THE STORY-TELLER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XIII, Issue 4667, 28 October 1876, Page 2

THE STORY-TELLER.

|,|E WHIT E^Bjr^D , M ; iiOED TEEGAROirabAJKffllE&lfj "V\ ——SI! If g t'i.eVJaO.-BY MES. HABRrBT.jYEwi9!.I - . SW{ •*£, ■-. ' vs- ' ■ CHAPTER XVII. RENEWED PLOTIISOS. The "evil triumph' of Punteb was destined to be of short duration. Hie nefarious- work in stealing the-girl'froin her rescuers was doomed to a termination far different to that he or his employer Had anticipated. . As he stepped out at the curtained door of the tent into the pale moonlight, with Sinda clasped close in his arms, her sense? held.in fetter by the subtle drug he had dispersed through, the; tenfc, he found himself confronted by Kalloo f " And behind the Parsee were Elliot and "Bathurst, both armed to the teeth, both stern and formidable ! The Hindoo recoiled with his insensible burden, his face growing wild and livid. Kalloo laughed, a low, soft pean of triumphl " Puntab think he work in the dark," said the Parsee. "He forget that Kalloo have eyes. Puntab have done nothing since, we left Putpur by night or by day that Kalloo have "not see. Kalloo watch—watch— watch !" " The Hindoo glared from one to another of his enemies, with the look of some hunted creature turned at bay. He still retained hia bold upon his prey, his muscles having stiffened to "hooks of steel." There was a. murderous look on his livid visage, a murderous smilo upon his thin, writhing lips. " Put down that young lady !" commanded Elliot, in a low, stern voice. " Stay !" he added, seeing that the slight form was strangely immovable. "Give her to me 1" He advanced upon the Hindo, his keen, blue eyes flashing from his olive face, his mien that of one who intends to be obeyed. Puntab clutched the girl with one brawny arm, while one hand groped to his belt. His eyes sent a swift, sidelong glance around him. He remembered that the syces were in his interest, and suddenly he emitted a shrill whistle to summon them to him. "Come, none of that!" commanded Elliot. "Your men will not come to you. Put down your hand !" There was that in Elliot's eyes that made the Hindoo quail, inspiring him with a lively terror. His men did not come to his assistance, and Elliot was advancing upon him, revolver in hand, an appalling object to his cowardly soul. He dropped his hand and held out his burden in an abject obedience. Elliot took the girl in his arms. " Why, it's the Begum !" cried Kalloo. What does he want with the Begum 1" " The Begum !" ejaculated Puntab, in dismay. "Is It not the lord's daughter, Miasy Maya?" Elliot, with a quick thrill of apprehension at her continued immovability, looked into the lovely little face of Sinda; Her eyes were shut, the long lashes lying on her chesks. He saw at once that she was in a stupor produced by some drug, and that she would presently recover. So he gently carried her into her tent and laid her upon her bed with reverent hands, and returned to the scene of action. Puntab was still cowering before Bathurst, who, ugly and sinister, was endeavouring to force him into an explanation of his conduct. But the Hindoo was doggedly silent, refusing to speak a word. " He will answer me," said Elliot, coolly,

his blue eyes blazing. " You were trying to steal one of the young ladies, eh, Puntab 2 Yon thought you had taken Miss Maya ? Now, what was the reason ? Speak !"

Young as he was, there was authority in Elliot's manner, a cool superiority that constrained the Hindoo's instant subjection. JJe saw that he must answer. He dared not tell the truth, that he had been hired to steal Lord Trogaron's heiress, and convey her away to some secluded spot in the hills, fearing also the vengeance of his employer, the Calcutta merchant. In his dilemma, he took refuge in a lie, tbe usual resort of weak and cowardly natures. " I thought to steal Missy Maya," he stammered, "'for reward. 1 meant to carry her off for awhile, and find her again for money !"

And to this story he sullenly adhered, in spite of questioning and menace.

"A little business speculation !"' sneered Bathurst. "Thanks to Kalloo, we have nipped it in the bud." " You will spend the remainder of the night under guard," declared Elliot, sternly. "And when morning ci>mes you will part company from us. We can dispense with your attendance to Calcutta !" Puntab was marched iuto the tent of the young Englishman and securely bound. The Parseo had the pleasure of mounting guard over him during tho remainder of the night, and that it was a genuine delight none who saw him could doubt. Elliot and Bathurst acted as sentinels, marching to aud fro the boundaries of the cajip. '1 \ia syees, who had been taken off their guard by the prompt proceedings of Elliot and the Parsee, sullenly submitted to the aspect of affairs, and made no effort to rescue their leader from his degrading imprisonment.

