and within half a mile of Les Piipillons"w.(ien Uonyers met'her in a steep, rugged lane, between stone walls. He met her face to face, thoy two'quite-alone,, between those, white walls,, with the blue sky above,"and nothing but the sky and.* his dark pa.ssiona.te'-face in '• Mary's sight, as be stood before her. Well," lie said,-"now 1 have .got,: you', to myself for a few. minutes—without fear "of interruption; and yqu and I must come to an understanding." . ' •; She - knew how'. lonely that hillside lane was, for she had gone up and down it many a. time without-meeting a mortal. ; No, there was. 110 -fear of interruption; and he could make her 'hear him and answer him if. ho chbse. She braced her nerves for resistance, and faced/him with a courage that had never llinched.

"Mary, you have treated me like a dog," he said.,,, j - : she answered. ."I have never thought,as, badly''of' a dog as I think of you.'" -l- v ■ "You delight in wounding me, the man whoso only; offence is to .love; you." ;• - "You mean your latest offence. .Let me pass, Mr.' Conyers, It is.ten time,.ai>d they will' be missing nie at hoiiie',". :: '' ■ '■ "They shall miss you "for a long' time if you' donit ■.'.take • care. • You ha,re held me at bay,'Jlary,' you hove made me a desperate man. You. are hatching . some plot against me—you^-want to injure me—with Marjory and ■ her • parents, but that isn't, the t.hijig that me. It's your contempt ; for me — for me—the man who loves you. Do you hear, child? The man who loves you. It was. only a profligate's casual fancy for a, pretty face—you* thought, perhaps. You were-wrong. It. i was love, passionate love. I never loved a woman as I could love '.you, if'you would let ;me. Be kind,Maxy. Let my marriage with Marjory come oft-peace-, fully. . I will, be' a. good. husband,ito:;her, .as the world goes—as good as "the average husband. She is too. commonplace to want anything "better: ~Biit you shall-be the-wife-of my heart, and, you and I can. havo our nest in . some quiet nook on tho river—our secret'paradise."

'' "Yon -wretch;" said Mary. "Your ovrn lips convict you. I have nothing .to say to you." > • . She. tried to pass him, : her.eyes- meeting his . fearlessly still, though she'.-.'was . ver.y pafej and breathless -with ,Tb,agrey wsll< rose on- either side—the blue sl;y without: a clou>l was over them—sne'eouijd imagine', no solitude, more complete. . H'a seized herby the 'arm; holding her in a gri'p of iron; . "Oh!"j-,ho exclaimed,. vith -a. sudden fuij> in'the deep bass note that likened it .to .th'o undertone -of ,a .tiger."lt. .is to bahaMj, their, betwperi us two—hate:' not iove?" ■ "It.'is to}be justice." ' ■ . ■ -"D— . You reject my .-lore-. 5 That' means' hate.. Come, .now,' Mistress Mary,'.' releasing. her arm, and'holding hqr by . the, shoulders, so-that she was powerless in his grasp, "what are you plotting? Whut aro you aiming at? Is it to Binder my marriage?" ■ - • ; "To .' make your marriage with " Marjory impossible. Yes, that's what it is,"' she answered, too angry to temporize or. to lsecri silence. "I have the papers that will slioiv Mr. Warburton what kind of a man, you are, to-night, when: he comes homo. I won't even wait for to-morrow. This night I will tear the mask'off your -wicked. lace;' and' that good,, generous man you .have imposed upon shall know you as I know you—as they knew you at the Foreign Offico when they gavo you your dismissal.'' fool!" he cried, "do you think I'Jl let you ruin me?. Now, listen! If you don't swear to deliver up those papers* to me this afternoon—directly we get back to the Villa—if you don't swear ,by tho living Uod—your. God—to do this, -and to keep sj■lence about my business as-long as yliir live —you—you sha'iv't live long enough -.'to hurt me." - . ■ --

She was pinioned by those strong hands, held against tho wall. Her light straw hat had 'been tilted off when he seized her, and the 'back of her head was pressed against the rough stone.. The pressure' of. his hands 011 heir shoulders /was agonv/and she was nearly fainting with pain ;■ yet 011 tlio verge of unconsciousness she could think and understand, and .sho thought he meant to murder her, and that the blue itiexorablo sky smiling down at- her was the last thing her oyes would look upon. And tho thoughtcame, "Father! Mother! So far from you— so far from home! So young, and life so sweet:"- . "Will you swear to obey me? Will you promise to be mine, Mary?" t-bpnding 'his fevered face close to hers," his eyes" loolan" into liers, '.'to be mine, body and soul. That is the only, way I can be sure of von. Only 011 that condition can I let you live." "No,no, 110," she gasped resolutely, and then witn a supreme effort, half swooning she lifted her -voice; 111 a shrill cry for help. He had his hand upon her mouth in an instant, a cruel hand pressing tho breath out of her hps, thrusting her head closer against the rugged stones. Her eyelids fell and there came a roar'of waters iii licr ears' And then above that deafening sound she. heard a confusion of voices, shrill, d<W m'alo and female, cheerful voices mix»d with laughter; and .thn strangling; hand'wiis gone; and she ' slipped down •to the stonv ground,' and was.lying• at the hottoni of the wall. . When she opened her eyes presentlv, her head was m a matronly lap, and she saw a kind, motherly face looking down at, her while a girl ill a sailor hat knelt beside her and dabbed . her temples with eau do Cologne. She looked round her in mute wonder and saw herself surrounded bv the - tourist party-of .the morning, the people-Conyers had laughed at. They ba,d all climbed up to tho Observatory to see the finest prospect that an hour's walk could give them, and 011 their downward journoy had como b°tweeo her aud a violent- death; for slio was very sure that C-ouyers would have killed her. She had seen murder in tho ■face- that changed from red to pale as it : camo nearer hers, in the cruel eyes darkened by injected blood, in the writhing lips, livid with wrathful passion. -..Yes. he had meant to- kill, .hex, and Tr'ovide'iice .had brought these, people on tho scene only just in time to prowit murder.

