The Brand of Cain.

Northland Age, Volume V, Issue 23, 1 February 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Brand of Cain.

A VIVID ROMANCE OF THE ENGLISH COAL MINES,

(Copyright.)

Ily J. MONK FOSTER, . Author of “Saverne’s Double/* | Etc., Etc* PART 10. / But sho must go to work cautiously. Nor was there any occasion for She had found him now, and could never lose him again. He was rooted to that neighbourhood. Milnes Cross Hall was his own ; the collieries near were his absolute proJperty. He could carry, neither away, jnor even dispose of them without , considerable delay ; so she need not jbe afraid that he would make a bolt of it again. She had time to work out her schemes carefully, and must be on 1 her guard against making a single falsa step. For his sake, for her sake, for her own, there must be no horrible scandal, such as would put him to open shame and render him •desperate, make of his high place a licll of odium and sensational gossip. and perhaps end in dividing them after all she had endured. But cautious, prudent, self-repress-ing os she had determined to be, there were some matters she was resolved on. His dangling after his cousin, Margaret Chambers, must cease at once. Her own inalienable rights were to be recognised, and she must see as soon as possible the fair young woman who had displaced her in her recreant husband’s affections. * Next day, once more wearing her veil, she was abroad again, and on *this occasion she paced the high road leading to the village of Milsea Cross. She had gathered from ft toe babble of the uiaydons that the Chamberses lived near the entrance to the Hall, and. coming to the entrance gates, she had paused a Jew momenta to peer at the big house, visible through the naked trees. Then from a miner coming home •arly she learned where Mr. (Jodfrey Chambers lived She. had not dared to ask for the young man's lister, and the collier had told her it once. The first house on the .dgbt hand side of the lane. lie •aid, without stopping, and the woman went on, her face set and grey unefcr the silken meshes of her veil, ind soon was knocking at the door >f the neat villa. Tier single servant being busy in ihe kite!am. Margaret had answered that summons herself. Young, sweet., happy-looking, and radiantly beautiful,- - Miss Chambers stood on the threshold quietly regarding the white, refined features of the unknown woman, who had raised her veil, and w’as asking about some folks the girl did not know. I"I do not know tho people, madam/' Margaret, had taid, in her kindly way. “Quite a number of ■fresh folks have settled in the village lately, and I daresay you will tod them there. The best thing you can do is to go on to Milnes Cross and inquire there." | Tho woman thanked her, almost in e whisper, lowered her veil, and [withdrew. And so this was the girl Gerrard Mosston was to marry* ! Caroline cried to herself, furious with bitterness, as she walked away. And no wonder, for Miss Chambers was simply magnificent, was so gloriously alluring in her freshly-bud-ding womanhood that she seemed fit mate for a king amongst men. The pale wife’s sweet mouth closed riciously, her heart hardened, a new courage quickened her thoughts and resolves. That dream of theirs should not be realised. Not too hastily, and yet without undue procrastination. she must go to Gerrard Mosston, see him face t.o face, have speech with him. j But how was she to put that de- ; termination into effect ? That was what she had to thiuk out now. CHAPTER XXVI. DOLTS FROM THE BLUE. As agreed on by the cousins. Gerrard Mosston and Godfrey Chambers had met late one night to descend the Woodshaw pit, \hc latter having token the necessary precautions with the engine-winder to keep their visit rBHKci/et, and so between twelve and one o'clock master *and servant had got into the cage on the surface, the younger one had signalled with his lamp to be let down, and Sara Jeffries had lowered them slowly to the old mouthing of the abandoned Four Feet seam. They alighted from the poised cage stepping out into a cavernous archway, whose lofty crown their tv.inkling Davy lamps scarcely enabled them to see. and after pulling once on the bell-wire to let the man at the engines know that they were ail r*ght, Godfrey had struck out at once along the arched gallery. In a score of paces they were at the end of the brick archway, and tiere the level was much less wide and high ; there was a wall of mineral on either hand, but nowhere was to be seen a trace of tramway, pit waggons, props , timber—anything usually found in mines that* are in working operation. All had been swept out many years before, and «it had not seemed likely that this particular scam would ever be won.

