LOVE SUSPENDED.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 144802, 5 October 1915, Page 8

LOVE SUSPENDED.

By HERBERT INMAN. Author of “The Mystery of Stowhill Shaft,” “The Adventures of Nellie Noble,” “Collier Dick’s Lass,” “The Thief of Love,” etc. CHAPTER SIR Old Sarah Meadows was detained much later than she had expected with her sick friend in town; it was nearly eleven o’clock when she left her, and started on her homeward tramp. She had half-expected to find Olive standing at the gate looking for her; but there was go sign of her. ' “Maybe the poor child , has fallen asleep,” Sarah mused to herself, as she walked up the short garden-path. “She’ll have been wondering what’s happened to me. She’ll— — ,r She stopped abruptly. She had opened the door and stepped into the kiri cheu, and, as she did so, an exclamation of mingled surprise and alarm escaped her.. In the circle of light cast by the yellow rays of the lamp she saw Olive Carthew lying on the floor with upturned face, an ugly -bruise showing plainly on her white forehead. “Heavens! The lass is hurt, she—she has had an accident.” The old dame knelt -'by •the unconscious girj, and bent-over her anxiously. Some people would have been afraid, for Olive 'looked;'as 'though she were dead. But Sarah Meadows had seen many grim sights during a lifetime spent in a colliery district; there was no fear in her heart, only sympathy and concern. Olive was no great weight; she managed to raise her, and get her into a chair. Then she unfastened her bodice, and-laid a hand over her - heart.

“She’s only stunned,” she murmured. “Poor-little thing! How can it have happened? She must have fallen and struck her head on the table.”

■She fetched a-pillow to put behind the girl’s head, and in a few minutes Olive sighed deeply and opened her eyes.- -.-

“Where—where is he?” she muttered, faintly. “He —he struck me on thfe head,. I ”

Her words trailed away, a shiver ran through her, and Sarah bent over her tenderly.

“Don’t try and talk yet, lassie,” she said. “You’ll be all right, in a minute and you can tell me all about it. Don’t be frightened; there is no one here but me. You must have fallen and struck your-head.”

“No, I—l didn’t,” Olive gasped, shuddering again. “There was someone here-—I saw him. It—it was a man with a scarf over his face. He—he hit me on the head, and I—l can’t remember anything else.” At first Sarah thought that she was suffering from a delusion. But there was something in Olive’s manner that carried conviction, and the old woman stared at her in open-eyed amazement. “A man hit you on the head, child?” she repeated', in slow bewilderment. “But why? Who can it have been? o could want to harm vou?”

“I don’t know,” Olive answered, in a frightened voice. “I—l only saw his eyes. They were awful, glittering eyes, and they—they frightened me. He didn’t speak, he ” She broke off, and raised a hand to her neck. Then she uttered a low, pitiful cry, dnd tried to struggle up from the chair.

“What is it, dearie?” Sarah asked, pressing her back gently. “Don’t be frightened. There’s nothing to be afraid of now. He has gone, and " “My locket!” Olive interrupted with a sob. “Oh, Mrs. Meadows, my locket has gone—the locket with a portrait of my mother!”

It was true. The thin gold chain still hung round her neck, but two of the fragile links were broken, where the little locket had been wrenched from its hold.

“Don’t upset yourself so, dear,” Mrs. Meadows said, gently. “Perhaps you broke the chain when you fell. Perhapsit’s here on the floor.” She dropped on her knees and began to search; but it was in vain, the locket had disappeared. “I —I think I would rather have died than lose it,” Olive sobbed. “It was all Lever had to tell me of my mother.” Sarah could think of nothing to comfort her; she got her to bed,' and then sought her own couch, utterly bewildered by the strange theft. Bob’s face grew hard and stern the next morning when he heard what had happened, and his honest eyes flashed with 'an angry light that few people ever saw there.

“I’ll get. it back for you, Miss Carthew,” he said,- grimly. “I’ll get it hack fot you somehow. Can’t you give me any • description at all of the man who attacked you?” ■ Olive shook ner head.

“The scarf he wore hid the lower part of,his face.” she said, “and his hat was pullhd'down over his forehead; I could only see his eyes. 1 can’t even say whether he was short or tall; he was crouching behind’ me when I turned round.” ' .

