LORD PENDRYN'S DAUGHTER.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXVII, Issue 5374, 6 September 1904, Page 2

LORD PENDRYN'S DAUGHTER.

[All Eights Reserved.]

THE SHADOW OF A SIN. BY lIA NX AH B. MACKENZIE. Author of “The Web of Fate,’’ “’Twixt Moor and Mountain,” “After Touch of Wedded Hands,” etc. CHAPTER VIII. (Continued.) Gwen Lawrence, looking up as “Lady Clara Montague” was announced with great ompressemont by little Lcxy, sat entering a tall and queenly young woman, wrapped up in furs, and beneath whose little sealskin cap smiled the face Mark had told her was so rarely beautiful. To romantic Owen, Claro looked like the princess of some eastern tale. She rose to receive her visitor; and Lady Clare coining up quickly, and taking in a clasp as strong aid firm as a man's the younger girl’s fragile hand, said earnestly— , “So you are Dr Lawrence's sister! He is my friend; will you bo so also?” It was the unconventional greeting that iron Gwen's heart. For a moment she stood in awe of Clare’s rare queenliness; but the next she answered swiftly—- “ Yes, I will ho your friend. All Mark's friends are mine/’ So the two women, so strangely unlike -in every point, loved each other from the first. Poetic, dreamy, tender-heart-ed little (liven, looking into Clare Montague’s Ibeautiful sad face, left all her gentle, pitiful, romantic soul go out in sympathy to this peerless girl, whose life had been so sad. And Clare, not daring to whisper to herself why, loved Hr Mark’s sister as if sho had been her own —soon for her own sake alone, for Gwen Was one of those creatures who attract love ns naturally as a magnet attracts steal. They sat and talked in Gwen’s little drawing-room as if they had known each other all their lives. Gwen, in her girlish light-hearted way, spoke of her own fife, her- books, her occupations; and then of her brother, wondering a little why Lady Clare listened' so intently, and talked so little herself. Clare was preparing to depart, when the door was opened a little abruptly and without the girls having any previous warning. Dr Mark - himself entered, followed by Cecil -Danvers. Both young men paused in surprise; then Hark came forward. “So you have taken advantage of my permission to go out by coming to Pender, Lady Glare. This is very kind of you; but I hope you will not suffer from it,” for her face had suddenly grown pale; as she caught the eyes of Cecil Danvers fixed on her in close and strange scrutiny. “Allow mo to introduce to you my friend —Mr Danvers—Lady Claro Montague/’ And so this momentous meeting took place, the future effects of which, on those present in the room, would be felt by them so long as life lasted. !

CHAPTER IX. LOVE, THE EX CHANTER. ■ Brother and sister could see the look that passed between the two as the formal greeting was , exchanged; that in Cecil Danvcr’s eyes one of such evident emotion as neither had ever seen in them before; on Lady Clare’s face one of sudden terror, or amazement, or both —her eyes looking straight at him as if mesmerised, her faoe curiously pale, her proud lips unsteady. Cecil took a low chair beside Gwen; Mark and Lady Clare stood talking by the window. Gwen’s little tea-table Svas before her; she poured ' out two tiny little cups, Cecil assisting her and carrying ■ them to the others. He sat beside the girl, declining any of what he laughingly called “a purely feminine beverage”; talking gaily enough, in that low tender tone he always assumed towards Gwen. Yet she could see that his eyes still followed along the straight line which ran into the window where Clare eat and Mark stood, cup in hand, beside her. Gwen’s mind was in a whirl of love and fear and agonising doubt; yet her laughing repartees bravely hid all. “Who is—that young man?” Lady Clare asked presently of her companion in tones too low for any other but him to hear.' “He reminds me—painfully, of soma one.” “Indeed 1” said Mark, somewhat coldly. ‘Hie is a London artist; that'is about all I know of him.” “All?” she repeated, drawing a long breath, as of relief. “He looks at me strangely, does he not?” she asked after a pause. “I suppose he has heard your name in London,” said Mark, carelessly. “I believe he once made a remark to that effect. It is not an unlikely thing that he should, is it?” - “He is an artist,” she said with strange persistence. "Are you sure ho is English?.—ho has a foreign appearance.”

“I am sorry I cannot tell you any more of him than I have already done,” returned Dr Lawrence, in a slightly annoyed tone. “He has never made a confidant of me, and I am one who never asks for a man’s confidence unless ho chooses to give it voluntarily.” “Yet ho seems on terms of intimacy at Pender House,” said . Lady Clare, slowly. "Intimacy is not always a warrant for finding out the secrets of a man’s life, Lady Clare,” retorted Mark, and then repented of his rudeness. “I beg your pardon,” ha made his apology so curtly that the dark eyes were raised wonderingly to his faoe. ' “1 must go,” said Clare, a little hastily. “Lady Sybil , will wonder what has become of me.” She went over to Gwen’s side. “Miss Lawrence, I must go now; but I shall come again, if I may.” “I shall be very glad,” said Gwen looking into the lovely faqe with troubled eyes. “You will come before you leave Pendryn.” “Yes,” Clare answered, clasping the hand of Mark’s sister again. ’ The two young men accompanied Lady Clare to her little phaeton, and for a moment Danvers found himself alone

