OUR STORIES.

Timaru Herald, Volume XCIV, Issue 14523, 19 August 1911, Page 2 (Supplement)

OUR STORIES.

AN ABSORBING SERIAL"RODERICK STUTELEY'S . 411UST." Or »' THE SQUIRE OF WESTHAM." (Uv Edith C. Kcnyon). John StuteWy toils the story of h:s secret marriage to his brumer, Vi'O Bwears that ho will see bis wife and Roderick Stuteley breaks the solemn oath ho took.at h.s brother's death bid, and, hoiding the proofs, toos possession of the property which rightly belonged to his .lephow. Jessie Baker, tho woman whom John Stuteley married, child righted. John Baker or Stuteley, her son, the real heir of Westham, falls in love ' with Alargery, the daughter of his usurping uncle, Msrgery, the daughter of Roderick Stuteley, a true-hearted, high-minded girl, foils in love with John. Heury Becket. an artist, whom John nursed through an illnv'ss, and who stood by the lad in Ins darfkest hour when all were against him. Mopaie, » gj-1 with some grit, but R'Jiose fate in life was a hard pne. CHAPTER XVII. A FATAL SHOT. ' "How wretched it all isl" said Margery Stuteley miserably to herself, late_ that evening, as- in the privacy of bar own bedroom she abandoned leraelf to tears; after having kept up bravely in the presence of her father and tie servants all the evening, ever since John had been told so uneeremoniousiy turned out. "It could not ■well be worse. Papa is in such a I wretched state of excitement, rage, and—shall I say it?—fear, that he is almost off his head. And &e declares, and Bates says so too, that my dear one, my beloved John, is the same individual as a handsome s-orvant-lad wo used to have years ago. A young gardener 1 And the worst of it is—really the worst of it is, that now they have pointed it out, I, too see the resemblance. I wonder that I did not tee it before. He las the same yellow teir, the same well-cut mouth, the »ame large hazel eyes, the same complexion, the same tall, upright figure —only, now, his carriage is better and has manner leaves nothing to be desired. But Ido believe they are right , and that he %s the same man, the very same. And 2 love him, oh, I do love him with all my heart 1 How tenderly he drew me into bis arms, and kissed me. How sweet his kisses •werel" Closing her eyes, she lived over again in thought those blissful moments. "How fervently he said he loved me! He had never loved anyone estept me. How I did l love him fox Itl How I do love him still! And yet—yet— can I love a. gardener? Is it poffirfne? Gardeners are rough working men—usually at least—they eat with their knife, they misplace their 'h'a' or ignore them altogether. Oould I lovis such a man ? I, the highly educated, nobly born, Margery Stuteley, the last of her race, the future representative of the family, the heiress of Westham? Is it not natural that papa should be angry at the idea? Oh, but John is not a gardener now. He is a highly educated; a cultured and most clever artist. Mr Beckett says he will to a R.A. some day. Mr Beckett thinks no end of him. What a nice man Mr Beckett is! I could almost love him. Great credit is due to John for having such a friend. They are both good men and true. True? Was it true of John to conceal his past from me? Ought he not to have told me whut a very different position he had once been in, before- making love to me ? Of course he should have done so. But he was impulsive—carried away by his passion for me." She sank into her arm chair by the bright little fire in her bedroom, and folding her dressing gown of pale blue cashmere about her more closely, fell into a long reverie, wherein John and -hislove- for her, and her love for him largely predominated. How long she sat there, lost in these thoughts, she never knew. Lovers are oblivious of time. It grew very late. The house was wrapped in silence. Every light in it was put out except Margery's, which could not bo seen from outside because of her thick window curtains.

Outside, a pale young moon and oountless stars gave a soft and Shadowy light. The great watoh-dog3 iu the yard seemed restless, and occasionally clanked their chains, and uttered short sharp harks. Gradually, however they became quite still. The Squire, tossing on his ted in the room next Margery's, could not sleep. Again and again he weighed the pros and cons of different modes of action. He had been,surprised thatday into violent repudiation of his nepßeir, and in his fear of him bad drrven the young man rudely, insolently, out of the louse. , He had been taken by surprise, and had acted without due thought. Should he act very differently on the morrow? Should he send for him who he was, make a full confession to him, and give ■up everything into his hands? John loved Margery. For her sake he might consent, to keep the whole affair a profound secret, and simply take the estate as a gift coming to him from her father wjth her hand. But no, there would be John's name. How proud the humble ex-gardener would be to'bear the time-honoured name of Stuteley? John was proud, and independent. He would never consent to take as a gift the goodly heritage which was his lawful birth-right. No I no I that would never do. Exposure would follow confession as surely as night follows day. Everything would becorcs known. Koderiek Stuteiey would ie proclaimed a rogue and a villain. His own daughter would shrink from lim with loathing. His servants would despise him. Business men would sconi irim inexpressibly. The country would cry 'shame upon him. Young Johh would refuse to marry the daughter of so bise a man. Margery's heaia would be broken. She would" never hold up her head again. They would have to leavw WestUaia and go out poor ?nd stripped of ail their worldv p«js3ess : ons into the hard cold world. " And it was not as if they could take good characters with them, and mutual love to lighten all their troubles. No. Who woiud employ so dishonour'-'bW a rr;;*; *s Roderick Siute'oy? His da'ijrhier would be quite unable to love him any irore.

