STARVE GROW FARM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12991, 7 October 1905, Page 3 (Supplement)

STARVE GROW FARM.

BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN, Author of " The House of the Wolf," " A Gentleman of France," " Under the Red Eobe," "Memoirs of a Minister of France," " The Eed Cockade," "In King's By-ways," etc., etc,

[COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XX.—(Continued.) Personally a Brave man Ciyne feared nothing for himself. The hatred in which he was held by a certain class came to his ears from time to time in threatening murmurs, but though those who knew best were loudest in warning, he paid no heed. He continued to do what he held to be his duty. Yet if anything had had power to turn him from hi« path it had been fear on his son's account;, it had been the very, very small share the boy must take in his peril. And at,.the first libit lie had removed the child from the zone of trouble, and sent him to a place which he fancied safe; a) place which the boy loved, and in the quiet of which health as well aS safety might be gained. If the name of Clyno was hated where spindles whirled and shuttles flew, and men lived their lives under a pall of black smoke, it was loved m Cartmel by farmer and shepherd alike; and not less by the rude charcoal-burners who plied their craft in the depths of the woods about iStaveley and Brought on in Fumes*. On that side he thought himself secure. .bid so the blow fell with all the force of the unexpected. The summons of the panicstricken servants found him in his bed; and it was a man who hardly contained himself, who hardly contained his fury and his threats, who without breaking his fast rode north. It was a hard'faced, stern man who crossed the sands at Cartmel at great risk but he had known them all his life—and won at Carter's Green the first spark of comfort a.nd hope he had had since rising. Nadin was before him. Nadin was in "pursuit—Nadin, by whom all that was Tory in Lancashire swore. Surely an accident so opportune, a stroke of mercy and providence so unlikelyfor the odds against the officers presence were immensecould not be unmeant, could not be for nothing! It seemed, it must be of good : augury! But when dyne reached his house in Cartmel. and the terrified nurse who knew the depth of his love for the boy. grovelled before him, the household had no added hope to give him, no news or clue. And he could bus go forward- His liorse was speat, bus they ■ broaden him ,* l«ajst T s colt, and after eaticc a Sew Msat&fels he pressed on up the lake sakfe 4®wanis Bonraans attewied by a kiadM <ei kuxxsecs' sxssa wb& bad not followed o® size fciste, ■ Even now, kosis ais<st\ tfce i Awa&Mcasg. .and when any masaesst savant exd Si's# #oa»» pease, any turn in tfe« jraWl fceseg Miss ft** to face .it h tlie —'S?c*c.*3 ir>!r stssadL or sorrow—he red nob Uii*k «&S , frise child. He dared not let his uixi roa pa Its feasor its "suffering, its terrors in lis# viEatas* hands, or the . hardships which it# helplessness might bring on it. To do so .*■«« 'to try his self-control too far. And m he thought the mora of the men, the raons. of vengeance, the more of the hour that would .see him fa,ca to face with them, and see them face to face with puaishraent. He rejoiced to think that abduction was one of tlie two hundred crimes which were pun-! ishable with death; and he swore that if he devoted his life to the capture of, these wretches they should be take*. And when taken, when they had been dealt with bv judge and jury, they should be banged without benefit of clergy. There should be no.talk of respite. His services to the party had earned so much as that—even in these clays when Radicals were listened to over much, and fanatics like Sir Francis Burdett flung tlieir wealth into the wrong scale. At Bow 11 ess there was no news except a word from Nadin bidding him ride on. And without alighting he pressed on, sternly silent, but with eyes that tirelessly searched the bleak, bare fells for «some movement, some hint of flight or chase. He topped the hi 11 beyond Bowness, and drew rein an instant to scan the islets set here and there on the sullen water. Then, after marking carefully the three or four boats which were afloat, lie trotted down through Calgarth woods. And 011 turning the corner that revealed the long, gabled house at the Low Wood landing fie had a gleam of hope. Here at last was something, some stir, some adequate movement. In the road were a number of men, twenty or thirty, on foot or horseback. A few were standing, others were moving to and fro. Half; of them carried Brown Besses t blunderbusses, or old horse-pistols;- and three or four were girt with ancient swords lugged for the purpose from bacon-rack or oak chest. Tim horees of the men matched as iH as their arms, being of all heights and all degrees of shagginess, and some riders had one spur, and some none. ' But the troop meant business,; it was clear, and Anthany Clyde's heart went out to them in ; gratitude. Hitherto he had ridden through a countryside heedless or ignorant of his loss, and