Kalloo felt himself avenged for the annoyances he had suffered at tho hauds of Puntab during the early portion of the expedition. His vigilance had been rewarded, and he felt that he had done something to earn the large reward ho h;ul been promised in case the expedition should prove a success.

Elliot paused now and then in his march to listen at the door of the tent for some Hound of movement within. He was rewarded by heating preseutly a start and exclamations, and he knew that all three of the inmates had recovered their senses.

The soft Southern night, with its mellow lustre, its sweet air, its fragrance aud stillness, through which penetrated now and then from ths depths of the jungle an eldritch, wild-beast cry, passnd slowly to the watchers. Young Batlmrst lay uuder upon a tree and went to slnep, but Elliot kept up his march for hours, halting now and then by the women's tent, to assure himself that all was right within, and now and then visiting his prisouer, who remained wakeful and bullen. regarding the Parsee with eyea gleaming with hatred.

With the first gleams of dawn, the camp was astir. The breakfast was prepared, aud the women appeared, looking but iittle the worse for the. previous night's experiences, excepting Simla, who sueined tired and languid. Puntab's intended speculation was explained to them ; breakfast was eaten ; the tents were folded ; and the horses were made ready for the march.

Elliot approached his prisoner, to whom breakfast was offered, and by whom it had sullenly been refused, and said to him :

" You will find us at the same hotel in Calcutta as before, Puntab. If you call upon me there I will pay you your I am sorry that you should have chosen to end your term of service, during which you were so faithful, by an act of treachery auch as this you planned." The Hindoo muttered some expressions of regret for his intended treachery. "The syces havo all begged to be allowed to. go on with us to Gwalpore," continued Elliot. " I had intended to leave them here with you—" " Lit me go on, too, master," said Puntab, humbly enough, seeing that his followers had deserted him, and that his nefarious project was no longer possible. " 1 will try no more tricks !"

" You may follow na at a little distance ; you" cannot go with us !" declared our hero, firmly.

" Release him, Kalloo 1" Elliot turned away, and the little train set out upon its march. The sycea ran beside the horses of their employers and of the ladies, paying no farther heed to Puntab' now that he , was in trouble. And J;e, mounted also,! followed the train afar" off, his soul full of bitterness and venom.

The start had been earlier than usuaL After the events of the preceding night, Klliot desired to avoid a futher halt, and they pushed onward at their best speed,not alighting until they arrived at the little town of Gwalpore,

This was but a collection of mud hovels, butjtonrw* s a pleasant grove surrounding., itiSfnd jniihis the traveflers pitched theirp jpfTT ai dfjeteecl throughout the heat of th* llifced fofSCalcutta, and we^ftreroin^ thing was strange ■to Sindaisuid Maya. The travellers procured food at wfey--side etetipnsyand alighted, .whenever practi-. cable, for exercise. In this way the next day passed, and the next.' _ :, ~ . Upon the evening of the third day of their railway:.journey.. at Calcutta,: and were transported to their .hotbL _. _ . - A-private parlor, with bedrooms adjoining, was assigned the young ladies. Maya_tool% possession of one bedroom ; Sinda and her attendant were assigned the other. ' Puntab,had come up to Calcutta by the same train with Elliot and his party, and, upon arriving; he hurried directly "to Garden Beach to inform his master of his failure to execute the project he had undertaken. Hβ had not dared to telegraph his ill news, lest he should in some manner involve Mr. -Bathurst in the exposure that had overtaken himself. His heart was very heavy, his bronze face mocdy, as he trudged along the Strand and Esplanade on his wajr to the beautiful suburb in which Banyan Villa was situated. The hour for the evening promenade was past. A few vehicles only were visible on the drives. The shadows of night were thickening under the trees when Puntab halted before the dingy, massive gate of the merchant's villa and pulled the garden-bell, A servant opened the door upon the instant. Puntab slipped into the garden and inquired for his master. "He's in the pagoda by the river." was the answer. " I'll tell him you are here !" "Ishe alone?" The answer was affirmative. "Then I'll announce myself," said Funtab. " I'll take the risk and bear the blame." He hurried down the garden-walk, threading the shrubberies and passing around the mansion in the direction of the river. , r The Hooghly lay in the soft and mellow light of the stars, a wide and shining band of silver-dotted with quaint-rigged vessels. The pagoda, in which Puntab expected to find his employer, was an Indian. summerhouse, shaped somewhat after the fashion of a temple, with an encircling verandah and sides enclosed with cool, jalousie shutters, which gave admission to a continuous current of cool air. The floor was of marble, the furniture which was scanty, was of bamboo. This summer-house was perched upon a bank overhanging the river, of which it commanded a fine view, and was a favorite resort of its proprietor during the early evening hours.

