LOVE, THE TYRANT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11552, 16 January 1901, Page 3

LOVE, THE TYRANT.

BY CHARLES GAEYICE, • Author of "The Shadow of Her Life." "A Heritage of Hate," " Nell of Shorne Mills," " Heart for Heart," "By Devious Ways," " Just A Girl," " On Love's Altar," " Queen Kate," " The Out cast cf the Family," "She Trusted Him," " Once in a Life," " Better Than Life." Etc., Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER XXVI. When Esther had gone, Kate sank into a chair as if ail her strength had left her. Her face was white, her breath came in quick, laboured gasps, and her hands, clasped tightly, worked and writhed as if she were in physical pain. The bare fact that Jack had gone, that she might never see him again, brought her misery enough but the manner of her going, its suddenness, and some of the incidents attending it, of which she alone was cognisant, caused her an additional agonyan agony of terror and dread. She knew that he had gone into the wood; she had seen him afterwards; his hands were red with blood, his manner had been ,that of a man upset and ill at ease; he had tried to conceal himself from her, and when she had been shocked by the blood upon his hands he had given an explanation which, in the light of his sudden departure, seemed insufficient and farfetched. *

Every word of the conversation between her father and the stranger, which she had heard as she crouched behind the door, recurred to indeed, it was burned into her brain never to be forgotten. Had Mr. Gordon and the strange man met? If such a meeting between these two foes had taken place in the wood! She shuddered, and covered her face with her hands. The man had uttered threats against Mr. Gordon; it was almost impossible for them to meet without coming to blows. Had the man attacked Mr. Gordon whom he feared and hated? If so, she knew Jack too well not to feel convinced that he would defend himself, that he would return a blow and with interest.

Her heated. brain pictured the scene which her fears created. Mr. Gordon would be attacked by the man, would strike back, would fight with all his strength, which Kate knew was very great and beyond that of most men. Had he injured the man, had he killed him?

A low cry burst from her lips as the question rose to her mind. Why should Mr. Gordon take flightfor his sudden departure presented itself as nothing less than flight to herif the man was not dead? And yet her pride in Jack rose in revolt at the idea; she could scarcely imagine him seeking safety in flight from the consequence of any act he had committed; but murder—they would call it murderwas so terrible a thing that even so brave a man as Mr. Gordon might quail before its dread penalty. Then a fresh fear shook her: had anyone beside herself seen him that night after his return from the wood, and in—in that condition? If not, if no one had seen the encounter which she felt certain had taken place, or Mr. Gordon afterwards, then she was the only person whose evidence could tell against him. Had she aroused Miss Vancourt's suspicions by the agitation she had displayed on hearing of his sudden departure? What had she said? Let her think! Oh, why hadn't she held her tongue, mastered her emotion, and received the news with seeming indifference? She rose and paced up and down, her hands pressed to her temples; then suddenly sue drew a long breath and looked up, as if a. ray of light had flashed across the terrible darkness. After all, was she not torturing herself without sufficient cause? They might not have met, or the man might have been hurt, but not seriously; might, indeed, still be at the Black Crow, alive, though perhaps badly beaten. Acting on the impulse of. the moment, driven ; by her fear and dread "to action of some sort or other, she caught up her sunbonnet, left the cottage, and went quickly in the direction of the Black Crow. She walked fast at first, but presently, as it occurred to her that her haste might attract notice, she slackened her pace. And all the way, though she tried to persuade herself that her fears were groundless, she felt -convinced that some terrible catastrophe had happened. ' As she neared the little tumble-down inn, she saw the landlord leaning against the porch smoking, with his hands in his pockets. He took his pipe from his mouth to give her " good-day," and Kate stopped as if casually. " Good morning, Mr. Grice," she said, forcing a smile, while her. heart beat _so that she could scarcely ikeep her voice steady. "Is my father inside?" Grice shook his head.

"No; haven't seen him for quite a goodisli time, Miss Transom," he said. " And I don't get so many customers as not to miss 'em."

Kate nodded, controlling her quivering lips. "I heard you'd been, very busy lately, Mr. Grice; that you'd had people stopping here, quite like as if it was an hotel."

