HEARTSEASE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 19974, 16 June 1928, Page 14 (Supplement)

HEARTSEASE.

BY JOSEPH HOCKING.

CHAPTER XllL—(Continued. J By this time I was able to sum up the young fellow's character more clearly as to the kind of fellow he was. That he was not a gentleman it was of course plain to see. Gideon Polruan had led me to think, when first I had been introduced to him, that 110 was a large landowner, and was the owner of the Squire's place. That was altogether out of the question now. Whatever else the hereditary landowners of Cornwall were, they had the manners of gentlemen, this man had not. Ho spoke in loud, arrogant tones, his voice was strident, his manner was aggressive. He might be the prospective owner of a big estate, but he did not belong to the class of Cornish squires. As .1 have said earlier in these pages, 1 had on more than one occasion been brought into contact with these men, and they were altogether different from Felix Bowse. He might have been able to read what was going on in my mind, for he went on in strident tones. " Yes. 1 know who I am, and how I came by my money. My father began life as a poor man and he was ambitious, too, that was why he bought Tresweeta, and why lie brought me up as he did; but 1 can't afford to jeopardise my position. 1 shan't be able to hold up my head among county people if there is any stain upon my wife's name." "Stain upon your wife's name! Do you mean Heartsease?" asked Gideon at last. " Yes, I do. I will not deny that 1 am fond of her, and that I am willing to do a great deal to get her; but I don't like this sort of thing, and what's more lam not going to stand it. If everything isn't satisfactorily explained it's all oft, and what's more," he added significantly, " if it s off 1 shall call in my mortgage on Furze Farm." The truth was out at last. There was more than one reason why Gideon had wanted Heartse&so to marry } oung Bowse. The farmer owed him money, and he had vulgarly reminded him of it in my presence. In his own way, Howse had doubtless fallen in love with Heartsease, and had paid advances to her. These advances being coldlv received he had sought to ingratiate himself into Gideon s favour, and had at length lent money on the farm. This had doubtless been done with Rowse's father's consent; now other Sorces were at work. Young Rowse realised that Heartsease did not care for him, and added to that was the - mystery of her disappearance. Even although she were found, and he were at length able to marry her now, could lie hold up his head among the landowners if there were any stain attached to his wife's name ? I saw the very nature of the man as 1 looked at his face, felt in every word he spoke, knew, it instinctively. But was this all? Was thero something else of which I knew nothing, dreamt nothing ? . 4 ' Of course, all this is no business ot mine," 1 said quietly. " Mr. Polruan's private affairs can have no interest for me; all the same, it seems a mean thing to aggravate his tioubles at isuch times As these. If he is under anv obligation —" " Obligation ?" he interrupted. UUligation ? Why, Furze 1' arm is mine, that's all about it If the place were sold up to-morrow, lock, stock and barrel, I doubt if it would bring the money I have advanced on it-. So now you know. And do you think lam going to let that mortgage remain while Heartsease treats me as though I weienothing! Not if I know it. J shall foreclose on the date I am entitled to. Gideon Polruan had been seated during the whole of the conversation. Ho had been like a man utterly crushed, utterly broken down. As I have said there had been a nameless fear in his oves during the time "we had been talkin*; but lie rose to his feet now and appared to shake of! the incubus which rested upon him. " Then foreclose," and lie threw out the challenge defiantly. " Yes, foreclose," he repeated, "and do your worst. Naked came I into the world and naked will I go out of it, and as he stood erect, his almost giant form towering over the other, he looked like some ancient patriarch. There was something even noble in his appearance as he moved toward the other. lall, "■aunt, and sough hewn as he was, there was something massive, masterful about him. . " I did not tell you this, Mr. Caradoc," he said; " I thought there was no need; but what he says is tiue. I told you I had financial difficulties, but I gave you no details. For twenty years everything has gone against me. I? 01 twenty years I have been cursed with a great curse. I have told you the reason why. I love Furze Farm, every fibre of my being is wrapped up in i,t, my family have owned it for hundreds of years. There is no place in the world like it to mo; I love every field, every stone on it, and it'll be like death to me to give it up; but let him foreclose if he wants, let him do all that he can do. As you say it was an unmanly thing for him to come at a time like this, when my mind is all torn to nieces for fear of the harm that may havo come to my little maid. Lot me find her, sir, let me find her, and then I can face everything else." Felix Rowse seemed to become smaller and smaller in the presence of the faimcr's wrath. " Come, now, Polruan," and his voice was less strident, " don't talk like that." . "But I will talk like that," exclaimed Gideon. "My burden is almost heavier than 1 can bear. But when you hint at shame for my little maid everything else counts as nothing. I don't know where she is, and I don't know what