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THE SCALES OF THE GODS.

{PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL' ARRANGEMENT.

BY- C. C. ANDREWS, . Author of "The Convent Wall," "Babette '-'pot the Mill." "A Town Romance/' "t!\Vctfded Hands," "A Desperate Game," etc. COPYRIGHT. SYNOPSIS. _ Tho stoVjr opens at Moor Edge House.' Dartin 00 r. Mary Raritdine vis Stonccliffe, and there hears of Miss DwwU sin tended lnarriagd with Julhm BraiUmaate. Cynthia had been engaged to son of old Mr. Braithwaite, and Mary Panuline, liia loyal friend, cannot understand tho .•hin"o CYnthia says Tristram lcit noinu under a cloud, and Julian was as Mr his uncle's heir. Mary speaks to old Air. llraithwaite, but ho d«clrvred that hiason onßht to be in (taol, and that no will at onco disinherit him. W. who a coMln of Cynthia's, visits another room containing a in addle of chemical apparatus. _ ftto Malestra, a strange little gnome of a; j was Mr. Braithwaite's secretary, and he was "Imsy with a crucible. who lives Innocent Malcstra, a lovoly io Hwg in tho wing occupied by her father ana Mary notices that, Innocent is .strangely pre■occupied, and asks her what w t;he"Sj Innocent sees a. scarlet carnation in Marys dress. and regards it with horror. Malestra -throws it into tho fire. Innocent explains that Cynthia and Julian are going to live in London becaaso Julian is afraid of tha moor Malestra is seized with a tit. out re"overs. Tristram Braithwaite horn* Ttiernectedlv lie tells Mary -he does not .know why his father turned linn out. and «slis how Cynthia ii. CHAPTER lll.—(Continued.) UrxtltiA.! They had passed through tho cate, ho had put her hand upon his arm; *ho found herself walking on mechanically at. his side, but she felt as though a flood of water had beaten over her, as though « violent blow had well-nigh stunned her. Cynthia! The name brought back with a •rush all that his coming had for the moment swept away out of her mind. Cynthia, •who was to marry Julian Braithwaite tomorrow Cynthia, whoso wedding breaklast was spread! Cynthia, whom she had seen half an hour ago with tho diamonds of her wedding gift sparkling round her throat and in her hair! She opened her lips, looking at him helplessly, and closed them, dumb. No —she could not, tell him. He spoke again, repeating "How is Cynthia? Well? 41 Quite well." And pretty as ever?' " People say prettier." "Do they? She must be clever to man- i age that !" He laughed softly— was a lovers laugh—and she clenched the nails of the hand that hung at her side fiercely into her palm.

"Mary!"' ■" Yes?"- . " You knewfound out—that there was •—something between us, didn't you?" "That you were—engaged?" "Of course, what eke ? I couldn't' say anything about it very well, you know, at*the time, she was so young; and besides, I had an idea that my father .wouldn't take.to it over kindly. Bo on all accounts 1 had meant to wait until she Was 21. You know that, perhaps?" " I guessed that was why you were silent —yes." ' " I could have had no other reason. Do you think she has—fretted?" "About you? She—has not said so." About the whole of this .business?" He .reddened and frowned again. *'0£ vourse, I Vras a fool!" he said, irritably. *' I had no right to expose her, poor •child, to such an ordeal as my silence must have been—l ought to have written to ■ her. I don't mean to assure her that I'd idone nothing to disgrace myself—whatever other people might do the girl who was to be my wife wouldn't doubt thatbut againafter I left England !" , " Again? You did so once, then?" asked •Mary, faintly. " Telling her that as my father had Vast me off I would make a home for her as soon as I could. But at first, when things went wrong, I didn't care to worry her by telling her so, and afterwards. •when they began to go right, it seemed lest to wait until the homo was ready. As it is at last." They had reached the*small side door of the hall and now paused outride it; his darkened look brightened. *' After all, though, it is on the cards, I hope, that I , may never take her to it. I have lived too, much in an atmosphere •if money to value it beyond its desserts, hut, at the same time, I don't pretend that I would not vastly rather be rich than poor, putting my wife out of the question. One's father is one's father, and until this precious business came about mine was a good one to me. Ho doesn't speak of "me, you say, but there may be k ore reasons than one for that. He may have changed His mind, found out liis mistake —call it which you —by this time. Who knows that when we meet you will 3iot see ,us shake hands as heartily as even you could wish? In which case you may spoil-your nieces and nephews at Moor 32dge, Auntie Alary!" He laughed. Once more she opened Jisr dry lips and closed them again, dumb. Tristram slowly mounted the steps, entering the hall, and mechanically she {followed him. It was growing dusk In the ■great lofty place not that the sun was down, but if in a moment he turned his head, as he must, he would see the great banked white masses of bridal" flowers and then He looked at her. > " You are awfully white still Mary; you have not got over the shock of seeing me vet. I had no idea of startling* anybody. I thought— perhaps you have been away from home?" " Yes, with my Aunt Cardigan. We have been on tho Continent for nearly six anonths. I only returned to-day.*' f "Oh, that accounts for it Of course, 3ny injunction of secrecy was not meant So include you. I took it for granted that 'Julian would tell you." "Julian!" .