The mnrderor-had made off at the sound of those voices,. .while' the ' excursionists were at the top of the. lane. Thev had not seen him.- or realised the tragedy' that' had been-so nearly acted.-, -They - had -found n girl., lying' against "the' wall," in 'tlie white dust, .mute andi unconscious. Mary looked up at .tho > friendly faces crowding round her.' After tho horror of those murderous nyes. glaring into hers f these faces, seen hours, ago in the morning air, seemed familiar as old 'friends. There was the girl in tho untidy hat trimmed with tumbled roses.. the -stout matron whose ill-cut' capo revealed'a. broad expanse of tartan blouse, the' parson . in .a Roman collar, whitened with dust from half'tho breadth of France, tho' elderly man ' in a Homburg hat' who looked, scientific, the young man who looked literary. .How kind they all were. Thero was. nothing they -would not do for 'her.' They" propped ' her 1 up between tho'' parson and .the 'young- man,'.-and these two assisted her - to tottor down tho hill. ,Thev would not' leavo her till "she assured them' her. own home was in sight, and,, could poirit-'Ho the' white 1 Italian tower al>ovo the mimosas. Only when'she was in the-path leading to tho garden door would thej; • consent- to

leavo hor, although their time was precious, a:-, they were to take lea at Rumplemeyer's hernro they went to the station to catch the evening train for Gen'on. * " ' And ■ then we- shall liavo done Cannes thoroughly,-, paid .the girl in the rosorla'den '»'• had a drive to Golf .luan 'before lunch, and wp went up/ to the Observatory for our cojree — -wJi.vo looked Into;.ilomorial Cnureh. aiid ; -i\'e feet ?s. "if we had. Known C annes all our lives." ..

Alary was Jno ill to .appear .at. 'dinner that evening. f\ho | a y on her her] like a rag i 1 ,ilr ' hpwi flung thcro- father than liko a healthv vniinn woman, all lire and energy, a.s slip had been hitljp.rtp, Slio thought she had escaped frovn-'sudden death; for inthose moments whey. t ruflianly hand was at her throat nhp hffd'bado farewell to the. blue sky and. the glory of earth. . Sho lav tjicro till ten o'clock; ' and then, when.'sho ; kuo.v. dinner w0u1d.,., bo . over, .. sho crepi"own stairs with "Mr. Faunce's" packet ini \)ior hand, -and told-, tho. bxtlec,'..to-.askfjhiS - mnster to be so good as .to_scß'Uier—:im>b : ir> suidy for a. few minutes. She list-fined when .tho smokmg-room door "was opened, wondering if she would hear Ti*afForcl. Conyers' voice; but all. was"'silfent' 1 -War-'; burton came .into the hall' looking' 'fiate"*aiirl" distressed, with" an open letter in-,his hand. •„ , '. la . v ?, j"st . been \'ery m'nch 'np'set, Miss Sedgwick, ho said, "and I don.t feel'fit for conversation.. AYha't,'dol you want with! me? ' » ■- i.

Ho opened the study door and followed her into the room; motioningvh'erHb a; chairs' but='not seating'himself, and Vfth his eves still on tho open letterrI want to yarn yon against .your-futura,; son-in-law—to -let you Know 'tho true' clfiif-* acter of the man your daughter has promised to marry: ' ; v o» may spare yourself the trouble," ho answered, icily, " Mr.'Coriyers'-has jilted' l my daughter. IJe finds at- the last moment when my., poor ..'girl's '.affections are' engaged. ; . when' - sho"- will be" "hiilf heart-; bioken at such, treatment—- he finds that' no does not 'love .her'as he ought a lid -that • he. cannot bear, the- hurdeii. of mjr'-generosiiy. D n him! .;He.leaves me to break tie matter to Marjory, and.is-.on:his-'wayvb^fk" 1 to London." .. r ' ', "Ho is cleverer than -,1- thought* ..bim<" said Mary. ."He knowswhe'ij>;lie ;..isJ.h'oaten;"-, 'Now, Miss Sedgwick,. J , believe yon re. at the bottom of . _ this- Abusines's,^v-anrf-, you are a sly little coQiioltc. ■ T i havo''*seen • more than -one curious look pass between you two." ' -'- r < . . a >' Mi?, bottom' of thin business, Mr. warburton ; and if you will tako the trouble to read- those papers I think yon will thank Rod. for.;Marjpry''s.~release l :'k ; nd: that you will, believe I hare done.my- duty to my pupil.''. . L.".' ''' Sho handed him., .the; and left him without another word; indeed, it,, had been as much as she-could-do to say. the few words that had been'-necessary,'; . Sho crept upstairs again, ': .till, daivn, wifcli a splitting '. . a! , n acting the. scene of.' theV^ft'epnopn-Oper-and over again;; '.'and l she could heaj -Marjory- sobbing-in i -t*no' noxt room — poor Marjory, whose happy. :world bnd crumbled' into aplres 'kt- ;her feet."• It-took a year, ■and'-one "of ~ r ths best cricketers, in :t-hs.. Kent-eleven; to cure Marrr broken ~ a year during..which Tratford Conyers was luckv.enough to win--an Australian heiress-— the -only child of .'a sheep farmer,,— .-tliijec..times -as 'rich' as Miss Warburton, 'and to.-'put.-hjlf tha. world between- h'iteiself and "Mr. Fauiice,' tho. detcctive. .'V ! - ■