CHAPTER XLVII.—Continued.

Taranaki Herald, Volume L, Issue 12454, 8 January 1904, Page 6

CHAPTER XLVll.— Continued.

•'Yes ; and lor more reasons than one," she answered, witn a shy smile at him, a :orupanioJ with a rosy blush ; then she added, more gravely : "Biit I wish my mother need not have suffered quite so deeply. If my father could but have known how sorry and repentant she was, and how truly good she was at heart, they might have grown to be very happy after a while ; he need not have lived such a lonely sorrowful life, and this sin and trouble need never have been. But" — with a sigh of regret — "we have no right to question the dealings of One who is wiser than. we. There it some good reason for all the suffering there is in the world, and some one has somewhere said I that 'human lives are like some sweet plants, which must be crushed ere they give forth iheir sweetest fragrance.' " J "And we are told somewhere elsei [that -gold seven times tried is ptire. How very free from dross, then, 1 lyou must be, my darling," Earle said, with playful tenderness. i "N"o, indeed, Earle ; ray trials and sorrows have been nothing compared to yours," Editha said, earnestly. "The bitterness of the past disappears in the brightness of the present, and wliat the future promises to be ; and I do uot forget, my darling, that but for your fortitude a dark shadow would still rest upon my life — you en'durod a great deal for my sake, Editha," and his lips touched her forehead almost reverently. "And I would have lesisted until I died rather than have given up my treasure into the hands of that wicked man," she cried, with something of the old wilful gleam in her eyes. "Do you know," she added, eagerly, in the same breath, "that I have found the lookers, .and they are now just as comfortable as they can be." "And all owing to your own kindness of heart and liberal'hand, no doubt," Earle responded, with a smile. "How- could I help expressing my gratitude in some' way for having that dark ' mystery .solved and every stigma removed from your character ? I did help them to begin with, but they are going to help themselves now. I stocked a .cunning little store with Jancy and useful articles, furnished two rooms in the rear for their private use, and they are really very successful in their little business." "With you for their chief patron, I presume," was Earle's latighing reply, as he gazed admiringly into her animated face. "Well, of course, Igo there," she admitted, flushing, "to get all my needles, pins, thread, etc., and so do a great many of wry friends. But Mrs Loker is really a very worthy woman, and her daughter '•"iuht and keen as a. brier at a trade ; it is real pleasure to encourage such people. But I have talked enough abo Hit myself — tell me something about your adventure with that wicked creature who has brought so much trouble upon us.' 1 Earle complied, relating all that had occurred from the night of the attempted robbery until the time of his departure, while Sditha listened, intensely interested. "Do you know I stand almost in awe of you to know that yon have accomplished such a change in that vile nature ? It seems almost like a miracle," she said, when he had finished. "Do not think of it, then, for I have no wish, I assure you, to inspire you with any such sentiment toward me. But I do not think this looks as if you were very much afraid of me," he laughed, as he gathered her closer in his arms and kissed the fair face upon his breast again and a.gain. "1 shall be obliged io impose a duty upon all such operations in the future if you carry them to suc*h an extent," she said, trying to hide her blushing face with avery insufficient hand. "Then never tell me again that you stand in awe of me, or I shall feel it my duty to take even more effective measures to eradicate the feeling," Earle said, with mock gravity. "But about this mnn" — Editha thought it best to change the subject — "don't you think you arc carrying your kindness a little too far ?" He "may betray your trust ; besides, he has violated the laws of the laud, and have you any right to .shield him ?" "I suppose I am not obliged to give any evidence against him, since he was not arrested by a commissioned officer ; the offence was against myself alone, and if I sec fit to take action in *he matter, 1 do not see how I >vii violating any right, either, civil or moral — particularly as I am conscientiously convinced that *.he man's salvation depends upon kindness rather than upon punishment/ Earle had argued this matter many times with himself, and he felt that he was doing perfectly right. "Tf suffering is any penalty for sin," he continued, "he has paid it, for he was fearfully woundeVl. I fully believe, if he liad (.scaped unharmed from the bullet, and been arrested, convicted and .sentenced, he would ha.ye grown more hardened and desperate, and been prepared for almost any evil deed upon the expiration oi his term. But