Certainly. Or leave Cynthia to do it. (Don't you understand? I .wrote to him." "To Julian?" . "Of course. Explaining how things were, and that I was coming to England. J thought that, after so long a silence, to 'write directly to Cynthia might give her a shock, so asked him to break it to her as gently as he could. I enclosed a note for "her. sr. by this time she should have ordered her wedding frock. He should have got the letter a week ago.""A week ago!" '•'About that. But he will hardly expect to see me just yet. I managed to ■catch an earlier boat than I intended. a . . . Have you seen Cynthia'{" "Yes."

"Then, surely she told you?" "No"

" No? That's queer. Perhaps— It's getting very dark here? Why, what's all •this?"

Mary had stood motionless as she answered-— motionless still as, stepping back, he mechanically touched the button that flooded the hall with a blazo of light from the cluster of arc-lamps in the domed roof. Doing so, he saw the flowers, and stared at them. At tho bewildered change in his face—for the moment it was only bewildered—sho sprang and caught his arm.

'• Ti is tram, I must tell you. I must tell •you!" . "Tell me? What do you mean? Must tell me what?"

lie looked at her, looked at the flowers, find back again. At the moment that she tried to speak and could not the door leading to the annexe opened and Innocent appeared, a long lace scarf twisted round 3jer throat, her black hat in her hand. "I have been looking for you, Mary. I will not walk with you to Moor Edge. It is getting dark—l do not like the dark. 'And Uncle Titoah !" she cried.

She had seen Tristram, and, quickly for her.s crossed to him, the pensive vacancy <; her wonderful face brightening almost ■eagerly. • "Ah!" she cried again. "I know you ! You ai'o Tristram—l have not forgottenJ dream about you sometimesl always dream when the moon is bright. You are not dead!. I am glad you are not dead!" "No, I am not dead, Innocent." Ho look her hands, and kissed the cheek that .was offered as a child's might haw been, a So you have not forgotten me?" * No." She nodded her red-gold head. !?!• remember* you .went away p,nd l were

