THE LADY IN BUCK.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 13501, 27 July 1907, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE LADY IN BUCK.

11 BY FLORENCE WARDEN, n Author of "An Infamous Fraud." " A Tere rible Family," " For Love of Jack," " " The House on the Marsh," s , . etc. J CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued.) I Mrs. Dale dropped her sweet peas and d turned around. Her eyes were full of sudn den tears. • "Nonsense, child she said sharply. n but in a querulous tone, which betrayed s her emotion. " Nonsense ! It was decided yesterday afternoon that you were to go. i- Von know it was." "You decided that I was to go. .. 1 d didn't. And"—instinctively she dropped '" her voice"and something that happened |, last nightin the night, made me decide t not to go. There " But. my dear" , ; . t " No, Mrs. Dale, I'm not to be 'got a round.' You've chosen to take me upon '- your shoulders, so,now you must just keep n me. Ha, ha! You didn't know I had so much determination, did you?" e But Mrs. Dale could scarcely speak. > Now, lor the first time that morning, Mabin realised that the. scene of the night had really taken place, for the emotion aroused 3 by this little, bit of talk had brought back B into Mrs. Dale's blue eyes a faint repro--1 duction of the-wild terror she had shown (> when she came to the girl's room. When she had recovered her voice, the. lady in ' black, pale, hoarse, shaken with her'agi-. ": ration, (stammered out these words."My dear girl, it is beautiful of you to '_ offer to stay. But I cannot let you.' You ought never, to have come. J. was mad c wicked, to let you come; and my madness ami my wickedness I must bear alone." How strange these words seemed in the £ broad daylight, Mabin thought! By, the n | weak glimmer of the night-light Mrs. Dale's 'J ; wild looks and words had seemed fantastic, . I weird. But the broad .sunlight seemed to ', : give the nameless horror which hung about ;. | the ,poor little lady in black a reality as ° ! vivid as it was painful. But with this feel- '__ j ing there came also into the heart of the " i young girl a great tenderness toward the } suffering woman, who was haunted by the | shadow of her own past. .So she smiled, " i and with a pretty, half-shy look in her 1 ; eyes, said : y 1 You told me I saved you from going j mad. So I mean to stay,- And I mean to sleep in the same room with you, so that _-' you shall not be frightened any more." Airs. Dale shook her head. ( i "I can't let you do that," said,she.., "I don't sleep very well, and sometimes I l ;' start up and • cry out. I should frighten i you." • i " Then we will exchange , rooms," said 1 Mabin: ... , . . ,By the look of joy and. relief which 1 flashed over Mrs... Dale's face at- this.sug--. gestiori Mabin saw that she had conquerI ed. "Butwon't you be afraid?" asked the widow, in .a troubled voice. - "What! Of a ghost, a vision? Or of 1 having bad dreams? No, not a bit." Mrs. Dale glanced gratefully at tire ['■ young face, with its look of robust scorn of [. phantoms. J,- "It is a temptation," she murmured. '; "For,, after all" I know, I know that it ■ was only a dream, a horrible dream.' And there is no fear that the dream will come ' to you."" . ; !•; ■■;.