A WOMAN UNKNOWN.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2089, 24 January 1896, Page 3

A WOMAN UNKNOWN.

'; ■ ■ BY INA LEON CASSTT.TS ' 11 1 (Concluded Prom Las* Week.) Many thought, wild and vague, struggled for articulate expression, and found none. How could he solve the mystery? How could he counsel her ? "Break off the engagement" were the words on his tongue ; but the very consciousness of his own passion for her would have been enough to arrest them, if there were nothing else. In justice, in common sense, could he advise a girl to jilt her lover because she imagined .there was a third a supernatural witness to their interviews ? Whatever he felt or thought as to the occult nature of this singular visitation, it formed no tangible, recognisable ground for the separation of affianced lovers. He knew in his heart that there was a tangible

reason for greaking off the match, because Nina did not really 3ove her betrothed husband, because—yet more—another man had 'become dear to her; but Phillip :Vere, of all men. could not hint at this reason. He was silent for some minutes, but at length he said, very gently : "I know that most people would poohpooh what you have told me. They would say that you were ill—needed change—anything to account in a natural manner for the phenomenon. A physician would smile, and give you medicine. I myself believe that it is a supernatural visitation, and has a meaning—a purpose !" Nina looked at him breathlessly. "What meaning ? What purpose ?" she said. "I dare not say I know. It would be presumption ; and, indeed. I must think over what you have told me before I can even settle my own impressions—if thinking settles them. I confess I am struck by the appearance of ■what you call a shapeless shadow. I imagine there will be further developments." The girl's cheek grew deadly pale. "It's'horrible !" she whispered. "It's horrible'" "Try to bear a little more." said Vere, speaking slowly, that he might command his voice. "Perhaps in a few , days I may be able to help you " "Oh. can you ? No—l mustn't ask that" "You may ask anything of me, and if I can do it, I will." He held her hands closely for a moment, then rose as she rose. She seemed calmer, more comforted. "You have helped me already." she said, with a tremulous smile. "Thank Heaven!" They walked back together through the lengthening shadows, and at the corner of the lane Vere bade his young companion good-bye. and watched her till she vanished from his sight. _ Then ihe clenched his hands over his eyes with a shuddering sigh. "What can it mean ?" he whispered. "Great Heaven, what can it mean?" and there struggled upwards through the tangle of his thoughts the vision of a face and form. « 4 » * * For the next three days Philip Vere did not see Nina. Old Mr Everard made ihim as welcome as ever at the Manor; but Sterling was cold to him. almost to rudeness, and Vere scarcely blamed him. Perhaps he attributed to the newcomer the change in the heiress ; yet he thad now her half-made promise to become his wife in a few weeks ! Vere, meanwhile, suffered all the tortures of suspense. Horrible fears, suspicions. chased themselves through his brain ; but the whole thing was so nebulous, brought down to the concrete quantity of action. The man felt himself helpless, and yet he could not leave •Nina now, even had his own strength been equal to the step. There was hope, too.if but a vague hope.of that "further development" of which he had spoken, and this might afford some groundwork for action. Would Nina communicate with him in the event of any stronger (manifestation of the mysterious presence ? He would wait a day or two longer, and then call at the Manor. He came to this decision as he walked through the wood, led to on one side by the stile where Nina had told her strange story. It was glorious noonday, and sunlight and shadow danced across the hardly perceptible path through the trees ";for not three people in a day (traversed Dane Wood. Vere started, therefore, to hear ahead of him the rustling of boughs and of dead leaves, as if someone were rapidly forcing a way through the thick growth. In a moment he caught a glimpse of a woman's dress; ithe next the woman herself appeared. It was Nina Everard, her head bare, as if in her rapid passage her hat or cap had been swept off unheeded ; her face deadly white, her dark eyes wide and .wild with fear. A cry—it was like a cry of rapture—broke from her as she saw Vere.He sprang forward, and hardly knowing what he did or said, caught fcer hands in both his, with broken, passionate words : "Nina! Nina! in God's name what has happened?" "Oh. don't let him take me! Don't!— don't!" She was shuddering, sobbing, clinging to him: and he was flesh and blood ! He wrapped his arms about the girl, folding her close to his heart; he pressed his lips to her brow, her eyes, her quivering lips, with deepening passion, as he felt her not shrinking, but yielding, clinging, terror almost forgotten in this new ecstacy. "My darting!" he whispered—"my darling! you are safe with me: you are mine—mine!" Wild words, yet Xina did not reEent them. Her face grew radiant ; the joy and wonder in her eyes took his breath. "Oh. is it true?" she said tremulously. "Do you mean it?—do you love me?" "God help me." he said hoarsely ; "I 3ove you with all my strength—and you are not for me." "Oh. what am I to do - ?" She hid her face against him. "f am yours—l am "Nina " "And I am not free —he won't release me." "Nina, my darling, listen to me." He Was trying to master himself, so as to speak more calmly ; "I must not take advantage of you—l was wrong. Come here; sit by me; tell me what has happened : you were half mad with terror when I first saw you." He drew her away from the path to where the roots of a beech tree made a low seat; he placed her by his side, and because she still trembled, and was deeply agitated, he folded her to his breast again, and tenderly caressed and soothed her.

