A PRIOR CLAIM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15521, 31 January 1914, Page 3 (Supplement)

A PRIOR CLAIM.

?|J EDGAR PICKERING, A. nf Th« Vanishing of Cornelius An S»"BU?ht«a at Last." " Janet D "&*6*r "Nad..- "At the ' ' Eleventh Hour." etc.

COPYRIGHT. ..".i CHAPTER XVII. /Win had executed her errand and vJAIea good-by" to Mrs ' Burton-Blow's old ■jut, vrllo3 ° lilncss eollfinc<l her to the |fL>m in th© bouse in Upper Norwooo. lower room through which she was I It to go was unoccupied when Devereux Jed it. and for a moment they regarded C " 1, other silently, the unexpectedness of I'jr meeting, the rush of emotions floodta each heart, holding them speechless, fog last time they had seen one another Vul i." Cii the evening before the day which r~ s to have been their marriage morn, and to Cjcthia the memo of the intervening time had (led. pevereiix was the first to recover his composure, and he spoke with a cold do-

liberation. , , A . '• This is not my bringing —this nlM tiiig," he said " You will do me the justice to believe that. 1 had no thought bat you were here." " •■ J must ask you- to believe the same of r.:c," replied" Cynthia, unconsciously catching his tono of harsh restraint. "1 wis requested to jail on Mrs. BurtonJJlorc's account." " Shu wrote to me. to the same effect, answered Devereux. and ho made a movement as though to retreat; hut Cynthia hid not moved, her face showed whitoly in the lamplight, and he hesitated. Her face! Dare he look, into those sweet eyes that wore a sad reproach ? Dare ho go on speaking to tins girl whilst every fibre in his .body was longing to clasp her to his breast and whisper the pent-up love he bore* her? It needed all his strength of will to hold himself back, and to utter even those commonplace words that were called lor nevertheless. To Cynthia's brain the whirling thoughts and rapture of them gav3 a strange, unnatural quietude. She was as one in a dream, and Devereux was her lover again. Changed, and afa;- off, but the same man to whom her heart's- true love had been giver.. Her lover, in whose arms she. had been held, and to whom hex vow of constancy had been given. To her he was as he had ever been, and for the moment all else was forgotten. Then came the devastating thought of the marriage which was to be consummated in a few days, and her heart grew chill. If she gave her memory freedom. No' No! Devereux's colds**, his hard manner, had saved her from that, although the bitterness of his naif-command was as the touch of death upon her yearning bosom. " I won't ask how this has come about," lie went on. " And for one reason I'm glad of the opportunity of speaking to you again I had never expected to. Perhaps I didn't deserve the chance." " I have never said that." she answered. Never thought that. Will you behove we?"

"Others have, and I can't blame them," lie replied. " People could not by any possibility know the truth. But you have a right to be told it—that is, if you care to hear. We shall probably never see each other again, for I'm going" abroad to-mor-row, and it will be some sort of comfort to me in knowing I tried to explain the cause of—well. I needn't go through that story." And he gave a hard little laugh that was almost a groan. "I will hear what you choose to say," replied Cynthia. "It won't matter now; and if it comforts you to tell me, I too shall be glad." They might have been speaking about ■uomo unimportant everyday matter, for any trace of interest in it was not betrayed by her answer.

M No— doesn't matter, as you say," he continued. " Still, it will be something to remember that I've told you. I nearly wrecked your life, and I've always felt glad that I was pulled up before it was too late. Did you ever receive a letter I wrote from Paris?"

" I only received oneit was found on your table. It said nothing to explain why you had gone." "I think I was rather mad that morn- ; ing. Someone had come unexpectedly into .my room and told 'tie a story that made :it impossible for me to marry you. I had a wife living." | s He spoke the last words in a dull, level tone that was like a dagger-thiust to Cynthia,' but she did not wince, There was evei, * longing to hear more of this woman whose place she was to have taken. "Were you too much surprised by hearing'that to finis i your letter?" she asked, wondering at her own calmness. Her lover had a living wife! Cynthia had never thought of that reason for his leaving England.