! lost, i You have been lost a long time, i Was it on the moon?" I " Something like it." She had diverted him only for a moment; ho gently put her aside. "Wait, Innocent wo will talk presently. You must tell me? What must you tell me, Mary?" The bewilderment of his look was growing intensified. Once more, desperately striving to speak, Mary stopped it seemed to her that her heart stopped too. Julian, had suddenly appeared on the staircase; running down with his light, boyish swiftness, turning about, he came face to face with his cousin, and stopped dead. .• Tristram!" ■ It was a voiceless gasp, rather than a word. Checked in his instant movement to cdvanco, Tristram's extended hand stopped as he stared at him. "What the deuce is the matter, man? Do you take me for a ghost ? You surely got my letter!" "Yes," Julian gasped again. "Yes? Then why upon earth—" Ho stopped. Ills eyes, turning again to tho banks of flowers, began to glitter with tho steel-blue light that mado his father's suspicion was dawning in them. His face grew livid under its bronze as ho glanced at Mary and pointed to them. "1 was asking a question," he said, smoothly, " but perhaps I need not trouble Miss Paradine to answer it. Perhaps you will tell me, Julian, what is tho meaning of all this?" Julian made a helpless gesture and stood mute. Innocent's dark eyes went from one face to tho other with a faint, wondering smile. She, 100, pointed to the white masses of bridal flowers. "I will tell -vou, Tristram." sho said. " They are .'ill for Cynthia. She is going to marry Julian to-morrow." CHAPTER IV. - Mary mado a step forward and stopped, for Tristram, with his swing round, stood rigidly still. Her eyes went from him to Julian. ll© had shrunk back, his arm half-raised as if to ward oft a possiblo blow : ho seemed to cower and bo smaller, but through the white, wary fear of his faco another expression struggled look, callous, 'triumphant, mocking, defiant. This was a Julian sho had never seen. Was it tho real man? In tho moment that tho question flashed upon her she found Innocent's hand upon her wrist. "Look!" she whispered, and pointed to him. "That is how ho looks when ho is frightened in tho moonlight. Is it Tristram ho is afraid of when ho is afraid of tho moor?"

Mary did not answerhardly heard. Tristram looked round at her. " This," ho said, slowly, "is what you were trying to tell me? Is it?"

"Yes, tried to before. I could not! I—tried/' '

"That my premised wife is to marry my cousin to-monow?"- *' Yes, Tristram."

She trie*} to take his hand. He put her back, and looked again at Julian. When I went away," ho said, still slowly, "no cno knew, not even my closest friend*, that I\liss Draycott. had pledged herself to be my wife. But you were the same, as my blood-brother —your mother was the only mother I had ever known—l confided it to you. . When did you play traitor to me —not in intention, not with your tongue, but openly ?"- " A week , ago," said Julian. After you got- my letter?" " Yes," said Julian* _" You said nothing of the letter to the girl or to any other* You hurried on the marriage, thinking, calculating that it would be over before my arrival? That is so*"

'Yes," said Julian again, deliberately. With each reply his tone had grown cooler, more composed: his colour was returning as his fear subsided; the new expression that had arrested Mary's eyes grew plainer, stronger. "You are* right in all particulars," ho said, east!}'. " I did say nothing of the letter. More,' than that, it was the receipt of it that, made me press Cynthia to make our (private) engagement public at once." And, of course, 1 pressed on the marriage for the reason you suppose. Naturally, I wanted to avoid this sort of scene, in case you should really appear and make one. You talk about playing traitor—isn't that a bit extreme? You can hardly suppose that she would continue to consider herself bound to you?. How and why should she? And for my partto put it plainly—l never imagined that you would dare to appear again, let alone claim her." " Dare!" echoed Tristram, fiercely. "Yesdare!" Julian retorted. He shrugged. "You appealed.to Miss Paradine just —I'll do the same. Or, no -you can do it for me. Ask her if an hour ago your father did not tell her that if . you had your Tightful deserts you would be there!" "What!" Tristram cried, hoarsely. His .eyes followed the . gesture o£ the other's hand window-wards. He looked thunderstruck. " You— mean" "In Princetown, among the convicts; in a cell, with the key turned upon you. That's your father's verdictl merely repeat it—t don't say it's mine. I only suggest that in the circumstances I don't care to bo called names. If you will take a friendly word of warning, "I should say if you -want to escape then——the conrequences (To be continued daily.)

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZH19111219.2.7

Bibliographic details

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 14867, 19 December 1911, Page 4

Word Count
2,235

THE SCALES OF THE GODS. New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 14867, 19 December 1911, Page 4

THE SCALES OF THE GODS. New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 14867, 19 December 1911, Page 4

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