THE LOST EARL OF ELLAN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13193, 2 June 1906, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE LOST EARL OF ELLAN.

[ALL BIGHTS RESERVED.] '

BY MBS. CAMPBELL PEA ED, Author of "An Australian Heroine," " The Romance of a Station," '* December Roses." "As a Watch in the Night," "My Australian Girlhood." " Nyria," etc., etc. CHAPTER XXll.—(Continued.) There was silence. Neither of the gir's answered him. Susan stood as if turned to stone. And into Oora's uplifted eyes a, cloud of apprehension crept. . " You hud a brother once, - ' continued . Wolfe, "lie ran away, and was afterwards on the diggings where I was. They used to 1 call him Harry the Blower. He was only a ' lad— hot-tempered lad. 1 should have had patience with him, in id never have allowed myself to be drawn into a quarrel. But I'm hot-tempered, too, and that night I'd been drinking andand—l saw red." Wolfe halted, and his miserable eyes turned from one to the other of the two women. But neither of them spoke. On the faces of both rose a slow comprehension that seemed to stupefy them. Wolfe went on harshly : " I've nothing to say in my own defence —except that 1 didn't realise what I had done. And, of course, I wasn't sure— at first I didn't want to find out. Then you, Miss Galbraith, in your angelic kindness to an outcast, gave me the glimmering hope of getting back to be something of what I had really once been—a gentleman and a man of honour. You seemed a- type of goddess to me. I reverenced and worshipped you. I shall always reverence you for what you did for inc. But now I've got to make this awful confession to you, and to this other dear woman whom I love, and whom I can lievef hope to win. The man whom I struck down with a tomahawk up there in the Yellaroi Range—and then run away from like a cur through fear that I'd killed him— man I've just lately learnt was your brother." The two girls simply stared as if they had Hot: taken in Wolfe's words. " Don't you understand-?"' he exclaimed desperately. "It was your own brother!"' Then, as they still stared in silence, "The brother that you 'would not speak of," he said, addressing Susan. "If you had. perhaps I should have known, and then I should have gone away at once, most likely, and you would have heard of me no more. I did not know his real —nobody does know anyone's .real name on the diggings. I knew linn just as Harry, the mate of a scoundrel called Flash Sam. It is only the other day that I learned who he was. My own mate wrote and told me at Townsville. He found it out through two men who were in the hut at the time, and who. it seems, applied the other day to your father's lawyer for a reI ward which he had offered for any information concerning your brother. lam trying to explain so that you may understand. But what do details matter? The fact is enough, and everything will be made clear soon. The police are after inc. I got ahead of them by swimming a Hooded river they wouldn't go into.. But I meant to surrender and take my sentence either for manslaughter or murder—whichever they bring it in. If the worst happens, it will only be a fitting finish to a blundering life. Only I felt that I must come here first, because there was my promise to you, and I wanted to give myself up to your father. It seemed only fair— for you've both been so good to me and—and I wanted to thank you—if I may." His voice broke in a groan. He had dragged himself closer to Susan and held out his hands, which were shaking. But Susan gave a smothered cryshe seemed unable to speak—and waved him aside with a shuddering gesture. She had covered her face, but in the fleeting glimpse. Wolfe caught of it, he saw that the conflict of her scorn and tenderness was over. Her featuies had turned to a mask of stone. He looked distractedly from Susan to Oora. But even Oora made no sign. She, too,, appeared horrorstricken, and an exclamation of despair came from the man. "My God!. What shall I do? It is more than I can bear." He staggered towards his horse. ' But as he passed her, Oora put out her hands to . him with a curious, yearning murmur. Her limbs trembled, but otherwise she was calm. ! He caught her 'hands lit his and'tlie strange ryes smiled faintly at him—the ghost of a j smile, but one'of steadfast sweetness. '•'Courage! courage!" she whispered ; "you *

