THE LONELY BRIDE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13796, 8 July 1908, Page 11

THE LONELY BRIDE.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY FRED M. WHITE, ; ' > Author of *' The Corner House," " The Cardinal Moth," "The Weight of the Crown," Etc.

CHAPTER XI. TUB LAMP GOES OUT. Had she paused a moment for reflection. Grace would, have seen - what was the prudent thing to do.'. She felt practically certain that it was Max who lay a. prisoner on .the bed there, for she had -not only • heard • his voice,' - but it seemed to her also - that 1 she could recognise the outline of his form. •It was quite evident that Max had suffered some violent treatment, or he would not have been in the semi-unconscious condition as indicated. by the question addressed to Bessie Fenton. He liaxJ been brought there for some purpose, doubtless of a sinister nature, and he whs not likely to be moved for some little time. It was evident that those in the plot deemed themselves to be quite safe; it would not. .ikve entered into their calculations that there was any possibility of a visit from those who we're searching for the missing man. In the circumstances Grace's obvious duty was to have' returned home at once and place • the information she had derived in the hands- of the police. But she did not stop to think now, she was too deeply contained in the welfare of her lover. She." could not bear the. suspense ; her heart was beating fast now ; come what may, she made up her mind to; know the worst befo; e she slept that night. She felt fairly safe where she was; the mist | had ..thickened about, the house, the moon was sliding down now behind the fringe of the woods. At that moment, too, Fate seemed to be playing into Grace's hands, for * Bessie Fenton left the room; indeed, it seemed to Grace as if she were not coming- buck at all. Here was the opportunity to her hand if *he only had courage enough to carry it into effect. Grace could see that Billy was waiting for her down .below, and the knowledge that she had an ally, at hand strengthened her resolution. A close examination of the window showed that more than 'one pane-was broken, so that, by reaching through, Grace found it possible'to draw back the latch. It was all quietly and successfully done at length, and a moment later Grace was in the room. - She felt no fear now ; her courage mounted high as she crossed the room in the direction of the v bed. There was need- for caution, however, for she could hear footsteps on the stairs. They were stealthy footsteps, with just the suggestion of hesitation about them; then, down below were the sounds of other steps—heavy, staggering footfalls, indicating illness or intoxication. Knowing the character of the house, Grace put it down to the latter, nor was she far wrong, as events were going t6 prove. The footsteps on the stairs died away, then Grace advanced once more in the direction of the bed. She. was surprised to find' how cool and serf-possessed* she was, and that her utmost feeling was one of annoyance to note that the cheap, evil-smelling-lamp was going out. By this time there was no more than a circle of ragged, strawcoloured flame around the burner. The lamp flashed up for an instant and then went out with a sob.

It was cruelly unexpected, 1 but Grace was not dismayed. The geography of the room J was by this time plainly photographed in her mind, she knew in which direction the bed lay, and i pushed across to it quickly., Her hand fell at length " upon the still, „ cold \ face, and it required all * Grace's resolution to suppress a scream. ... Just for an instant i it seemed to her that the man lying there was dead, so chill was the face. But by bending down and laying her ear to : his heart she knew that this was a mistake, and that the man—were lie Max Graham? or anybody else—was still living. / Greatly i daring, Grace shook the prostrate figure,; and whispered a few words in his ear. 8% she might have been talking to a corpse fori all the result "that there wa*S; "she ;•■ dared/ I 'riot go any further for fear of arousing the ! inmates of the house. , ./■•

As she stood there, shaking and irresolute, a slit of light pierced the open doorway. Evidently someone was returning.' with another lamp. It was a* maddening moment for Grace, for she had not yet fully established the fact that the man on the bed was Max Graham. The light grew; stronger and broader, and Grace could see a possible hiding-place under a table on one side of the room. She might have made her exit by the window, but she hardened ! herself now, determined to see this thing out to the bitter end. She had barely concealed herself under -the table when Bessie Fenton came in carrying a fresh lamp in her hand. , ; Over the table under which Grace lay was a tawdy tapestry cloth ,\ so old and threadbare that it was possible to see through it almost as clearly as if it had been a thick veil. ;