the future may bring forth; but you —yon are unworthy to touch the ground on which she has walked." Rowse took his departure from Furze Farm almost immediately after this, leaving'me to reflect upon what I hadi seen and heard that morning. CHAPTER XIV. MELCI3ISEDEIC POLZEATH. As may be imagined, 1 had plenty to think about. First there was the interview between Jane Clemo and the young schoolmaster, followed immediately after by my visit to old Betsy Flew. There was much that was significant in both of them. In spite of Jane's disavowal of any knowledge concerning Heartsease I was more and more convinced that she knew a great deal. Besides, what was the meaning of the evident intimacy between her and Nancarrow ? Of course. I formed many conjectures concerning this; but none of them satisfied me. One thing( however, I determined to be present at the interview at ten o'clock that night. I reflected point by point on all I hod learnt concerning the young schoolmaster. This was not much, but it was enough to give me food for thought. Ho had, months before, tried to get 011 intimate terms with Heartsease. He said significant things io her, and 011 seeing us together there had been a look of a devil i'i his eyes. But he did not wish the girl any harm; he had threatened me with awful things if harm came to heir through mo. But what had all this to do with Jane Clemo ? In what way was he interested in her, and what had she to do with Heartsease's disappearance ? Then there was my talk with old Betsy Flew. also had professed ignorance; I was certain that her ignorance Was Sow .pretence. She was in some way <led us.* I** 1 ** t ' lc mystery that surroun-

(COPT RIGHT;)

Of course my experience with young Rowse did not" require so much thinking about. I thought I saw the naturo of the man j thought I knew what was in his mind; and despised him accordingly. In any case nothing resulted from my endeavours when evening came; the mystery of the morning was a mystery still. The'day which had begun brightly had become overcast and dark. Great clouds rolled across the sky and threatened rain. As may be'imagined, I became more and more excited as night drew nigh. I felt that a great deal would depend upon what took place between the schoolmaster and Jane Clemo. I had given instructions that while a close watch was to bo set upon her every movement, no apparent notice was to bo taken, neither were her actions to be interfered with. Nine o'clock came, half-past nine, quarter to ten, and nothing happened, Jane Clema was still in the house and neither did she show any signs of going out. When ten minutes to ten came, there was a knock at the door of the big room where I was sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Polruan, and Jane Clemo appeared. " riease, m'm, do you want mo any more to-night?" " No, thank you, Jane." "Then I -will go to bed," she said; " it's been a vory tiring, anxious day. I do hope you will find Miss Heartsease, m'm." " I think I will go to bed, too," I replied in her hearing. "I am pretty nearly worn out." I said this with a purpose. Bearing in mind what I had heard that morning, I knew she would take precautions concerning me. I made my way to my room, therefore, and waited. Ten minutes had scarcely lapsed when there was a knock at the door. "Yes," I said, "what is it?" and when I appeared at the. door I was in a state of partial undress. "Did you drop this, sir?" and she handed mo an old letter which by some means or another she had got hold of. "Thank you, Jane," I said; "you aro very kind." She hesitated a second and then looking at me furtively said; You have discovered nothing, sir, I suppose ?" I shook my head. " Nothing," I replied. "It's very ter'ble, isn't it? And it's also mysterious. I havo been thinking about it all day, and I can't imagine how it happened. Her mother was with her, too, and when she awoke she was gone. There's more in it than we think, sir." " This house is haunted," she went on. " Miss Heartsease was not taken away by any natural means; but where can she be ? Where can she be ?" " Well, we can do nothing to-night,' I replied, " and I am very tired. Goodnight, Jane." " Good-night, sir." Of course, I did not go to bed. After taking precautions that the woman had really left me, I dressed in a grey suit, and put on a pair of grey suede rubbersoled shoes; then I silently crept out of the house, t After this I swiftly made my way to the spot where I had heard the conversation that morning, taking every precaution against discovery. When I bad reached the junction of fences I listened carefully. No sounds of, any sort wero to be heard. As I havo said, the night was dark. Great clouds hung in the sky, and the moon was not due to rise for more than an hour. Half an hour passed, and nothing happened except that once I thought, I heaid a rustling noise on the other side of the hedge. I began to get anxious. Was I the victim of a hoax? Had the woman known my whereabouts that morning, and was the conversation intended to deceive me ? I reflected on all that had taken place and wondered —I reflected on the look on the woman's face. The night was still as death, not a leaf stirred on the hazel bushes which surmounted the fences, not a bird chirped, and not a blade of grass rustled. ~-11 Minute after minute passed and still nothing. A kind of superstitious dread fell over me. Thinking of Gideon's letter, remembering the curse which had hung over the house through the long years, calling to mind the history of the family, I began to ask myself if there was not some truth in it after all. How could Heartsease be spirited away except by some supernatural means ? She had been accompanied to her room by her mother, she had gone to sleep with her hand in her mother's hand; and yet — Perhaps it was the silence of the night; perhaps it was the influence of all that I heard since I had come to the district; tyut at that moment I felt as superstitious as Gideon Polruan himself. 