A SCARLET SIN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 176, 26 July 1909, Page 3

A SCARLET SIN.

A SCRA

A I'( A\ ].i;i'l"L stoi;y.

By ALin; .v..i .'r..vrpi; askew. Authors of ' J'h- Shutamite." "An* na o( thr i'Jain"." &c &C,

» ' EIOHTKKXTH INSTALMENT. He hail hwii very silent as they BM«k> their way hark, indeed speech «wt hardly possible, for be walked with long strid««. and it had been as much as Pamela could do to keep m|» with him. Once— it was just before lht*y had reacheil the burn—he had left her side for n few minutes, running swiftly along by the side of a low wall, stooping down as though to avoid oliservation. The moon had gone in behind a bank of clouds at that moment, and it was quite dark. She had Imrcly seen the outline of his figure as he carefully lifted his head and gazed over the wall in the direction of the little hollow where the |»ath. which he seemed to j have avoided. made a sudden dip and turn. He stood there for a few seconds, gazing over the wall, then he came liack to the girl, laughing to himself and clenching his lists menacingly. "What did you see"?" Pamela had asked, with son** trepidation : but he hail mod.- wo reply, and had [ hurried her on. Now lying back in I he great chair before the fire u|kw which Rob Per- f rint threw n fresh log. she -wondered if ihere hod l**en anything more in this midnight adventure than she hod already surmised. f "What have I dune ? " she asked. ' repeating hi* question with a faint | smile. "I wos afraid of what the ♦ t>ns*-quenre» might Ik* if these two ' men rnnif spying uj»on you. as was evidently their intention. Jf they knew that you were digging in the Met her ty fiekls. the result might bo disastrous to us nil." Hob Pcrrinl laughed shortly. "Ye're a brave lassie." he said. ! ••on* I'll be tellin' ye now that it mas ma life ye've saved by comin' to me as ye did." "Your life?" Interpose*! horrified. "Hut surely those men* hail no intent iim *"— 'Ah. but I'm Ihinkin' oitherwise." remarked Hob lVrrint. brusquely : •■and if it hadna l**en for yon. Pamela-. I'd I** lyin" out on the moor now. «i" n broken head. I saw them the two •»' them, down i" the hollow o" the path, crouching among the bushes. The cowards, they wotildna come out on" m»*t me i" the open, though they were twa to ain ' Hut they kenned very u.-el when* I was tin' the way that I should goo hame." "Hut I don't understand." said Pamela. when the man pause*!. "Old l'ls|»eth threatened me. and I gathered {hot .-he bail her suspicions that something was afoot at Metherly. I thought she wanted to conlirm her idens of something lieing wrong h> setting the two men to spy upon Sovin'." he interrupted contemptuous"*. \\uld_ Kls|w*th con do all the spy in" she needs for hers*-!'. She r.'ontdnn nsk two men to help her. She's swift of lo»»t is nuld Klspelh. nn' sh«* kens Hi- moors— yes every bush. nr»" every stone o" them. She is a malevolent woman. Pamela, an' she'd evil agin' me i' her heart." He turned away from the girl, r,»nk'<»g n pr.*t»'nn* of adjusting the Ins; on the are. Perha|«s he did not «iish I*-r to sev his face ns he spoke. ••They've tin™ love for me i' th" village. Pam-ln," h«* went on. "on" I'm •:•» s.'iyin' they're nltogither v. rang. Th' re's moiiy o won would rn« pleased to hear that Hob Perrmt's laid low wi" a crack on the bend. Ib»t they're cowards, a' o* them, nn' civil to ma foe*, though I hey damn me to mo bock. An* ns tor nuld K!s|»eth " he gov.* n vigorous kirk nt the fire, drattinv himself up and squaring his burly shoulders she nn" her friends i' th' village. I'll hoe the lietter o" them, n' now that I'm on mo guard. Hut it's thanks to you. Pouieln. " He turnd upon her suddenly. and his face wns more ruddy than usual—Pomfa roubl not soy whether it was the 'fieri of th" firelight or of some unnonf.il emotion. "It's thanks to von YeTI no hoe to say that Hob Permit's n bod friend." „ His eyes were fixed upon her. and I'rtiit-10. im'Xiierienced anil innocent a- slv.* was. rould read something of the struggle that was passing in the mart's soul—the Struggle lielWi*en a i r- nt d.'-sim and the promptings of defter things. For n few minutes there was site w '■ The great lamp, nearly ex- : hnusti-d of oil. was burning low i again, and long shadows were cree|»tng up the walls. The antlers and nea|»ons that adorned the hall took on strange shapes, magnilied out <i< nil pro|Kirtion. The fire glowed frostily, and Pamela drew her cloak about her shoulders, sensitive of the .-old. "Ye dlnna love me—y*» dlnna want me *' the man muttered, "an* it hard :»* me to force ye when ye ilinnn want. Hut ye hae her een. Pamela —ye hae the face o" ma Jean." He stretched out his arms imploringly, then, suddenly pulling himself together he stamped his foot, and mi mil away from the girl. ' It's late." he muttered hoarsely, "unco late an* >e"d lietter Is? i' yer lied than sittin' up wi' sic a mon as Hob Perrint. f'ang a wo' lassie, gang quickly, while I remember what ve hae done.for me the nicht." Pamela olieyert him. She was frightened, though she hardly knew why. It had grown so dark in the hall and -it was so cold. She murmured a few words, and then taking the candhj which he had lit for her, she maik* her faltering way up the narrow broken stairs. The man. left alone, threw hi nisei I on his knees before the fire. He -t retched out his hands and o|>cncd his arms to the empty air. Sh-'v mn ,H>an come back tame," r m.u-irv'il. and his shoulders shook 'hough a sob convulsed his body. ! .iT.r.ii Rive her up." he mooned ; ! . -mtirt-1 ronna ! -i • • t • F- ■.'.v. n. '":••• :"ir*-t (r-'-'fy morning