As they trudged on Mosston noticed that the dust lay thick underfoot, oo the sides of the gallery also, even on the unbarred—that is, the unUmbcmd- roof, and on touching eithor one s hand was smeared M if with fine. 4>la ( k soot. Presently, after penetrating into the mine for something like a hundred yards, their journey was at an end, and they were at the top of the cul de sac or face of the drift. Here Gerrard saw an old pick lying on a small heap of mineral, which had evidently been hewn down quite recently, for on raising a fragment the fingers remained unsoiled, while *lscwhcrc the powdered grime lay thick. I “Sor— body has been here, that's certah*., Godfrey, and has been hewing tha coal, too. But it seems folly to thin* that this bed of bassy shots cab be wor n anything, my lad.

However, we arc here, and we can only put the thing-to the proof. Now, stand back a minute, and let j me see what sort of a coal-getter I (should make." '1 he official fell back, holding both* lamps ; the mine-master grasped the pick, plied it vigorously on the wall of dull shale, sending splinters flying in all directions, for Mosston had used such a tool often in his youthful days, and soon a new! heap of freshly-hewn stuff was lying in front of them. They had brought a couple of stout handbags with them, and when theso were stowed full of cobbles, they in ado their way back to the pit-eye. Tho cage was hanging just above the mouthing, and finding the old signalling lever, ohaml)ers rang seven times, the signal agreed on bctween himself and Sam Jeffries. I A minute later they were ascendj ing the shaft, and on the surface ; being reached had passed into the ! engine-house for a minute or two. : Here the master had spoken earnestly to Sam in a low tone, had slipj ped a sovereign into a big greasy ■ fist, and the engineer’s gruff “Thank ! you, Mester Gerrard. Ay, ay ; I’ll i be careful," spoke volumes, j “It comes in rather nicely, CodI frey," quoth Mosston, as they paced I towards home, “that I stand well i with one man at this juncture. As the Mayor of Milnesborough, the gas manager there will be delighted ,to do anything for me. I have arranged all that follows. He’s to have this stuff to-morrow, and I’ll take it myself. He’ll experiment with it, analyze it, see whether it is> valuable or worthless, and I'm to nave the result in a couple of days. I’ll let you know as soon as ever I hear from him." It was Mon-day night then—or, rather, Tuesday morning*—amd between seven and eight on Thursday evening a servant from the Hall had brought Chambers a note, hurriedly scribbled in pencil, intimating that his cousin wished to s:e him at once. He rushed of! forthwith, found Gerrard in his cosy den, and after a hearty handshake the younger man had cried : “What news, sir ? You have got the report, I can see. And what does Kelson say ?" “You’re right. Godfrey and his kinsman’s smiling face put all doubts away from the other. "Kelson reports to me in the most favourable way. That stuff I took him is really very valuable, it seems, weight for weight it produces more cubic feet of gas than the best ordinary Lancashire cannel. and is_ almost. as rich in gas-producing qualities as those famous beds at Costhorpe. I’m a rich man already, Godfrey, old chap, but I’m going to lie much richer still owing to your owh keen brain and capability, and i’ll see to it. never forget, that yoif come in for a slice of the spoil." "That means, I take it. Gerrard, that you are not going to sell out at any price, but will work that scam yourself ? As for me—well, don’t bother about that, please The Lord knows, cousin, that you have done so much for me already that I am half-ashamed." "Well, we'll noC discuss that point* now," Mosston replied. "As to selling, either to Nick Saunders and Companyor anybody else, there is no fear of that now, my dear Godfrey." "And Nick Saunders himself, sir?" “You may leave that to me"— and for an instant the dark face went back to its old grimness. “Nick's a devilish sly rogue, and an infernally unscrupulous one, too, but his vaulting ambition has overleaped itself this time, thanks to you. Yes, you may leave him to me. But if there's a good strong, and thoroughly capable mine manager you know of anywhere, I’ll thank you to recommend him to me." “I will keep my eyes open, sir, for a suitable man." “Do, for we may need him soon. And now, ray dear cousin, try and make yourself comfortable and handy," Mosston cried, in great good humour, as ho dropped into an easy chair. "Help us both to a drop of whisky a nd soda, please. You’ll find cigars there, and then we can talk this new big thing over, eh ?’ T The young man did as he was ordered, fetched decanter and sodawater from the sideboard, filled two big glasses, a nd then, after handing one to his kinsman, drinking himself, and lighting a “weed,” ho seated himself, well satisfied with things. Just then Gerrard burst forth, laughingly : “By the Lord Harry, but who is to say where this thing is going to <nd ? If that stuff down the old Woodsh&w pit is as rich as Kelson says, why shouldn’t I turn out a millionaire, as well as those ignore ant bounders one hears so much about in the papers ? I am Mayor already, and 1 be member for Milnesborough, eh ? And if that, why not more—much more, Godfrey ?’’ All this in a smiling, halfserious way. “With a million or half a million," he went on, in the same vein, "a man may go far, with pluck, will, and ambition behind him. Knighthoods are cheap enough and baronies and earldoms ? They are something to shoot at ! By God* Godfrey, but I’ll make our peerless Margaret a woman of title some day, if she only yays I must ! ’ And then the big handsome gipsy jumped erect, laughing boisterously.