1 remembered the words he had spoken just before Jane Clemo had come into the room. " It's no use, Mr. Caradoc, you are a clevef man, and you have done your utmost; but it's no use, you can't fight against the dead. Old Melchisedek has done what he swore he would do and I shall never see my little Heartsease again." Of course I had laughed at his fears, and while I told him nothing of my plans I bade him keep up a brave heart; all the same his words haunted me now. I seemed to be like one fighting against a grirn fate. Then suddenly my superstitious fancies left me. I heard stealthy footsteps approaching, followed by whispered voices. " You're late." " Yes, I couldn't come before; they have been watching me all day; it's the stranger. I am sure he has suspicions about me; but I have dodged him." " Are you sure ?" " Yes, you don't know the precautions I have had to take; I oven went to his bedroom; it's all right, he's safe for the night." "■You are certain of that?" " Of course. Why ?" " Becauso I heard some one half an hour ago." " Where ?" I did not catch an answer to this; I heard lew whisperings, but nothing more. "And he's discovered nothing?" I heard the schoolmaster say presently. " No, nothing, I am sure he hasn't. I heard him talking to Gideon to-night, and I know he's as ignorant as every one else." " Do you know ?" " Before God I don't." These questions and answers came to me at intervals. I have put down what I heard, but there was much more said of which I can make no sense. " It's hellish, hellish," I heard the young schoolmaster say presently; "it was born in hell, I have been a tool of hell!" The woman laughed half gleefully, but it was a cruel laugh, as cruel as death. " I am going to put a stop to it," I heard Nancarrow say after another long whisper. " I'd like to see you try. . . Don't be a fool." Then after other things were said of which I knew nothing, I heard the school master say: " Yes, this very night." " But it's impossible." After that I heard the woman pleading about something, what it was I could not tell, but she seemed to be filled with some great fear. Then they started, she to go back to Furze Farm, while bo made his way toward the village. Why it was I could not tell, but I knew that I must follow the young schoolmaster. What the result might bo I had of course 110 idea, but a kind of spell was upon me. Thinking of it now, I am certain I heard a voice saying "follow me," and yielding to whatever influence. that possessed me, I followed. As presently he left the hedge-side and came into the footpath which crossed an open field, I saw his form outlined. He was making his way to his lodgings. He moved rapidly, as though he were pressed for time, and ore long reached a. cottage door and entered. Every one was now in bed; not a single light appeared in

any of the windows, the village was asleep. Standing in the shadow of a bush beside the road I watched and waited. In a few minutes he appeared again, and looking neither to the right nor to the left he went in the direction opposite Furze Farm. What his purposes were or where lie was going I had not the slightest idea; but I followed. By this time the moon had risen and the night became lighter. There was a break in the sky, too, and the clouds were passing away. I had not been in this direction before, and the country was strange to me. But I kept some distance behind him, and I was able to keep him in sight. His footsteps rang out plainly on the hard road; mine, 011 the other hand, deadened by my rubber-soled shoes, scarcely to be heard. Presently we reached the summit of a hill, and then I saw stretching away in the distance a long and nearly straight road which cut its way through a piece of wild moorland. In the light of the moon, which had now risen high, I could see the countryside rise and fall. No vegetation grew save furze and heather; it was simply wild, bleak moorland. Without looking either to the right or left ho followed the road which led through the moors, and presently increased his speed. Mile after mile we went, up hill and down dale, ho leading tho way and 1 following. lam sure ho had no idea I was there. Ho never relaxed his speed. He seemed to have set his mind to reach a certain place and was unaware of who might be near him. How many miles he went I do not know; but a good many Evidentlv he knew the road well and he trod it as though he were familiar with it. After walking hours, I do not know how many, ho left the road and took a sharp turning to the left. He seemed to be hesitating now, as though in the dim light he was uncertain of his way. More than once he stopped and looked around him, but presently 110 vvent on again, now. following what seemed a footpath, and then striking across the open moors. As I have said, it was a wild, dreary country; indeed, I did not know that there was to bo found in tho wholo of England a district so desolare, so unpeopled. More than onco we crossed marshy land, and again climbed a rugged eminence, only to strike deeper into a