of what was afoot; and the tardy intelligence. the slow answer, had tried him sorelv Here was an end of that. As the honesti dalesmen, gathered before the inn, hauled their hard-mouthed beasts to the edge of the road to make way for him, and doffed eh- hats in silent sympathy,, he thanked them with life eyes. / j •In spite of his empty sleeve he waa off j his home in a moment. "Have they learned anything''" he ask- I ed, his voice harsh with, suppressed' - em©-' tion. s '■. The nearest man began to explain in the slow northern fashion. '"No, not a3 yet, your honour. But we shall; no doubt, i' good time. We know that they landed here ia a boat." "Ay, your honour, have no fear!" cried a second! " We'll get hurt back!" ■ And then Nadin came out. "This way, if you please, squire," he said, touching his:arm and leading him aside. - ".We are just starting to scour the hills 5 but" he broke off and did not say any ; more until be had df&wr. CJynV out'of earehot.£" f ,> I .''".Then,- "It's > certain that they > landed." here," he said, turning and ■facing', him. "We know that, squire. And I fancy that they are not far away. Hie hole is somewhere near, for it is here we lost the other lost,.- I'm pretty, sure I,lwt if we search the hills, for a few'hours we'll light on> them. ■ But-' that's' the ! loss way And damme Y', vehemently, " there s a. short way if we are mem aad not mice." " Clyas'e eyes, gkwsoeci. | *■ i " * 1 A short ( way I' 1 ' be muttered. In spite of Nftdiu's ssesil the Manchester officer s fajailiarity;. had more than am* • dimjuMwfc his patron. At had far from 1 Uiat effect now,. The man might swea* and wleowiei

bo familiar, be what he pleased, if ho would lf . also act! If lie would recover the child from the cruel "hands that held it! • His •very bluutness i.ad burliness and sufficiency /W& gave hope. "A short way?" Clyne repeat- /t'lM ed. Nadiu struck his great fist into the other palm. ' ' ' " 'h: "Ay, a. slnrt way!" he answered. < "There's a witness hero can tell us all we |lsll want if she will but speak. lam just front her. A woman who knows and can set us '•)» 011 the track "if she chooses! And we'll have but to ride to covert and take the fox." Civile laid hi hand on the other's arm. 1 isl "Do you mem," he asked huskily, strug- V; gling to keep hope within bounds, "that hero is someone —who knows where V$S they are?" • "I do!". Na<lin answered with an oath. "And knows where the .child is. But. she'll not speak." "Not speak':" : 'No, she'll nob tell. It's the young lady you were here about before, squire, to be ""-jf frank with you." j "Miss Damer?" in. a tone of astonishment. "Ay, squire, she!" Nad in replied. "She! And the yourg madam knows, d— her! a«-i It's all one siness, you may take it from * /f| me! It's all one gang! !She was at the |:||i place where they landed after dark lost l'd§i night." "Impossible!" Clyne cried. "I cannot . believe you." " Ay," but she was. She let herself down • from a window .when the house had gone to "5 lied that she night get there. Ay, squire, you may look, but she did. She did not meet them; she was too soon or too late, we don't know which. But sho was there, ,!ff. as sure -as I am here! And I suspect— - •'iS though Bishop, who is a hit of a softy, like - most of those London men, doesn't agree > * r '>"; that she was in the tiling from the beginning., squire! And planned it, may be; but you'd be the best judge of that. Any ' '$§ way, we are agreed that she knows now, That irs clear as daylight!" » " Kbows ,and will not tell?" dyne cried. Such coudncl seemed too monstrous, too ' wicked to the man who had strained every ll|fs nerve to reach his child, who had ridden „ sI&M in terror for hours, trembling at the passage of every minute, grudging the loss of every second. Knows and will not tell!" {ff he repeated. "Impossible!" , "Its not impossible, squire," Nadin answered. "We are clear on it. We're all fj || clear on it." ' •"That she knows where tho child is? Where they are keeping it?" "•■ ,} -4©§l "That's it." , ;'4 " And will not say?" , Nadin grinned. _ '' "Not for us," he said, shrugging his shoulders; she may for you. But she is ,"i§| stubborn as a mule. I can say worse than • ,'if that. Stubborn as a mule, .squire!" dyne* raised his hand to his the twitch- " ing nostril, the quivering lip that betrayed his agitation. But the hand shook. He ' J could not believe that she was privy to this -b wickedness. But—but if she only knew it ® now and kept her knowledge to herself "* * she was, he dared not think what she wan. A gust of passion took him at the thought, ' -fl| and whitened his face to the very lips. M He had to turn away that the ■ coarse-grak-ed, underbred man beside him might not \-,ii see too much. And a few seconds went by p before he could command his voice suffi- llf ciently to ask Nadin what evidence he had ' of thisthis monstrous charge. "How-dol|lfl§l you know— want to be clearhow do yoo T ? know," he asked, sternly meeting his eyes, " that she left the house last night to meet Ig them? That she was there to meet them? . $£ Have you evidence?" He could not believe' ' >'\i that a woman of his class, of his race, woah? 