-. " And if it did,'', retorted Mabin stoutly;, '-j;"'it wouldn't-frighten me." I'm too matter-" I of4'act; I have no imagination." '-• - -" ; : -'Mrs. Dale smiled sadly. ' '•■ , ! -'"You are right," she said. "If you did : have the same dream it would' have no ; terrors for you. Youi conscience is clear." •j; "And my digestion good," added Mabin • lightly, as she picked up the fallen flowers ; and put them in her basket. . j There was no doubt that her refusal to 'i'go; had taken a load of melancholy from the | shoulders of her hostess, who sent the . young girl out for a walk as soon as the ] gathering of the flowers was over, and •*! charged her not to go far enough to tire j her still weak ankle. . i Mabin, with a book and a sunshade, | sauntered slowly down the hill to the near- ' est gap in the cliff, and went down the [ steep descent to the sands. • This was no I paradise of nursemaids and babies, but a , solitary nook beloved by quiet maiden ! ladies arid sentimental couples. With a ; rash disregard of the danger of sitting I under a chalk cliff, Mabin found a seat on : a rock worn smooth by the sea, opened her book, and began—not to read. i The circumstances in which she found . herself were far too interesting for her to : be able to give herself up to the milder i excitements of fiction. She sat with her | open book on her lap and her eyes staring i out at the sea, which was vividly blue in ■ j the strong sunshine, when she became sudI denly conscious of a footstep she knew in ! her immediate neighbourhood. • i Although she affected to be surprised I when Rudolph appeared before her, she i had known that ho was approaching, and ! her heart began to beat very fas't. He | looked down at her between 'the spines of i her sunshade, pretending to be afraid to 1 speak to her.i '■' Hood morning," said she, at last. j "I was wondering whether I dared say | the same thing!" ! "Dared?" ° i £ " Yes. After your treatment of me last I night I felt nervous." j "My treatment of you! What treatI ment?" * . i " Why were you so unkind ?Or mustn't ! I ask why?" i "You may ask, of course. But I can't give you any answer, because I didn't know ! that I was unkind." I "I wish I could believe that." "Well, if you won't believe it, I have nothing to say.-" • • Rudolph was silent a few minutes. then, with a burst of explosive energy he, made up his mind. "No!" lie cried so loudly that Mabin started, and. threw himself down on the sand beside her, "I will not be daunted. 1 • will encase-myself in double ' snub-proof - armour-plates, and I will try to teach her that to be dignified it is not necessary to be unkind—and—yes, I will say absolutely rude." Mabin 'became crimson, and the tears started to her eyes. She had not meant to be rude, but undoubtedly her behaviour had j laid her.open to this accusation. ! "I am .stupid, clumsy; lam rude with- : out meaning it," she said, in a tone of such j excessive humility and neniteuce that it was impossible to doubt her sincerity. " I am very sorry. But you shouldn't take any notice of what I do or say. Nobody does at home. When 1 am more awkward and tiresome than usual they always say, 'Oh, its only Mabin!' Arid, then, 'nobody minds." ' ,-'■ ■■ :.■ "Ah,-well, I can't quite feel like that— that its only Mabin. When one likes a person, and wants to be good friends, very good friends, .with that person, just as one used to be when that person and oneself were little things in short frocks and knickerbockers, it is very disheartening to find that person so determined to be—er— to er—so reserved that when one sits beside that person, as I did last night, you know, she will only let one see so much of her right ear as "to practically turn her back to one , "i didn't!" "Yon did.- though. And it is what you were doing again just now until the horror of hearing the truth made you turn around to fly at me! You did turn your back upon me last night, Mis- Rose,'and you hurt my feelings." "Indeed, you did not seem to be hurt. You seemed to be enjoying yourself very much!" .-■'• "Well, so I wasin a way. But I should ■; have enjoyed myself much more if you had been as nice as .you were in the garden." j Mabin heaved a deep sish.

