HER FIGHT WITH FATE.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 144380, 21 April 1914, Page 5

HER FIGHT WITH FATE.

Powerful Story of Sensation and Domestic Interest.

By SYBIL CAMPBELL LETHBRIDGE, Author of “Tho Price of Her Vengeance,” “The Shadow of Swords,” ‘‘Love’s Ambassador,” “AT’aith Betrayed,” etc.

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS. Vans Kingsford: Dying of a disease brought on by drink. Formerly a tutor. Marjorie Kingsford: His daughter, young and beautiful. In love with Alston Lascollei. Dr. Blanchard; Medical attendant to Vane Kingsford and Hector Maitland. Aldra Blanchard; His wife. Materially influences Marjorie’s fate. Hector Maitland; Comes into a fortune which he never owns. Suffers from heart disease. Marries Marjorie Kingsford. Alston Lasoellos: A handsome young man of wealth and position. iu love with jiaiionc. Becomes engaged to his cousin, Gwyneth Carlax. Gwyneth Carfax: A distent cousin of Alston Bascciics. Resides witn his moiner. in love with Alston. CHAPTER Xll.—(Continued.) Try though ho did. Samuel could not jUite conceal ms conaiarnatic-n at tins ■i-jco oi mlormaiion. "Tour will, mar aunt.” he stammerid, "why—way, 1 thought you naun t muds one. lou tOid mo oniy a low jaws that you didn't iniond to worry with one”, at any rate lor a “ime.” , "Well, 1 altered my mind; my wills made; I wont to my lawyer on purpose, j.nd bo’s got it sale,” answered Mrs. Ponder snorily; like many nervous people she disliked speaking of her testamentary intentions, beuoving that tney drought her nearer to the grave, "so this rubbisu of poisoning me, oam, hasn’t got any sente.” Risford was disconcerted. Firstly, it was disastrous that Mrs. Ponder should have made a will, instead ot, as Ito had ho]>od, dying without one, wnen ill would nave- gone to him as next-of-kin; secondly, he had not expected that his aunt would disbelieve his story. Fondly ho had imagined that ho had undermined her continence in Marjorie, that ho had encouraged and fostered a dislike to her. "if you won't believe what I say, perhaps you’ll believe the evidence of your eyes,” bo said bitterly; he jerked tho bag from Marjorie and handed it to Mrs. Ponder. "Open it,” ho said, ‘‘and if that bottle’s not inside, don’t believe wbat I’ve told you. II it is-—” But hero Marjorie interprosod, a crushing tense of fighting against cruel adds was upon her, and in nor distress die scarcely knew what she said. "The bottle is there, but it isn’t mine.” she cried passionately. "-Mrs. Ponder, listen, what yon have heard is i lie. Let mo tell you the truth, what I .swear is tho truth.” But Mrs. Ponder had unfastened tho rag, had taken Irom it the little bottle, and ■ she was regarding the latter with growing alarm and aversion. "You’re right, Sam,” she contrived' to gasp out at last, “if ever I did! To tnitik of tho wickedness! Sbo must iave found out about my will, though row she did it, I can’t think. Murder, ihat’s what it is.” Mrs. Ponder lay back in her chair, looking so white that Marjorie iusiinclively looked towards tho table lor the restorative, but the old Judy saw her dance. "No, no, you shan’t have the chance if doin’ for mo,” she said hysterically; “Sam, take her away, got rid ol her this very night, arid i’ll go hack home. 1 don’t tcel as though 1 could hear London after what’s Happened. Ob, you wicked, wicked girl, and I've been turn good to you. And Coco likes you. Kill me, that’s what you’d do. Sam, tel! 'Amanda to come and pack f-K me. There's a train at ten o’clock to Junction, and Til stay tho night there. 1 couldn't sleep a wink in this house now.” The poor old lady broke down, into sobs, and Mr. Risiord, having lirst possessed himself oi the bottit, burned Marjorie away. “i'ou can pack and be off as soon 3s you.like,” he told her with an evil grin, “you’ve had a lesson against trying to get other people into trouble, I snoulrj say. It's just recoiled on your own head.” Marjorie looked at him steadily. Her self-possession had returned to her. ”1 am not afraid to leave Mrs. Ponder, now,” she said with significance, "the terms of her will protect her. 1 see that.” She went into ■ her own room and closed the door. She knew that she must go, that Jlrs. Ponder had been instantly convinced by tho sight of the bottle iu Marjorie’s bag that an attempt had been made upon her life. As the girl hastily Hung her low possessions together there came a cautious tap at ttie door. She opened it; there stood Bertie. "1 say, what’s happened,” he said in a low voice; "Aunt Martha’s going. Aunt Amanda is helping her to pack. Toll me, what’s (he row.” Briefly, Marjorie told him. Bertie frowned, and looked perplexed. •‘lt’s serious; you ought to be righted,” he said. "Fancy bis daring to say sueft things, and tho old lady being silly enough to believe them. Miss King, I wish I could help you. You know I’d-give anything to he able to.” Marjorie smiled into his eager face. “You have helped mo,” she said; “but for you something terrible would have happened. Please don’t think of righting me, as you call it, or anything of that sort. All I feel is that I’m thankful that Airs. Ponder is safe, and that I am going to be out of this house in another five minutes.” “If you don’t know whore to go, there’s a boarding house I know of, in Bloomsbury, whorti you’ll be quite comfortable,” be said abruptly; “it’s a queer, ramshackle place, but the landlady who keeps it is kind and all that sort of thing. I’ll take you there.” It was an offer that Marjorie gratefully accepted. She felt that fate was against her, that once more she was cast upon the world, to fight as best she could. But a new courage, was awako in her. Sho realised that she had but herself to depend on, that lonely, unaided, she must fight, and the knowledge braced her.