"Yes, I was surprised," replied Devereux. " I'm sorry you asked the question. I thought the woman I had married was dead : otherwise—"

"You never told me, 1 " she interrupted. " Why should I have told you ? There are pages in a man's life it is well to turn over and never re-read. My mairiage was not a happy one, and my wife and I had separated. I was informed of her death some months later I'm speaking the truth." And he was looking into her face now, his own set like a flint, as he waited for her to speak again. " Would you like to hear what happened after 1 went away?" he continued, as Cynthia held silence. " I didn't believe Urn story, and there was only one way of proving it to be a lie or tho truth. I went to Mexico—to the place where my wife and I had lived. The story was true." Cynthia had choked back, a sob, for. difficult as it would have been to analyse her feelings, there was a wild, unreasoning belir! that the storv Devereux was told had been untrue. What effect the knowledge would exert passed in a dim confusion through her mind, coupled with a fierce hope that was dissipated the next instant.

" Yon were glad ?"and she said this with an uncontrollable impulse, at which Devereux gave another mirthless laugh. " I don't know," he ropiied. "At least, I wasn't certain at first. But a truer, braver woman never lived than she. Why don't you afk me if I loved her?" "I've no right to ask you that. She was your wife."

" I've only loved once in my life," he went on, after a momentary pause. " But if ever a woman loved her ku&band, Marie Dursngo-— that was my wife's name; she refused to take mine for some reason— • Marie loved me."

" A strange kind of love that allowed her to be soparated." And Cynthia's lips curled. She' would have dared death itself for Devereux's sake, and only death should bave parted them.

" It wasn't Marie's fault," he answered. " Don't condemn her. Not even from you will I hear a word of reproach against her. Khe saved my life. There's such a thing as gratitude, and I've come to think of my wife differently from what I do any other woman " Wan fiho beautiful?"

" I never saw a handsomer girl in Mexico. Yes, she- was very beautiful- ' ought to have loved her, you'll say— snyono would expect me to; but I'm not Rimg to talk of that. There's not much more to tell you." " Why are you in mourning?" " Because my wife is dead. She died in my arms. I haven't the heart to describe now Pr death camo about; but I shall never forget. She gave her life for mine, and left me a desolate man. She was the Mam;chest woman that ever breathed, and 1 revere her memory Now you know why ], e mui ,t. only bo spoken of with kindliness and respect. I'm glad you've heard the story at last, and some day you'll forgive mo, perhaps." He should have gone, but a power not to he resisted raided him to linger a few minute*. His manner had changed, and lie wad Diunceiot Devereux again to Cynthia, who dreadtd to bid him farewell, knowing their iiartinc would he for eternity. ! fc

" I hope von' be happy.'' lie was say--5n K- " I don't know much of Walsall, but you're lucky in—"

■ « iurk\ ... "Lucky '"is that what vou think?" sin nterrupted, scornfully. "I've no reason in think otherwise,' replied Ikvercux, almo«t carelessly. " N( claim that gives me any right to say any thins; else." ".I don't ask you to say anything. I'm "Ting to remember I'm to be married in a few days. That I ought not to be here ■~I oughtn't to bo speaking to you, nor

listening to you. Can't you imagine what the world would say of me if it were known that wo'ro together in this room? Alio future Countess of Walsall, meeting meeting you in this clandestine way! Can't you hear the scandal and talk of it? "