,;. . : h'-r ii.''-» ! <<i:.-- . ;!!-.•-! !.:v. intj h .m.-. found In•!•*-■ •';' uai'ii i: •>'•> :'t . • little platform of .Si ou-'post sia-ti->;i lor the drrivol of the train by v. huh Iwisil Karraday was lo conn*. Mi<' hail walked very quickly, and w.-.s out of breath whi'si she reached her inclination. so she was pleas d to find that she had Mill a few minutes to spare. She sank down upon one of the rude l>enchc.s on the platform, and sought to collect her thoughts and lo mUHtcr up the courage which »he felt was necessary for the trying interview before her. 11 wa-s so hard to have to say "Good-bye. " Her explanation for such a course would seem so weak, so futile, Hasil would not understand it. and would press her with quest ions—quest ions to which she would find no answer. And what if he refused to go. if he would not give her up ? She had divined his strength of v characler, and she had no doubt of the love he bore her. She was a little weak thing by his .Hid,-. What if he forced the truth from her ? She had slept well and soundly, drenmlessly. too. for which she was grateful : there had lieen no return of the nightmare which had haunted her on iiie previous nights. Perhaps she had been so tit lei |y worn out that even the sleepless brain—the brain that creates phantasms in the night season—had also demanded rest. She had awakened refreshed and in lielter spirits, conscious that she had done something to merit Hob IVrrint's gratitude— something that he might take into account later o»t. when the time came for the fulfilment or the withdrawal of her promise.

