"A SECRET SORROW."

Thames Star, Volume XXIX, Issue 8603, 6 March 1897, Page 1

"A SECRET SORROW."

BY MRS MAY AGNES FLEMTNG.

Author of " A Mad Marriage," " Carriedßy Storm,"

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued.)

Kate nodded, and entered the chamber. It was furnished almost similarly to the one she had lef>, save that one corner was occupied by a bed, hang around with heavy, dark curtiins. Kate threw herself on a couch, and, covering her face wi h her hands, gare way to the bter thoughts that came surging thrftu h her mind.

Now, for the first time, the full loneliness of her situation broke npon her mind. Away, underground, where she could never possibly be discovered, without the slightest chance of escape, her friends all ignorant of her fate, in the hands of a band, of lawless ruffians, Poor Kate's fate se.med dark enough. And then Alicepoor, uncomplaining, suffering Aline - she, too, must remain in the power of the earl, without the abanee of being reeeuedV for it was almsst AerUinthe earl would hear of h*r vi if, and then taVe measures. (o see that it was not repeated. Atd so Alice would be left alone, if the servant* were taken from her, which Kato felt certain would bs the case as soon as what they had done was discovered.

Overecome by her own bitter thoughts, Kate's feelings found vent in a passiona'e flood of tears.

Exhausted at leng h, Sate sat up, and, taking one of the books from the table, strove to read, in order lo dirert her thoughts. It was an old volume of ballads —qwaint, bu" sweet.

As she opened it, her eye fell upon a page marked in pencil, most probably by the hand of the young captain him elf. Kate read—

' Well, well, I say no more, Let dead care for dead; Yet woe is me! Therefore I must attempt to lead One other kynde of life Than hitherto I have; Or else this pain and strife Will bring me to my grave,'

And underneath was written— 'Thetrees do spring, yet are not seen to growe, And shadows move, although they seem to stay, In winter's woe is buried summer's bliss, Aud love loves most when love most secret

Kate sighed, and, closing, the book, leaned her head upon her hand, and fell to speculating ax to what could have reduced one so young, handsome, so evidently accomplished, to become the leader of a gang of outlaws. That at some period of his life he had been a gentleman, she felt certain—an indescribable something in his air and manner convinced her of it.

'Something, too, she could not account for, drew her forcibly to him; a sort of hazy idea that *he had seen him somewhere before filled her mind—bis face seemed familiar, like faces one sees in a dream, but nothing seemed definite, nothin? lancible. And this dark, beautiful girl—who could she be P His sister, perhaps. But a moment's thought convinced her that was simply impossible—the dissimilari' y of form and feature; his manner of addressing her was more that of a master addressing a servant than a brother a sitter.

Tired ot last of speculation, without being able to come to any conclusion, Kate threw herself upon the bed, and in a few momenta was buried in profound slumber from which she did not waVe until late the following morning. A noiaeby her bedside awoke her, and ■printing up, ibe beheld an old woman standing beside her, holding » waiter with coffee and toast.

Kate was for a monvjnt startled at the sight, but a second g'ance at the old woman's goodhumoured countenance reasured her.

'Law, miss! Soory to disturb yer, honey/ said the old woman, drawing a little table near the bedside, and placing the wai'er upon it; ' but cappen, he wouldn't gire me no peace till I'd fetch yer some breakfast. Eat away, now. You won't git anything to beat that coffee, anyway.' ' Who are youP' said Kate, quietly. 4 Lor', chile, I'm only old Mollie. I ain't nobody of no consequence.' * Who is that handsome young girl I saw here last nightP Is that your mistressP' inquired Kate. •My missis! She! Oh, bedad; He! he! bf!' aod eridently thinking the question a good joke, old Mollie laughei till the i tears ran down her fat cheeks. ' Why, laws, miss, that was only Syra's, granddarter, that's all. She my missis; Oh, Lsr 1! H-! he! he!' I Your granddaughter!' echoed KaU, in surpiie. 'Is ahe, then, only a serrantP' • Deed she is—tnat's all! She's handsome, though, is Syra. Lor,' we're been here ever so long with the oappen. 'Deed we hare. Awfully lonely here it is, to be sure!' Sate smiled, in spite of herself, at the old woman's quaint language, which was almost new to her; and her curiosity being aroused to learn further, the inquired— ' And may I ask, my Rood Mollie, how you came here first, since I suppose you hare not been always with the smugglers?' ' Oh, Lor'!' said Mollie, sitting down, and wiping tbe perspiration off h«r fa c. We're come from a long distsnce. From Australia, if you erer heard tell of such a' p'aoe.' Kate baring signified that she possessed that mnoh geographical knowledge, Mollie continued— ' The young cap'ain picked us up out of an emigrant ship that was on fire, and brought us here, taught Syra how to read, and we're been here erer since.' ♦ And do you not find it rery dull here?' said Kate, who had listened with interest to the old woman's story. •Lor, yes, ma'am, 'tis rather lonely, said old Moll, with a pleasant laugh, 1 but we's used to it now me and Syra is. I'm a goin' now, bot if you wants anything, just rinz, and Syra'll come. The cappen told her to 'tend yon.' So saying, old Moll quitted the room, learing Kate to finish her breakfast. Towards noon, as Kate sat on a lounge in the o iter apartmentjreading a book of old German legends, Syra entered to per* form some domestic duty. Kate danced at her with admiration, thinking in her own mind what a pity one so peerlessy beautiful should be hidden away from si^ht in tin raulted chambers of the old Moor Manor. I 1 wonder if she is really happy here ? thought Kate. • I will ask her/ 1 And, thereupon turning to Syra, she said — • Are you in a great hurry, Syra P 'No, indeed, ma'am.' answered the girl, pausing in her work. 1 Then come here—l want to talk to you,' said Kate, pointing to a seat. • Tell me, Syra, do you like .to stay heie P' •Yes, ma'am,' answered tbe young girl, quietly. . 'And why? Do you not find it rery 'Ob, yes, sometimes, when Captain Raymond is away. But then I hare all his books, and nothing to do but read, and feed the birds, and think of the beautiful things he will bring me when he comes back; and when he is here I am so happy! I never feel lonesome the*.' ' Do you lore him so much ?' said Kate, a new light breaking in on her mind. ♦Oh, yea!" '1 be girl's dark face flushed, and her !a<*#e t>>rian eyes kindled with the enthusiasm with which she spoke.

