CHAPTER XXXVII.

Taranaki Herald, Volume L, Issue 12254, 13 May 1903, Page 6

CHAPTER XXXVII.

BLINDED BY PASSION. Two days after the funeral of Gaston Chalais, Sir Leonard's younger brother Willis, wrote from Ireland stating that he was making arrangements to leave, for Ross within the week. This was^the one ray of light in those darlc hoiirs, and it brought comfort to thi heart of Mrs Eardsley, who had fallen into a stupor after the dread happenings of the previous day. All the young men had now departed, and the house was strangely silent. To Violet's surprise and disappointment, Lord "Upton had accompanied Sir Robert Parker and his friend, Mr Fair, when they went away. "The Henderson's have asked me to join their house party, and I have ' declined their . invitations so often " that I am almost ashamed, j I shall not be gone longer than a i week," he . explained when, Violet j demanded his re.ason for, leaving.j She • was satisfied, but he had not told her the ; whole truth. He had not mentioned that in the invitation which had come from Mrs j Hendersqn, that lady had hinted : Matthew Armstrong was to be one of the party. If Violet had 1 been able to read his inmost heart, j she would have learned that his ' real purpose was that he might have a confidential chat with young Armstrong. ' | He was determined to c/t at the root of the mystery of the last ' fortnight, and, like a wise man, he ioreborc to take un,to himself a confidant in this matter, not even breathing a word to his sweetheart. ; He • would -seek out Matthew , Armstrong, and learn his share m the occurrence if possible, then his nefct move would be to find Edna

herself and discover her honesty or faithlessness. Meantime, a fesh mystery giving the few remaining inmates of Ross House something to talk about. Lady Dunmore had missed a valuable diamond brooch about the time that the letters had. been lost from the mails. She had dispatched it to her jewelers, but they had not received it. Inquiries had failed to ilicit any information regarding it, and the matter was | iorgotten till Sir Leonard announced his determination to probe this mystery to the bottom. Then came the surprising intelligence that the brooch had been returned to the jewelers anonymously, without any explanation. "Probably an attack of conscience," suggested Cecile, lightly, when Lady Dunmore reported the matter. She was sitting alone with Violet, discoursing airily on the inconstancy of man, when Lady Dunmore entered to tell her story. "Perhaps," retorted the latter, curtly, "but I don't think ordinary thieves indulge in conscience, as a rule." "This may be a thief extraordinary," Cecile said, lazily stroking her tiny dog as it lay on her lap* "Well, whatever sort of thkf he or she may be," broke in Violet, joyfully," "I am very glad you j have got your brooch back safely, Lady Dunmore. I must tell Leonard" at once. This will sa^e him from employing detectives, as he had planned." Lady Randall's dog gave a little squeak of pain. Perhaps those small white fingers were firmer than they seemed. Cecile turned her h§ad leisurely toward Violet. "Had Sir Leonard, then, any inceution of employing a detective ?" she asked, quietly. Only the most earnest attention could have discovered that her eyes looked suddenly troubled, and her lips twitched. Violet nodded her head. "He wanted to recover the brooch, if possible, and I think, also, he wanted to glean some information about Monsieur Chalais' family and connections, as, (or instance, whether there are airy relations living who would care to have his body removed to some other resting place." Cecile could not repress a little exclamation, and Lady Dunnure, gazing at her quietly .«s she put the dog hastily from aer, askci : "Did your dog bite you, lady Randall ?" "A mere scratch. Her 'teeth are sharp." "Yes, but a dog's Lite i? not pleasant. Let me see, tluit ;s; s \our hand also, is it not :" Cecile arose suddenly. "Yes, my weak hand," she repeated ; and then, murmuring about going to her room, she swept her long, white draperies away. She did not mount to her bedroom, however, but walked with much deliberation to a small apartment where she guessed \ rei ty shrewdly she would find Leonard. He was seated at his desk, apparently busy with his pen, but the paper lying before him had not even one word written en it. He was thinking — when did he cease to think of the b*»ef span of delight and happiness that had been his ? In fancy he stood once more at the corner of the old arbor, and gazed on the girl's lovely, sleeping form, stretched out gracefully in the garden chair ; he could see the colour ebb and flow in her cheeks, and almost hear ihe soft, even low breathing, the rustle of the trees in the summer breeze, the scent of the roses. Leonard awoke with a start from this * vision ; the rustle came with the. frou frou of a woman's skirts, and t the scent of roses from some | blossoms pushed carelessly into woman's belt. • "Did I startle you ?" Cecile asked i gently. " > ' \ \ She felt at this moment that she ! would have given up all she possessed, even her glorious beauty itself, to have inspired such a look as that on Leonard's face, to have brought those unshed tears— tears of hopeless, despairing longing — to his handsome eyes. \ (To be continued.) ' i