She had seen nothing of Rls|wth . that mornir.r and wondered how Mr. IVrrinl would settle his account with the old hottsek.-ejier. She won- j d-ntl. too. who were th- men who I had mi obviously espoused the cause of Kl.>.|»eih ami her niece, ami who had lain in wait, filled with murder-j otis intentions against the master of j Orgndale Lodge, among the bushes • that Itordered the path he was ex- j |MTled to take. What would they i have done hail she not been able to carry a friendly warning ? She had j evidently lieen mistaken in fancying : that their intention had merely been '. to spy u|»on Hob IVrrint's action. No. it was worse than that : it was violence or murder that they had in ; their hearts. j Anil what would Hob IVrrint do ? ■ How would he defend himself j against these enemies of his? The ■ danger had Iteen averted for the time lieing but it was certainly not removed. How would In* guard himself against it that night if he resumed, as he had promised, his interrupted task ? Pamela rotild find no answer to these questions, and they were still harassing her brain when the signals fell, the gates of the level crossing were closed, a solitary porter appeared upon the platform, and in the distance a faint puff of smoke indicated the coining train. She sprang to her feet, and walked restlessly to and. fro. She must put everything from her mind now. everything but Hasil. In a few minutes he would In- by her side. It »vas it pretty station, gay with autumn flowers, and the air she breathed came. heat her-M'eit ted. from the moors- The little station was a terminus, consequently no passengers had put in an appearance. The porter—a heavily-built. hig-lnmed iiir.it spoke a few words to her in broad Sio'eh. words that she failed to understand, though she nodded and smiled, making pretence of having done so. The train steamed slowly in—the lit tie noisy train of a branch line. There were but three or four car-riog«-s. and in one of these she soon espu-d Hasil Farraday's head protruded from the window. his eyes sweeping the platform, evidently in search of her. The next moment he had sprung out and was by her side, greeting her warmly and with effusion. "Oh. I'm glad you've come. Hasil ! 1 wanted you. dear, so badly '. Th«-se were not at all the words she Intended to say. but they came spontaneously to her lips—they came from her very soul. She had rehearsed a little sperrb to herself with which to gn-et him—a little formal s|»eech—but in his presence it was absolutely forgotten, ami Pamela ttpoke. an »he felt. She looked up Into his face and thought he was rather pale, and that his lips were set in a straighter line than was usual to them : hut he smiled down upon her as he spoke. ■"f come to you as quickly as I could. Pamela, and I'm glad—more glad than I can say—that you turned to me when you found yourself in trouble." "I wrote at once," sir- murmured. 'but I fear my letter must have been delayed. This is an otil-of-lhe-way place. Hasil. and no doubt the post is erratic." "I had In-en simply pining for a letter from yon," he said, "and so I suppose I hardly took the distance Into calculation. " He glanced down at her, devotion in his eyes. "Oh, 1 wish you had never taken this journey alone ! " he murmured. "You rannol guess, dear, what a blow it was to me when I brought my mother to see you. and found that you had flown. You've had trouble since then, poor girl—l see it in your eyes : but it shall be all right now that I have come to you. and whatever there is to Iks fought ami struggled against, we'll meet it together, Pamela." She made him no reply, but there was u shadow upon her brow—the shadow of a great fear. Jn the emotion of the meeting she had forgotten what she had come out to say. but his words had brought back to her mind the recollection of her position. She had come to say "farewell." lltit she could not speak here, upon the little platform of a rural station ; let them wander out pa the moors where there would \x no one to witness their parting. Perhaps there she would find the words that she must say. She became conscious of the porter's gaunt form hovering about them. Hasil turned to the man. "Thanks, I have no luggage,- he said. "A handbag was all I neededall I had time to pack." He turned smilingly to Pamela as lv spoke. Th'- porter lounged slowly olf. lit hi\'i «nueM ••'■isk 1 •<: ■ ••:u->'.v • •!■-'• a< lh<: further • vA or *!;•■ i-!.-! ■;• >na—-

