BENEATH THEIR FEET.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume LVI, Issue LVI, 7 November 1908, Page 2

BENEATH THEIR FEET.

[Publi&hed bye Special Arrangement.] By IZA DUFFUei HARDY, Author oi "The laseer £vil," "MacGilleroy's Millions," Mao, Woman and tfatei," "Oiungee and Pomegraaates," "The Buti£rfly," etc, • etc. CO r VItIG H T,

CHAPTFiI XXV.

So coi tLis undei'Standing tiny pai-tr ed, sho to patrol the grounds, he to pursue tho lxxud to tino station. He had not gone far when tho sound at a, e.onfuaed tramp of af proaching steps, th-i Right of a shadowy group that iesolved itself into tlie forms of men beetling ar. extemporised litter, p-ad* hi& heart leap and thf^n, stand still. What Avas it — who watsi it — thf>y wta-e carrying? He strode hastily forward. He know before his ey^s fedl on her d^axhwhi^a face tlxa,t it was Cara. who la.y motionless, lifeless, thej>3. He looked at tLo man by her elde, who moveid to m<neib him witlx oufc-sitirietohed hand, and it waa the dead alive, Dovglaa Bz. Quer.tin ! Meiinwhilo, Ahco . ctuscicntiously pursued every path round garden andi ground.-, paubuig to gaiio at ove-ry shadow, a,ud atouuving her oars to listcm to avary sound, aha waa Ly hubin and constifution tiio healthicistt-mind-od and loasiti niei-vous of woman., tmd the bad never thought nhe fiiiuilidr paths could swain so long, «o lonely ■ u ixl tuiiuDge. It wa* cold and daa-K. aud silent ; lieu- o\m light s>tq>s sound ed loud oil thu u-ackLing gravel path. fc>lie waa tai- out of agnt. mad liewruig of lliD Jiaus<?v aaid siie, oivew bho, f'ilD incdiniocl to uoaa-i ucivoutly at civcuy ciucKJti or v twig or xnv cut a itsaf.

±iea - liCiiid't .wyvJ-aL-jjiesiaecl aviui nmuv foul 1 and wwiclor aaUbd to tue liua-thtm oi vlita curlier gi'iui Inilj, 11 fc^uiieU. that — ••NM't-m fc,i>iT..-wb ti/iao tltay coon-j

not aiiigic apitj&, But iA bai,taJicutoj I"

lliu lwjuo of loish, vi in. a- decip-hiddiin b,oji-(j; b'o'jLiVHW !>tdn tiiu'olJlJ'ua in tier litmat liKci ai woumd tUnut would neiv-jf litul, aai<i now, it weoinud tliat souuie inyfcuvioius td-oublei iiad. ytiicotani x>h.o biVuiutii" bJie iovud so wtdl, sonitf

ta-O'Ubilei aviclcUATdy anvcaving Iwa wite. Couid it Lkj in aaiy waiy coumected with that undai'^taoMliuag betw r eani Cmni> mnd bt. Queuitm wlhojii liadl stretckeid hem cm the rarit co 3 jeicdoiusi doubt and m&pioiom? Could smy gho«.t from that payt liava via^n to blight the lives of husband uad wife torday * She thrust thci thought from her, for her own heaa'fc's pleading an St. Quentiu's. sp'de had made out a. caiaei for his loyalty and integrity, and with faith, in him she was bound 1 to give the benedit of the doubt to Cara too — Caa-a., for whom in this hour of trouble her old 1 tjGndeiroesa roao id a flood-tide of pity and solicdcude.

W'hea-ei could sbjei be, and why had sh« gome? George evidemtly waei oppressed by daa-k misgivings, and they bore dawn, heavily on Alice's oncebuoyant spirit too. " little dreaming what liad taken place during 1 her absence, sjhei returned at last from, aer feaiitleas search ia the grounds, aiwi setting the conservatory door waa open, and tha laanps lighted she entered tiha house tliat way instead of go-ing found to the hall door. The dark, loosely gaa-dem paths liadl been -\vaya of gloom, iind now, wh.€aa. she stood in tha lighiod drawing-room, the feeling of depression! and drearines&, the weight of strange foiebodir.g, abided! with hoi- still. The big room, silent and empty, looked so lomeaomo; tb.e shaded lamps left the confers in gloom, ; therei soemed to her soxnebhit-g eerie in the sfcilLaass of the house.

It ia ' curious bow a lighted roarm can somutimaa saem even more empty than, a darked one, can produoa on tlio solidary occupant entering into itsi ailenc© as doap an impression of deeotlatioui as th& darknessl of a londy wood or the shadowy streitch of rolling lain*

p. ... The great room looked so cold and lonely, so fraught with am indescrii> able sombre seaase of isolation that Alice, with a little shiver, passed on, through the door into the adjoining library, and there came all unexpectedly face to facet with a man, standing by the table. The tall lamp was shaded, but thore was light enough for her to recognise him. Slue started as 'f she would hava fallen, and stai-ed Avith wild dilated eyes at Douglas St. Qwiiftin. In tliat first momient no idea that he was a living man occurred t>> heal. 'Strange ytoriies she had heard of "appearanoes" in the hour of impending calamity flashed into her mind, already over-wrought, and as on one returned from the dead she gazed upon his face. "I'm tot frightened," shei said faintly, with a strange smila, "not' a bit ' I alwaya though I should be frightened if I saw — flfliythirg ' But it is you — you have come back to me I"

''To whom should a man come back but ta the one who is nrot in his thoughts/" he answered!, a little paizzled. by her manner, a touch of' tender earnestness in his deep low tones.

"And was I first, in yours — Douglas?" with a tender dwelling on the name by which she bad never callo'l him. before.

"You are always first." He» gpoko like life, .he looked like life; he move<l a step nearer and hotld out hia hand But she-,- it scierned odd that shu stood still with her hand wecse-d on

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