Devereux shrugged his shoulders, ivo done with what the world chooses to say." "Don't you care for what it will sav SL What ifc will invent abo "t me"? What my future husband will think and do, if ho knows that you and I have met each other?" And Cynthia roused herself energetically at last. "Nobody will ever know," replied Dcveroux, "except Mrs. Burton-Blore possibly, and you can trust Uer not to speak of it. You can trust me also; its only a trifle to ask, perhaps. Not a soul has any idea of our having met in this unaccountable way, nor need it be known. I am going now. Wait for a little whilo before you leave." It was as though he spoke to deaf ears, for Cynthia was strugglnig to repress the words that would have cleared away the dark cloud from between them. She had never condemned him, never ceased to love him, and now that once again he and she had met a passionate resontment against the fate before her gavo hor courage and brought a wild hope of escape. "You are going abroad, you say," she answered, with a calmness difficult to raaintaiu. "Shall you return to England? " "Why should I? What inducement is there for me to come back? I made up my mind to go because Norwood is too dull a place for my liking—that was my only reason. But I've another now since I came into this room. Can't you understand ? "

"Yes." And hor answer came slowly. "You think it will bo best for both of us."

" I'm not considering myself. I'm thinking of what you said a moment ago. 'that it would be unfortunate if Walsall found out this had happened. Ira judging him by what I should believe myself if the cases were reversed. You and he are to bo married in a few days, and it might be disastrous if we are discovered to have met each other. Not that it's possible if you are careful. I hate the secrecy of the affair, but there's no help for it." Her impulse was urging her to bid him stay, but his manner warned her that her appeal might be misconstrued. Yet that she would never see him again wrung her heart—that hereafter her life was to be one of ceaseless regret. He was not to blame for having deserted her on their wedding-day. She believed implicitly every word he had told her in explaining why he had done so. It had all been a dreadful mistake, which had wrecked her happiness and his. "There's nothing more to be said," he went on. "Nothing at least that can make any difference to what must be. There is no need for yon to be fearful that Walsall will ever know of our having seen each other." "No one knows that I've come here, except Mrs. Burton-Blore." That's a good thing," replied Devereux. And then the time came that the last good-bye must be said. " I don t think even Walsall would object to our shaking hands," he said, holding his out to her. "It will be for the last time." Cynthia was looking at his strained face, and her hand rested in his for a moment. Neither, spoke again, and then she was alone, so heartbroken that even the relief of weeping was denied her. ' CHAPTER XVm. Mrs. Burton-Blore, having finished her breakfast, was trying to fix her attention on the newspaper; but the attempt proved futile, because her thoughts were of what had happened overnight at Upper Norwood. She was imagining what really might have been the consequences of her little plot. That Cynthia and Devereux had been brought together she could not doubt; it was the result of their meeting which was puzzling her at the moment when the morningroom door was almost flung! open to adroit the Earl of Walsall, who ! in a state of mind nearer excitement than she had ever known him to be.

" What on earth are you doing here at ten in the morning, Walsall ?" she exclaimed. "You ought to be in bed." " I've been upset, replied . Walsall. " Deucedly worried. You re a sensiol • woman, Mrs. Burton-Blnre—you're an - old friend, so I don't mind telling vou. I'm deucedly annoyed Have hi seen Cynthia lately ? Was she here last night ? " "If you'll b'-h.'ive like a reasonable creature I'll talk to you," retorted Mrs. Burton-Blore, severely. "I don't understand your bursting in upon me at an hour when I'm not prepared to receive visitors. It's not common decency of you." "I am so infernally worried that I couldn't rest without coming," answered the earl, fumbling for his eyeglass. "It's this way. I went to Severne's last night. We were going to the —Cynthia and I, you understand— was an arrangement. Very well, I go to Severne's. Cynthia wasn't at home. Don't you call that deucedly strange ? " " Not a bit. She changed her mind. Every woman's entitled to do that." Mrs- Burton-Blore realised the position in an instant, and was on guard. " Just so," continued Walsall. '* I'm not complaining of that; but what puzzles me to death is where Cynthia went to. Because, you see, it isn't the thing for a woman who's going to be married in a few days to go off without saying where she's gone to. Eh ? " "I'm in the dark at present," replied Mrs. Burton-Blore, " and you're so oxtremely incoherent that I don't follow you. What has poor Cynthia done to upset you, pray ? ' " Well, it's this way. I want to know where Cynthia went without telling —without telling anybody. I'm not a suspicious man, but it's too infernally mysterious. You'll own that much. Beastly mysterious, and I've a right to be told."

