THE MILL-OWNER.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume VI, Issue 1641, 19 May 1919, Page 3

THE MILL-OWNER.

IBy E. R. PUNSHON, Author of "The Mlaer E»rl," "The Choice." "The Spin of the Coin," etc.! [All Rights Reaerred.l CHAPTER XIX. BETRAYAL. Theer was a sensation of falling, of falling as from an immense height through an interminable darkness in which faint, flickering lights played uncertainly. And it seemed, too, that dark 'figures whirled and eirclftd round about, so that Damaris imagined there were great, evil birds with flapping wings that followed her persistently and clamoured in her ear of death, the grave, and "burial.

Then the darkness rose again, as if to meet her as she fell, and when she opened her eyes once more it was in daylight and in a place that was familiar to her, and yet was not her own room in Ardinglev House that she knew so well, full of all her own personal belongings. But as she lay and wondered it camo back to her that this was the room in Lizzie Frear's house at roadmbor, and it occurred to her that all that had happened, had just been a horrible dream. Yet, as she remembered, it came back to her with an impression of reality not to be denied, and she seemed to see again that weird and grisly inscription cut on the white marble of the cress above her father's grave. , Hearing her groan, Lizzie came to the bedside -and looked down at her anxiously.

"What has happened?" Damaris murmured faintly, and then, "Who is buried Ihere?" she asked. "Thou numim talk, lass," said Lizzie gently; "thou wert took ill yesterday. But rest to-day, and maybe to : morrow thou'lt bo all reet again." "No, no." said Damans with a feverish impatience, '' I must get up at once— J there are things I must see to.'' She put her hand to her head with a gesture of fear and perplexity. '' Oh, I must get up at once," she murmured, and she thought that a voice whispered in her ear '' Betrayed.'' "To-morrow," said Lizzie soothingly. "To-morrow, lass."

Damaris lay still for a little and tried to collect her thoughts. It was evident phe was the victim of some monstrous, unimaginable plot. Who was it had told her she was betrayed? Clifford—a man named Clifford—a man with kind and honest eyes and a look of strength about him. He it was had warned her she was bel.rayed, and it seemed that his warning was true enough. "Lizzie." she said, "how is it I am . back here?" "Why, you wer' none sc well, lass, that's all there is to it,">said Lizzie soothingly. "Nonsense," said Damaris sharply, "i went away, I left Broadmoor. How is it lam back here again? I was in the churchyard. I remember th'at."

"Why," Lizzie answered, "feyther .was proper scared when I told him as thou hadst gone off to Manchester by thyself, so he followed thee there, and found out where thou hadst gone, and he went after thee, lass, and a good thing lie did, too, for thou hadst broken down. He found thee swooning i' th' street, poor lass, so he put thee i'a cab and fetched thee home. Thou'lt be better, soon, doctor says." "Has the doctor been to see me?" Damaris asked.

"Why, of course." Lizzie answered.

The information did-a good deal to reassure Damaris, and gave her a sense of security in the .flea of. doubt and perplexity in which she had been so unexpectedly plunged. Certainly Lizzie and her father could mean no harm to her when they brought a doctor in, and, indeed, Damaris trusted Lizzie and believed her kind and honest, though she had her doubts of Mr Frears. She felt that in the strange situation in which she found herself it was her wisest plan to announce the truth at once, an<J. fron the very beginning'fight that terrible inscription over her father's grave. She said:

"Lizzie, there's something I want to tell you."

"Aye," said Lizzie encouragingly, "what is it, lass?"

"Lizzie," said Damaris, "I came hore protending to be your sister, but I am not. I am Damaris Ellwood. You have heard of the Ellwood Mills, perhaps? Well, I am the Miss Ellwoo'd to whom those mills belong." "Eh, think o' that now," said Lizzie pityingly.

"Don't you understand?" asked Damaris sharply. "Aye, aye, I understand all to reets," answered Lizzie. Sh'e approached the bed with a bowl of soup in her hands. "Just tha' sup this," she said, "an' in morn thou'lt feel better, maybe."

"But I mean it," cried Damaris, "it's the truth. I am Miss Ellwood—. Damaris Ellwood—of the Ellwood Mills —I only came here pretending to be your sister so as to find out what it's like to be a mill girl; but really I am Miss Ellwood.'! '

"Eh, eh, poor lass," said Lizzie, wiping away a tear, "I alius thought as thou wert a bit queer, but I never dreamed as it would take thee so bad as this way.'' ?'Oh, you arc silly," cried Damaris In great exasperation. *'Eh, my dear," said poor Lizzie, very honestly andsimply, "I could almost wish I wer', so long as thou weren't." '• j

"But don't you hear what I say?— that I only came pretending to be your Bister, so as to find out how mill girls live?"

"Of course, a very nice thing to know, too," said Lizzie soothingly. Daraaris lay back in the bed- and looked at Lizzie in considerable perplexity. It had never occurred to her that she could have any difficulty in establishing her identity. It was quite a new idea to her, and by no means a pleasant one. Yet she saw thnt Lizzie plainly regarded the statement that she was Miss EUwood come there in disguise for the purpose of studying the lives of the mill girls as merely a piece of wild delirium. Lizzie, . probably, would never be ?ble to understand why any one • should be anxious for information on a subject so well known to herself. Fortunately, Dnmaris thought, every one could no! be so stupid as poor Lizzie, so that after all she could not meet with much real difficulty. At home, for instance, there were hundreds of people who would know her at once. Yes, it would all be simple enough; and yet she remembered with a chilly fear, how Clifford had said to her that she was betrayed.