Next day at noon, when Mr. Nick Saunders came up one of the pits in| quest of his dinner, he found a message from his employer awaiting him in the general office, Mr. Mosston had left the letter himself, so one of the office lads explained ; and so, with his rufous countenance all aglow with pleasure, and his blood running hot in his veins, tho manager had entered his own den to break the envelope. This is what he found : “Milnes Cross Hall, Dec. 22, 190—. “My dear Mr. Saunders,—l shall be delighted to see you at my place this evening any time after seven. Of course it is concerning the proposal you laid before me a little while ago. I have quite made u,p my mind now on the matter, and am ready to give you a definite answer. 1 cannot imagine how you can raise so large a sum, but that is your business. However, we can talk the whole matter over here at our leisure.—Believe me, yours faithfully.

“Gerrard B. Mosston.” The foregoinfi communication

seemed in every probable way quite satisfactory to tho shrewd schemer , who had read it, and he,went home* ; stroking his red beard complacently, j To Nick Saunders it appeared next j thing to a certainty that fortune was shortly to knock loudly at his door, and ho was ready for that event. Midway between seven and eight o'clock that evening he went to the big house, being a trifle later than he might have been, in order to show* that he was' in no way' eager or anxious, was received pleasantly by the maid, was ushered forthwith into that posy room upstairs, where , Gerrard Mosston sat smoking, was greeted affably, offered a drink and & cigar, and presently the mine-master remarked : "I suppose, Nick, that the offer ! you made me regarding the Milnes ! Cross pits stands good still ?” “It does that, sir," was the rcad& answer, “and I am ready at anj' time to make my offer good.” “Bight. There can be no possible mistake on that head, then. And the price—one hundred anu fifty, thousand pounds—would be paid to my account tho instant the agreement was completed ?” "I suppose a deposit of fifty thousand on tlje nail and the remainder in a month would very likely meet your views, Mr. Mosston ?"- Saunders suggested, quietly, already assuming the air of a man who had many thousands in view. "All the gentlemen who are acting with me in this matter are really sound folk,, as you will be ready to admit when {you learn their names.’* "Yes, fifty thousand would be ample, Nick, and the rest*as you say,” the younger man murmured, reflectively. Then he added, in sharper way, as his fine dark face and eyes were suddenly bent on the other's florid countenance ; "But before I speak the final word, niy dear Saunders, there are two or three questions that I should like to ask you, just to satisfy my own curiosity, you know,’* "Just so, Well, ask away, sir,” cried Nick, complacently, as he raised his whisky. "You can ask a hundred if you like. This is going to be a perfectly straight deal, I expert, on both sides, and 1 want everybody to be satisfied. Mr. Mo,sston," the last words being spoken with a great, show of frank honesty. "That's me, too. 1 like de&Ung with a man, as you know, Nick and Gerrard smiled pleasantly. "Well now, straight, what made you ! think first of getting a company together to take over my pits V" "Yourself, sir. You recollect that talk we had, and 1 didn’t like the idea of the place passing into new hands, when 1 should in all probability lose my own, shop sooner or later.” "But, that spring up in price from a hundred to a hundred and fifty thousand pounds, eh V" Gerrard •querriedf. “It meant a jump of one-half you see." " That is easily explained, sir," was the cool response. "1 thought that you were hanging fire a bit at the price I had named, and so, after going carefully over everything later, and realising that the collieries must be worth more, especially in view of the bit of a spurt the coal trade has taken this winter, I induced my backers to spring that fifty more to make sure of the business. Besides, Mr. Mosston"—and Nick’s voice had an unctuously virtuous ring in it then—"l couldn’t forget all I owed to your father and to you, and it would have troubled v me a lot had I thought later that you’d been done out of a penny." "I am glad to hear that, Nick. And so you had