" Oh, you mean the gentleman as put up here," he said. " Yes; 'tain't often as us has a visitor but he's gone now; left yesterday. Rum kind o' gentleman he was, one o' them silent and keep-theirselves to theirselves kind. Not but what he didn't pay his shot all right. Some o' them Lunnon men forget to do that." " Oh, has he gone back to London?" asked Kate. Grice nodded, and Kate's sense of relief was so great, so intense, that it almost broke down her self-command; but at the man's next words all her misery came crashing down upon her again. " Leastways, I think so. He said he was going by the seven-fifteen from Barminster."

"How do you mean? Didn't he go?" she asked, with a catch in her breath. Grice plugged his pipe and eyed it thoughtfully. " Well, it were this way, Miss Transom. Happened that the gent gave me a bad two shilling bit when he paid his bill. Two shillings is two shillings nowadays, and as I was going into Barminster, I drove my little pony—that's a fine pony if you like now—"

" Yes," said poor Kate, " it is a very good one, I know. I've heard my father speak of it."

"Yes, he can get into Barminster in fifty-five minutes any day, and no whip neither!"

" And did you catch the train last night?" aslceS Kate, quivering all over. Grice nodded.

" Yes, and a quarter of an hour to spare." "And you saw the gentleman, and got your two shillings changed?" she said, catching at the 'hope, but Grice shook his head.

" No, I didn't, for he wasn't there. There was no sign of him." Kate put out her hand and caught at the trelliswork of the porch. "Are you sure?" she asked, as steadily, as casually, as she could. , "He might have got into the train without your seeing him, Mi-. Grice."

Grice shook his head emphatically. "Not he," he said. " I looked into every carriage, for I wanted that two shilling bit changed but he warn'fc there." "It was the last train to London?" said Ivo,t.e.

" Yes, miss. But it's likely' enough that he wa'ked on to Critchett Cross, the next station. It's almost as near as Barminster. Howsoever, I'm two shillings short, and in these hard times

" I'm sorry," said Kate. She walked on and turned on the road just beyond the hotel. Her fear and dread were in the ascendancy again. There was no reason why the man should go to critchett Cross Station. He had not left Vanccurt that night, though he had left the inn. 1

She walked back slowly, feeling faint, sick, with the haunting, brooding terror of evil that her mind pictured. As she gained the village street, a man came out of the lane opposite the row of old cottages. It was one of the underkeepers named Johnson. Kate, though she seemed to scarcely glance at him, saw that he carried two guns, one over his shoulder and the other in his left hand. She stopped, with a leap of the heart— a passing/child jyould have caused her ner-

vous tremors that morningand Johnson nodded. _ , „ , ~ " Good day to you, Miss Kate, ;he said. "Rare fine weather, beant it?" " Yes," said Kate. "Why are you carrying two guns? You can't fire them off at. once."

Johnson laughed. T " Well, I don't know as I couldn t if I so minded," he said. "I seed a man do it at Barminster Fair, and he hit the target with both of 'em, too. But this ere one beant mine. I found it in Vancourt wood.

" Oh!" said Kate. She had recognised Jack's gun by a notch on the stockone of those small merits which would escape the notice of most persons— there was scarcely a detail ot Jack's dress or belongings which had escaped the lynx-like eyes of Kate, the woman who loved him. " I'm told it's Mr. Gordon's, and I m taking it to him," said Johnson. " It's a good gun, and I can't think how he came to leave it there— it, as one may say. Kate smiled; no one can guess what that smile cost her. "Let me look at it," she said. Johnson, with some surprise, handed her the gun, and she took it and looked it up and down. . " It's not Mr. Gordon's," she said, confidently. . „ "Not Mr. Gordon's. Then whose is it. he asked. Kate was silent for a moment. Sue knew how 1 terribly important her next words might prove. Her brain seemed on fire, her heart was beating fast and furiously, but her voice was quite calm and steady. . ; " It is Dick Reeve's," she said, on the impulse of the moment. Johnson's round, rubicund face becamae suddenly grave. - " Oh, Dick Reeve's!" he said. " Then he was in the wood last night, i That bad for Master Dick." Kate drew nearer to him, her beautiful face full of entreaty and coaxing. " Yes, I'm afraid it is. But you won't be hard upon him, Mr. Johnson? Let him off — S ay nothing about it just this once — to please me!" . The young fellow hesitated. He admired Kate, as most of the men did, and this unusual amiability— she was generally cold and reserved, keeping them at arm's length —had its effect upon him. " I ought to take this gun to Mr. Fulford, the steward, and report—l really ought, you know," lie said, gravely. " You know that's my duty." She drew closer to him and laid her hand on the gun, which he had taken from hei\ " I know," she said. " But you won't this time. No one lias seen the gun but you?" . , , She put it interrogatively, and he shook his head.