As the Hindoo approached, the odour of burning tobacco saluted his nostrils. He halted a moment to gather np his conrage, and then advanced, mounting the steps with silent tread, and knocking lightly upon one of the shutters. The merchant was seated in a lounging-

chair, gazing upon the river, and smoking a cigar. He turned around abruptly, stared at the intruder in recognition, and gave a start of absolute amazement.

Ho had been thinking of Puntab at that moment, and wondering why he had not heard from him during the past month, and the fellow seemed to him an apparition evoked by his imagination. Puntab made repeated salaams, bowing himself nearly to the ground.

"It's really you, is it?" ejaculated the merchant, recovering himself. "Yes, master," replied Puntab, deprecatingly, and with such extreme humility as betokened ill news.

"I thought you were off in the northern, provinces still," cried Mr. Bathurst, finding it difficult to understand his servant's unheralded appearance. "I haven't heard from you since you left Lassa, or the place beyond it, on your way to Kbalsar." " Yes, master. I did not write since." " Come in," commanded Mr. Bathurst, pushing back his chair and laying down his cigar. " Something has happened, I see. What is it ? Did you go ou to Khalsa r ? Did you find a White Begum ? lam prepared for failure—so speak out." Puntab advanced a few paces, his bronze face and glittering eyes showing through the shadows of the summer-houae.

"I will tell you, master,"he responded. " Wβ arrived in town by this night's train —' " Mr. Elliot and my son, also ?"

" Yes, master," said Puntab, nervously, according to his usual formula. "We all arrived this evening. They went to a hotel; I came here."

"You have failed, then?" cried the merchant, impatiently. " You got no trace of any white girl —"

" We went to Khalsar, master," said the Hindoo, meekly, "and we found that the stories of which 1 wrote you turned out to be true. There was a White Begum, and she had a friend who was white also."

" You saw them 1" Puntab replied in the affirmative. " They were both old womau, I'll warrant, and Hindoos at that ?"

" No, master. They were both young, about twenty yeare of age, and both English—"

The merchant uttered a quick, startled exclamation, his face growing pale. * " Young, aud English ? Are they sisters ?"

"No, master." " They are dark, black-eyed ?" "No, master. Both are fair. Both are beautiful."

The merchant's excitement increased with every word.

"Perhaps one of them is Miss Elliot?" he ejaculated. "By Jove, we have stumbled upon luck ! Did you get no clue to their parentage? Did you come upon any trace of Topee ?"'

" Yes, master. Topee was grand chamberlain in the palace of the White Begum, at Putpur."

"He was there, near those two girls? Did you talk with him ?"

"No, master. Mr. Elliot and Mr. Bathurst visited the court and saw the White Begum and her sister. Then Topee came with the missionary to the khan where we lodged ! I listened and heard what he said."

"The missionary? That is the first I heard of any missionary. Tell me more about the two girls. Were they married ?" Puntab replied in the negative. "Have you obtained any clue to the parentage of these girla ?" "Yes, master. The White Begum was the daughter of a common soldier at one of the stations. She was found alone in a deserted barracks. Topee saved her life." "And the other ?" ''The other, Missy Maya," Puntab said, deliberately yet meekly as before, •• is she whom you seek !" "What?" " She is Missy Klliot!" The merchant leaped to his feet in vrild agitation. " How do you know ?" he exclaimed. The proofs—the proofs !"

" Topee confessed. She remembers. And she has tae jewels—"

" The jewels ? They are proof !" cried Mr. Bathurst. "I put thorn ou her with my own hands. She has them still? Aud'she remembers her childhood and her friends ? She is found— found.'"