absolutely no ulterior motive in sight when' you entered on this game ? You are longheaded, you see. You know the pits better than any other man does, and the suspicion had crossed my mind that you might know something about the mines no one else suspected ?" "Good Lord, no ! What .should I know ?" But even as those words broke from the manager’s red-ringed mouth a flicker of uneasiness and [ honesty stirred his breast. For an instant he wavered between the truth and Ihe deep game he was playing. Might he not have made j better terms with his own generous master than with outsiders ? But ! he let the chance slip, and, merely re-cchoing himself, was lost. "Nick, do you know nothing about the old Woodshaw pit ?" and tho master's tones were stern enough then. “The old Four Feet ? No. What is there to know, sir ?" Saunders was blustering it out, but tho start he had given, the sudden paling of h.is sandy countenance, had given the lie to his words before they could be spoken. “Nick Saunders, you are a liar and a thief !” Gerrard cried. “You have been playing a big game, but have lost it. You have been watched, man. We know all now about that old-seam—that unsuspected mine of real black diamonds in the abandoned pit. Why, you" “ Master ! I swear I am not guilty! of what you think," Saunders interrupted as he rose to his feet, grey and flustered. “If some" “Swear no more lies, you mean rogue, or it may yet end in gaol for you ! I tell you I know all j and the mine-master rose, too, big, j massive, dark, coldly scornful of the | unmasked rascal. “You went down ' the pit .at night, fetched samples of : the stuff away, had it tested secret- | ly, and then would have robbed me With this precious company of yours. I know all, for I've been clown myself, and have spoken to the engineman, who used to let you down. Now what have you to say ?" "The man is a liar ?’’ “ That yvill do. Speak not an- 1 other word here, or I may take it I into my head to kick you out. In ; lieu of the usual notice, here is a cheque for your wages, though you don't deserve a penny. And if ever you set foot on my ground again I will flog and expose you, though it should cost me a thousand pounds. Now go !” The manager picked up the folded papor flung at him, and literally simmering with black passion and impotent fury, he made his way out of the house, never afterwards being able to tell how. There was room only for one thought in his mind then. Who had tracked out his ; scheme and sold him ? Godfrey j Chambers. That must be the man. | By God, but he should rue the day ! j As for the mine-master, h q opfcfc *

laughed aloud when lie found him- , self alone. He poured out another 1 drop of whisky, lit a cigar, and then j left the Hall, intent on telling his ! cousins of his late interview with Mr. Nicholas Saunders. | As he paused at the door of the ( villa where the Chamberses lived, a i woman in the lane was watching him. Then the door was drawn | back, the light flooded Gercard’s face and figure, and as he went indoors the woman went townwards, I with a set face, a bitter heart, and a leaping pulse, one resolve clear '■ in her mind then, j Next morning the master of Milnes l Cross Hall did not seem to enjoy 1 1 his breakfast over much. Among ! his other correspondence there had | come one letter which had puzzled j him at first, irritated him later, and | was now occasioning him some perj turbation. That communication was • to m the effect: "20, Postlethwailo’s Houses, Mil-nesfboroug'h-road, Milnes Cross. December 24, 190—. "Dear Sir,—lf you desire to avoid a great scandal you will pay attention to what is .written , here. Jam a patient woman, but still only a woman, after all, and I can endure no more. After many weary months of waiting, many, many weeks, too, of vain seeking, I have found you at last, thank God ! I will not cover you with reproaches now, for I think your own heart must have done that already ; but if you are' a man. you will see the wife you deserted four years ago. If you do not, then t.hs rest be on your own head. On the evening after you receive this I shall be alone from nine as the old couple I live with are going to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas with a son. “In the name of truth, justice, and peace come and