"No as it happened, you're the first person I've seen since I left the wood." "Very well," she exclaimed, in a low, persuasive voice, her great eyes dwelling on him coaxingly. " Give the gun to me, and forget that you found it." She drew it from his reluctantly yielding hand, and as he still continued to shake his head, she added: "See, it hasn't been fired;, it's loaded still. He—he might not have been poaching, might just have been passing through the wood — a short cut, you know, from the cross road—" Johnson laughed incredulously. "Dick Reeve's a lucky man to have you to plead for him, Miss Kate!" he said, rather ruefully and wistfully. "But there, you've got the gun and there's an end of it." "You won't say anything, tell anyone— especially Dick Reeve? You promise!" she said, with a smile, but with an agony of anxiety." ■ ■ The young fellow laughed rather grimly. "It's not very likely, for my own sake," he said. " I thought the gun was Mr. Gordon's." " Oh, no," she said, quickly, " I know it well. It's not his. Good-bye,' and thank you! Yon won't forget your promise." She held out her hand with a smile which dazzled him, then she drew her hand from his tightening grasp, and carrying the gun in proper fashion went into the cottage. Closing the door she sank on to a chair, eyeing the thing sideways as if it were a kind of basilisk. Then she sprang to her feet, shot the bolt in t-lic door, and taking up the gun, with a shudder, examined it closely. It was loaded, as she had said; whatever had happened to the man, he had not been shot. She searched for some traces of blood, but there was not a spot on stock or barrel.' She stood for a moment pondering, then she went out by the back way, and looking round cautiously, stole to an old disused well which stood in a corner of the small garden, carefully lifted a piece of the broken wooden covsr, softly lowered the gun into the well, and replaced the wood and grass in their former positions. As she stood there., with the sunlight streaming on her pale face and bronze-gold hair, she was for the moment conscious of the danger she was incurring, the risk to Dick Reeve and to herself; but she felt no compunction, no remorse; he was in peril, and to save him she would have sacrificed a hundred Dick Reeves, and laid down her own life without hesitataion or regret. Was there anything else she could do? Should she go to the cottage and see if, in the hurry of his flight, Mr. Gordon had left any trace, any clue which might endanger him 0

A voice, calling to her, made her start, but she managed to turn slowly, leisurely, though the voice was Dick Reeve's. He was leaning on the low wall, his pipe in his mouth, his dark eyes fixed on her 'with an expression in them which she hated; for when a woman' loves as Kate did, she loathes the admiration in the eyes of all men save those of the man who holds her heart. " Father in, Kate?" he asked. " No," she said. " He's gone to ma,rket. How hot it is! I must go in." "Half a moment!" he said, and he vaulted the wall and approached her. "What is it?" she asked, impatiently. "I'm very busy this morning, and I can't stay gossiping." " I won't keep you long," he said. " You're always busy, and want to run away when I come." She put up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and half turned away from him. "Well, what is it?" she asked. "I've some cakes in the oven—" "Let 'em bide for a moment," he said, with more of determination in his voice than usual. "I don't often have a chance of seeing you alone. Kate, I've got some good news for you." "Good news In the concentration of her mind upon the one beloved object she, of course, thought his good news must concern Mr. Gordon. "Yes," he said, with a nod. "I'm going to give up"— looked around cautiously— " the poachin-! I've been to the wood for the last leastways, after the game." Her heart fell again. " I'm glad to hear it," she said, coldly enough. " Glad for your own sake, Dick." " And not for yours? That's hard, Kate; for it's for you that I'm giving it up. I know how you hate it, and I'd give up a great deal more than the poachin' for you. Don't go, Kate; listen to me! You know how I love you Lord, how many times have I told you?—but there!. I'm never tired of tellin' you." She bit her lip. With her nerves strained to their utmost tension, it was almost unendurable that she should, have to listen to Dick Reeve's oft-repeated avowal. "I wish you wouldn't," she said, as calmly as she could. "I wish you'd give up this— foolishness!" His face darkened. "It's 110 foolishness with me, Kate, and you know I can't give it up he responded, with suppressed fierceness. " I've always loved you, and I always shall to the end of my days. Look here, Kate, I've sworn to marry you, and I mean to sooner or later. Better give in at once— There, there! I don't mean to threaten you. Let that go. Listen to me: I've given up the poachin' for good and all. I've got something elsesomething ever so much better, something that will make a rich man of me—and I offer to share it with you. You can live like a lady, with your hands in your lap, and plenty to eat and drink, and fine clothes to wear." She regarded him with a dull surprise and distaste. "What do you mean?" she asked. ".Have you got some work, some place—?" His dark, . bold eyes, fell before her gaze, and he moved his feet uneasily as he repliedjj . . .