laid upon a bed of sickness, with 1 some one to care for him and treat him as if, he was a human being, lie has had an opportunity to think as he never thought before. As Mr Dalton said to-day, "Things look very differently to a mati when he fears that life is slipping from his grasp than they do when he is in the full vigor of life,' and I think Tom Drake realized that, if ever a man did. He was not easily won — he was . suspicious of me and my motives for a long time, but when he found that I would take no measures a-gainst him he was completely staggered ; and the shock which * his hitherto benumbed conscience thus received restored it to something like its normal condition. I believe he- will do well, and, as long as he does, I shall give him my support and confidence. "But didn't you feel the least bit triumphant when he lay there powerless before you ?" ISditha asked. "I cannot say that I did not experience a sense of satisfaction in" knowing that at last one so deserving of justice and so steeped in crime had 'been arrested in his career. But my first thought was, 'Are my hands stained with the lifebiood of a fellow being ?' It was a great relief when I discovered that he was not mortally wounded, but my anxiety returned when he was so sick and vc thought he would die." 11 1t N was a great care for you, Earle, and a noble thing for you to do after suffering pll you have on his account," Editha said, her heart swelling with pride of her noble lover. "You know the more, care any one occasions us the more interest we naturally feel in that one," he answered, smiling at her praise ; "and so it was in this case. T saw the man was capable of better things ; he is naturally smart, and 1 lunged Lo save him 'despite the injury he had done me and others. If there was one thing harder than j all tfie rest for me to forgive, it I was his treatment of you. Will it ybe agreeable to you, dearest, to see him about the place when v/e go home ?" lie asked, stein g the shiver which crept involuntarily over her at the mention of tiie past. E)ditha ilu'shecl involuntarily at the mention of going "home," but she said, with gentle gravity : "No, ISarle ; if we can save him, I can conquer the repugnance that I have hitherto felt for him ; but, as I remember him, he seems perfectly hideoxis to me." "He does not look nearly so repulsive since his sickness ; he is oE course, much thinner and more refined in appearance, while his expression is wholly changed." "Whether lie is changed or not, I will join you heart and hand in any good thing you may wish to do for him," she said, heartily. "What a gentle mistress Wycliilc will have," Earle .said, fondly ; "and you will not i-efuse to go back with me this time 7 " "No, Ka"rle ; only it must not be at present, you know," cvhe returned, with some sadness. "I do know, dear, and of course shall remain as long as .Mr Dalton may need either you or me ; but, oh ! my darling, you cannot tell how thankful I am that I am not doomed to spend my life in gloom and alone, everything has looked so dreary and desolate to me until today/ Kditha did not reply, but she laid her cheek against his in mute sympathy, and with a sigh that told him she had also experienced something of the desolateness of which he spoke. "You have not seen Mr Trcssalia yet, I suppose ?" she said, after a few minutes of silence. "2STo, dcax, I have not seen him since the day I had such a struggle with ray selfishness, and sent him hitiitr to win you and be happy -if he could." His arm tightened around the slight form at bis side as he said this, and EMitha knew how he must have suffered in that struggle to renounce her so utterly. "Did you send him to me, Karle ?" she asked, with a startled look. "Yes, dear ; Paul Tre.ssalia is one of earth's noblest men. I believed you lost to me forever. You once told me if there had been no Rarlc Wayne in the world, you might have loved him. I wanted you to be happy — V wanted him to know something of the comfort of life, and I knew of no one whom J would rather have wlu a j-dster ol mine than him. It was a miserable kind of an arrangement all around, but I knew of nothing better.". Karle spoke wiLii a tinge of the bitterness he had experienced at the time, as if even the memory oi it was exceedingly 'painful. "Dear Baric, you might bavo known it could not be," phe whispered, sliding one hand into his and dropping her flushed face upon his shoulder. » , "Never — not even if our relations had remained as we have believed them to be ?" "Never," she replied, decidedly. "1 could not change, even though I believed I was ginning every day ol my .life, and I would not wrong him by accepting his love when I had none to give him in return." (To b« continued.)