"I want to tell you." she said, presently. "I think I was coming- to you— I wanted, at least, to be near you." IJe pressed her closer. No; she was his—no other man should have her ! "I saw that shadow once again," Nina went on—"yesterday ; but otherwise it was as before. This morning Gilbert came; he asked me to go out with him. I was afraid—and I—l hated to be with him— I don't think I knew why." She faltered, and paused. Vere's lips pressed her brow. She went on: "I had no good reason to refuse him ; so we went. She twas following ; I knew that, though I saw nothing. We left the park, and entered the Ion? meadow beyond this arood. He began to speak about our marriage. He asked me for a more 'definite promise; I did not know what to say; I looked back, and there was a wowan following us. She was some way befaind us, but I saw her distinctly. She iwas dresed in black; she was young, but I could not see her face clearly, though I am long-sighted. I stopped 'dead, and she stopped. I knew the moment I saw her who it was. Gilbert Stopped; arid stared at me. I said, fLook back.' He looked, and said, 'Well ■what?" I said, 'There is a woman following us.' I said it to make sure, though I knew in n>>se!f wh.it it was. He said. 'What nons-nse.' He saw ,10thing. "We walked .1 iittU- ~iy. and he spoke again a • th m-. triage. I hardly heeded hir ! 1 r'.v think Of that dreadful thins >• k i rue " . She shivered,, and cl\.j : cbjuer to P&ere's heart. He **hisp. • "I will help you, darling. I wili save you." ,Then she contir.u.-i . -•'Gilbert got an ry *.-■ w--!i h- >iight. Sfe said I was 0; ' v uses to put him off. It seenv-a so : 3 * <"*. The tvoman caxne nex: S:..- -a-o quite

close. I looked back, and saw her so clearly that it appeared as If I could touch her. But still her face was indistinct. 1 felt paralysed. I stopped. I said, 'She is close to us,' and he cried out that I was mad—bewitched! I don't 'quite know what he said; I rushed away from him. and he did not try to stop me or follow me. I dashed into this wood. I wanted to escape from him, and I wanted to come—to you." "If I could only know what it means!" she-whispered, after a long silence. Vere had sat without speaking, only holding her to his breast "I can't break my promise without a reason." "Has he ever written to you, Nina?" She looked surprised at the question. "No; there was no need : he has been here ever since I knew him." "Have you ever seen his writing?" " No."

"Then do this : keep your own apartments under plea of illness, and steadily refuse to see Mr Sterling. He will grow desperate, and write to you ; don't send him an answer, but send a message to me to call. When I come, give me some part of his letter. W ill you do this?" "Yes; but why?" "Let that be my secret for the present. You trust me?" -Utterly." He kissed her lingering]} - . "My love!" he said, under breath. • ■ ■ • • For a week Gilbert Sterling went daily to the Manor, but was always told Miss Everard was too ill to so? anyone. Then he grew desperate, and wrote to her, imploring her to see him. Nina read the letter with a feeling o£ having done the writer injustice, and yet She sent a message to Philip Vere, and that afternoon he was shown into her boudoir. He only took her hand, and kissed it. "The letter," he said —"may 1 see any part of it?" Nina gave him the paper. She saw him pale, and a glow come into his eyes. She watched him. breathless. He looked up presently. "It is a's 1 thought," he said., "I have I seen his writing before." "Where, and when?" Vere put her in a chair before he answered : "Six weeks ago. on a scrap of paper found in the pocket of a murdered woman!" "Philip!" She sprang up with blanching cheek and dilating eyes. "T will go to-day." Vere went on, "to Scotland Yard, and there compare the two writirgs side by side. I.egal proof of murder may be lacking, but 1 am as certain as I am of my own existence that that unhappy woman was Gilbert Sterling's wife; that she heard someho-.v of liis engagement to you, and came here to prevent the marriage, and that he lured her to that wood, and there murdered her. She it was who has saved vou—she who claimed her right, and stood between you and an unspeakable fate." _ ; , ft That ietier from Gilbert Sterling to his promessa remained unanswered; but the following morning he was arrested on a charge of murder. The presumptive evidence was strong, but ic failed to bring the actual crime home to the accused. Inquiries made proved that he had married a young woman of the shop-girl class—that he deserted her, and she fell into poverty. The descriptions of the girl tallied with that of the corpse found at Danefield ; but the woman could not be traced to Danefield. nor was there any evidence to connect Sterling with the crime. The moral evidence against him was. however, so strong that he was practically effaced, and compelled to leave England under another name. So was Nina Everard saved, and free to marry the man she loved. The story of her Strang- 1 experience came out "at the trial, and excited no little comment and discussion. Was it, asked the disciples of occultism, an objective presence, or the result of "thought transference"—the vision, ever present to the mind of the guilty man. made visible through transference to the more sensitive temperament of his betrothed? Quien sabe? The living was saved by the dead, by whatever means the end was accomplished, ami th» secret crime rose up against its perpetrator and destroyed him.—" Weekly Budget."