" Why don't you ask Cynthia, instead of coming here like a madman, expecting me to explain her reasons for doing that which she chooses to do ? I suppose she has come back ? " ,

"I've been there. Couldn't rest at home. Yes, I've seen Cynthia. She won't say a word. I asked her where she went last nightquestion natural enough, isn't it, eh ? What she went for ? Told her how infernally anxious I'd been, and all that. No answer." " You mav depend on it that she had a good reason for not satisfying your curiosity," answered Mrs. BurtonBlore, her keen eyes twinkling merrily. " You've an austere manner, Walsall perhaps ypu're not aware of it; but I should say that Cynthia resented being questioned. "Got her back up, eh?"

" You can call it that if you like. Cynthia is a very proud woman. Isn't she going to be the Countess of Walsall ? You must recollect that, my friend, and make allowances for her. And I should like to know what you expect me to do? Anybody would think I knew where Cynthia went last night " "Was she here? Was she at the Dorsetßhires? You were, and I thought you might know." " Cynthia didn't come to my house, for I stayed at home last night as it happens. And I think it awfully ridiculous of you to annoy Cynthia. You do annoy people occasionally. Surely you've enough confidence in her not to bo absurdly jealous." " I don't know. It s all very well for you to slang a fellow, and all that, but it's too mysterious, and a fellow can't help putting two and two together. I told you what I'd heard about that infernal Devereux. Suppose—" "Suppose what? demanded Mrs. Burton holding horslf very erect. "It's onlv natural for me to suppose a fellow like Devereux would play low down. Didn't he kill a fellow out Mexico? Mellish said so any way and a fellow who'd do that kind of thing isn't to be trusted. Suppose he planned to meet Cynthia?

