STRATHMORE'S SIN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXII, Issue 10009, 21 December 1895, Page 3 (Supplement)

STRATHMORE'S SIN.

BY EMMA GARRISON JONES, Author of " The Midnight Prophecy,"" A Great Wrong," " Lady Lauderdale's Temptation," "The Kover Captain," etc. CHAPTER XX. THE PLOT SUCCEEDS. Hortense Bet about hor bask with a will, and by tho time- the grounds are well illuminated, ray Lady Bvadne stands arrayed for tho ball. And such a Kaled as she makes, this prosy old world never beforo looked upon. She turns to tho pier mirror, amid the rapturous exclamations of her maid, and surveys herself from head to foot. A vivid red leaps to hor cheeks, and her splendid eyes glow like jewels beneath tho drooping scarlet plumo. "Sir Richard has fine taste in regard to costumes, if nothing else," she Bays, coolly, "I can't remember that I over looked better. lam sure Count Lara, fastidious aB he is, can find no fault." She wheels round, and seating herself at her desk, writes two notes with a rapid hand. Ono sho directs to hor husband, the other to Sir Richard Cavendish. " Now, Hortense," she says, rising, and giving them both into her maid's hands, " listen to my instructions—ab ten o'clock, not a second sooner or lator, you find Sir Richard, and give him this." " Yes, my lady." " Well, at half-past ton, you find Lord Wicklow, and give him this," " Yos, my lady." " You aro Buroyou understand? A mistake would bo very disastrous, Hortenso." "I understand, my lady, and I am nob apt to make mistakes." "Quito true; but listen yob further. When you deliver the note to Lord Wicklow, you put on your nun's robe, and your black domino— ho must not know you."

"Precisely, my lady." " Vory well—and remembor, our going to Paris next week, or even to-night, as it may turn out, depends upon how you execute my orders." " My lady shall bo obcyod." " Well, give mo tho rapier now—what an exquisite littlo toy it is 1 Now, we are quito roady. Mind, when ray lord comes, you know nothing at all about mo! An revoir .'"

With a tripping, graceful step, she leaves tho chamber, and crosses tho corridor without. On she goos, a dazzling vision in tho semi-gloom, until sho reaches tho closed door of a lofty, old state-chamber. She raises the jowellod rapier, and with the handle raps sharply. "Como in," answers a musical, foreign voice.

I She turns (he silver knob, and enter?. ' The Marquis of Rutland stands before his mirror, in tho graceful costume of Gounb Lara, Ho is in the act of adjusting tho plumed sombrero on his head. " My lord, Kalod waits your orders." At tho sound of tho siren voice ho turns sharply, utters an exclamati<m of astonishment, and then stands breathless. Kalod draws near, her scarlot-linod mantle thrown over one graceful shoulder, and drops one knoo before him. Still Iho marquis stands speechless. Tho kneeling page breaks into a gleeful laugh, and lifts tho jewelled mask, disclosing Evadno's witching faco. "My lord marquis, havo you no word of welcome for mo?" eho questions, her glorious eyes looking; up at him from under tho scarlet plume. He utters a cry that is half pain ill its mad intensity, catchns her up in both arms, and holds her clo«e to his breast.

"You are mine—mine!" he gasps. "I will never give you up!" Sho struggles free of his cmbraco, and stands menacing him with tho tiny rapier.

" I havo not said it," sho answers, taunt)ingly. ~ . " But yoj shall say it," he crios, possessing himself of her again. " You have come to mo horo, and you shall never leave mo." " Stop!" sho commands. " I havo come to you—l am yours, as you say, bob not hero!" "Wo will fly this hour," ho urges. " Come, my beautiful angel, leb us depart at once !'

She laughs ngain, and gives him a playful blow with tho flashing rapier. "How impetuous you are," she answers. " Nay, we will not fly this hour. The ball awaits us. Wo will go to-morrow at dawn !" Ho begins a passionato protest, bub she silences him.

" Nay, I will have my way or tho compact ends horo," sho urges, imperiously, and the enamoured marquis is forced to yield. Ho dons his sombrero, straps his sword to his side, and as Count Lara and Kalod thoy descend to the brilliant grounds togothor.