He fell back in his chair, actually gasping for breath. ' b l s

The discovery of the lost daughter of Lord Tregaron represented to him tha full euccess is his nefarious designs. He thought of his lonely prisoner in the far hill-region, and of her promise to become his wife when he should bring to her her lost child. And n £Yi ,n epite of k" 1 lou S incredulity, that child was found !- : ' - He""w'ould take her to Agnes Elliot, and: demand the reward of his years of oppression and scheming ; he would make her b'ie wife without further delay. His triumph was at hand ! His soul swelled i with exultation. -I

It was «omo minutes before he could regain sufficient self-commnud to fix bis gaze

again upon hie servant. Puntab was atandingjn anjjjng|3y, deprecating attitude, his 'hea < breast, the personifica;tion ioßJiuinilityJS A sudden fear assailed |Mr. BatSuni|£\ " Wijgithe Sgttl willing to leave her friending he inquired. " Would the White go I" There revolution there, and the "Whiteidßeggm' and Miaa Elliot both came .with ns, master," "Very good. And you followed my instructions,, watched the girl and your op"pbrtunity, andstole' her away "Tjy-night an<s carried her off to the hills.? You are hereto tell me of your success ?" 'cried Mrr Bat- _; . „ ._. . . " No, master.' * HSS"eyeii were faithful t»me,, and all went well until that-dog of a Kallo'o spoiled my work." It was the night before we t : reached-Gwalpbre. - I stole the girl from her, tent," —Puntab did not consider it necessary to narrate~~his "mistake in ia the girl's, identity—"and was about to get away with- her, when Kalloo and the two young masters pounced, upon me. They took her from me, and made me their pri- ( aoner— "■''■:■::

" You lost the chance, then ?" The girl escaped you ?" Puntab assented.

The merchant aired a choice vocabulary of oaths, including all- he knew in Hindoatanee, as well as in the English tons;ne. "I trusted you, Puntab," he said, in conclusion. I thought you were so keen and intelligent. Bah ! A child could have done better than you! You have abused my trust. You are worthless. Where is .Miss Elliotnow? ,

" At the hotel with the White Begum and the two young Englishmen," answered Pun. tab, still meekly, not caring to resent the icsults and contumely heaped upon him by an employer who represented to him many lace of rupees, and who was a liberal paymaster to him. " They will sail for Kngland by first steamer to see the great lord who is Missy Maya's father." " I shall have something to say to that," declared the merchant, grimly. " Now tell me the whole story connectedly, Puntab, from the very beginning." . . The Hindoo obeyed, giving a succinct account of the expedition from the moment of leaving until its triumphal return. While he listened, Air. Bathurst meditated;

" Kalloo was too sharp for you," he observed, when his servant had concluded. " There is yet a chance for jou to redeem yourself, and to earn the great reward I promised you in the event of success." " How, master ?" The merchant bent forward, speaking in a hissing whisper. " There is still time. The girl is here in Calcutta. You have friends in the suburbs. Contrive some plan to get her into yonr hands, and then hide her among your people. Do this, and I will double the reward I promised you." Funtab raised Mβ head, and. his face glowed, and his eyes sparkled, as he exclaimed :

'' I can do the work better here in Calcutta than I could have done on the route. If only young Mr. Bathurst would give me a chance again for three days as liis servant—" ! ' He will, I'll see to that. I'll make your peace with him, Puntab. I will go to the hotel the first thing in the morning and see Lady Katharine and my son. I'll clear yonr path, and you must do the rest!"

The merchant and the Hindoo talked long, in whispers, and long before the interview was over a scheme was perfected in every detail, by which it was expected that Lord Tregaron's daughter should be stolen away from her friends and be securely hidden away where her friends should not be able to find her.

At j>. late hour, Puntab, in excellent spirits and with new faith in the fortune he hoped to win, departed.seeking his own quarters in the servants' portion of the villa.

Mr. Bathurst sat late in his summer-house by the river, exulting and triumphing in his good fortune.

" The girl is found," he said to himeelf, "and in this very city. I shall see her in the morning. How strangely it has come about! Kate Elliot alive, when I thought her dead ! I shall have everything my own way now ! Puntab will secure her this time ! He is a cunning dog, and will not be balked a second time ! The girl once in my hands, and the hue and cry for her over, I'll take her to the hills and to her mother. And then Agnes will marry me !"