Grace felt fairly safe now: she felt all the safer as she turned to the window and saw Billy's gleaming eyes peeping through a crack in the blind. She hoped fervently that the poor fellow had watched everything that was going on, ,so that he might be able to come to her assistance; if necessary. Therefore she could give her close attention to all that was taking place in the room. ■~ v ;■''•/ " '' v/'/-..-'"

There was not much to see, at any rate for the present, for Bessie Fenton had merely given a passing { glance at the bed, and then proceeded to prepare something that looked likeV food or medicine. The more Grace regarded her the more she found herself attracted by the girl's face. The features were wistful and passionate enough, but there was something kind, almost noble, about them all the same. Grace was still wondering if it would not be well to disclose herself and declare the errand which had brought her there, when there suddenly arose ai great disturbance downstairs. A man's strident voice - seemed to fill the house; he poured out a stream of words full of the most revolting oaths that Grace .had ever heard. Involuntarily she placed her hands to her ears to shut out the horrid sound. A moment later, and a big man staggered into the room. His face flamed with passion, his eyes were bloodshot and gleaming, he advanced towards Bessie in a threatening manner. Just for » moment the girl seemed to fairly cower before him, she shrank back in a way that plainly showed that; she was accustomed to personal violence at this man's hands. "What are you doing here, father?" Bessie asked. '"Why are you trying to spoil everything in this way?" "What does all this mean?" the man demanded. " Why am I kept- in the dark like this?" ; •. *

" But you are not kept in the dark," Bessie protested. " If you were only sober enough to understand—" . ' The girl said no more, for the big brute reeled across the room to her, and struck" her a violent blow on the face. Grace could see a drop or tw» of blood trickling down the girl's face ;; she bad ! great difficulty in restraining herself from emerging. from her hiding-place and calling for assistance. She would probably have done so only she became censcious, now that a restraining hand was pen her arm. To her surprise silie found that Billy , was by her side. He bad crept in through the open window and hidden himself without being ■noticed by the occupants »f the room. In some strange way Grace, felt comforted in the. knowledge that even so poor an ally as Billy was to her band. She could see now tliat Bessie was standing by the table holding on tc keep herself frem falling, and ] looking in an imploring way at the drunken j brut© who had so savagely assaulted her. She"made no complaint, she littered no cry : she wiped the blood from her face asr if this kind of thing were an everyday occurrence. The man hardly seemed to realise what he had done, though his aspect was still threatening. " Go to bed," Bessie panted. " Go to bed and sleep it off—you will bo all right in. the morning." . ' '' ; "I'll do as I like," the man roared. " And as for .: you, you whitefaoed cat, I shall kill you one of these days." ■ " I believe you will," Bessie said wearily. " Perhaps it would be all for the best. Ah, here come the boys at last." ■■ , The man turned with a savage cry. and would have undoubtedly meted , out fresh punishment to Bessie r only two men burst into the room and grappled with the drunk"en scoundrel who had caused all this mischief. Jhe struggle .was • shorty . if severe*.

and though • Grace knew that the conflict was between father and,sons, she did not notice that the • relationship had any • re-' straining influence ; on the younger men. Grace felt sick and faint now, and only sorry that she had embarked upon her present adventure. But the thing had to be gone through with,• at any rate, there was no chance of that disgraceful scene happening over ; again. ; Bessie Fenton stood there ■, for ; a moment • wiping her bruised fate, then she walked towards the door, evidently with the intention, of removing all traces of her punishment. As she left the room Billy squeezed his companion's arm, and Grace understood what he wanted her to do. She was across the room in an instant, and bending over the bed. Before she could identify, the tea-