. are mine, remember. Fate gave me your I life. I saved you on the sea, and if need bo - I shall save yt>u here in the bush. Harry 8 isn't dead. I believe he is not far off. I e was just now going to look for him. There x has been some dreadful mistake about all f this. Trust me to find it out, but don't give - up hope." " Thank heaven for those words," he re--1 turned. " Thank heaven for your faith in 1 me, sea-witcli. For now I know that in - your heart of hearts you don't blame me. 3 And. indeed, lam guiltless of intent. But 3 what hope can there be, my dear? —I . killed him." ' 5 You didn't,"■ she cried. "It may have - been someone else, but it was not Harry, j • Of that lam sure. Oh, lam sure now that I J my power of thought is corning back to me. 1 You froze it just at first. Hold warm ? —so that I can think the better. Hold > me clos-e to von." I She clung to him, trembling still, and shut ■ her eves,- leaning against his breast. He ; folded his arms passionately around her. but ' there was the agony of a last farewell in his look. Neither of them noticed Susan > nor. thought of her at this supreme moment of their lives. Oora's trembling gradually ceased, and presently she began speaking in a rapid undertone. "Listen!" she said. Someone has been wandering in the bush ' among the blacks. I heard, it from one of 1 them. The"' think it is Harrv, and lam going now, at once— see him. It is not very far from here. Suppose you come with me? Then we cy.u judge for ourselves what is the bast thing to do." As Wolfe did not answer she looked up at him, wide.eyed and wondering. " Don't you see there is just a chance, and we had better lake it?" she said, raising Iter \oice. "J meant to go in any ease, but now we ought - not to delay. Won't you come with me, or must I go alone?" His arms tightened round her. " My. dearest! I would go with you to the cud of the world, but— life is forfeit. It would seem like running awayagain." "Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "And if it were, 1 would help you to that, too. We must, find some means of escape out of this." Oora drew herself from his arms and pushed him a little away, while she turned hastily to Susan, who, roused by her tone, had turned likewise and faced her with a strained look. She also began to speak, and Oora was silenced before the few white hot words that fell from her sister's dry lips. ."You want to help your brother's murderer to escape? You would do that! Little you care about finding Harryexcept for the sake of this man. Ah! it is like you to think only of him. I thought I cared for him, too, once," and Susan struck her hands passionately together, " but now—now she stopped chokingly. The words strangled her. " Don't say any more. Su," muttered Oora, pityingly. But Susan's control had broken down. " Don't say any more," she almost shrieked. " Leave you to ride off with him—to help him to cscape from justice? But lie shall not. Yon shall not. It is too cruel. You have no natural feelings. All that you think of is this stranger, a main whom you scarcely know. You ought to be ashamed —Oora—you—who made love to him out in the- sea. Oh, I know! You forget that I heard all your mad talk in the fever. It was lie to whom you gave your elm,mi—it . was ho who—oh! oh !" Susan was forced to stop again, her throat convulsed. She . made a violent effort to regain some measure of calmness, and Oora looked on with i growing impatience. ..while, Wolfe tried not i to overhear what parsed between them. t You must have had a' secret meeting i with this man at Acobarra," continued i Susan., "Did he bring you back your chain? . Did you lie to me about Brian"? Brian ! could never have lent himself to anything i fake or. dishonourable. He at least is true 1 and good." . < "Of course he is," put in Oora tolerantly, 1 "But all that is nothing to what we have < to consider now. Su, stop raving for a i minute, and listen to common sense." 1 "I have listened to enough to-day," said < Susan in chill disdain. 1 "Do you under- <• stand that this man murdered our brother?" 1 "No, he did not,"' said Oora quickly: ' "Even if he had killed Harry, it wouldn't * have. be«'ii murder, for .he never meant to < do.it. He struck at Hairy, in anger, be- (