with Iho girl, while Mark was arranging the nigs and cinfhions for her. In that moment Claro turned to him with a look of desperation in her eyes. "I have met you before,” she exclaimed. “Toll mo when ami where—you must 1” ' He answered her in tones as haughty as ever proud Claro had used herself. "I am not compelled to answer your qucoticns. Lady Claro Montague. liesides, if I had ever such an honour as you indicate, it is, perhaps no more unlikely that I should have forgotten the circumstances than that yon have.” “'Your looks belied your assertion,” tho answered, desperately. “I bog your pardon,” ho drew hack in ironical .bitterness. “It is not to ho expected that Lady Claro Montague should retain any recollection of the poor artist, Cecil Danvers,” with mocking emphasis. “It is much more likely that ho should cherish in his memory a meeting which did him to much honour.” Claro turned away with a mute gesture of despair. Danvers stood looking at her .silently, with a gleam of mocking scorn in ids bright eyes, which always shono with a brilliancy greater than that of mirth. Then Mark came up, and the farewells were made—Clare extending her hand to Dr Lawrence, who took it with unusual gravity, hut merely bowing proudly to his companion. Danvers turned away with a slight smile, and re-entered the house with Mark. . “Is Lady Claire not very beautiful?” Gwen asked, looking at the artist with childishly-unsteady lips, as lie returned to his place beside her. “Very beautiful,” was the brief reply; but ho would say no more. Poor little Gwen's heart was allowed to ache with a dull sense of pain all day. To her there was only one solution of the mystery, and that was that Danvers had mot Lady Claro before, and hopelessly loved her.

"Did Lady Clare tell you,” said Mark, when their other guest had departed and left brother and sister alone, “that she was to leave Pendryn soon, Gwen?” “No,” said Gwen; “she spoke of going to Yorkshire, but she did not say when; Why, Alark?” Ho did not answer, and she looked at him nervously in the waning light, Then rising,, she went-over to where he sat by the fire, and laid an arm round his neck and her cheek against his. “What’s tliat for?” asked Alark, turning to her with a smile that had no mirth in it. "What are you courting me for, little one?” “For nothing,” murmured Gwen, in a suspiciously low voice. “Alark, aren’t wo very happy together?” “Very, little Gwen,” Dr Lawrence answered 'soberly. “And love each other so much,” went on -Gwen pathetically. “And can be happy quite alone without any other pel-soil between us; can’t we, Mark?”. “I suppose we can, you foolish little child.”

And then suddenly, l for no very apparent reason, grave Alark - Lawrence pu t an arm round his little sister, and drawing her very near, kissed her on her soft cheek. It was aii unusual thing for Dr Alark to do, but Gwen knew the meaning of;it now. The tears' were standing thick in her violet ©yes; hut she only said, irrelevantly enough it “I think Lady Clare will bo going to Haddley Heath soon, now her foot is quite better, Mark.” In h;s heart Alark responded, “Pray heaven she may!” Clare Alontague did not see Cecil Danvers again Before she left Pendryu. Lady Sybil was anxious to got away to Yorkshire, where she was to bo. left even if her niece went up to London, and began her preparations for departure as soon aa Dr Lawrence pronounced Lady Clare fit for travelling. So one damp, drizzling day in November Pendryn was left to the reduced retinue of servants, and the two ladies took their journey northward. s > ' . Dr Alark was at tho East Tor Station aa the coronoted carriage of _ the Earl swept up, throwing all the railway officials into, a state of intense excitement. Clare had been to see and bid farewell to Gwen the day previous; and she had said good-by© to brofcli©r also with her usual air of proud indifference; hut this was a totally unexpected meeting. Tho girl looked pale and ill to Mark’s professional ©yes; and ho' said so as they stood a moment alone on the platform, "while Lady Sybil and Barrett looked on at tho bestowal of all goods imd chattels appertaining to the party with great anxiety. 1 “Oh, I am quite well,” she answered impatiently, “Or shall bo when 1 have tasted tho air of Haddley Heath again. It will ton© mo up, as you doctors say, for the strain of a London season.” “Then you arO going to London?” “I must do as my guardian desires,” she answered with a little bitterness. “1 shall not he free from his control for a year'yet.' So perhaps I shall see you again—next year. Dr Lawrence?” “Perhaps,” said Mark in- a tone of stony coolness.. He saw them into their,carriage; put Barrett into hers, and came hack to bid a final farewell.

"Good-bye, Lady Sybil; I hope yon will have a comfortable journey. Take care of all draughts. Farewell, Lady Clare!” His hand closed on her small one, which she had ungloved, but it was cold—as cold as death; then his eyes sought her face, changed—ah! so changr ed—from its old disdainful expression, the expression it had worn when-first he. saw . her. < Her eyes met his in one brief terrible look,' and in it ho read of what made his heart first throb with a feeling of delirious exultation, and then harden into proud resistance; then—they were gone, and Mark walked moodily from the station. “Thank heaven, that is over!” he muttered to himself. “And now I can torn , to my work again, and.—forget it all.” Not so easy, Mark Lawrence, even with your strength of will, and pride of soul, and stubborn, unbending' manhood. Samson, with ■ his strength departed, and shorn of his manhood’s glory, said to himself. “I will go and shako myself as at other times;” and lo! the Philistines were upon him! And in the hands of the great enchanter Love, green withes become chains of iron to hind the unhappy victim withal.

A mouth later. A' stormy day in tho end of the year. The year is dying fast and dying hard, letting out his last breaths in fierce spasms, calling upon earth and sky ‘ and ocean to weep and sing funeral dirges over his prepared grave. Over a narrow strip of sand beside the sea, where the stones are not so rough, and the cruelly jagged rocks do not roach, two figures are walking together—a man and a woman; and though tho wind is blowing fiercely in their faces, and the rain .beginning to fall in cold, heavy drops, neither of them seem'to mind it. (To he Continued.)