CHAPTER XLIV.

Taranaki Herald, Volume L, Issue 11933, 5 April 1902, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XLIV.

'WHY DIDN'T YOU JELL THK TnCTH.'

Kainy gare a scream, and caughtRiloti's arm.

4 D > you m. an to say it was not Mre Jerorue wa9 killed ?' * Ja«.t that, missis ; it «a3 her sister. 7 " * \VeTI, who killed her, and why ?'- * I cant tell you. I don't know.' 'And why didn't you U-ll tho truth? at the time, man?'

• For several teasons. I could not b3ar to have poor Delia's name and all her follies put in all the papers, as it would if all had been told ; for Delia

was not a girl that took to wickedness . TheD, again, I had been very lavish to Delia, arid I had not a pound to bury her as she ought to have been buried. And; last of all, I knew Delia would hare wanted to be put in the Abbey •church-yard alongside of her fathor and mother. I'd often heard her say she -wished she wa3 by them. But her relations were proudish people, and they V)uld never have let her as ran away with Sir Francis, sleep in peace among 'em, though Celia, that married Jerome would be welcome, so I let it go that it wasOeiiato get my girl the burying she needed. I haunted about and followed the funeral, and was at it, and after they act her up a grave-stone, with Celia in big letters along the top, I spent i a moonlight night chiaelinpf out with, my knife the trae name, Delia, - down aoQGDg the gras on the bottom of $16 "at one.' •I believe,* said Fanny, tearfully, * you are a right good man.' - Well; my lass, I try to be. If you take me you'll find how near I sail by my intentions. "I'm a man that wants a wife. I don't want you to think I've do feelings to give you, for Delia's dead, and, moreover, she never cared for me, *nd it is not my nature to go on giving my feelings for ever, and getting none *ack." *,?Bnt no tone would have suspected Sir Jerome of murdering your wife,' 1 said Fanny. :l : l -Ton see/ 1 should have let Sir Tei~ ome Unow how it stood, but then the bark Elizabeth .that I pat him on went <iown with all on board ; and so it made no difference, as I could see, and being heart— sick I went off en a long voyage ihe day after I saw you. But when my feelings eased down a little I called yon into my mind, and there you've, been ever since.' The fact of the clearing of Sir Jerome's memory from the stain of murder had macfe little impression on Fanny. She could see tbat charge of crime made a great difference to a living person, but she could not see tbat it made any great differenc?to the dead. To be punished for evil was the great trouble, in Fanny's mind. To her the chief thing was to escape punishment, the second thing was to be free from guilt. Fanny's nature was not high enough to set innccence first.* So little did she regard the legal clearing of Sir Jerome's name that she never had thought, did not think of mea'ioning it. AH the singular circumstances about Sara Hoatar ip tbe^ to b>r^ greater interest of the fact' that* Mrs Sothron was not dead. * What had become of her ? No one had ever seen -her since. Did she dislike her' sister ?' * Oh, you- would never ask it if you had seen the two. Why they were like as two peas, and loving as two dove:?. They held each other dear/ ' But do one ha 3 ever seen Mrs Jerome S .thron since.' ' That is strange where Bhe is, to be sure. She may be dead.' * And who wanted to murder your wife ?' ' There again yon have me. It is a fearful mystery. Someone must have mistaken her for her sister.' ' Now it ia clear,' said Fanny. * Ifc was Sara Hunter, the maid, did it for money. She thought it was her mistress. Delia mast have come in after Sir Jerome went out, and her sister must have given her the bank-note to look at or keep, asd then Mrs Sotbron must have gone out, and Sara, taking your wife for her sister, killed her.' ' Yes, that is preity plain. But where did Mrs Sothron go? She must have seen the new 3 of the murder in the papers. "Why did she not speak ?' 'I've beard of people hiding themselves in London for yelars and years, and if wanted to bide, no way was better titan lettiDg it go that ebe was <ioad.' '■- • * That's plain,' said Ralph. 'Ive made tip my mind not (o tell my lady,' said Fanny. 'She is jast getting more cheerful, and I won't harrow up her mind with all this dreadful story. I can't see as it makes any difference to her, S.ir Jerome's wife living. If Sir Jerome was alive," then it would be different. But he has gone, aud I hope to see her live down all her troubles and get some good of her life. The less said soonest mended.' 'In which case, I had better have said nothing.' 'Oh, no ; I wanted to know what you meant/ said Fanny ; and bs she had pinned the knot of ribbon ac her breast, and opened the box of bonbon s, Ralph accepted it as a good augury for his suit. 'And because I had ill fortune about my first wife, you won't "say mo no for -a second, my lass ?'

