COMEDY AND TRAGEDY.

Patea Mail, Volume III, Issue 40, 20 May 1889, Page 4

COMEDY AND TRAGEDY.

LITERATURE.

CHAPTER IX. Rosa Westlake was at first aosolutely bewildered by the extraordinary windfall that had come to her—or, as it is to bo feared that rackety L nice might have said “ quite flabbergasted.” Who could this unknown friend possibly ] )e —man, woman, or ghost r The handwriting was plainly disguised, and might bo either masculine or feminine—ghosts, presumably, not being caligraphis's. Honour and gratitude alike forbade (he only pos-ible attempt open to her of solving the mystery—she could form no gue'S even at the generous donor of such costly gifts. She might have been dreaming but for the fact that fifty pounds in good English bank-notes were now in her purse, and that coveted beautiful lajfigure reprsid calmly in her box under Jock and key. To Alts Taylor Ross said nothing ; she paid h“r her rent, and then, as she had decided if she could get a lift she would du, wrote to her father’s sister and a-ked Jut if she might call on her in accordance with his last wishes ; she wished, site wrote, to ask no favours, save a recommendation to pupils. The reply to her letter came by the first post two days latet .

Aly dear Rose, I can hardly tell you the mingled sorrow and pleasure your letter gave me, and my delay in answering it has simply arisen from my wish to speak to my dear husband about it. Come and see me to-morrow morning as early as you can, my dear, and we must have a talk over matte's. Yours affectionately, Alice Kynaston. Rose read this letter twice before she could thoroughly take it in as a fact. When one has been buffeted by the wo-ld it becomes difficult to realise any ‘urn of fortune, or even anything that looks like a more friendly turn of mind, in that proverbially tickle dame. There it was, however, in black and white—this unknown aunt bade her call. Poor girl,' how carefully she dressed herself—with what a throbbing and appro henaive heart she started on her way to St John’s Wood Road, where of course, the Kynaston’s had a pretty, elejantlyfnrmshed villa in a large garden she thought, which was in in truth the actual fact, as Rose found. Sne tried to picture her father’s sister as she sat in the omnibus, and then walked from it to Clematis Yd la, and drew n mental picture, little dreaming that her own resemblance to Alice Kynaston had been strong enough at once to strike one who knew her.

When she rang at the green gate in the wall, whereon Clematis Villa was painted, it opened by a spring, and she passed up a garden-path through a garden to a verandaed villa, at the door of which a trim parlourmaid awaited the visito", and at once usshered her into a pretty break-

fast-room: In a few minutes the door opened and a lady entered whom Lance Darrell might veil adore—the very embodiment of that beautiful old ape that is never old, because the heart is an ever living well spring ol youth and freshness. Lively in youth had Alice Kynaston been, and lovely she was in her sixtieth year, with the golden locks turned to silver gray, and many a line on the once smooth forehead ; bin still there shone in her sweet face *• The light of love, and purity of grace.” a consoler, a friend in netd,_ who wept with those that wept, and rejoiced with those that rejoiced. What wonder that she and her husband were lovers still after forty years of marriage. As Rose turned quickly and came forward, Mrs Kynaston folded her in her arms, without a .vord at first, then a chok.