'J1 do this thing. ; " Evidence (" Nadin answered coolly. ' "Plenty!" And he told the story of tie <f footprints, and of Mr. Sutton's experiences 3 in the night ; and added that one of the llfi child's woollen mitts had been found between | the bottom-boards of a boat beached at that spot—a boat which bore. signs of recent , use. "If voii are not satisfied and. would! •' % like to see his reverence," he continued, ' "and question him . before you see her sftlllS shall I send .him to yon?" ' *, "Ay, send him," Clyno said with on, ':J. effort. He had been incredulous, but the evidence . seemed overwhelming. Yet he ' • straggled, ho still struggled to disbelieve. L Not because his thoughts still held any tenderness for the girl, or he retained any ' 1 remnant of the troublesome feeling that had haunted him; for the shock of the child's |l abduction had driven such small emotions | from his mind. But with the country, rising about him, and amidst this gathering of , tM men upon whom he had no claim, but who ~ >$ asked nothing better than to be brought face to face with the authors of the outrage j —with these proofs of public sympathy be- "Mi fore- hie • eyes it seemed ■ impossible that & ' WOS3AH, a girl, should waatoiilv set herself I the dihee side, and shield the criminals. '1-4 I' semei impassable, - .Bat then, when the — rs "' sew;s oil her elopeneat .wi*h an bdk2»ara. stsraager had - reached him, he hmflSiM : Slwrafte tEat impossible I Yet it had tarried I ' * I eas. ia but Iras, sad leas than the fact; since ■Use sua wju not only beneath ber, bat a Hlf! R®dk«l asd; 'a '■ dlltinl ■; ' "Bat I will see Sutton," he muttered,!. | striving to bold his rage in check. "I will ' see j&fttoa. Perhaps lie may be able to S explatu. Perhaps -he may be able to tnili|S-!|l another face ou the matter, and exonerate Slss bet!" ; The chapliitt would fain have done so: - ; •-4 rather out of a generous pity for the- unfortunate girl than out of any lingering hope of ingratiating himyeJf with her. Bat : he did not taiow what to say—except that though she had gone to the rendezvous she had not .seen nor met ; anyone. 'He hii/fc ' : stress on th.it, for ha had'nothing else 'to Q p plead. But he bad Ito < allow that. her parpose had htvn to meet someone .ami that weak attempt to excuse her dyne's rage broke forth. - , , "She is *hamele®s!" lie cried. "Shame- •'V ■' less! Can you say alter this that she hat % riven tip oil dealings with her loveri . • I hough "she passed her word and know* hj» r for a married roan?" -\t The chap!.un shook his head. "I cannot," ha «aid isom/wfoih. ***1 '">sc cannot ray that But—" "She gave heir word! To real Tt others," "1 allow it. But—" - " But what?, What?" with hardly;' re- - - - 5 strained rage. "Will you stiK, sir, take her aide against the innocent? Against th» . ~-i j child, whom she has conspired to entrap, "%m to carry off, perhaps to— murder!" "Oh, no, no!" Mr, - Sutton cried in. unfeigned horror. "That I do not believe! ijl Ido not believe that for m) iastant! I eil-w, I admit," he continued -eagerly, "= ""i " ( l at she has been weak, and that she has ' : mwlly, foolishly, permitted thin wretch tc ' , retain a hold over her." * j g|sS ; "At any rate/' Clyne retorted, his raM . / at a white, seat, "she' Jed to me!" : " I admit it." " And to others!" _ The chaplain could only bold oat hie bands in deprecation. " That she hag continued to communicate with a man she should loathe? A man whom, if slip were a modest girl, she would »--'s loathe. -, That she has stolen to mid night interviews with him, leaving thin house as J a thief leaves it? That she has- casfc all modesty from her." ' " ( " Oh, do not; do not be too hard on her!'.' Vtli Sutton cried, his face flushing hotly, "Ckpl;l Clyne, I beg— beg you to be mmi'V« "It is she who k hard on herself! Bat have no few," Cly»e answered, in-a. voice If cold as the winter fells 'and as pitiless. "I shall give ber fifteen minutes to come to he? | senses and. behave • herself—not m a deceit I woman, luo longer ask that, but m a 4 woman, anv woman; the lowest, would' be- ?'* have herself, to save a child'* life. And if -'I''®] she behaves herself—well. And it not, «&• MM it is net 1 who will j/übl«s> her. but 11 law! "She will speak, 1 ibink she will swai— ' '"I for yon," the chaplain «wd. /->. 1 gjMmlgg He was deeply and UoaceUy concerned & - 1 the girl, and full of pity for her, though M he aid. not i understand her. '■ t' , • / " But—suppose imv her first? Just for ii 1 minute*? I wiU explain;' he sug- "*«j gested. S f\ ,1 * "XotWtUiw 1 maxA" Captam a*w answered giriHJljr, " A«d. f®r a few minutes I'" "M' I)o you w.iwutJ&Miif'' with a look of auepi. thtare hsa beei» delay oaougb - already ? , too loucbl Fiffewsn miij.. ■ ateK, wiUi & ot tbe bfteer Uxiuab' she shall hate, and not one uuuute mow,'" fei it mt wer«' my mw I" . ■ Mr. Sutton's face tumwl rod again.. 4 Rea«si»ber, sir,' 1 he said laaveh', " th-4^ I she wa» all but ymv e "1 do itimelttMr it ! Clyux retorted witi glaftce, "And tfaswik U«d for } MIMIU cenimnKl Ss'||