"Who is she!" A dozen voices ask the question as the two pass down the central avenue, under the glitter of the coloured lamps, and a score of masked faces turn to look after thorn. " Who is this radiant little Kalod at Count Lara's elbow ?" Not a soul can boll. They pass on side by Bide, until they reach the hoad of the laurel walk; there a tall figure confronts tliom -Lord Wicklow.unmafkod, undressed, dishovolled amid tho gayoty and glitter, his dark fuco tierce with unsubdued angor and jealousy. As tho graceful groen-and-scarlet vision flashes before his moody eyes, ho stops and stares. Kaled breaks into silvery laughter benoath her mask, raisos tho jewelled rapier, and gives him a smart blow, and "Bon soir, mowsicur!" she cries, gayly. Something in tho voice, the gay laugh, tho Graceful figure, strikes him dumb. Ho stands, and watches them until thoy disappear under cover of tho laurels. "Good Heavens!" he mutters, at last, his voico growing husky, his lips white. ' Surely it cannot be Evadue ? And yofc, I 'ould swoar to that laugh." He remained a minute irresolute, and then rushed into the manor, and up to her rooms, but only Hortonse was there! " Where is your mistress?" ho domands, in a choking voice. The Frenchwoman looks up demurely. " In tho grounds, my lord," sho answers; "she went down an hour ago." " Describo her dress. Answer mo, quick !" Hortenso gives him a wary glance with her bead-like eyes. " She woro the Undine satin and tho laco over-dross, my lord," she answers, glibly, " and the pearl and opal set you bought hor; and over all her black mantle and Venetian mask." "You are deceiving mo!" his lordship thunders; "she wore no such trumpery. Sho had a new costume for to-night. What was it ; I'll Bmito you where you stand if you don't answor mo." "Pray, my dear lord, indeed you aro mi.«tnken," begins Hortenso. Ho rushes across the room, to grasp her by the arm, but she eludes him, and files shriokinir into another apartment. Ho stifles a volley of oaths in his throat, and strides out of tho room, and down the stairs like one bereft of reason. As he gains tho grounds below, now thickly thronged with masked figures, tho clock strikes ton ; and Sir Richard, who has jusb come down from the upper terrace, where his wife and mother, and a number of other ladies who feel no inclination to tako part in the gayefcios bolow, are fitting, is on the point of hurrying forward to join him when a detaining hand grasps his aim. lie turns, and seoa Lady Evadno's French maid. "If you please, Sir Richard, you are to read this." The baroneb takes the tiny billet), breaks the seal, and pausing undor an arch of coloured lights, reads its contonts, which run as follows: "Sir iticiuaD Cavendish: "Mv ])i!4U, Kind Friend,—l have received your letter written in reply to mine, ami you have convinced me that you are right and I am all wronj.

I But, my dear friend, lam in such trouble. If you only knew all, you would not blame me as you do I I am miserable and wretched, mi the point of taking my own life; and no one living bus power to hull) mo but yourself. Come to me at ones, in the little bower at the south end of the laurel walk, and I will explain everything:. I'r ly, dew Sir Richard, do not deny mo this list request. Jf you are poor Rory's friend and mine you will surely come, , , " Your wretched " IiVADN'E." Tho baronet reads tin's mysterious epistle twice over, then ho crushes it into his pocket, and looks back at the terrace whero his wifo sits. " I have half a mind to run back and tell Lottie," ho thinks; but a moment's reflection causes him to change his mind. " lb would be usolcss to annoy the poor little mother," he concludes. "I will go down and see what my lady wants. _ 1 don't approvo of this sort of thing, but if I can aid her, I'll do it for Rory's sake." And ho hurries off accordingly in tho direction of tho laurel walk. Meanwhile, the gayeties are at thoir height, and the maskers go whirling over the illuminated lawn, mad with their own joy and merriment. Tho dock above tho stables strikes tho half hour. Lord Wicklow hoars it, as ho wanders moodily hither and thither, vainly seeking that brilliant vision that flushed before his eyes a short timo before. But Kaled is uowhero to be found, and ho begins to think he was mistaken, when a ghostly hand touches his arm. He looks down, and eeos a black-robed nun, wearing a dark domino. The ghostly hand crushes a folded papor into his hand, and disappears. Lord Wicklow opons it, in silonb bewilderment, and reads: •' Lord Roderick Wicklow,—You are blinder than the blindest mole that ever burrowed in the ground. If you care to have your eyes opf ned, ami to be convinced of your wife frailty, go at once to the little bower at tho south end of the laurel walk." Ho road it through to tho end, then hastily thrusts ib into his pocket, and strides off with a bitter oath. By this time, poor, unsuspecting Sir Richard has reached tho little bower, and stands in the vine-wreathed entrance, looking down upon the bowed figure within. It is Kaled, in her radiant costume, but mask and plumo 1 hat aro thrown aside, and the little rapier lies flashing at hor feet, " Lady Wicklow," speaks tho grave voico of the baronot. Sho starts to her feet with a little cry, rushes forward, and clasps Sir Richard's arm. "Oh, you havo come I'' she cries, her voice shaken, her oyes brimming with tears. " How good, how kind of you! But your letter was very cruel, Sir Richard ! 1 am not ono-half so bad as you bolicvo mo to bo —it is all Lord Wicklow's fault; ho is so cruel, and suspicious, and unkind. He forces mo to do things at which my soul shudders ! And now, Sir Richard, ho is so dreadfully angry with mo that I am really afraid of him ; and it is all about this pretty costumo you wero kind enough to got for mo." "lam oxceodinfjjly sorry, Lady Wicklow," the baronet begins, looking oxtremely pained and ombarrassed. " I was a fool to order the costume, and you were very unwise to ask me to do so. I thought you told me, Lady Wicklow, that your husband know all about it?" She does not answer— not seem to hear him. Sho watches tho dark length of tho shaded walk with eager, feverish oyes; and presently her face lights, and she utters cry of toner. "Oh, what shall I do?" she exclaims, holding on to tho baronet's arm with both hands. "Heis so angry with me ; and, oh, Heaven ! yonder ho comes ! Look ! I thought you might help mo, Sir Richard, but there is no timo now—he will murder mo if ho finds us hero together ! Go, I entreat you— go at once I" She throws him from her with all her might. "Go, Sir Richard, whilo there is time— j you havo any pity for mo, leavo mo to meet my husband alono !" [To bo continued.]