"No. Who's likely to give me a place?, I've come into some money, Kate." " Come into some money? Had it left to you?" she said. "It is very sudden, isn't it?"

He nodded, with his eyes still downcast. i " Yes, it is. I didn't know it till last night— is, this morning. v It's - atidy sum, Kate, and, if you've a mind we'll take a public—- I've heard that they want to get out "of the Vancourt Arms, and we might take that; but it's just as you please, my girl. You've only to say the word. I'm your slave, Kate, you know, and I'll do anything you want." She turned her cold, white face away from him.

"I'm glad you have had this money left you, Dick," she said; "butbut it doesn't make any difference; I shouldn't marry a man for his money, not if he had millions." His face flushed.

"You're hard on me, Kate," he said, huskily. "I've done all I can to please you. I've given up the poachin', and now I offer to share this windfall with you, and you refuse me! There's many a girl in the village as 'ud jump at such a chance!" " I daresay," said Kate, quietly. " And oh! how I wish you'd ask them! What do you see in me that you should be — so set on me? There's others prettier than I amthere's Polly Andrews and Lottie Wren; they'd be only too glad to listen to you, Dick. Oh! if you'd only give it up and leave me alone!" His face went white, and he swore under his breath.

"Don't you think that I don't try," he said. "I'm always trying; but I can't! I don't want Polly or Lottie; it's you I want, and, by the Lord, I mean to have you!" ... : She turned on him with sudden and equal fierceness.: That anyone should dare to make love to her, whose heart was aching with love for Mr. Gordon, maddened her. "And, by the Lord! you will not!" broke from between her set teeth. "I don't love you, and I never shall! Let me pass, Dick* Reeve for he had stepped between her and the door. "I won't listen to you any longer. I've given you my answer, and I will never speak to you again unless you will promise not to say—what you've said just now." He eyed her with that terrible passion, that mixture of desire and despair which sometimes transforms men into fiends.

"And I say you shall he responded, his eyes flashing. " I mean to have you for my wife, by fair means or foul and that's my last word." . " Then let it be your last word!" she retorted; and she walked by him, within reach of the hand which he dared not stretch out to stay her— she looked like an offended queen— entered the cottage. She waited until he had vaulted the wall, and his footsteps: had died away, then she went out by the front door and made her way to Jack Gordon's cottage, pausing now and again to look round carefully. The key was in the door, and she unlocked it and entered, looking round, with her hand pressed to her throbbing heart. Love can make the most common place sacred, and the two small rooms were hallowed ground to poor Kate. Jack had tidied up as well as he could, but he had left various traces of his presence agricultural paper on the table, a forgotten pipe lay on the neglected mantelshelf. She touched the paper reverently, and took up the pipe and gazed at it almost enviously for had not his lips touched it? But there was nothing indicative of the tragedy which she imagined had been enacted in the wood.

She passed into the tiny bedroom. If the rest of the cottage was sacred, this was sacrosanct indeed! The sight of the narrow bed moved her beyond any words to describe. She fell on her knees beside it,, end, throwing out her arms, laid her head on the pillow and kissed it. "I love you! I love you!" broke from her white iips. " I love you—and I shall never see you again! Oh, God help me! How shall I go. on living day by day without a sight of him!"

(To be continued on Saturday next.)