cause Harry insulted him-—didn't lie - tell .you that? >It was an accident. But I tell you that Hairy is not dead. I know it. •Something inside nie says' so. It's a voice I sometimes hear; it very seldom speaks, but when it does, it is never wrong. 1 am going now to prove the truth of what I say. I shall ride as fast as I can, and I 6 shall bo back before midnight, maybe." She swung round and laid her hand on Wolfe's arm. "YVill you go with me— not?" "Certainly I shall go with you,'' he answered. . "1 cannot let you go alone." "Good! Then we start at once." She gave her own coo-ee aitid Pint pot "* immediately responded, appearing from i within the curve of' the gidya, scrub with the two led horses. 1 " Stop along-a-track,"' commanded Oora. i I! £ , 111 coming." She turned to her sister, , ' l ? u ' did you fetch mo the brandy and things I asked you to get? I must not go 1 without them." 1 "I gave them to Pint pot. They are in 1 the pack, Susan answered, still in'cold rei sent men (. It seemed to her that Oora was l desperately wicked, or else quite mad. But : Oora did not care "what she thought. c j °ri r '^ c t "' le horse 1 was taking to 1 'etch Harry,' she said to Wolfe. "The - Outlaw ik quite unfit for further wink. We i can put Harry oil the paek-hoise and Pint- ' ,ofc 'il- 1 '"id his own way home. Come." But \\ olfe was looking at Susan, and a spasm ot intense commiseration .suddenly contracted Oora s heart. She went up to her sister. 'Dear Su! Don't mourn for Harry as quite dead until we have made sure 'that ! he .is. I don think he can be myself, but at a.l events wc shall know better in a lew hours. Wish us luck, won't you?" out Susan thrust the sympathetic hand ay. She had .sunk upon the ground, .and was crouching under a tree, the cold outline of her face as though carved in flay against, its mottled trunk. Fearing •mother outbreak if she waited for her to speak, Oora. dropped a. light kiss upon the bent ''' c '' and, gathering her habit together, scrambled up the- bank towards 1 nit pot. Wolfe followed her. But just at ho top, where Pint pot hex! the horses, she stopped and turned. She had heard the sound of someone's tread, quick, brisk and even ", Look!" she cried, and caught •Voltes hand m nciv>. & Brian Cordeaux came down the track liom the head station, , looking trim and neat as was his wont. His alert eves were glancing from side to side, but thev did hot see Oora and Wolfe, for they fell on Susan crouching | )v the tree. He hurried for-' bid. and knelt beside her while the pair beyond watched him. Very gently, very tender. . with an inexpressibly sheltering motion, he bent over Susan, and she, be" coming conscious of his presence, turned suddenly and flung herself into his arms, sobbing as though i.er heart would break. I hats all right." said Oora. grimly setlug her teeth. "Let them comfort each other, W we'll 'ride for Harry's life, ami—what, is more to me—for yours." IV olfe swung her into the saddle without a word, for now was not the time for endearments, Gipsy Girl was arching hei pel feet neck and curvetting to be off. hho was a black mare of blood stock, and had won many bush races. Now. as Oora 00 fle re ' lls out she sped off like an arrow through the creek, and away over Sin uniliilat,ng ground upon the opposite side. Wolf-, had never asked Oora where ' she meant to go. but in a moment he had mounted and was after her through endless lines of gums, scarcely drawing rein. 'chapter xxur. j HICK's SHAFT. Jit from the Phonal consolation of i •Susan Brian's arrival at Narrawan was op- I rtlin e, for it relieved the tension of ' suspense that had followed upon the receipt ] ° the mail, and forced, Mr. Ualbraith out ( ot his dreary brooding in the "oflice' 1 to ' nelcomo his guest. Susan's father had' i gathered easily,enough what, Brian's visit s portended, and perhaps nothing short of a i su.tor for the hand of his favourite child would have made him put aside for the t moment the futile speculations roused bv 6 . l.lvirbys letter, or have. given him a' 6 short respite from the gnawings of self-re- i proacii. ' ii • As the 'dinner hour drew ou, however, he.,< Kigali to worry over Oora 6 absence, and '!■ sent for iominv George to ask if anything': i had been seen of'P.utpot. Tiicu it appeared k that the horse Oora had ridden to Ironbaik t tamp was tunning lame in the home pad- t dock,and that Gipsy Girl and two other hacks c