He seemed very uuar it that moment to his great and fiual success. He had told Mrs. Elliot that her husband was dead, and she beli.ved him. He intended to marry her and bring her to his house, but he intended a'so to keep her secluded from the world. She should be the Eve of his Eden : he would be coutent with her and with her alone for ever. He would not care for society when she should be his wife. He would guard her so carefully that no whisper of the truth concerning her husband should ever come to her ears.

"I have waited long," he thouaht, "but all is coming out right at last. "i>gnes is more beautilul than in her youth. She can keep her daughter with her, and after a little she will grow kinder to me. If I win the girl's liking, Agnes will even grow to love me, I don't doubt. All is working as I hoped. Tomorrow I will see the girL Tomorrow night she will be liHden away among Puutab'e keeping. And as soon as it will be safe, I will take her to And then I shall claim the fulfilment of her promise to marry me !"

CHAPTER XVIII. RECOGNITION. Upon the morning following the arrival of Elliot's party in Calcutta, the elder Bat hurst presented himself at Elliot's hotel at a very early hour, and was shown up at once to the private parlor belonging to the party. Early as was the hour, the Calcutta world was astir, business was in full progress, and Klliot was gone out. The yonug ladies had breakfasted with their friends and had retired to their own sitting room. Wolsey Bathurst was aloDe and lie was on the point of going out when his father made his appearance.

The two men greeted each other coolly, though with some pretence of interest. The younger Bathurat kept in -niul the fact that his parent was immensely wealthy and that his wealth might possibly, in spite of declarations to the contrary, descend to the son. The elder man deemed that his son might be useful to him in furtheriug the great scheme of his life, and he did not scruple to engage hie assistance.

"So you are back again, Wolsey ?" said the merchant. " You have been gone over three months upon this expedition of yours, and I had almost given you up as lost when you appear again crowned with success !" " Who told you that?" demanded the son. " Who told you we were here ? We only arrived last evening—" "Pnntab told me," said the merchant, coolly. "He came out to the villa last evening."

"Perhaps you don't know that he is a I miserable seoxindrel," said Wolsey, sharply, eying his parent suspiciously. "He made an attempt to steal Lady Katharine away from us, intending to hide her an-ay somewhere for a ransom. And* by Jove, if it hadn't been for Elliot's servant, he wonld have succeeded, too !" "All Hindoos arc treacherous, observed the merchant, calmly. " Klliot's servant would have done the s;ime, only he considered, that it paid better to be virtuous. Puntab r is as good a3 any of his class. He considered * his intended transaction, no doubt, aa, quite in the way of legitimate business. He told me of your success, and, of course, I hastened to you at the earliest possible moment. la Puntab'a story true? Iβ Kate EUiot found ?" « Yea, she's found ! She is with us at thie hotel!" " You are assured of her identity ? Yon know that she.is actually and .truly the daughter of Nugent Elliot ?" ■ " Certainly : 1 know it. She has the jewels you placed with your own hands upon lipr pfToon. ' She remembers her childhood — everything."

"Then there can be mxdoiibVno vestise or shadow of a doubt of her 'identity I" tfe ol»red the merchant, his face glowing. > "Her discovery seems a miracle.. There was another girl, Puntab said—V .iK ;.:-■«.. ™ J "The Begum? Yes,-and she is the more' beautiful of the two, bnteheie of obecure r birth," responded Wolsey Bathnrsfc. «•»' mere nobody, whom Lady Katharine permita to accompany us out of sheer compMgion an™ good nature. Her name ie SincU; and in default of a patronymic she calls herself Mise Plain-a complete misnomer, for she is m beautiful as as angel!" land^r" nph ! nd ° y ° n Sail for EnS"By the nest steamer. We have sent on adnces to Lord Tregaron of our success Lady Katharine is impatient to join iS father, and there is nothing to detain us j e o i ,?I - ral ? y season has commenced and Calcutta is dreary enough in this gloom j and drizzle. We shall sail in three day? time! J "Tell me something of Kathariue. Is she a person whom Lord Tregaron would welcome as his daughter J" " She is pretty, well-educated, in spite of her strange surroundings, and will, with her fortune and connections, make a sensation in London during the next season. The earl may well be proud of her." The merchant thought of hislonely prisoner among the distant hills, and rejoiced in the> • prospect of restorinc Mrs. Elliot's child to her, and thos securing the fulfilment of her promise to marry him. ~" u ., see . m to, admire the Begum more than Katharine, Wolsey," he remarked. "Perhaps so, but I shall marry Ladv Katharine,- replied young Bathurat with an assurance that surprised his parent. "We are beginning to understand each other I ' see my way clear to becoming the son-in-law of the earl."

