Our Short Story. THE STOLEN HEIRESS.
By ARTHUR APPLIN,
Author of “The Gamester's Wife,” “The Chorus Girl,” “The Priest of Piccadilly,” etc.
CHAPTER Vll.—(Continued.) Paul Lesson swallowed hastily, “You’re a brave man,” he said. “Excuse me for a moment, while I speak to my sister. ' If you wish it, you’ll see Dolores to-lnight; you have the right to demand' that. Rut if she’s asleep, I beg you .’for her sake not disturb her. 1 thi/nk you know now that our only thought is her happiness.” He opened thedoor and passed out into the ball. “I won’t keep you long.” Upstairs in the drawing-room Ella Lesson and Yvette Libertic were sitting close together talking in whispers. Directly P'aul entered Yvette rose with s glad littiliv cry, and ran to his arms. He kissed her tenderly, hut made a warning gesture with his finger. "The lower is below,” he whispered. “He mustn't know that you’re here.” Yvette nodded.. “I was just telling Ella that pour ’phone message satisfied the Davidsons all right. Peggy seemed » bit suspicious; it was ns much as I could do to prevent her coming up to town with! me. I pretended I had important business; said I’d come down to-morrow. If I could seo Dolores, and take them a message from her it would be all right. Have you managed to persuade leer to ” she bit her pretty red lips, , and the colour crept to her pale face,', almost as it she were ashamed of the wdrds she had to speak—“to do the right thing.''”
Lesson ’ smiled. “I think by tomorrow morning everything will have been satisfactorily arranged.” "Including the date of our marriage?” “Yes; including the date of our marriage.” Tolling his sister to wait with Yvette and he careful only to talk in whispers, Lesson’ crept upstairs, and noiselessly opened fh<B door of Dolores’ room. She was lying on the bed, her eyes closed; she was breathing heavily, regularly. She was evidently in a deep sleep, almost like a trance.
Lesson stepped to the mantel-shelf, picked up a half-empty phial, looked at it closely, then dropped it into his fmcket.' ! Then he went out as noiselcssyas ho had entered. Returning to the dinilig-room, he took Martin by the arm and led him upstairs. “I’m ;glad to say Dolores is sound asleep. ’ I’d like you to see her to assure yourself that all is well. Of course if you wish we’ll 1 awaken her, but it would bo both cruel and unwise.”
Martin nodded; he could not’ trust himself to speak at that moment. When they reached the door of Dolores’ room he hung back. Lesson looked into the room. “It’s all right, you won’t awaken her unless you speaik.” ‘ Martin stood just' on the threshold of the Doom. And he looked only for a moment at the fact} of the woman he loved—the woman he loved bettor than life. Theri turning on his heel, he hurried downstairs. On a slip of paper be wrote his address in W T hitechapel. “I may call to-morrow?” Martin asked. “Yes; or wait until you hpar from me. I’ll find some moans of sending a message to you. Good-bye and —God bless yoiu for what you are going to do.” Tlio door closed on him. and Martin found himself outside in the darkened street. But, before hr turned out of Drayton Gardens, Lesson, in company with his sister, re-entered Dolores’ room. Dolores had awakened and dressed herself. Paul spoke to her with passion rather than tenderness. “It’s all right, my dear girl, don’t be afraid pit’s only I —Paul —with Ella. Now pull yourself together, and listen to what I’m going to say, for it’s important. Yon know that I love you, that your happiness is my only thought.” “I can’t,” she cried; “for pity’s sake, not again. Why won’t you leave me in peace? W T hy will yon go on persecuting me?” Ho put his lips to her soft white cheek:' “Because I love you; because you’re' going to marry me, Dolores. I’ll take no more denials. You can’t refuse mo,”
CHAPTER VIII. HER SACRIFICE. Dolores, 1 ceased to arguo. It was useless. She sat quite still for a little while with her eyes closed, trying to collect her thoughts. Her brain was still clouded with sleep.' The drug she had been given had done its work too well. : Tears threatened her eyes, but sho resolutely forced thorn back. She wanted all her strength now. In more senses than one she was in this man’s power. He was heo guardian, and therefore he probably had the ’aw on his side. But in a few months she would be free—as free as a woman ever can be from a map who has made up his mind to win her: Presently she opened her. eyes and looked at Lesson: “Why have you always pursued me? I begin to see that all the evil that has happened to me in my life has come through you. You -.ay you love me. I didn’t know what ; ,ove was, and I believed you, until X learnt the other day. I don’t believe j you any longer. Yours is not love.” ; Lesson frowned. “What else? It was your father’s wish that yon should marry me. As for having pursued you, that comes through your own wilful behaviour. I’ve put up with your vagaries long enough, Dolores. Things have come to a climax now. Answer me, yes or no,.will you marry me before the end of this month ■” ’ It was a threat rather than a question. And suddenly through Dolores’ mind there' flashed the memory of James Martin. Fate had thrown him across her path at a critical moment. She did not think of him as a lover, but just as ja strong man, something, i-omcone human, understandable. The bought gave her courage. “No, I will not marry you.” ■ Lesson shrugged his shoulders, and rising, walked towards her. Terror seized Dolores for a moment, but sho fought it down. “Now more than ever no,” she repeated, “tor I see you in your true light—a coward, a traitor. It- is not my love yon. want.” Ho turned on her quickly, his face momentarily distorted with, passion. 1“Yon can say what you like —but I want you. 1 want you more than ever.
And I’m going to have you. I would have won you fairly, but if that’s impossible I must use force.”
She trembled, but her eyes were defiant.
“lou tried to accuse me last night of having some hand in this Pimlico affair in which you got mixed up. I know nothing about it, but I’ve made inquiries, and I know everything now.” is feelings at that moment carried him away. He had shown himself in his true colours. He paused a moment to collect himself, so that he might continue to play the part of guardian and friend.
“Even if I didn’t love you it would be my duty now to make you my wife to protect you from what you have done. The man who attacked you in the courtyard outside Martin’s studio the day before yesterday is dead. He died from a stab over the heart. And you know who gave him the death blow.”
Dolores put her hands up to her face as if trying to sweep away the cobwebs of sleep, to refresh memory. All that had happened that dreadful afternoon was n blur—it had remained a blur since Martin helped her to escape. She had boon afraid to think of it. Now she made herself remember. Her face grew white. Horror dimmed her eyes. .
“Martin was here a few minutes ago,” Lesson continued. “He’s willing to take the whole blame upon himself: but I can’t allow such a sacrifice, and from a stranger. No one knows of your presence in the studio, but -his housekeeper and the murdered man’s wife. She’s too terrified to speak. Dead men tell no tales. You must vc'mnin here until after the innucet, until the affair has blown over. Martin will hold his tongue, anyway, ho can prove an alibi.”
Dolores put out her hand: “He came to my rescue; but he’s not guilty'. I seem to remember now the struggle—the knife”—her voice rose shrilly: “Paul, don’t tell me there’s blood upon my hands!” “Think of your father, the great name he made for himself in the Queen’s service; think of your honour. With .Mr. Martin’s help I can save yon, but only on condition that you’ll become my wife at once. Then, and only then, shall I know you’re really safe.” ’
Lesson did not know the type of woman with whom he was dealing. A soldier’s , blood coursed in her veins. She was horrified, but she was not frightened. (To be continued.)
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TH19120412.2.90
Bibliographic details
Taranaki Herald, Volume LX, Issue 143764, 12 April 1912, Page 8
Word Count
1,469Our Short Story. THE STOLEN HEIRESS. Taranaki Herald, Volume LX, Issue 143764, 12 April 1912, Page 8
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