'Perhaps not — after a while,' said Fanny, coyly.

•Bat you will give me a good answer right soon ?' 'I will think about it,' said Fanny. •It is time I want back to the hous*e ; my lady may need me. 1 Sue rose up from the rock where she had been sitting, shook out her dress, and turned about. ♦There ! If there is not that snake again ! What mischief does she mean now ?' \ •There is no snakes on the sea sand,' said Ralph. 'Well, yon look ahead , and if you don't sea a snake coming along this 1 way, in a scarlet crepe bonnet, trimmed with jet poppies, and a black silk dret.s covered with bogle net, and a scarlet' satin parasol with black lace, my name isn't Fanny Hume/ ♦Which I hope soon will be Fanny Marshall/ '2To matter what you hope,' said Fanny, brusquely. 'I would give my best bonnet to know what that Mrs Ranleigh is doing here. I just hate her I' .«,*.* Then Fanny, in a perfectly artless manner, moved along the sands, and exhibited her bate by smiling in a very sweet and humble fashion at Mrs Ranleigh as soon as that lady's black eyes fell on her, and she said : 4 Why, Fanny, how are you, my good girl ? And how is your lady ?' 'She 19 well, madam,' said Fanny,' leaving her rosy cheeks to speak in her own behalf. 'Which is the nearest way to tie villa, Panny ?' < > 'The nearest way is np those steps, madam.' 'Then I will go that way, and I won't tell her I met you, Fanny,' said Laura, tripping on. ♦Consider the artfulness of her,' said the ingenuous Fanny. 'She won't tell ! She thinks I would be afraid to have my lady know I was here with you, and if she says she won't tell she will p*ut in her interest, and make me afraid to go against her. I don't have secrets from my tady.' 'And I hope you will have none from me, Fanny.' ♦That depends whether you have any from me. But yau have been far enough to-day, and so, good-by«,' said Fanny, going up the steps where Mrs Ranleigh bad jnst passed. She saw Laura's slender figure mov» ing up the villa walk, erect, giaceful ; she saw her all at ease, furl her"parasol, go up the steps to the piazza where Beryl had brought her guests after dinner ; she saw her fold Beryl in her arms and pay : 'My own sweotest Betyl, .it is heavenly to see you again !' Then Fanny entered at the side doer, and went up alaira to look over her lady's lace, and make to herself very uu pleasant remarks aboat Mrs Ranleigh. The gnesfs had gone. Beryl and Laura Ranleigh sat alone in the moonlight, listening to the lapping sea, •Dear Beryl,' said Laura, in ths sweetest tones, 'I know you cherish hard fetliug3 toward me. You feel that I have given you caoss for complaint. Yours is the very gentlest heart in the world, but you are so good you are easily imposed on. There was a time, when in pity for your feelicgs, I could sot speak, but now the hour is come to set myself right with you. You were first put against me by the falsehoods of a discharged maid. Dear Beryl, is it just for a lady to take the gossip of an angry servant as testimony against her best friend 7 Then I knew, Beryl, the marqnis said and did things to make you feel I was unfair to you. Oh. believe me, Beryl, I never said one word . or gave one hint that be did not wrest from me by sharp close questions, and his - jealousy over jou made him unconsciously exaggerate to you and to himself every word I ottered. I always spoke for you, darling Beryl. It was because I blamed his jealousy and upheld you, that ho revoked that codicil. .Aad I am glad I upheld you, far I love you, though my truth caused me 'loss of what would have saved ma from desperate embarrassments. Borjl, lam in the moat terrible distress. I have betn obliged to rent my home and resign half my income to my creditors. And then, Beryl, Sir Francis Sothron paid me attentions that, as be has not offered himself, as everyone thought he would, placa me in tlso most unhappy position. Dear Beryl, by you. ever my unconscious enemy and rival, I have lost my competence and my lover. Oh, Bsryl, pi(y me !' and Lanra, in a passion of teare, knelt at Beryl's feet.