s'.::!•■<.::•-• wrvi ua 1 - a :!'".->. .'I v .-iitr.-ig.-.i in | . laiming his lugg;!•_'•• it "in the van. Hum! touch'-d Pamela on ill" shoulder. -, l>ook,'' he remarked. "That man has been my fellow-traveller all the way from London. Do you r» cognize him ? " Pamela ol>cdiently turned her eyes in the direction of the tall figure, now approaching slowly, followed by the porter with the luggage. "It is Sir Charles Sainton," she replied. "I have every reason to remember him, Basil. It was he who bid ho heavily against us at the sale, and who was himself defeated in the end. I don't like him : he has a wicked face. He is not a friend of yours, is he '!" "Xo." replied the young man with some vehemence, "that he certainly is not. and I have never spoken to him before last night. But chance would have that I got into the same carriage with him in London, and the meeting has been a momentous one, Pamela. You shall hear about it. for he has told me things that effect both you and me. Come away." He placed his hands on the girl's shoulders, and led lu-r quickly from the station. "I have nothing more to learn from Sir Charles Sainton, and I do not wish you to know him." CHAPTEH XXIV. BASIL HAS A TALE TO TELL. They passed out into the road. There was a little inn close at hand, and here Basil deposited his bag and wraps, remarking that he would probably return later on and engage a room for himself. Pamela, waiting without, saw Sir Philip Sainton drive ofT in a carriage which had come to meet him. Presently Basil reapi>eared. "Which way shall we go ? " he asked. "For we must have a long talk, Pamela. I must hear all that has happened to you. for I am verymuch in the dark at present. You spoke so vaguely in your letters of dangers and troubles. I want to hear about your father, and about this Mr. Perrint, at whose house ■ you are staying. And when you I have told me your story it will be j my turn to sjwak ; for I think, dear" j —he looked closely into her eyes—"that the weird sisters who tangle j up the lives of men have interwoven our destinies—yours and mine—more rlosely than we ever expected." He spoke very earnestly, and Pamela thrilled strangely at his words What did he mean ? She had thought him ignorant of the relationship between them, of his own family history. Could it be that he knew more than she anticipated ? "J thought perhaps you would walk back with me in the direction of Orgadale." she faltered. "I dare not stay out very long, for I stole from the house this morning without a word to any one. They will think that I have gone for a walk on the moors, but my father will Ik? anxious if T am too long absent " She if.iickly broke off and then added, "You see, I have told no one of your coming. Basil." Basil's brows contracted into a slight frown. "But why, Pamela?" he asked. "Surely that was not wise of you ? Would it not have been best to tell your father the whole truth—that we love each <>ih"r. and that if you are in any danger, my place is by your side ? I>>t me go with you now ; —this morning—to Orgadale : let ime see and speak with him. L-t us i try and clear up these mysteries, | whatever they may be ; • let me ; straighten the path for us." Pamela felt the time to speak had come, yet she delayed the evil moment as long as she could. She was leading the way towards Mether* ly, a shorter route across the open moor—a path which Basil too, remembered for having trodden it on the day of the roup. After a while, since she did not speak, realizing something perhaps of the struggle in the girl's mind. Basil .laid his hand upon her arm. and brought her to a halt facing him. "Let us sit here for a few minutes" he said. "We are quite alone, and I could not find you a more delightful seat than this soft turf. The heather Is delicious, is It not?" he went on, as she sat down upon a soft mossy bank. "I love the moors, and feel as if I were native to them, yet I am a Londoner and the breath of the city has been in my nostrils for the best part of my life" He was talking quickly as if to restore her confidence, speaking at hazard, careless of his words. IKstooped and picked some heather. tearing nervously at the roots, and Jhcn, abandoning the task, and dropping the sprays of blossom to the ground, he came and seated himself at her side. "Now, tell me everything," hj«» said, softly. "This is a. momentous day in our lives, Pamela. Wc neither of us know yet how much may depend on it." "I was wrong to have sent for vou, Basil." Pamela drew a short, sharp breath, and made the plunge. "It was weak and silly of me. I was a stranger among strangers. My father lay ill and half bereft of reason. Mr. Perrint frightened me. There was no one to whom I could write. It was impulse made me write to vou ; but now"— "Do you regret it ? " he asked. He was sitting very still, his hands clasped about his knees ; but his c>es were fixed upon her. and Pamela felt the magnetism of his glance. •■•bo you regret it ? " he repeated. Pamela stammered a few incoherent words, and then tears came to her eyes. "Oh, no, 1 don't regret it." she sobbed, "for I .could not have endured never to have seen you again. I am glad I sent for you—glad I brought you this long distance even though it is only to say •good-bye.' Oh. what do you think Of me, Basil ? " Tears glistened in the soft, pleading eyes that she lifted to his. 1U slipped his arm closely about het waist and drew her to him, closely, protect ingly. To be Continued-