lonely valley. Whore wo were I had no idea; I formed some rough opinion as to tho lino of the country, but I was certain of nothing. I dared not go too near him, as I did not want to bo seen. I reflected that if he knew of my presence I should discover nothing of his purposes in coming. Presently I was startled. Away in the distance, perhaps half-a-mile off, I saw a light twinkling. It might have been an ignis fatuis—a Jack of the Lantern so common to marshy ground. I had beeu told that such a phenomenon existed in Cornwall. That gas arose from the marshes and formed itself into a light which shone at night-time in lonely places. But this could not bo one of these. It shone clearly and steadily, never wavering and never moving. As far as I could judge, there was 110 human habitation near, nothing was to be seen save the rise and fall of the dreary moorland. Toward this light Nancarrow made his way. No longer had lie any doubt as to tho track he should take. Then, although I could see him but dimly, I felt sure he was near the end of his journey. Just keeping him in sight, I followed. The light became nearer and nearer and soon I saw the meaning of it. Immediately beneath a craggy rock and situated at the side of a stony, rugged hill was a human habitation, and it was from tho window of this place that the light shone. When Nancarrow had come to within perhaps a hundred yards of it he looked round, then he stealthily crept to tho window from which tho light came. For more than a minute I watched while he looked through the window; then I saw him open the door of the hut and enter. A few seconds later I had crept up to the window and was eagerly looking in. Near the window was a bare table 011 which a candle stood; this was the light I had seen from afar. The room was fairly large, larger than I had expected. At first I thought it was empty save for the young schoolmaster who had just entered, but I quickly saw that I had been mistaken. Sitting huddled iu an armchair close to the cpen fireplace sat a human form. As I recall the memory of that night now I am conscious that a strange fear possessed mo, such a fear as I had never experienced before. Perhaps the reader will understand me when ho realises the circumstances. Tho hut was situated far away 'from all other human habitation. From where I stood mile after mile of desolate, uninhabited moorland was to bo seen. It rose and fell like great billows. Some of the heights were surmounted by craggy peaks, while nearly all of the valleys "were marshland. Desolation reigned everywhere. No sound was to be heard save now and then a moor bird uttered a weird, lonely cry in tho waste places. I do not think I could have lived there and retained my senses. Inside the hut were the young schoolmaster and the figure which was huddled in an armchair close to the fireplace. The young man stood in the middle of the room looking toward the other. He showed no siga of the long journey he had just taken. His form pulsated with life and energy, but he was evidently much moved. I had thought him a strik-ing-looking figure wher 1 had seen him first, but he impressed me more now. His face was as pale as death, but in his eyes was a look of intensity almost amounting to passion. His head, which was hatless, was surmounted by a great shock of jetblack hair, which shone in the candleliglit. He was looking steadfastly toward the figure in the chair, which I judged was an object of veneration to him as well as something which he feared. As my eyes grew accustomed to the light this figure in tho chair became more clearly outlined to me. I saw the face of a very, very old man, a" face not easily forgotten. The broad, rugged forehead, the high-cheeked bones impressed me as belonging to a man of strong personality. The mass of white hair which surmounted his head and the long flowing white beard, which grew almost to his 1 waist, made mo think of Michaol Angelo's figure of Moses. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be altogether unconscious of the fact of the young man who was looking steadily at Twaited for perhaps a minute and there was neither sound nor motion. The voung schoolmaster stood looking at the old man while he sat huddled in his chair as though he wero asleep. "Grandfather." . . Still tho figure in the chair remained motionless. "Grandfather." Upon this there was a movement. "Yes, what do you want?" The old man started as he spoke and opened his eves; then, rising to his feet, he came toward the youth whom I had followed that night. The opening of his eyes had altogether changed the old man's appearance. ting in repose, there was, in spite of Ins rugged features, a suggestion of something benign, restful. But standing with open eyes, looking at Ilia visitoi, I felt like shuddering. Tho face was the face of a madman. More than that, it was an evil face. There was hatred, savagery, malignancy, in his every look and movement. it seemed to me as though f° r j years lie had been brooding over a devilish thing. Ho looked like one who had sounded the depths of evil and gloated in it. I am not exaggerating, and I am writing calmlv with the endeavour to tell the exact truth. Never had 1 seen such an expression, never had I dreamt of such a look of unadulterated malignancy and evil purpose as 1 saw then. It was evil gone mad. "It is you, is it? 1 thought you might come. Tell me everything. The words came to me plainly, words uttered in a coarse, raucous voice. (To be continued on Saturday lioxt.)