THE SHADOW OF A SIN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 13028, 20 November 1905, Page 3

THE SHADOW OF A SIN.

.[PUBLISHED .BY, SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]

•--. BY 1 C. B. CAVF.IGA.bU ••. „ Author of "The Temptation of Dulce Carruthers," " Gunner Jack and Uncle 1 John," " An Angel Unawares," "'•■'■: ■■■■; ■■:- "/100 Late," etc.

[ALL EIGHTS RESERVED.]

CHAPTER XVI.

"I couldn't live in a place like this," said Andrew Morgan, contemptuously., as he turned on his; way to ford to look back at Bewsher, He spoke half aloud, for the silence of the place was so extraordinary to a man. who, was accustomed to live his life in the whirl of London, that he had to hear his own voice for the satisfaction of realising that he was not entirely deaf. , ■ , '

The view ;t't which lie was glancing with, such complete indifference was one, of the' most beautiful in Suffolk, and yet it did not. appeal to him". Tile April light was dancing on the river that wound and undulated' through green marshland to the sea. . If he had been a man with any touch of romance in his nature, it would have reminded, him of a glittering silver ribbon on an emerald shield; but since he possessed 110 atom of that unmarketable commodity,; he merely thought that-such a tortuous waterway must be very inconvenient tor business purposes. He watched with some iuterestVthe. brown sail of ft wherry tacking through the Hat level of the meadows, hanging in the wind now and again. Hying before it with a, rush of bellying canvas as she came up into.' it again round another bend.,: -.'.».', s '"If J; had my way," said Morgan, /'l'd straighten that stream. ■ Far more handy it'll be-cut through Suffolk like';' a canal. Half the time 'd be saved; if j.boats'.,.could sail straight instead of going on like whiptops as they do now." ,'V .- . ■[' ", _ .- There were many other plans of practical contrivance. that he could ..have, devised for Bewsher. He was interested in the ridge of. cliff flit which the church hung like a beacon to all the. countryside, but he. saw theunhealthiness of the marshlands, with their ghostly Wreaths of mist, and hi draining them lie would have despoiled the place. of halt its charm. He could not see the lovable beauty of the red brick Jacobean houses nestling in the narrow streets of the little town, nor the exquisite green of the stretch of oak trees that bucked the Elizabethan mansion on the marshes, nor see the poetry of the haunted oak, where the fiend nightly clanked his chains. Bewsher did not exist for him, save in the utility of some great paper works that flared a ribbon of black smoke from tall chimneys below the hill. There was practical use, and he admired an economy in ground rentthat kept the manufactory in the town. "Funny places, these country towns," he said, turning back into the path with a shrug ; " and as for the landlord of the Spotted Deer, the amount of information ho managed to convey to me during breakfast time would have stocked a library. What he didn't know he invented, I'll be bound. But there's evidently been some talk about this Mrs. Lloyd dying at the Seven Kings at EtifOrd, and naturally the servant of the inn litis had-, something to say about it. Funny, too. her having had that queer, mysterious visitor the night she died, and foolish of —uncommonly foolishto be seen climbing up the balcony to the window. Why, if I had anything to hide, I'd be uncommon careful! It often strikes me as" the queerest-thing in the world the carelessness of criminals. A step en the-; wet earth, a cuff-link broken and dropped in the house,- a pocket-handkerchief—all leading to being caught and tried. There's never a case that I knew of that has stumped, me yet but one, and that one seems as if there was magic at work helping the woman to get clear. A very unsatisfactory case, looked at from my point of view", though not from the judge's, 1 suppose, and his elect eleven jurymen." . ;-.-' :•■'. '/:,';' Morgan was fumbling iii his breast-pocket, and after a moment he produced from it a thick leather pocket-book, stuffed with papers and closely written on every page. He propped himself against a handy gate, and looked round him to see that the fields were still deserted. "My favourite novel," he said, cheerfully. "And*l ought to know it by heart now." He laughed a little, a practical, businesslike laugh that suited his broad figure and honest, open face, adorned by a thick dark moustache that hid. though it could not disguise, the firm, hard lines of his mouth. His only interest in life was his work, his only soft corner his love for his old mother, who lived in the heart of London to be near her boy, in a .tiny house that she kept as spick and span as her own neat, round person. ; She believed in her only son thoroughly, and had done so all her life, which had partly helped him towards the quiet confidence he possessed in his own powers of seeing further through a brick wall than most people. Ho glanced at the closely-written pages for a moment, then, with a snort of contempt for his own weakness, shut it up .and replaced it in his pocket. There was one case out of the many he had taken in hand that had so far baffled him, and to which he had never been able to affix the word " finished," and Andrew Morgan did not like to be beaten. A thrush was singing in the. elder bush by the riverside, and Its clear whistle annoyed him. .'' .: \ '.."' "Hang the birds!" he said, sharply. " How they sing, to be sure ! It must be- impossible to think if you live in the country! There! I've lost my temper again, 5 and it's always the way when I think of Mrs. Lcvison. * She is the one blot on my life and in my book, and I shall not be happy till I can write 'finished' under her name." .. With which hearty, outspoken expression Detective Morgan pursued his way with a frowning brow. Geoffrey and his wife, had drifted from Wyndquest to Devonshire and from Devonshire to the fair county of Dorset, where they had taken rooms in it cottage on the hillside, overhanging a seaside village that was so small and insignificant that it had escaped the tourist element entirely. It was almost time for them to be thinking of returning to Enford Chase, but Geoffrey was anxious to avert the evil day as-long as possible, and Nell had no wish to disturb the golden dawn of their married life that lulled her in a dream of peace. They had originally intended: to finish their honeymoon in little more than, a week, but now it seemed as though it might go on indefinitely, since there were so many places that Geoffrey thought they might visit together to complete their happiness. "It seems to me," said Nell, archly, as they sat together in the Cottage parlour with a newspaper a week old between them— it seems to inc. Geoff, that you never want to go back at all! Do you. begin to be afraid that our love will not. serve for everyday life at Enfdrd?" . '