"It's no use expecting me to be nice," she said in a voice of despair. "I can only manage it so very seldom." - "Well, could you hold out some signal, such as by wearing a particular flower, or colour, or some especial knot or ribbon, to let one know when one may speak to you without being snubbed?" "No, I couldn't," retorted Mabin, with great fierceness, but with a twinkle of fun in" her gray eyes, which gave greater hopes than her words did. "It is of no use for me to promise more than I can perform. You had much better look upon me as a decidedly disagreeable person, with rare moments of proper behaviour." "Proper behaviour, then, means niceness? I'm glad you think it proper to be nice to me!" said Rudolph. "I perceive that I've lighted upon one of th' "rare moments,' and I'm going to take advantage of it," he added, as he came a little nearer to her, and looked up in her face with a glance "of amusement and admiration which made her blush a little. "I'm going to make you talk to me, and amuse me, as you were told to do last night.". " No! It was you who were told to amuse me "Was it? Well, we'll take it in turn then. Do you remember how J taught you cricket?" " Yesoh, yes." "And what a rage you used to be in when you were caught, out?" Yes," answered Mabin, "I remember; but I don't want to talk about cricket. I want to tell you something. Mrs. Dale has a fancy that 'The Towers' is haunted." And she'related the adventure of the previous night, and her intention of changing rooms with her hostess. Rudolph listened gravely, and there was a pause when she finished before he made any comment. Then he said abruptly: " You are no' nervous, are you. Mabin? I know you used to have no end of pluck." "Well, 1 haven't auv- less than I ever had." " "Well, if you do change rooms, you must be prepared to see the ghost yourself." You make me feel rather—rather creepy ! . What do you really think 1 shall see?" . " . " ',! A face at the window, probably. The face of the spy from your house.' What else can she have seen?'' . Mabin considered a moment. "I'll risk it!" she' cried at last. "I shan't go to bed at all. I shall sit up and watch." " 1 wish you would. We should find out something if you had the strength of mind to do that." Not without a wild beating of the heart, Mabin undertook the task of holding the strange nightwatch, without saying a word to Mrs. Dale of her intention. " She thinks she only had a dreadful dream, you know," said Mabin. "Well," replied Rudolph, "I want to know what sort of dream you will have." He had to admire the courage she showed in undertaking' a task which was, as she expressed it, "rather shuddery," but when ho left her at the gate of "'The Towers" she was still steadfast in her intention. It was not until after dinner that evening that Mrs. Dale introduced the young girl to the apartment she was to occupy that night. Mabin was astonished at its'dinginess, its gloominess, contrasting so strongly as they did with the fresh prettiness of the room which had been prepared for herself. ' ■ . . It was a large, square room, with a mouldy, old-fashioned wall-paper, on which unnatural pink .roses climbed up a succession of thin hop-poles.. The pictures were groups of tress, done with the pencil in the • early Victorian manner, and stiff bouquets, in'water-colour, of conventional early Victorian .; flowers. The bed, which was hung with green curtains, 'occupied an undue space; and Mabin felt that, in the weird circumstances of her tenancy of the room, she would have died,rather than sleep in that funereal erection. v \ * When Mrs. Dale had kissed her and bade her good night, after receiving Mabin's assurance that she did not feel in the least nervous, the young girl felt' a strong inclination' to follow her friend out of the room, and to implore her to find her some .other sleeping-place. . ': By a valiant effort, however, she conquered this, weakness, and made a careful survey of her surroundings. In the first place, the windows ..and their fastenings had to be. examined. They were carefully secured, and were both so high above the ground that it would have been impossible for an intruder to reach "them without a ladder. . Tnere were three . doors; and at first Mabin was inclined to regard this as a disquieting circumstance. But on finding that two of them were unused, locked, avnd without a key, and that there was a bolt on the door by which she had entered, she began to feel more at ease. Exchanging" her frock for a dressinggown, and providing herself with a book, she placed herself in an armchair which stood near the fireplace, -which, although ~shabby, was ." sufficiently comfortable, and,' putting her candles on a small table beside her, settled herself to read. Her book was a novel of an excellent type, not too clever to be' dull. Much to her own.surprise, she soon became interested, and forgot, or almost forgot, the vague fears which kept her in the armchair instead of in bed. She was in the very heart of the book, and her caudles had burned low in their sockets, when a sound, a very slight sound, behind her back, caused the blood almost to freeze in her veins.'