THE SIGN OF SECRECY

Taranaki Herald, Volume LIX, Issue 143674, 19 December 1911, Page 5

THE SIGN OF SECRECY

Or “THE DARK HOUSE OF DACRE,” By EDGAR PICKERING, Author of “A Remorseless Accuser,” “A IVitness from the Grave,” “(Vas She Guilty,” “.Murder will out,” “Dick Bores, ford’s Wife, etc. CHAPTER ll.—(Continued.) “You arc nutting words into my mouth that I have never uttered--never thought of,” retorted his cousin, struggling to restrain the whirlwind of hail Ted hope and maddening fury which lie Vayner sneers and insults had aroused. “Haven't yon a grain of pity for a man who’s down? (that are a hundred or two to you with an income such as yours?‘ If I were a woman I shouldn’t have to ask twice for your cheque. .How much does 'the Salvador,’ cost you '1 AVhat was the amount you have just put your name to ? You can fling your cursed money away on an opera singer, and when I ask help you—” “Enough of this,” interrupted Do Vaynos. “1 might have given yon what you've begged for, hut 1 object to bo gratitiously insulted. If you were starving for a crust I wouldn't give yon one. I am tired of you. Do i. speak plainly enough?” “By God!”'am! Phillip Do Vaynes gave a despairing groan, “If this man were dead?” and Dio words seemed to have escaped his dry lips unconsciously. “Am 1 to understand finally that you refuse me?” he asked swinging round so that ho confronted De Vaynes, who had raised himself on his olh'ow. “I am in horrible danger.” “I distinctly refuse to speak another word to you, Phillip Do Vaynes, either now or in the future, and yon may go to the—” “Be it so,” interrupted his cousin in return: “you've the pull over me just now, bub my time, will come. Remember what 1 have said,’’ and he turned away, striding out of the room, leaving Do Vaynes white with anger. CHAPTER 111. JOAN MARCHMONT’S STORY. Upon reaching the gallery, after leaving his companion at the hall table reading the telegram which announced Sundown’s defeat, .Mark Danvers found Joan Marchmont awaiting him. It was she who had glanced down at him over the gallery railing, and there .was a seriousness in her manner which caused Mark to wrinkle his brows inquiringly. “I meant to have been back an hour ago,” ho said as they moved from the gallery, going into one of the rooms opening upon it. “I wish you had been with us this afternoon, my darling.” “X’vo had a surprise, Mark." she | answered after giving him a hug and 1 a kiss, for they bad been lovers these ■ s'x mouths past, and in Joan’s opinion there was not another man in the world who was the equal of her sweetheart. She gloried in lus manly strength, and his very roughness added to her admiration of him. There was a sense of ' protection as her hand lay on his ; brawny arm, and she looked up into his , honest brown eyes and rugged features j that had a beauty love had discerned 1 in them long ago. tier’s am! Mark’s I was no courtship of honied phrases and conventional homage, hut the unques- ( ’lonaide sincere love of two strong natures, which neither time nor d-ouht-I could ever dim, .and they were prepared to face the world side by side, though it might frown its blackest at them. Joan was quite aware of her hirer's many failings, of his stern relentless temper and disregard of the consequences of it, but she, understood iiim. Beneath the surface was a sterling nature, true as steel, and unsullied as a mirror. Mark's simple word was worth the sworn oath of ordinary people, and on his part, Joan was regarded with a reverence, such as ho • would have paid to a saint. Not but what Joan was as far from being a perfect woman as most, although .Mark could never be brougnt to tniuk so. ’I hero was a confidence between them , which nothing would ever shake, and j whilst it strengthened their love it added a lustre bo it, which brightened every hour of their life, and armed them against the inevitable obstacles which both recognised as lying in their path to hinder their closer union. , Joan was twenty-two, and why John Marclunout’ft only daughter, and the heiress to his millions—his wealth was ordinarly referred to by this term—had not found a husband long ago, was a source of astonishment to a great many curious folk, for in addition to her other attractions she was as handsome as a goddess, her face reflecting her happy disposition and goodness of heart. Those clear grey eyes ami ivoryskin, of a tone such as is given by perfect health, the beautiful brow crowned with hair of tho lino of a raven’s wing, a figure lithe and graceful as a willow ami of exquisite proportion, combined in making a picture. of glorious womanhood that Mark worshipped, and between Joan and himself existed a comaraderio which permitted no secrets from each other. There was only one man whom she could over, have loved, and ho was Mark Danvers, and him she loved with all tho strength of her soul. “1 want you to hoar rno out quickly,” ,sho said, as they stood looking from tho window, Mark leaning against the aide of it with his arms folded. He could see her better in that position than with his arm round her waist. “I’vo had a surprise, as I told you. You needn’t trouble to guess what it was, and you needn’t break out into a passion when you’ve heard.” “Docs it affect you in any way?;

Because if it does 1 shall like to say a word or two.” “Listen. Take that ugly frown away, you’re not handsome enough to frown gracefully;” she replied, and then came putting her face up to his for a kiss. “Now I’ll tell you,” sho continued. “I’vo had a quarter of an hour of tho solenmcst talk with my father—his was the solemn part, understand, 1 was simply the hearer and was required to merely state that I was astonished at what he said. It appears that Lord Do Vaynos wants to marry me.” Mark’s face grow grim,, and ho drew a deep breath. “Can 1 say anything yot?” he demanded. “Perhaps you had better not,” replied Joan reflectively. “Lord Do Vaynos has acted quite in tho old fashioned way. Can’t you see tho thing ,Mark? It must have been quite an old comedy scene. Tho dear old pater on one side of tho table in the role of the heavy father, Lord Dc Vaynos opposite him ns tho gallant suitor—ho ought, to have worn brocade, and then the affecting dialogue, which left nothing more to bo said than for the heroine—myself—to falter a sweet consent, just before swooning rapturously. “You're making a jest of a very serious matter, Joan,” replied Mark between His set teeth, “heavy fathers have, a dodge of being doucedly unpleasant ail round. I suppose the end of the scone will be a formal proposal from Lord De Yayncs now that ho has got your father's consent.” “The most probable thing to happen in tho world,” laughed Joan. “De. Vaynes has thirty thousand a venr.” “And you’re nothing.” retorted Joan. “So he fair to dad. Mark, put yourself in his place for a minute. Suppose yon had a daughter who was given tho chance of being made a countess, what would you say?” Mark was' considering, eyeing her under his rugged brows, and did not answer. “Yon would jump at the chance, _ or course,” added Joan decisively. “You would like to be able to talk about my daughter—Lady Do Vaynes, that’s wily nature, and thirty thousand a year sounds rather tempting.” “It will be bad for the man who tries to com© between you ami me,” growled Mark. “As if anyone ever could!” laughed Joan. “There, I’ve teased you enough dear, but you know the worst, and I won’t have you flying into a passion with Lord Do Yayncs. He’s _shown good taste in selecting mo as his wife —von must own that.” '“l’m thinking what your father will say when I ask his consent to our marriage,” replied Mark. “Don’t meet troubles halfway, dear. YVo’re both over age, apd if tho worst comes to the worst, I’m ready to give up everything for your sake—you know that.” (To he continued.l