For the present she .gave up further attempts to argue with Lizzie, who, after a time, thinking she was asleep, went out of the room. Damaris could her plainly her shrill whisper at the bottom of the stairs and Mr Frears's gruff tones in answer. '

"Eh, poor lass," Lizzie said as she got to the bottom of the stairs, "ey, feyther, but oor Polly's wandering summat awful—says as she isna herself." "Who does- she say she is?" came Shears's gruff voice.,: ';

"Why, Miss Ellwood, o' all tli' folk i' th' world—Miss Ellwood,' o' they great Ellwood Mills."

Damans sat upright in bed with excite-' ment. Surely now Frears would say that at least she was not Polly Frears, that at least she had come from Mr Ellwood. But all she heard was his harsh laugh, and then gruff voice, saying: ''Eh, what, a notion to'take into her head to be sure." "Aye," said Lizzie, mournfully, "I alius said as she wer' a main nice lass wi' a heart o' gold, and I alius saw, too, as she' wer' a bit weak i' th' 'ed wi' th' queerest notions, but I never dreamed as they would take her this way.'' "Ah, you can't never tell wi' them sort," said Frears sadly; "they get all sorts of ideas into their 'eds, these idiot folk."

"This," thought Damaris, "is really too much," and indignation conquering her weakness, she jumped out of bed and began to dress '' So they do," agreed Lizzie,'' though I wonldna call oor Polly quite, an idiot," she added, thoughtfully; "sometimes she's reet enow. I wonner what, put this notion o' her bein' Miss Ellwood into her 'ed."

"Nay, I dunno know," answered Frears, "but Miss Ellwood died a while back, poor lass, and we found oor Polly swoonded right on her grave. Likely 'twer' her last thing af oor Polly saw afore she went off, an' it's stuck in 'er 'ed."

"Ah; that's likely enow," agreed Lizzie in the tone of one who has at last solved a difficult problem satisfactorily. "Hast got a paper anywheres, feyther, wi' mention o' this Miss Ellwood's death in it? Likely if I wer' to give It to oor Polly to read, it wight rid her 'ed o' all these addled notions.''

There seemed to be a rummaging among' papers, and then Lizzie's step was heard on the stair. Weaker than he had believed herself to be, Damaris was sitting, half dressed, on the bed as Lizzie came into the room.

"Eh, lass," she shrieked, "whatever art thou doing?" "Never .mind," said Damaris impatiently. "Give me those .papers." Evidently more and more astonished, and still more and more vineasy, Lizzie handed Damaris the papers. Hurriedly Damaris looked through them. The*e were three or four copies of a local paper and two of a well-known Manchester journal, and though the accounts were not very clear they sufficed.

In the first copy of the Manchestei' paper was a paragraph recording the death of Miss Damaris Ellwood in a motor accident in France, and in the second was an account of some French legal proceedings consequent on the accident, and a statement that it was intended to bring the body back to England for burial. An additional note reminded the reader that Miss Ellwood was sole owner in her own right of the famous Ellwood Mills, and had been one of the greatest heiresses in the north of England. Turning to the. local papers Damaris saw that one of them had a photograph of her, and seeing this she held it out to Lizzie.

"Do you know who that is?" she demanded.

"It says," Lizzie answered cautiously, "as it's Miss Ellwood—the poor lass as wer' killed in foreign parts by one o' them nasty motor car things just a while back."

"Isn't it like me?" demanded Da maris.

"Not a bit," said Lizzie,' with some ruth.. .'

Damaris, who had not expected this reply, looked at the portrait again. It was reproduced—very badly—from'a photograph showing her in evening dress,-and, what with the very faulty reproduction and the difference in attire, the likeness was certainly not remarkable. Damaris flung it down impatiently, and went on to read in the next issue a long account of the funeral. To Damaris it was a grisly and uncanny experience enough to sit there and read the detailed account of her own funeral. She could have imagined that she was, in fact, lying in her grave; she almost could have persuaded herself she felt the earth rattling on her coffin lid. At times the paper in her hand

trembled so that she could not read. A weird feeling of unreality enveloped her, so that she almost thought that what the paper recorded must be the fact, and sitting here reading about it the

delusion. The account was complete. She read the names of her friends who had attended as mourners. Mr Joseph Ellwood was mentioned as the principal mourner. .'There was a long list of the flowers that had been sent, including some magnificent wreaths from different groups of those who workedin her mills. With a sensation as though her heart might stop beating at any moment, with a feeling as though a deathly coldness were spreading through her whole body, Damaris read on, and found\ nothing missing to make her doubt the reality of this ghastly ceremony,. There was even a report of the sermon preached' by the vicar, who had known her all her life, with its rather conventional references to the "bright young life cut off in its prime "and "to the sense of loss felt by all alike." When Damaris found that the text was " It is well with the child," she had to put the paper down and struggle with herself to check a fit' of screaming and laughing that she felt was imminent.

"But I musn't go into hysterics now," she said to herself, and fought hard for her self-control. '' How dos't feel, lass," Lizzie asked anxiously. j : "Oh, this is all perfect madness!" Damaris exclaimed.

"Aye, so 'tis, lass," agreed Lizzie, with an air of some relief, "though I 'ardly 'oped thee would coom to find it oot so soon. But get back into bed, and very like thou'lt be all reet i' th' morn."