titres \of the (.unconscious: man : Bessie Fen-> toii vine, back *in ;the • room once,, more; Grace did not hoed her presence; she. was, indeed,'' not aware of her return until the girl's angry, cry aroused her to her senses. Before Grace had time to turn there was a fall of a chair, followed by a smash of broken glass, and the lamp went out once more. The whole thing had been brought about by Billy, who had acted with a swiftness and fertility of resource which would have been a credit to a man of greater wits, than his. Grace did not stop to 'ask' what had happened ; she was glad enough to avail herself of the friendly cover of the darkness. She made her way as, best she -could in the direction of-the window, feeling that she could go no further to-night," and only anxious to find herself in a.place of safety. Then a hand •clutched her arm arid: held it in a grip amazingly tight. For a , woman, Bessie Fenton seemed to be possessed of more than ordinary strength. \ '■' >■ ,:; • :;■' I should like to know what the meaning of * this is," the latter said. She did not speak above a > whisper. "I don't know who you are, young woman, and I don't much care, but you are in danger here." • ■-/■ ■ ■■/';.■" ,• "" -:' ' ■;/ "Let me go," Grace replied. "I arq doing no harm." .* '*-.'••■• ..;..■ ■// She struggled to get away, but she was as a child in the hands, of a strong man. ; In some vague way.'she was perfectly | aware of the fact that Bessie Fenton [ was proud of her strength, j arid; she i was j | also" aware that her antagonist ' .was more j I grim than angry. Grace ceased to/ strug- j i gle—she knew -that it ' was impossible to j I gain her ends ; that way. '■■ She ; would try | diplomacy instead. "r " i " I swear to you that lam doing no harm," she said. " I am in great trouble, and I: came here feeling that in this house ! I should find an end of it or know the worst. If you have any feeling in your | heart at all you will let me go without further question; you will not even seek ! to know my name." j Bessie Fenton laughed softly; she seem- | ed : to be amused. " Well, you are either very cool or very simple," she said. " How am I to know |that you are' to be trusted?" ■'..-.■... " I am to be trusted because I give you my word," Grace went on eagerly. "We have never met before, probably we shall never meet a^ain; but I know more of your history than : you are aware of.; I know, for instance, that the man to whomyou have given your heart ie faithless to you. You are doing his disreputable work at his bidding, and he will repay : you with base ingratitude. He means' to marry Miss Anstey, of the -house." - It was a bad stroke of play, but, Grace had not hesitated. She felt the grip. on, . her arm tighten, she heard the fierce indrawing of the other girl's breath. ■ ; "I could kill her," Bessie said hoarsely. " If I had her here now L would take, her; by her white throat, and crush the life out of her. If she is a friend of yours—" She is a friend of mine," Grace said. " And, moreover, she is in love with Mr. Max -'• Graham—she hates and despises 'Stephen Rice from the bottom of her heart. If vou lei me go now, I will be discreet and lent, I will keep your secret. Don't you see that so long as Max Graham is alive there is a great stum-bling-block in the path of Stephen Rice? And now/ will you let me go?" ,-.'., !■': "Upon my word, I; have a great mind ■to," the other girl said. "You are cleverer than I had imagined, and I am a greater fool than I; took myself to be. If I Isan^help/you-r^'*"-'*-"-^/'' l - h •;'••'■'*■'_■ -'^"' Any further remark was interrupted by„ a hideous roar downstairs, and the voice of a man declaring that he would have no 'strangei under his ; roof. A cry .of passion broke from Bessie Fenton. . ; . My father again," she exclaimed. .*..- I must go downstairs arid try and stop that noise. It is fortunate for us that we have no near neighbours. Don't move, stay here till I return." ; . Grace promised implicitly. She had ©ot the -lightest intention ;of leaving the house until she had definitely: ascertained whether or not Max Graham was under this disgraceful roof, i She stooped down to see if she could i find the overturned lamp, but nothing beyond a touch of broken glass rewarded her search. • Meanwhile the noise downstairs had and a strange silence followedV Grace, moved towards the bed again ;; then ■'5 she was conscious that another man was in/ the room. She crossed rapidly over to the doorway, and dashed hurriedly up a flight o-' stairs leadiag to the top storey of the house. ;' ; .': • : -- ,/ , (To be continued daily.)