"Goose!" said Geoffrey, kissing away the words from her lip's. "If you wove not well, 1 should think that you were doubtful yourself of that, by the way you speak." Nell shivered a, 'little. " Oh,,' Geoffrey, if we had made a mistake, how awful-it would be! Think of the thousands of people who many for other reasons than love—or villi "shadow between them. Oh! Geoffrey, I thank heaven every day for my husband." The leaves of the paper rustled suddenly as a light wind arose and sighed about the house, and Geoffrey, muttering that it was. chilly, got up and closed the window. He thought of her words again that night, for he could not sleep. The short night of April was quivering to the dawn in the east, and the room was indistinct and grey. Nell lay with her arms under her head, her light breath coming and going like a little child. He watched her with a dumb sense of his own unworthiness to be near her, till she stirred a little under his glance. '•Maisie!" she murmured, with the pitiful accent of an unhappy child. "Oh, Maisie!" So even in her dreams her thoughts were with her cousin, and Geoffrey caught Lis breath sharply to keep back a cry. The very room seemed to be peopled with Maisie as he had first known herthe handsome governess with passionate,, discontented nature that must inevitably wreck her career before long—Maisie the loving, exactin"- wife —Maisie the wronged, despairing woman. ' . . Old memories from past days pursued him till he rose from his bed at last with a wild sense of desperation that, he must drown thought'iu some fashion., ; , He opened the

dressing-bag that his wife ' had given him, in which was his hunting-flask of engraved silver, full of brandy. And before .he realised what he was doing he had poured tie whole of its contents down his throat. f im. fierce spirit scorched and scared Ins throat, but he was reckless, for he knew that in x? there lay "temporary relief from his'gnawing •trouble and the soothing of raw nerves ana haunting agony. But he started violently at the sound of Nell's voice calling him, ana looking round he saw her close to his elbow. She had slipped on her white velvet dress-ing-gown with its edge of sable, for the night was chilly. '■ . . ",- "Geoffrey! Oh, you are ill ! she cried. " What is it, darling'.'" He looked at her as she stood there rosy and drowsy with sleep tike a flower nodding in the wind, and he smiled at her, for he felt supported by this new and wonderful sense or courage. - •*; "I felt faint, darling!" he said, hurried "But lam all right now—go back to bed. But Nell, with tender womanly anxiety, had so much to reassure herself about, so many loving; suggestions to make, that lie allowed himself to be fussed over as an invalid, and to permit-Nell to sit by him fanning him and- bathing his forehead with eau-de-cologne, till ho fell into a heavy sleep. - . ,','-";:': :'-. ■■ ,'-ii Nell, for fear of disturbing him, curled herself up in the big armchair, with a rug about her to finish her night. ' ' . She was too disturbed to sleep much, although Geoffrey was breathing so regularly and quietly after his mysterious attack. -, But she* listened to him anxiously,- until she was convinced that he was really asleep, and silt watching him with her lovely face upon her hand, until the happy tears blinded her eyes. ,'.- •'•>', ~ . •' My darling— darling! she said, passionately to herself. " How I love you, and how I thank heaven every day for my good and noble husband'." ' ; (To. be ; continued daily).