'And whyP' said Kato, 'why dt you lore him so orach P'

'I don't know/ rep'ioi Syra, thoughtfully. 'I have never thought about it. Perhips I lore him teoiuse he i* M handsome, and so brave, and so kind to me. Oh. Ido love him mire than I caa tell—don't you t' Kate smiled, and the sighed. ' N», I doa't love him. and I think ytm hai better not either, Syra. Poor child ( he doesn't care for you. ' But he wil by and by. Ok,lkaowW will-hemus^!' sheexctauned, vehemently! 11 would die for him! If my life erald save hi>, I would give it. And I know he Will love me-yet!' Before Kate could reply there oame a knock at tb* door. A saddea flush of joy lighted np Syra's beantifal face aa ! she sprang forward and opeaed it, and the young captain entered. Noticing fyrra wi;h the peculiar amile i that «aye such a took of winning eweetness to his nandsoms face, he edvaneed aad saluted Kate with easy grace, aad« after makjnst a few inqairiireoeeeeajag h«r hral%ijslbow. s£e had rtat** li said, wifh ; • •«!>- '■ ■■ • ,5- ."■ •. : ■. : ' 1 *t aBBt-«*«rf to telie.e re« ot asjr prueaei fora whi'e, Mies'B!dMT«'Baß> ness calls me away to Ireland, lad dona* my absenca, my men, w th the eiceyilioß of two or three who will remain here.will go on another expedition, W« shall" probably return in a few weeks, but •»em this short absence will doubtless'afford you pleasure. I atart this evening, so 1 shall base no other opportunity of seeiag.. you, and I now must bid you farewell.' Good-bye, Syra. See that Mils Sideey wants for nothing dming my abaeaer-. He was gone be ore ci her could reVy a aud_ then oyra, casting heraelf on.c sofa» buried her f ice in her hands and suhk«d conru}aivelr. ~z>^ ..wan ■-

* Syr», my dear, what is the aattwf— what i« it, child P' laid Kate, Alarmed. ' Oh, h»'a gone, he'i gone!' Captain Raymond's gone! fobbed Stra, ' Well, what of that? He will retora in a few weeks, be lay*,' laid Kate, «>3ih- , mgly

' Oh, yes, I know!' wsi'ed Sjrraj ' but he is ezpoied to «o many danger* wh*n he is away. Oh. Miss Sidney,one*wliea they brought him here tevere'-y wounded. [ thought I wou'd hare died. I nuraed him until he was we!l a«ain; bat etery time he Ictrea here he is ro thouihile«(i, he rashes into danger. Ob, Mil* Sidaty if he die*, I shall d<e, tool and if he, n taken, he will be hung.' ' And serre him >ight, too,' tkott^fct Kate; bat not wishing to add to. rydoj^ Sjra's Krief she endeavoured to ooaati'* her as wall as she was ablt. Id her efforts were, howerer, rain, and Ike pal* face and cud eyes of the g|rl. for the remainder of the day, l>etokeaed W« peeply she moarned the absence of the young chief.

CHAPTER XV, CHARLEY IN DUBLW.

Lea ring the old Moor Manor upd Hi prisoners, Dinitole, and cur Eagtitk friends behind us, with on* bound you and 1 dear reader, are in Dublin—ia tk« gay metropolis of Ire'and. In an unt dy-looking apartment, littered with newspapers, book*, cigarstumps, empty bott'es, and so on ad t«finitwm,stretched ia bis-usual way—at full .length— o* a leonge. lies our old friend Charley Sidney. A cigar is ia bis mouth, and he seems deeply absorbed m watching the curling smoke as it wiade upward.

He seems rather pa'er than usual—a circumstance which may be accounted for by stating that he has passed the prenoir** night at a military bal>, and having drank rather tco much wine, \% to-day trouble! with a pretty aerere headache.

Somehow of late Charley's thoughts hare a way of wander in t across the channel to a certain bright-eyed IUUe cou-in of his; and be it thinking sew what Maggie wou'd say could ahe know how desperately be haa flirted all night with a i oguiah*eyed Irish: heiress. So absorbed aid he become in hie reflections, that he heard not the load knocVinx that had been kept up at hi* door for some time; and it wat only whoa tbe applicant for admission, evidently exasperated by his delay, gave a thundering peal that threatened to bring dowm the door, that it awoke him from bis rererie.

' Corns in,'shouted Charley. The door ocened, and Sir Harry Dud'er, the aide-dc camp who had been ordered to Ireland some time preuooaly entered.

(To be Continued.)