. were missing, so that when Mr. Galbraith , caiiie in, angry and alarmed, to consult I atsy Susan was obliged to tell him part ?! what had happened. So she related how Uol ' a —having heard a story from the blacks • of a. sick white man, whom the Bundah tribe Had brought down with them from the north and who was now in the native camp at the foot of the range—had foolishly insisted on going oft - at once to see into the mailer, in case this unknown white man could os si by be Harry, and how. as Susan was seeing her start,. they had met Wolfe at the Jiunyjo s waterholo 011 his way to the house. Hove Susan became confused •Jlid letieent, and Brian came clumsilv to her rescue, explaining that Mr. Wolfe'had evidently considered, it unfit for a voune -ady to bo riding at that hour through the bush with no bolter company than a black boy, and had very properly given her his escort, [ here was nothing very extraordinary in the latter part of the tale, except, indeed, the coincidence of Wolfe's unexpected arrival ; and that, after all, would hapMr. Ua.biaith had been hoping would happen, for he had taken if. badly that Wolfe should have repaid his kindness with, apparently, such ingratitude; He was now glad to ink ho hud .misjudged him, and also extremely glad, to think that he had got an efficient stockman back again It was perfectly natural, too. that Wolfe should have taken upon himself- the responsibility of guiding Oora, seeing that lie knew the wild country beyond Ironbark Camp, ha.vrug mustered cattle aud hunted brumbies on (lie lower spur of the range. Mr. Galbraiih was therefore mollified concerning Wo.le, and commended his action ; but the. oihciM had to listen to some severe- condemnation of Oora's reckless impulsiveness and madcap wins. Why, the boss asked querulously, must .she be always running after single-handed adventure? Why couldn't she have consulted him, and then they might, have gone sensibly into the business: have questioned the 'blacks; made suitable preparations. and, in .short, have done all the things Oora had been anxious to avoid? Still Oora - was Oora, and as I atsy good-naturedly tried to point out, there was no use in expecting her to do anything after the manner of an ordinary girl. She was a;half-wild creature, and | whether 011 the sea or in the bush she was bound to be as much at home as a fish or a kangaroo. Nevertheless dinner was not altogether a social meal, though Cordeaux felt far too content at the success of his own love affair not to try aud appear cheerful; and, painfully embarrassed though he had been at some of Susan's confidences, he did his best to entertain the little company with an account of the Clytie's, recent * vovagings along the -coast-. But everyone else was more or less preoccupied. Even the picaninny, as a rule the most conversational of mortals, sat silently staring at the newcomer with solemn black eyes, shadowed by elf locks that hung down over her nightgown, in which she usually appeared at this hour. She was puzzled and awed by this "new feller Benjamin belonging to Susan" -—as to her sisters intense discomfiture she described Brian—having divined with the sharp intuition common to children and to the b.acks that lie was Susan's lover. When the meal was over l'atsy retired to put' her children to bed, and the boss went back to the otlice and his solitary self-communings, while Susan took Brian to tue verandah, and then into the moon-lit garden. She had already opened out her heart to him. and found delicious salve for her ■ wounded feelings in his tenderness and consideration. which was greater to-day than ever. He would have liked to ask her c a good many questions concerning this James Wolfe. _of whom he had .heard i so much at Narrawan. for a certain letter in his pocket from Craies, the solicitors i who had got on the track of his missing 1 cousin, had intensified Brian's suspicion that the lost Earl of Elian, James Wolfe 1 and James Robinson were one and the same 1 individual. Now. judging by what Brian I learnt from Susan, it seeme dto him an undoubted fact that ' this James Wolfe was James Robinson, and also 'that lie was really James olfe Cordeaux. But though Susan, in her first indignant confidences sobbed out on Brian's shoulder down by . the _ water hole had told him enough .of , Oora s acquaintance with the man to make j 1 I