The small amount of salary due to her was brought to her by Mrs. Risford, who said nothing, but whose eyes

were vipcnsh. Marjorie took the money in siiouco; sho was glad when Mrs. Risford had withdrawn, when she was once more alone, and presently Bertie returned to ask her if she was ready. ■‘l'll carry your things, sard, “and then we’ll have a cab. It's too far for you to walk. You needn’t Ix 3 afraid that you’ll see Undo Sam, or his wife. They’re both-with Aunt Martha; sho’s safe. Don’t you worry about her.”

Marjorie smiled faintly ; her lips wore quivering as sho followed Bertie downstairs. The whole affair had been horrible ; she breathed more, freely onco she was froo of tho sinister house, and with Bertie in tho cab that was raking her from it.

‘ This is about tho last straw,” he said abruptly, after some moments of silence; “I 1 vo tried to stick to them, because they wots my own people, but I can’t any longer. I’ve often wanted to leave them, but—l’m giad I didn’t before, or I shouldn’t have known you.” "Please don t,” said Marjorie hastily ; she was awars of the boy’s oyes upon her, wistful, entreating; "I can’t toll you bow grateful 1 am to you,” she said* after a little pause, during which Bertie’s gaze never left her; "but for you I should he quite alone, 1 shouldn’t know where to go.” "Oh, Mrs. Goodfear is all right; she’ll look after you,” answered Bertie, •‘you’ll let me see you sometimes, Miss liing, you won’t cut rao off from the only thing that manes life worth livngt” His voico shook, he ventured to lay his bant: on uors. Marjorie shivered it tho icy touch.

“I'm too grateftl to you uot to want to do something for you,” she said, endeavouring to soothe him, “but please don’t talk ts though you were unhappy. Mr. Risford, i can’t bear it.” “It, doesn't matter what happens to me,” responded Bertie, "here wo are. It’s a uueer, oirty-iookins sort of House, Miss King, but it's ail right inside.”

Marjorie had barely time for more than a glance at the tall, grimy building, bevorc the deer opened in reply to Bertie’s impatient knock, and a tall woman clad m a glowing grass-green gown appeared. The first thing that Marjorie noticed was that she. was very untidy, tho second that the brown eyes behind eye-glasses were wonderfully xind and placid. Bertio explained in a few hurried sentences that ho had brought Miss King, who wanted a room, and would Mrs. Goodfear seo after her. Mrs. Goodfear enfolded Marjorie in a warm .unbrace, declared that she would like nothing better, and led Marjorie away, up what appeared to tho tired girl endless stairs, until a small attic was reached, whoso window had a view of tbe sunset and a distant delicate spire pointing into the sky. "Thoro 1 this is all 1 can do for you, - '

Mrs. Goodfear said. She had a soft, rcm'ertablo voice, pleasant to listen to. ■Rut out your things and got to bed as s.vc-u as you can, my dear, for yen look worn out. I’ 11 go down and speak to Bertie. He’s, a good lad; and you uan trust him. Ho always stands by a friend.” Then, she kissed Marjorie again, and left her, and Marjorie, fooling indeed that sho wanted rest, took her aivico and wont to bed, to sloop the sleep of a child, and to awaken with the sentjjtion Of being at homo apd at pst, a sensation to which hithcrtoi sho had boon a stranger. When she was dressed sho went down the shabbily-carpeted stairs and into the dining-room, where hreubtast aad evidently boon partaken of by several people, for the table was littered w th dirty cups and plates. Mrs. Goodfear was" there, her black hair bundled up untidily, her face as kind as ev.-r. He kissed Marjorie, procured her samo fresh coffee, and then, when Maijon* iniu made her meal, suggested than she jhould accompany her out that niton-

mg. “Bertie says you want looking a’tir, and it’ll amuses you to shop,” Mrs. Goodfear added. “I’m going quite far afield to-day—Regent Street. 11l be ready at mice, if you are," Marjorie had taken a liking u. Mis. Goqdioar. and she agreed cordially It was a perfect morning, and the people and the shops in Regent Street amused I:#r. She was standing at a jeweller's window, whilst Mrs. Goodfear admired a tiara, when suddoily Marjorie’s heart gave .a leap. Who was this coming down the street towards, hpr—tall, handsome, distic- 1 guishod? None other than Alston Lascelles! (To be continued.)