jjg : My darling child, my poor dead brother s child, came Iron' her very heart. Sit down by me, my child, and tell me everything, she said presently, when both had regained some calmness. I have so often wished to find out my brother, grief though he was to us ; anil his child, if lie had any alive. Tell me all your history. Rose, and how you are now placed—the full truth, mind, It was a long, sad story to tell, but this sweet woman was sympathy embodied, and she heard all, only asking a question now and then. When the strange tale of that of that lay-figure was reached. Most extraordinary, she said ; I cannot •imagine the donor j but it is indeed a noble gift, and nobly done. Well, JRose. you and your treasures will at once remove here. My husband and I so decided last night. Our only daughter is married long since, and D vo are eldeny. You will be our child, won’t you my dear one ? Rose could only throw her arms about her, with a burst of tears. I don’t deserve it, she sobbed out. Oh I don’t deserve such happiness, aum Alice. Hush, dear. Then that is settled ; and to-monow you come to us here to your new home. How little either Rose Westlake or Alice Kynaston dreamed then that they were links in the chain of mystery into which Lance Darrell bad stepped. CHAPTER X, Neither L nice Darrell nor Frank Heathcote were men to let the grass grow under their feet, especially in each other’s service and the next evening’s post brought the reply to Lance’s letter, which, however, only went iiro it’s recipient’s pocket till later, when he should be alone in his own rooms, which was not till past eleven, Then D irrel 1 . turned up the gas, threw himself into an easy chair by the fire, and opened Frank’s packet. Fur packet it was ; the letter was short but there were two or three sheets of paper in the band, not of lleaihcute, but of Mr Kynaston. On consideration, dear old fellow, wrote Frank, 1 thought might be long and 100 to be correctly interpreted by any lay brain, so J went for you straight to Richard Kynaston, gentleman. and got him to go with me to homeraet House. The result is an iutelli„ibie digest of Bquire Guise’s|will, and 1 hope seme part or it will tinow ight ou your dark path— a fine New Surrey ’ phrase for you. Keep me posted

up, my friend, for this promises to bo the queerest, madest escapade that even yon have plunged into. Even you, muttered Lance, with r laugh. Thanks for that, Alastor Frank, anyhow ; but it is marl enough 1 suppose, and 1 am infatuated to be lost so at once and helplessly—but then, was there ever such a creature before to bewitch a man ? Well, no matter, it’s too hide for me already, even if 1 cared—and I don’t, by Heaven!

He put Frank’s letter into the fire, and took up the summary of the will’ T l >e document (stated the lawyer) bore date of six years back—that is three years before the testator’s death. The entail had been cut off. Air Guise had left b. quests to several old servants, and diiections about his horses, boats, and certain other personalties, also a legacy to a distant, kinsman, Henry Guise, residing in Montreal,

All this preliminary part was of small moment to the reader ; but what followed was the very revers°, arousing Lance to deepest interest.

Should Goralie die childless and intestate the testator’s properly, real and personal (subject to above charges), was b queathed to the said Henry Guise as being nearest heir-male. Firstly, of course, the property naturally was left to his only child Cornlie, with full powers to appoint by will. If the heiress married under age without her guardirn’s consent certain part of the property in bouses was to be: weighted with a mortgage of £15,000 for the benefit of the guardi m. Mrs Alortimcr was made sole guardian, only having associated with her two trustees, sound business men, for the management of the estate and business- matters, It appeared evident from the will, wrote Mr Kynaston that Air Guise had been deeply offended • with Ins cousin Aldyth’a marriage with die ricli banker, but he had for her ‘such ureat affection and confidence ’ that he had at length forgiven Iter. Lance read the paper through again slowly’, carefully, and a long significant “ Whew—w !” came softly between his lips. There is one cloven foot, out, anyhow, plain as a pikestaff, he lliougnt, meditatively, stroking his moustache, and gazing into the fire. “What I half suspected, pom little lassie. She doubtless knows of the provisions of this precious will (I’ll find out for certain though), and shrinks in the horror that every true woman must feel, however young and childlike, from the barest suspicion of being flung at any man’s head. It is clearly Mrs Aldytb’s interest to entangle the child in a loveaffair and marriage to which she can would refuse consent. A penniless secretary, a medical attendant, >uoh as my two predecessors were, and 1 seem, are of course, utterly impossible partis —mere adven turers, for whom, therefore, my lady was and is blind, and both in turn, I expect made love, or began it, to C’oral ; she got rid and is now equally afraid of my humble self being obnoxious also. I see it all, you poor little bird, so far as that part of the business go, and all your wilfulness and snubbing won’t drive me away. I’ll treat you like a very child enough, and even relieve vour mind by flirting with your guardian—ugh ! He glanced again at the synopsis of the will and shook bis head slightly as his busy brain still mentally reviewed and considered his position. To be continued)