. There "was nothing to be done, concluded the sleepless man, but continue in the course he had that day begun. Jolm must be refused admittance. Margery must not be allowed to fee him, or write to him. It would be as well to take her away to France or Italy, or even on a trip to America for a little w-hile until John had gone back to bis own country. Yes, that wa- tl>i only thins to lie done. The girl would fret for a time. But ±h<> won't! still h:'ve her father to love ;-»d honour. ' And she tra-s voting. She rab/bt fall in love with simaono else.

V."hat was that? Mr StivMey thought i"i" heard footsteps in th.e corridor r.utc:d--- his mom. He iisteiwd for a litt'-e ".-!>;!'. TJnt. hearing no more- coni».i«M that h- had !>wi mistaken' T'-_w.7.s just- heginmng to foe I :,.= if li - 'might soon, be able to go to sleeo, »4><°7> fie- heard another s,iund' in the UeU fesToir: but he determim*' s V> take

ll'., notice, (:,T te i.nuvd i'i.r alocp i., ireo him for a time lioni Jlo burden of siu and <.-3:o

But, noiv thsre, waa t sciviiui in the cc.mdor. Ar.&tlur and another from the c-recsida of the tervami' quarters. "P'ipa!" cried Jl&rgery'B voice. ' -Help]__help! Burglars! burgiarsl" Mr Stuteley had sprung from hj« bed, and was" sliop.ng on his dies--.1-gviwn, with lon.'uii thou«lu.- mvt a pisul, which Ui'ii not n't'j! tho or (t.y fur years, iurl about whoso whoreabouts \:i> ua.s uncertain. TUrouch h.s mud flashed the tlunight that hoi who iii'd robta-d arot-her, was about to he robbed in his turn.

".I'ap'.i! Papa!" Another cry from Marjory's room. He opened }v±. door and rushed out, armed only with, a boot, wh.cli lie caught up in passing. TIK-ro wore men at the other end of the corridor, a masked burglar was running away from Margery's room. Hates was shouting to him from a safe distiuiee. 'Follow me," cried Mr Stuteley, hastening down tho wide stairs after tho burglar. Bates and a footman followed rather timidly, and so did Margery. The other servants hung back. In the ha.ll below all was confusion. It seemed to Mr Stuteley there were two or three, masked men. But distinctly, amongst them all, coming in at tho outer door, he perceived the fact of John, his brother's son. The words: "I will bring trouble on you in life and death, unless you do my bidding," -uttered so long ago, rushed acroS3 his mind.

Then the loud report of a shot rang through the air. The burglars vanished. Tho servants coming hurriedly up, fell upon John, knocked him dowiij and sat upon ltini, drowning all Iris protestations by their noisy vociferations that they had caught thie criminal redhanded.

And oertainly he had a pistol in Ms h/lnd, which, they immediately took from hhn. One •chamber of it had been discharged. Margery had knelt down beside her father,' and was trying to staunch rhc blood flowing from a wound in his si<l-'. He was ghastly pale, and at first quit; unconsoious, but soon he came round a little, and said feebly "He's me." 'Oh, Papa, darling," sobbed Margery. "He did it," said her father; "your lover." There was great reproach in the feeble ■words. "NoI no! no! Not my lover 1 Not now!" wailed poor Margery. John heard her words as he was struggling to free himself from a suffocating hold of the men-servants, jnd a great feling of despair came over him. Did she too believe he, had allot her father? "Send for the doctor! Quick 1" cried Margery. "Father is ttnoonsoious again. Oh, Bates, send a man immediately." "Yes, Miss, and one shall go for the police, too." Bates hurried away, having consigned John to the care ol the footmen.

"You idiots! Let me breathe," John gasped out with difficulty, for the heavy man who sat ■upon, his chest seemed to have no intention of doinp so. "Miss Stuteley,". poor John called But Margery had no thought for anyone except her dying father. The housekeeper, who had come up, ■pol vociferating that he ought to bo carried to bed. One of the maids was ringing the alarm bell, and the noise, in add-tion to all the talking that was going cm, was most bewildering. In the midst of it all, the Squire of Westham breathed his-last.

Bates, coming back, after sendin; off messengers for the doctor and th< police, found his young mistress in i state of great anxiety and terror. Sh: was beginning to suspect the truth. "Oh, Bates, look at him!" she cried. "What is the matter? Look at you: master?"

Bates, looking, perceived at a glancthat he was dead. He made a signi~ncaiit sign to the housekeeper, which Margery saw. "Oh! What is it?" she cried. "He's gone, Miss Stuteley," sa'd tlie woman, sadly. "Gone!" exclaimed poor Margery, in grief-stricken tones. "Gcnel Then he is murdered."