Mr. Bathurst's face darkened. His son's schemes were likely to interfere with his own. Clearly, he could not make a confidant of wolsey.

" You are ambitious," he said, with a slight sneer.

' Exactly, returned his son.composedly I want money and position, every earthly good, and I shall attain to nearly severy one of these in marrying Lady Katherine Elliot. I would not forego this marriage, not for all your rnpees.'"

"I do not wish you to. It will be a grand thing for you,' said the merchant hyprocitically. '' 1 should like to pay Lady Katherine some attention, Woleey. I knew her in her childhood, and she is my kinswoman, you know. Bring her, and the Begum, and Elliot ont to dine with me today. " e s v "welL I will inform her of your invitation. No doubt she will be pleased to accept it."

"My carriage is at your service throughout your stay," continued the merchant, who had modified his plans upon reflection, and no longer desired to place Puutab in his son's service. " Order my coachmari so attend upon yon and Lady Katheriue at your pleasure. It will be here to take you out for a drive this evening, if the rain lets up, as there is a prospect of its doing." "You are very kind," replied young Bathurst, "and 1 accept the offer of your carriage with thanks." _In truth, he had told Maya a fine and highly-colored story of his grandeurs, both present and prospective, and this offer of the merchant's handsome equipage was likely to give a veracious look to his statements.

" I should like to see Lady Kate," said the merchant "I wonder if she would recognize me? I dare say she would, Wolsey." " I will call h«r," said the son. " 1 know that she will be glad to see yon. Of course you will not be able to recognize in the young lady of twenty the little Kate of thirteen years ago ; still she may recognize you." He hastened to the private parlor occupied by the two girls and knocked for admittance.

It was Maya's voice bade him enter.

He obeyed. Hβ found Maya surrounded by paper boxes and piles of ladies' garments, and with two shop-women inattcndaace upon her. She looked ap from a cloud of draperies of silk and mnslin, as he entered, and smiled a welcome.

" You find me absorbed in my selection of an outfit, Mr. Bathuret," ah% said, with a bright little laugh. " Ah, what a trouble it all is ! And lam not sure that the gowns are in the latest fashion. But I am so absolutely shabby, and I am so anxious to become an out-aud out English young lady, that I mnet buy something." "Take my advice, Lady Katharine," said yoong Bathurst, "and buy as little as you can. We shall be here but three days. Your outfit for the voyage should be simple. We shall stop in Paris on our way to Eugland, and you can then procure the most luxurious trousseau that the man-milliners of Paris can invent."

The pretty pink and white face cleared a little, the shadow of perplexity giving place to a look of resolve.

" You are right," she said, sweeping the muslins aside. " 1 won't burden myself with clothee that will be old-fashioned when we reach Paris. : Xoa may leave the β-rge gown, and the black silk and the brown silk," she added, turning to the two women. "Yes, and the Davy-blue flaunel. They will be enough. Present your bill to the hotelkeeper. He has orders from Mr. Elliot to pay it" The women withdrew with their unrequired parcels. "Sinda has gone out," continued Maya, as she examined her purchases. " Actually in that shabby and worn old Indian silk gown, made after the faahiou of the Hindoo women of Putpnr ! She must look a perfect guy in Calcutta, dresseii as she is, although there are plenty of Hindoo women here- dressed like her. The oddity lies in her English face under that turban. I wouldn't have gone oat dressed as I am, for a fortune."

"You look very beautiful to me, Maya," said the young man, gallantly. " Where has Sinda gone t" "To make some purchases, I believe. You know that Mr. Elliot bugged her to make him her banker, and she refused in that gentle way of hers that means just as much as the fiercest manner in any one else.

She's independent, and quite right too. She can't expect to be supported by me or by my friends. So she went out with old Falla, and the old woman will sell one of Sinda's diamonds, and with the money they get they will buy their outfic for the voyage. " Elliot won't like that!"

"Why should he not? Who is Sinda, anyhow ? The daughter of a private eoldier, yet Mr. Elliot, and yo.z too, treat her as if she were my equal !" " She was your superior in rank when we discovered you," replied tSathurat. " Whatever her onjjin, she ia a lady, Aiaya, and we most treat her as such."