see the wife whose heart you have almost broken. " Caroline lies wick." After finishing a breakfast to which he had done small justice, Gerrard Mosston betook himself to that familiar room on the upper floor, there to ponder the new phase of bewilderment and annoyance which that morning’s post had launched at him. Who, in the name of all that was damnable, could this woman, Caroline Beswick be ? Honestly, he had never heard even of the name before, nor could he imagine what motive had induced her to address him as she had done. She claimed to be his wife, that he had deserted her, and unless lie met her that evening and came to some arrangement there was to be some scandal. Surely some worthless adventuress, who: hearing of his great wealth, means to pluck him like a pigeon. But he was the very last man in the world to be fleeced by any daring and cunning damsel or woman of the-half-world, who was reckless because she had no reputation to lose, and when he saw her—for see her he must—soon should she know that any attempt to hocus or levy blackmail on him would be ruthlessly crushed. And then a new train of thought ran through his alert brain, and, jumping from the easy-chair near the glowing fire, he began to pace the apartment. What if this unknown woman had by some means got hold of that secret of his ? Could it be possible that the seemingly innocent and grateful ticket-of-leave man, Shadrach Parvil, had betrayed him to this Caroline Beswick, and was secretly working for his own band in- collusion with her ? He must know that first of all, and in ten minutes more he was out of doors and making his way on foot towards the collieries. He found the small, brown-faced man busy in the store-room. Parvil’s manner a nd looks' were as frank and open as the hard, sharp, clear wintry day itself, and motioning to his servant, Gerrard had walked leisurely to a far corner of the big barnlike store, where he and the other could speak without, being overheard "Well, how do you like tho work and the rest «f it. Parvil ?" Moss- : ton began at once, his dark eyes J transfixing those of the other, who ; never blenched, but answered most I cheerily. j "I was never more content in all ! my life, sir. nor better off, thank ! you." the little man cried. "It was a godsend to me, Mr. Mosston, that I saw you that day in town, and afterwards asked you to find me a job." “See to it that you keep straight, and I’ll see that you catch no harm here. But did you ever find that brother of yours in Milnesborough ?" "Oh, easily. I found our Noah, and ho wanted me to go and live with him, but his place was too far from tho collieries, you see, and I’d got lodgings in the village then." "You said nothing to him, 1 suppose, about me—my past ?" and tho mine-master’s voice fell to a fierce whisper then. "Not me ! No fear ! Nor to a livin’ soul ! After what you’ve done for me, sir, I’d lose this right hand first and a clenched fist was suddenly uplifted. "Right. I believe and trust you, Parvil. Here’s a drink." Gerrard went away more content than he had come, for if a man’s face ever spoke the truth iShadrach’s I had done' so. Still, there was that ; woman to consider and deal withi ! Returning to the Hall, he did not , leave it again until nearly nine, and then it was to keep that ap- ! pointment Caroline Beswick had made. He had arranged to spend an hour or two \yith liis cousins on Christmas Eye, and Naomi Leigh and her mother were to be there also. But the hour*” fixed had been ten o’clock, and with good lu° k he hoped to be ! able to get beujk before that time. ! And even if he chanced to be a bit ; late he could make some suitable excuse. Gerrard had known Postlethwaite’s Houses all his life, and he felt glad now when he remembered that the loixgish row of dwellings was still isolated. He was heavily overcoated, was muffled up, too, was al j most in disguise, as it were ; yet he hesitated from taking the plunge when the houses w'ere gained, and so walked on, and then back again, noticing during his double journey that the end-most cottage at one end was in darkness, while that 1 one ; at the other end was lit up, the i faint light falling through an old ! red blind. That must be No. 20. j Then he crossed the road slowly, ££nt onnoadbA tm* and. aL„tha.t.