.. It was a soft, stealthy tread. Looking .round, half-paralysed with terror, she saw that the door was ajar, and that, creeping softly round the inside handle, was the long, thin hand of a man! CHAPTER IX. A PICTURE. lii the ordinary course of things it would have been natural for Mabin to conclude, on seeing a man's hand inside her door in the middle of the night, that the intruder was a burglar. But her mind had been rendered more clear, her perceptions more acute, by the stimulating mystery which she had been for the past two days trying to solve. Instead, therefore, of screaming, or stretching out her hand to the old-fashion-ed bell-rope which hung by the fireside at a little distance from, her right hand, she waited, watched, and listened. Apparently, she had unconsciously made some slight noise as she turned in her chair to look be- i hind her, for the intruder, whoever he was, instead of entering, waited and listened j also. There was a pause; and then the hand which had crept so stealthily round the door was slowly and quietly withdrawn. Mabin,' fascinated, watched the long, bloodless fingers as they gradually disappeared from her sight; and was sufficiently selfpossessed to observe that the hand was that of a gentleman, or a person unused, to rough work. And upon this discovery there sprang up in her mind a strong curiosity to see the face of the intruder. Even while she felt the last remains of fear give place to courage and vivid interest, Mabin, with her wits all sharpened with excitement, wondered at the change in herself. She sprang lightly to her feet, and, with the intention of taking him by surprise, ran lightly round on the tips of her toes toward the door. But the candles, flickering in the draught caused boiler light hanging sleeves, caused the shadows on the dingy rose-covered wall to dance and quiver. The mysterious visitor, as much on the alert as the girl was, closed the door softly between her and himself. Mabin, however, sprang forward and seized the door-handle. She heard the sound of rapid footsteps on the other side, and for one moment she hesitated to go in pursuit. With the clearness of intellect which belongs to the night, when there are vo sounds of busy life, no distractions of bright light and vivid colour to divert the attention, she saw both the dangers on the one hand, the attractions on the other, of a deeper dive into the mystery which surrounded her. For a few seconds the impulses struggled against each other, and then curiosity and youthful daring carried the day. . Throwing open the door, which had not been relocked. and in which there was no key. Mabin, considering this- circumstance as she went, dashed through in pursuit. It was indeed a daring thing to do. for she was not even mistress of the topography of the house. The room in which she now found herself she had never been in before, and the only light to guide her footsteps came through the window and was obscured by a yellow-white blind.. It was by this light that Mabin knew , that the dawn had come, and-the knowledge gave her more courage, She could'follow' the

intruder with greater security now that she knew that, if she chased him to the place where lie had entered '.'the'."house','site would see his face in the daylight. _ As she entered the"room the man was in the act of opening a door on the left which i led into the corridor. Mabin saw him for i a moment, against the brighter light which | came through the windows on the east aide lof the house; and then this door closed | between, her and him as the other n'ad | done. ,' : . x ■ I By the time she had got into the corridor ! in her turn she saw the man disappear i down the stairs at toe end. She followed | still. He readied the hall: lie went, down : the four steps to the drawing-room, through I the doorway oi which he again passed rat f of her sight. I In the mid-t of the excitement which | hurried her mi to the drawing-room door , the young girl felt a chill in her blood as .-he remembered Mrs. Dale's description if the gloom of (lie deserted apartment, '-'she had described it as "it damp and mouldy j mam-oleum. Mabin would have avoided ! the room if .'.lie could. The meeting with l her mysterious visitor would lie more <*iii canny there than in the warmer, more i habitable parts of the bouse. J But she went on. Dashing into the room ] with . impetuosity till the greater for her I vague fears. Mabin found herself iu a ; very long. wide, low-eeilinged room, the roof oi which was supported by two rows; of pilars, and the air of which struck a chill into her. , There were three large windows, two < n ; the right hand. and', one at the ejjd of the I room, in front" of her. Above the shutt-rs ! of those on her right the gray rays of the j morning were creeping, making the marine ! of the heavy old mantel look livid, ind ! showing the'stains of damp on the white- ! .md gold wall-paper. ,' This was all that the girl had time U. ; notice when suddenly the shutters of the I window at the end of the room were thro .vn ! back with a clatter of wood arid a clang of j iron, and she saw the green of the trees ' outside, and the man of whom she was- in I pursuit standing in v he opening he had i made. And then she saw that the French I window was open, and knew that this was ! the way by which, he had entered the house. !• The word "Stop!" was on her lips when, i suddenly, he seemed to stagger, and she 1 heard him. gasp and struggle for his breath. ! .Surely this was no burglar, this man j with the thin white hands, who could not { run a distance of a hundred yards without : inconvenience. I She tumbled over a footstool, and as she ! drew herself up again, she saw that she was ! alone in the room. i Running lightly and quickly to the i window, she looked out into the garden. The fresh morning breeze blew the open window against the wooden shutter with a loud eras!). At the same moment she caught sight of the figure of which ?Iki had been in pursuit so long under the trees to the right. (To be continued on Saturday next.)