Bob nodded, and sat silent for a few minutes, fidgeting with his empty pipe. His mind was busy; ho was thinking of the interview he had had on the previous day with Bertha Allison, when she had warned him that Olive was an adventuress. He remembered the strange note he had heard in her voice, Tike a note of hatred; lie remembered the curious, anxious expression he had seen in her eves. He was a man slow to 1 think evil of others, but conviction was growing up within' him. ■ “It must be hcr work,” he mused to himself. “If what Mrs. Morris said was right, then Miss Allison is the only one in the world who could want to, get. hold of that locket. It might be dangerous To her.” He rose suddenly, and picked up-his cap. “I’m going out, Miss Carthew,” he said. “I believe 1 know where your locket is. I may be wronging her; but it seems to me that Miss Allison must know something' about it.” “Miss Allison!”

Olivo and Sarah repeated the name together, and there was concern in the. old dame’s voice.

“Bob!” she exclaimed. "You—you are not going to accuse the mistress of a thing like that! You mustn’t do it, 1 lad. You will anger her and lose your work.”

He shook his head', and Olive added her entreaties to his mother’s.

“Don’t go, Mr. Meadows,” she pleaded. “I—l should never forgive myself if you brought trouble ou yourself through me. Please don’t go.” “I must go,” he answered, firmly. “I am going to get to the bottom of this mystery if I can. But you must not worry about ; I shall not anger Miss Allison it I can help it.” The footman kept him waiting in the hall a few minutes when he reached the Manor; then returned and took him to

the drawing-room. Bertha Allison entered a minute later, and Bob told her what had happened at tho cottage. She started when she heard of the attack on Olive and the theft of the locket; but she .recovered herself immediately.

“I understand you, Mr. Meadows,” she said, quietly. “And you —you think tiiat I had some hand in it? You think I could stoop so low as to employ somebody to make a murderous attack on Olive Carthew? I should have been wiser to punish Mrs. Morris for tho wicked things she said about me, if they can make you think me as bad as that.”

There was no trace of anger or. resentment about her. She was "a plover actress, but there was nothing false in the wave of passionate love that surged in her breast as she looked at the young collier before her. He was the only man who had over been able to stir her emotions, and her heart was,filled with a fierce resolve that she would not be robbed of him by the girl she knew to be her sister. She had wealth, power andjreauty; she would find some way to wnThis love. “You do not deny it, Mr. Meadows?” Bob fancied he detected a sob in her voice, and he felt utterly baffled and Eerplexcd. It seemed impossible to elievc that this beautiful, gracious girl could have been connected with the dastardly thing of which, for the moment, he had thought her guilty. He ft It that he had wronged her, and his heart reproached him. “I —I don’t know what to say, Miss Allison,” he replied, awkwardly. “Perhaps 1 was hasty in- coming hero like this. But I —l was so bewildered I did not know what to think. I beg your pardon if 1 have angered you ” ■ “You have not done that,” she interposed, softly. “I am just going to forget it. Now there is something else 1. want-to speak to you about.” He looked at her questioningly. “I arir thinking of making changes at the colliery,” she went on. “Mr. Sturgess is a good manager, but ho has had too much to do since Mr. Ross left. Ho needs another good man to help him—ra man we can trust. 1 think we could trust you —I know we could.” The young fellow was silent, and Bertha' smiled. “Will take the position, Mr. Meadows?” she asked, softly. .“Will you take it, if we decided tp offer it to you?” “It—it is very good of .you. Miss Allison,” Bob answered, his face flushing, “But there are others more worthy——”

“That is for me to say,” she interrupted. “Will you takb the position if we offer it to you?”

“Yes,” he replied, “1 —I shall he glad to. If you and Mr. Sturgess think me capable, I shall do my utmost to justify your confidence.” “Thank you,” Bertha said, smiling again; “I am sure you will. I shall see Mr. Sturgess about it at once. Now. will you shake hands on our compact?” She extended hei; slim hand, and Bob clasped it in Ids big one. It would be a big lift-up for him; it would mean a lot more money to buy comforts for his dear old mother, a lot more to put away in his banking-account. Yet ho was not thinking of that as he. strode homeward. There was a grave, .thoughtful expression on his strong face, and an uneasy sensation in his heart. He was no romantic, foolish sentimentalist, but ho had seen a strange expression in Bertha Allison’s dark eyes for a second as he held her hand'in his. It was an expression that folk call .the love-light. {To be continued.)