. this clear toßrian", she shrank from perl soiial questions concerning Wolfe, and iinan wisely determined not to pices her : >» tho matter. Thus lie never quite knew j the rights of Susan's share in that, story, nor how she had once believed that she loved ! , James Wolfe. ■ Of Harry Ga.lbra.itli Brian, of course, know nothing; but when Susan sobbinglv recounted Wolfe's confession that he had killed her other, Brian was deeplv dismayed. and could not forbear shoving close interest in the matter. But Susan, blinded by her own grief, supposed that his evident distress was entirely on her behalf. It never occurred to her"that the trouble could concern Brian except■..through her. And us tilings were lie did not care to tell her who lie supposed James Wolfe to be setter to wait, he thought. Susan, had been tlirougu enough already, and further suspense and uncertainty would but add to the load she had to bear. Then there was the chance of recovery of Harry Galbraith. which would relieve James Woife or James Cordeaux—as he might —from the terrible stigma of murder, for Susan had told Brian all about (Dora's- wild project to seek out the Bunda.li tribe of blacks, who were camped at the edye of Razorback Gully. And though Susan still professed disbelief in the possibility of Harry being am ore them the ic.ea had begun, to take some hold upon her, and she talked over it uncensinclv with her .over. ThuS», though Brian looked unusually grave, and certainly considered the whole situation very serious indeed, he was nevertheless inwardly happy m; far as he himself was concerned "at the turn affairs had taken. It was a glorious night, the moon almost brigut enough to read by, yet casi. g Ijiitastic and deceptive shadows that made trees and shrubs seem things of a. dream. 1.1 10 lagoon below, with its silvery rejections and the ghostly trunks of the white gums surrounding 't, looked like some en,chanted lake. The dim stretch of plain and clumps of sandalwood and eucalyptus upon it; tile mournful gidva forest growing towards it, and the strange night calls of the bush—the screeching of waterfowl, the wail of curlew, the distant howling of dingoes, the cry of the morepork. and all the many eerie sounds- —added to the sense of weirdness and illusion. Susan and Brian strolled along the garden paths, between orange trees and aromatic shrubs, which were pale pillars of blossom. Here were stumps twined with monstrous cactus plants, and a night blooming cereus opened its enormous white heart to the moonbeams. The night was heavy with perfume, and the scent of the gardenias and stenhanoti blending with oi.icr tropic odours was almost overpowering. But there were many mosquitoes am'idsfc the gieenery, so she took him bv a gate set in the passion creepers that covered the garden paling out on to the open path leading to the slip-mils. While.they were leaning upon the paddock fence and looking over the plain, they saw a man riding towards them. fie was alone, and from the movement of his horse they could tell that the animal was dead beat. The rider came straight to the slip-rails, and before dismounting looked-steadily up to the cluster of buildings on the hill brow, evidently taking stock of the head station. He had not noticed Brian and Susan, who were in the shadow of a thick clump of sandal- - wood trees that grew close to the fence, and' j who, being in black, did not readily attract attention. Moreover, the stockman, as lit seemed, would scarcely have expected to 1 meet a lady in a dinner dress and a gentle- ] man in a lounge suit so far from the house 1 at this time of the evening. It was not till ) he. had put down the slip-rails that he saw : there was somebody there. j " Hello!" he cried, and, retreating a step, 1 lie took off his cabbage-tree hat in con- i fusion. " G'd evening, miss. I'm on the i lookout-— 'he stopped suddenly, recognising ] Brian, who had followed Susan out of the circle of the shadow. "Oh ! My word ! 1 I 111 dashed if tins isn't the sailor gentle- 1 man. G'd day. mister. It's a rum start 1 seem' you here," he added, with his drawl- 1 ing colonial laugh. It "Good evening: Mr. Flinders Dick," rev | turned Brian. " Yes, ]>eople in tho bush d/ ' 6eem to have a queer knack of turning up ' several hundred miles away from where you might expect to see them. Last time we a met, was at Thursday Island." j | Flinders Dick seemed embarrassed at the v recollection; and .occupied himself , in trying to persuade his horse, to walk over the ( •Miji-ra.ils, which were lowered at one end,, - but the beast seemed stupefied from having t been over-ridden, and shied at the.shadows c of the poles on the ground. Susan moved 1"