"Its all nonsense her going to England with ns. I don't like it. She ought to remain here."

" She will go alone if we-are base enough to deserther," said Kathurst. " Come, Outne Katharine, why do you frown like that? Sinda is nobody beside yon. Who will look a second time at a nameless girl when Lady Katharine Elliot is near t"

Maya's face brightened. She was fond of flattery, and Bathurst habitually lavished it upon her. "At any-rate," she declared, with some violence, " Siuda shall never go to Belle Iβle with, me—never! I can prevent that, and I will I Once we arrive in England, she mutst drop off into herown. proper obscurity." Bathurat offeredno argument,'bat recurred to the errand that had bronght him to her presence. " I came in to tell you that you have a visitor," he said. Can you think who it is !. A gentleman to see -the Lady Katharine Elliot—" , : , .

" Your father 2" Maya turned pale. "Yea, gy father. He ja waiting for you in our common parlor. Shall I bring him to you, Lady Katharine f' _ . • The girl glanced over the rich disorder around ner, and at her own costume. _" No," she answered, with an effort. "I will dress and come to you. Is he much changed t"

"That I cannot'answer. I had not tbe pleasure of hia acquaintance thirteen years ago," laughed the young man! " Hβ has

'If ti ri^ eented aiding h'er bell for a chambermaid to aesirt her ath'eritoUrt,' aid returned to Hs ° , of aH tffi f U T ?°. the' discussion ot all topics of mutual interest, and fay grow fSin y ceT tient

Bat at last the rustle of silken draperv Wan heard and the click of tiny tferooT. WaS ° Pened .**.***»£>'£*

Stsed to costume. Her pale, flaxen h&r hall be?n put up in braids, and a little crimpled fringe^ Agnes Elliot's necldace encircled her throat, the pendant showing prominently with its emblazonment of diamonds.

She came forward with, a shyness Bathurat had not before seen in her. Her pink and white face varied in color. She looked half, frightened, and as she neared the merchant she raised her blue eyes to him in a strange beseeching. So fair, so soft, so pretty was she in her new robes and with her gentle ehy manner, that the younger Bathurst felt a new pride in her, and his resolve to make her his wife received new impetus. The merchant stood up as she advanced regarding her with a devouring gaze. He remembered little Kate Elliot, with her fair, childish beauty and her sunny tresses. Was this little Kate grown to womanhood, this tall and slender girl with appealing eyes and soft prettiness ?

" Kate !" he said, involuntarily, stretchine I out his hand. "Is this little Kate t" "Uncle Bathurst!" the girl faltered growing very pale. " Oh, Uncle Bathurst!" The merchant's face kindled with a quick glow. He had been always called "Uncle Bathurst" by little Kate Elliot, although he was, in truth, her second cousin. He had never mentioned to his son by what name she had called him, and this old, familar title on Maya's lips was to him a volume of proofs in a single sentence. He stepped forward and clasped her in his arms, kissing her cheeks, and telling her how delighted he was to welcome back the child he had deemed forever lost to those who loved her.

It scarcely needed the exhibition of Agnea Elliot's jewels to confirm his belief in her identity.

" Y«u look something as I expected to see you, Kate." he said when they were seated side by side upon the sofa, and the girl was absolutely beaming with delight. "How very fair you are ! Yet you were so as a child. Your father will be very proud of you. my dear."

" I wonder if T shall know papa as readily as I knew you. Uncle Bathurst 1" said Maya. " I presume he has changed greatly since that awful night when Topee stole me from him. Poor papa! I am so anxions to see him !" and she sighed. The merchant made a long call, delighted with the girl, and finally took his leave, promising to send hie carriage at an early hour to convey the young people to the Strand, and afterwards to his villa.

As he stepped into his vehicle and drove away, a jrreat exultation filled his being. " Tt's Elliot's daughter, sure enough!" he muttered. " I reeognised her at once. What a pretty creature she is. I will take her to Agnes. Once the girl, so fair and beautiful, is clasped in her arms, Agnes will feel an impulse of gratitude to me that will be akiD to love. But I must stop the girl's mouth, so that she will not mention her father's name to Agnes, or say that he lives. The problem is a little difficult, but I can manage it. To-night pretty Kate Elliot shall be my prisoner !"

And, exulting in his prospective triumph, he was borne onward towards his home. [To ho continued.}.