A REMORSELESS ACCUSER

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 8652, 10 February 1914, Page 8

A REMORSELESS ACCUSER

[Pcblishefi nv Special Arrangement.] [All Rights Reserved.]

By EDGAR PICKERING, Author of “Dick Bereslord’s Mile, “Was She Guilty?” etc., etc.

CHAPTER VI. MARY WILMOT'S RESOLVE.

“I will instruct my sorrows to bo proud.” . , —King John. Faint and weary, her clothing soaked with rain and her body benumbed with cold, Janet Deeds returned to South Norwood by a late train, and set out on her lonely walk to Laurel House. Neither her fatigue nor the inclement weather appeared to affect her,- and her face was sterner than usual as she tramped along the miry road, taking no heed of wind or rain, which were at their worst just then. For Janet’s faithful heart was filled with such unspeakable horror that it seemed to her as though she moved in some dread nightmare, struggling vainly to beat down the vision of the awful sight she had witnessed, and with it all the thought of her young mistress was greatest. “It would kill her if she knows what I have seen —she would die if I told her her husband was a murderer. So I’ll never speak,” muttered Janet,' addressing the blackness around her. “Never 1 None shall ever know what I saw to-night, if he does his poor wife justice. I’ll hold my tongue for ever!” and she raised her hand, as though offering a. vow, repeating the words again and again. People would have thought her mad, if they had seen the distraught, ungainly figure which Janet presented as she struggled homeward; but there was not ael carerhead ed woman, nor one with more definite purpose than she, as she strode through mire' and rain after her wild journey to London. Once or twice a shudder racked her frame and she came to a sudden halt in her walk, but, the pause and agitation were only for a moment. “He must listen to me now,” she said aloud. “Ho. shall;” and strangely comforted, in spite of the horrid feeling in her breast, Janet managed to control herself sufficiently by the time she reached Laurel House to give a rambling excuse for her unusual absence to the maid-servant who admitted her. Then, having changed her dripping dress, she went to the room where Mary lay, and looking down on the whitp face on the pillow, Janet gave a deep sigh, muttering again the words she had repeated on her lonely walk back from the railway station.

Presently Mary roused herself, and her look turned towards Janet’s ashen face.

“Have you been sitting in the room long?” asked Mary. “Ay, a long time,” replied Janet. “It’s late. Nearly twelve. You have been asleep.” . Then a little silence followed, broken at length by Janet’s voice. “You fainted just as Mr Wilmot left the house,” She went on. “Maybe that was because you were not strong. You’ll be better when he comes here again.” “He’ll never do .that,” answered Mary, quietly. “Nay, but he will—he must,” retorted Janet, vehemently. “Never doubt it.” There a fierce conviction in her tone, but it brought none to Mary’s aching heart.

“I heard every word that passed between you and him this evening,” continued Janet. “I know the cruel things he said, but he’ll undo the dreadful wrong that’t been done you,” and saying this. she rose from her chair. There were words hovering on her lips, but she dared not utter them. Words of comfort and hope which must not he spoken, yet, and with all- the horror coming over her again, at the memory of what she had seen that evening, Janet quitted the room, leaving her mistress with the memory of her vanquished happiness, which was the bitterness of death to her now.

It was a dull, lowering morning when Mary descended to the little sit-ting-room, where Janet was preparing breakfast, who, as she starred the crackling fire, looked up in pleased surprise. “It’s a. new thing to see you down' at this time, Mrs Wilmot,” she exclaimed. “But I’m glad you’re strong enough to do it.”

“You must never call mo (by that name again, Janet,” replied Mary. “Henceforth I am only ' Mary Lestrange.” ‘‘lndeed I shall,” retorted Janet', stoutly. “Never, till I have the right to bear it,” replied Mary. “Maybe the time will come, but until it does I would be called by the only name I can claim.”

“But everything will come out all right, dear mistress,” exclaimed Janet, “I know it will.”

Mary shook her head doubtingly. “I’ve been trying to believe eo,” she said, quietly. “I’ve prayed that things may. And I’ve been thinking that it will be better for us to leave this house,” she continued. “One can do nothing here, and there is so much to do.”

Janet looked at her inquiringly. “Yes, we’ll go away from this lonely place,” continued Mary. “We'll go as soon as possible. You and I together, Janet-, and I’ll live my life out, trying to forget the life I had hoped might be mine. If I could only forget I might he happy once again.” She turned away, looking from the window across the desolate, neglected garden, out upon the gloomy, threatening scene, whilst Janet, murmuring to herself in an undertone, continued her work. A week later, and LaVirel House was empty, and the solicitor’s letter, written by Wilmot’s instructions, offering his wife a small annual allowance, was returned, marked “Gone away. Left no address.” (To be continued.)