V* ihv till nic gi.vu.uu. OU&tiH lliuveu i aside from its heels. ' 1 . "Don't you be afraid, miss. The poor ' old crawler -hasn't got a kick in him. Be wants to lie down, that's all." "Have you come from. Wooralba with a telegram?"'she asked. ; "Wooralba! . .No fear.,. I reckon I've come more'n ninety miles further than that, riding hard, and soldiering a horse wherever I got the chance. A cattle boat took mc to Rockingham Bay. I couldn't wait for the steamer, .so I over] and ed the rest from Caldwell." "Miss Galbraith, I see you're not acquainted wjtli my. friend,. Mr. Flinders Dick," said Brian, genially. "At your service, miss. I'm pleased to see you, for maybe you can tell me if my mate lias. been up this way." "Your mate!" asked Susan. "What is his name?" P.inders Dick found himself confronted with an unexpected difficulty. He looked sheepishly at Brian. How was he to say James Wolfe when Wolfe had announced himself to Cordeaux as James Robinson, and had warned Dick against disclosing his identity? " Wa-al, I dun no—it's a bit awkward to explain," lie stammered. "It's this way, miss. My horse is knocked up. and I wanted to get 011. to the Ironbark Bo row which is seven mi'.cs about, I b'lieve—l haven't been up in this part lately." "But why do you want to go to the bore.'' asked Susan. " It's not being worked now, ii.nd (hero's no one at the bumpy." " My mate wired me. from Townsvjlle that. I should, find him there', and that if ] didn't lied leave word where lie was gone," said Flinders Dick. Susan suddenly petsttl who his mate was. Her face stiffened and her voice changed as she asked In & constrained manner: "Is it Mr. Wolfe thai you want?" Again Dick hesitated. Brian, remembe ring the interview at Thursday Island, .struct in: ' James Wolte. or. as he called himself w lien no met. James Robinson, \ou need not. mind speaking out before me. Flinders Dick, if there's anything you wish to say. I slia nt harm your friend. 1 understand his reason for. preferring to use a different name and I fully sympathise with it." - blinders Dick glanced at Cordeaux gratefully. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other hi a puzzled way. "I | see you ve got the hang of something be- | yond me, mister," he said, simply. "But [ I reckon its an all right mix, for as far as I can fell, nothin' can make any odds r.eow. .Jem can spit out the whole back lot ' and chuck this thundering old show, and clear .to England if he jolly well pleases float the Shark's Tooth Gold Mine Company, and keep half the shares. Queer name to choose, ain't it, mister, but a sharks tooth brought him luck, d'ye see?" either -of the other two spoke. Tv 'ull he a rich man." went: on, Dick. " It's another Mount Morgan, I b .icve. D'ye understand?" , 1 understand that you must have struck gmd, answered Brian stiffly. There seemed something in Flinders Dick's levitv that jarred upon both Susan and Cordeaux. I hen a wild hope sprang up in' Susan's breast. Was it possible that Cora was right att»j>?aU? Could the blaeirs' storv 'be true • ... - . F-'iiders Dick," she said tremulousiv. J. donit think you could speak like 1 that it you knew everything. You couldn't : seem so glad about your mate if you under- ' stood what Mr. Wolfe told me himself today about—about—" her voice died off sadly. • Dick on'v caught the murmured words "my 1 brother." In a moment he was subdued and utterlr ' remorseful. "I've done it now!" lie cried 5 bitterly. "I'm a blunderin' jumpt-up brute. J I deserve a hidin' for my dashed keerless- ' ness. I was carried oft' my head for -the J minute, and clean forgot that poor Harry the lower was your brother, miss." (lo be continued on Saturday next.)