" 111 stake my life that Devereux never did anything so mean!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton-Blore indignantly, "You ought to be ashamed of even thinking Cynthia capable of agreeing to it, if he did! " Walsall was becoming irritated, his anger showing itself by a fretful, complaining effort to vindicate himself. "I don't think Cynthia capable of it," he blurted out, but she was lured away —lots of women get lured into false positions. Don't go imagining I'm blaming her. Aren't we going to be married I've every trust in her. You're putting a wrong construction on things." "Well, if I am, don't follow my example," retorted Mrs. Burton-Blore, placidly; "and I really do not see the useof discussing the matter any further. When Cynthia is your wife— you haven't very long to perhaps she'll tell you everything." "I'll make it my business to find out, because I m wretched at present," and Walsall took off his monocle, polishing it vigorously. "A fellow can't help thinking, don't you know." "He might try to think sensibly," was the reply. J ! "And if I find out that this infernal Devereux is—" "Oh, Walsall, don't get killed like that Mexican man!" interrupted Tas. BurtonBlore, imploringly. "Just when you're going to be made happy. Think of Cynthia s feelings." Ho readjusted his eyeglass and shot out a determined look through it at her. There was a fleeting doubt of Airs. Burton- Blore's sincerity, but her appealing glance disarmed him. "I'm thinking of Cynthia," he replied, with stony composure. "You've no idea what my feelings are— they're to be considered, I suppose? The amount of ove I have for Cynthia isn't to be calculated. If I lost her my life wouldn't he worth living. Feelings? What d'ye suppose mine are, eh?" And he turned from her. For a few moments after his departure Mrs. Burton-Blore stared at the closed door Then she burst into a peal of laughter. r "The next to come will bo Cynthia, unless I'm very much mistaken," she told herself. "It's very evident that something did happen last night, and I'm bound to hear about it sooner or later. Perhaps Devereux will call, and as likely as not he'll upbraid me. It's an ungrateful world; but I don't mind. I mean to bring about a change." The time dragged with leaden feet until luncheon, and as Cynthia did not come Mrs. Burton-Blore went to Severne House, where she found her in quite a different mood from what Mrs. Burton-Blore expected. "So you executed my little commission last night, my dear. So good of you!" exclaimed the latter, after kissing Cynthia rapturously. "Have you seen the earl?" asked Cynthia. "My dear, he burst into my morningroom like an escaped lunatic, with the most extraordinary story. He was positively pathetic towards the end of our interview." "Did you tell him I went down to Norwood last evening?" "Not a word. I simply repudiated any knowledge of you. One has to be so careful in what one says .nowadays. The least hint gets magnified into all kinds of stories." Cynthia was looking steadfastly into the merrv face, and Mrs. Burton-Blore saw a curious light in the searching eyes. There was a brilliancy there which had faded in the vestry of St. Elphege Church and never returned until to-day A clwr tone in the voice, which had hitherto been so cold and spiritless, and an awakening of Cynthia's long-slumbering vivacity. "Did you know that Launcelot would come to the house at the time I wag there?" she asked. "My dear, I arranged for him to go," exclaimed Mis. Burton-Blore. "Now the murder's out! He is quite innocent— quite. He hadn't the slightest idea of meeting you. 1 reckoned on that, for Devereux is too quixotic for words. It was" a little plot of" mine, and I think myself immensely clever to have thought of it." Cynthia was still looking at her, and Mrs. Burton-Blore began to wonder whether or no the little plot was quite so clever as she thought. "You're not angry with me. I hope? That would be tha basest ingratitude" "No, I'm not angry, only it's made me think," replied Cynthia quietly. "Am I to know what happened?" "Nothing happened. Launcelot is going to Paris to-day. and we sha'n't s. s etcn other again. But I know why we were not married. He is not to be blamed." "Well, it's something to have heard that.' replied Mrs. Burton-Blore. "1 was one who never did blame him. He is too honourable for that, and he always loved you, Cynthia. He loves you more now than he did then, and if you could only get yourself into a proper state of mind i believe you would marry him after all." Cynthia flushed, and then became pale, but she did not reply for a few moments. "Lord Walsall wishes to know where I went to last night," she said at last. "I've made up my mind never to tell him; I want it kept a secret between you and me, Mrs. Burton-Blore. People have talked about me quite enough in the past, and I've no wish for them to do so in the future. I shall never see Launcelot again." "Cynthia, I'm disappointed," answered her visitor. "I had hoped for something different from this." "What could be different? Isn't it settled where the honeymoon is to be spent ? Oughtn't I to be grateful for the diamonds Walsall has given me? Isn't everything settled, and Pm to bo the Countess of Walsall." 'And Devereux is to wander all over Europe a miserable outcast, I suppose!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton-Blore. "Whilst you go on loving him when you're Walsall's wife." "No you're mistaken there—" and Cynthia's eyes flashed again, but she checked the rest of her answer. "Wasn't there one word passed between you two of old times? 1 only know that if i had been in your position I should have tried to be reconciled." "Neither of us referred to old times; not directly, I mean. Launcelot gave me a perfectly clear explanation. He couldn't have acted otherwise than he did." Mrs. Burton-Blore considered for an instant. "You're rather an enigma, my dear," she said, after the pause. "I've been hoping that something practical would come nut of your meeting." "Didn't I tell you that Launcelot is going away to-day, and we shall never see each other again probably. Certainly not before next Thursday week." That was to be the Earl of Walsall's wedding day, and Mrs. Burton-Biore drew a heavy sigh. "You'll see how imperative it is that no cnp. should ever know that Launcelot. and i met each other," continued Cynthia. "Quite," answered the other. "And all I've got to say is that if you ever want my help, you've only to ask for it. I'm sorry you don't ask for it now." "For what?" "There, we won't argue, my dear. I'll keep your secret, never fear. Poor Walsall would never forgive me if he found out what I had done.'' And Mrs. BurtonBlore fluttered out of the room, undecided whether to be angry with or sorry for the bride-elect. (To be continued Saturday next.)