, moment me door opened ana a woman’s form was silhouetted in the doorway. The doors of all the other houses in the row were closed, and in a rush he was at the woman's side, asking/ in a whisper : "Are you Mrs. Beswick—the woman who wrote to me ?" “Yes. Come in,.please," he heard her say, in a low, gasping way ; and then he strode into the humble place, heard the door softly shut, and was facing the woman. CHAPTER XXVII. A WIFE, BUT NO HUSBAND. For four or five thrilling moments the pair of them laced each other J near the centre of the kitchen, eye to eye, examining one another critically, expectin, giy—so still that they could hear one another breathing ; he, tall, dark,’ commanding, and so ready to be indignant ; she slender, well-shaped, plainly dressed, very pale, too, but handsome and refined, with her clear-cut features, mild blue eyes, and coiled, lemoncoloured hair, ready, too, at any sign from him to make a quiet, tender, and earnest appeal. “You will pardon me, madam." he cried, as he swept off tbe hat he had forgotten to remove, “but if you- do not. mind, may I suggest that we both take seats, and then we can discuss at our leisure the surprising step which you have taken in bringing me here.” "Oh, my Cod, hear him!” she muttered, in a sort of low-voiced despair. "He treats me a s if we were strangers ! Roland, do you not know me? or will you not know me ? Have I changed so much, or so is the change in you ?” Then the anus that had been halflifted, as if in readiness to clasp or appeal, fell nervously to her side, and she collapsed in an armchair near ; he settled himself in another a few feet away, the light from the lamp set on the high, old-fashioned wooden mantel-pirn* over the fireplace falling evenly on both. "As God shall judge me at the last day,” he said, lowly, but speaking with intense earnestness, "and as He shall judge between us both, madam, then I swear that I never set eyes on you before this minute. Again I ask why you dare to bring me here ?” , "Because you are my husband. That is my excuse. Is it not enough ? If I a m not. your wife, whtit, then, am I, Roland (?” “My good woman, there is a great mistake somewhere. I dare swear that, before now vve never set ej'es on each other ; but it seems incredible to mo that. I should so much resemble another man- as to lead you to think I am he. Think, Mrs. Beswick. Look at me carefully. I am Gerrard Burrows Mosston, and not some Roland Beswick. Surely you cannot, be mistaken in the man you married ?" "I am not mistaken, 1 ' cried, with low, dogged vehemence. “You are Roland Beswick —or, at least, that is the name you were going under when you married me. No. a wife never forgets her husband. She knows each turn of his body, ever? feature and shade of change in his face, every note in his voice, each little trick of manner- —his whole personality, through and through. You are the man who called himself Roland Beswick, and so 1 shall believe till I die !" "Nonsense ! Come, do be rational !’’ he cried. "It seems impossible t.o believe that such a sweet a nd refined-looking woman as you can be a beastly, griping adventuress, and yet you will insist on making such outrageous statements. Do you know, madam." he exclaimed, "that L was born and bred within a mile or two of where we sit ? That 1 could bring a thousand—people, some ol them of the most unquestionable standing, to prove lliut they have Known me all my life ? Js not that enough, madmm? What . can you want, more in disproof of this extraordinary, this abominable and unwarrantable claim and charge you bring against me ? "Oh, 1 shall want very much more, she answered, with quiet firmness, her blue eyes still fixed on him with that, curious half-wonder-ing, half-appealing look in them. "1 do not dispute what you say for one moment.. No doubt you can bring all these people to prove what you say. I believe you are Gerrard Burrows Mosston, still" "Then why say that I a m another man—the Roland Beswick who married you, to desert you later ?" he broke in impetuously. "Surely, if you are a sane woman, and an honest one as well, you must see the absolute folly and untruthfulness of your oWn words." "No, I do not see that. I say that you are both men—the man who was born and reared at Milnes Cross Hall, but none the less for that the man who married me under the name of Roland Beswick. That is what I do believe, and if Christ Himself came down to persuade me otherwise, I should not change my belief." "This is rank, raving madness !" he exclaimed. "Have you no reason, my poor, deluded woman ? What can I do to prove what I am and am not ? If in coming here, madam, it was to harass and bleed me, name your price, and I will pay it, to end .all this." “You are insulting me now, sir !” she flamed out, her pale face flushing. "I asked you to come here that I might claim my rights as your lawful wife, not to be bought off and cast adrift like any common hireling of the streets." “In the name of Heaven, what to I to do (to convince you ?"he asked, almost at his wits’ end then, and his patience nearly gone. “There is one thing you can do to begin with, Roland Beswick, or Gerrard Mosston. Tell me, will you, where you spent the four or five years of your life prior to your return to Milnes Cross last June ? If you insist on. the truth, tell me that please.” •“By God !” Those words were wrung from his lips ere he was aware that! they had escaped him, and the shock of her question had so startltad him that his dark face -had crimsoned instantly, and he had half sprung to his feet. Her gaze had never left him. She I was watching his every movement | carefully, and his flush and start j had brought a wan smile to her face. “Oh, why keep up this shallow 1 farce any longer ?" she cried. “Be 1 a. man- and admit the truth. Ad-

mit that I am your wife, Roland— Gerrard, and I will go away to any place you like, not to return until ; such times as you can fittingly bring me back as your wife. I do not wish to harass you, dear ; J love you still. I am willing to forgive | everything ; but do admit you are my husband !” and she held out her hands to him then. “Oh, my God, but this is becoming intolerable !" he muttered, sining back into his chair. “If .you are not mad, woman, I soon shall be. If 1 were dying at this moment, and my last chance of salvation depended on my words, I should i shout out that I am innocent of this thing. Can't you believe me ? • Why should I play the part of a heartless a nd infamous impostor ? j Woman, woman, tell me that." " There is no answer to that. Perhaps you cared for me a little at j first ; i lien you must have tired; then you went away, saying you had business, to attend to, and I was left alone—alone. Where the intervening time was spent I do not know ; but I know that you came back, to Milnes Cross after years of absence, just in time lo see your rather die, and to inherit all his big fortune. And then you discovered that. a poor cousin of yours was I very beautiful. You sec, I know l 1 all, arid I am ready to admit that i Margaret Chambers is one of tho | most royally handsome women I i "Have you done, Mrs. Beswick ?” he asked, drearily, not yet seeing ! which way he was to turn, and marvelling at the knowledge of his own affttits which the deluded woman was showing, almost censing to blame her as well if his own resemblance to this Roland Beswick was so striking as ii seemed to be. He was satisfied also that the woman was honest, and on tliai was it alone .possible to base any hope of escape. | "I have nearly done,” she answered, grimly. "As an honest and a 'betrayed woman, do you think I 'can stand tamely by and see you delude and destroy another and a ; better woman .than I am ? Every one speaks in the highest possible way of this cousin you have dared to raise your eyes to, and hope to make your wife—your sham wifewhile jour real wife, myself, is living. Margaret Chambers is good, noble, and beautiful—so people say, and I can believe it, for I have seen her —and in order to gratify your unholy desire you would make of this pure and • lovely girl your mistress,i vour paramour, under the false shelter of an allegal marriage.” “Hush, woman ! Hush ! Good Lord, but I can hear no more L Nor do I blame you now. If you believe I am your husband, you have the right to harrow me with the words you have spoken. But again I swear that I am not Roland Beswick. But how—oh, how am I to convince you of that indisputable fact ?” “Have I not told you—pointed out the way ?” She answered him very lowly, a deeper, wonder than ever in her blue eyes now. "Every one to whom I have spoken could account for the whole of your life up to something over five years ago. Then you vanished, and when you returned n<o man knew where you had been If you are not. my husband—if you are not Roland Beswiclo— where were those absent years spent ?" “I can tell you, and I must, I suppose,” he said, doggedly, and through his set teeth, while the fine strong- features, the whole of the dark, handsome face was thunderous and strangely working. "You ask me a q.uestion, and although you have no real right to 1 an answer, as J am fixed now, \ must give a reply. Well, rio matter what the price, 1 must say it, and J will But first, Mrs Beswick, there is one question you siml] answer me," he said, sternly. "I will answer R if f can," she said humbly, almost ready then t.o discredit, the evidence of her own senses as to the identity a»d personality of the man hi fore her. (To be Continued.)