CHAPTER XVI.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7701, 9 May 1903, Page 1

CHAPTER XVI.

• "Wouldn't have him! So, then, poor Smith had actually proposed and been rejected, and I have been looking on him as her accepted suitor!"

This was" the refrain thafc ran through Straight's mind, and filled his eyes with a glow of triumph as the afternoon train sped on its waiy to Pembridge. He had not needed much time to make up his mind to return to Naresbrook Farm, and he had become as suddenly eager to get out of London as he had been a short time before to get back to it.

" Wouldn't have him !"

From the moment he realised that Smith, instead of being an accepted rival, was a rejected suitor, until he was within a) few miles of Pembridge Station, these words seemed sufficient to fill his soul with sunshine; but as he neared his destination the reaction came. She bad refused Smithbut—but—after all, how did that make his own' position any better? It made it, now he came to think of it, not only no better, but infinitely worse. The question why she had changed so utterly in less than twelve hours had now become inexplicable. She bad not repulsed him in the porch when he spoke words that she must have known were but the prelude to an avowal of love. Before nine the next morning she had turned from bim with a. look that was almost one of horror, and bad fled from him as if she loathed him. Now that the idea that Smith's letter to her had caused the change was no longer tenable, where was he to seek for a solution of the mystery? ' And his hears sank as he thought of the look that had been'ion her face as ehe, raised her head, and her eyes had met his. ' It was not maidenly bashfulness that had made her look co, an unerriiig instinct told 'him this, although he had bub small experience of girls and their ways. - He tortured himself with questions which he could not. possibly -answer, and racked his brain, and his heart, too, by giving full rein to his vivid imagihaiton, with the negative results usually obtained on such occasions. ■'

That night John Straight again slept in the latticed windowed' lavender-scented bedroom at the Naresbiook Farm,, and dreamed of Dora as be bad done the night after he bad first met her-' but, now her image was. not entangled with that of Mademoiselle de Jude or anyone else. He had arrived in Pembrjdge in plenty of time to allow oi an evening call afc the Cvuxt, yuadhe veil knew that ther© was no.

need to stand on ceremony with Sir Richard, who would only be to glad to see him at any hour, but somehow — now that he was on the spot he was stricken, with an unaccountable shynesa as to presenting himself. It was a shyness born, of trepidation. How would Dora receive him? Would she again turn from him with that look that had so terribly altered her face? A of terror of seeing her held him back, though he was burning with eagerness to meet her. It- was almost a relief to him when he had 'finally persuaded himself that it would only be. right to wait till the morning and then despatch a note after break^t to acqi; t Sir Richard with the fact of his return . j

the farm, and saying that he would call in the course of the dciy.

The note had been gone an hour, and Straight Avas lingering over his post-break-fast pipe making up his mind that ifc was time to start for Riverdale, but .still nervously delaying to set out, when the door opened and Sir Richard Chesney appeared, ushered in by Mrs Wilkinson. ; "My dear fellow," cried the baronet, holding out both hia hands, "this is a surprise, and a pleasant one. I don't think that anything, except the finding of the^— the — that infernal stone — could have pleased 'one better, than getting your note just now. I came off directly I got it. I dont know how it is, Mr Straight, I'm not given to sudden fancies, or intimacies — quite the contrary, in fact — hut — perhaps it's because I've read ..'so much about you in the papers, your fp'eeches, and bo on — but I assure you I feel as' if you were an old friendsof many years' standing. Of course your kindness to us, and all the trouble you Save taken in this misfortune would Aave made me your, debtor for life, but apart from my : gratitude fbr what you bave done for us there is a feeling of warm -personal friendship for yourself , my dear Straight." Then the poor baronet suddenly faltered and turned' hastily to the window.

"Indeed, indeed, Sir Richard, I am very grateful for your good opinion. I only wish I could have done something to deserve your gratitude, something that would have been of practical service to you, but I have done nothing — nothing afc all." And Straight's voice, too, faltered ; but it was as much from the recollection that suddenly flashed into his mind of ' Dora's eyes as they bad looked down at bim when she stood on the top of the bank overhanging the stream as from anything else. " You' did all you could," said Sir Richard, controlling himself with an effort, i.; and turning round again. "No one can do •more than that. •It was my own fault. I i- should never have bad anything to do with the thing. They are unlucky— those monster diamonds. They have brought more ill-luck to their possessors — nearly every one of them, if you just trace their histories— than ever they brought anything else. I should have let such things alone. Many a man has lost his life through owning one of these big diamonds, and I stand now to lose all I'm worth through one of them."

The thought crossed Straight's mind that he himself stood to lose his peace of mind over it, he would never have been thrown into Dora's society as be had been, and lost his heart in so complete and irrecoverable a manner in a iew days had it not been for the vanished diamond which had brought about an intimacy between them that would probably never have arisen under ordinary circumstances, but be said nothing aboufc this aepecfc of t&e affair., of .CQMIse.? fie only remained silent; trying to think of" something to say that would shed some ray of hope on the matter, and at the same time keep faith with Jadd's instructions as to maintaining secrecy about the hint thrown out.

. " '' I think you are taking too gloomy a view of tbe matter," be began. " When least we expect it some tidings of the diamond may come to hand."

"Tidings!" echoed Sir Richard, dolefully. "Ah, my dear Straight, where can they cone from after this. You don'fc know what I went through when I got this letter because you were not here. I brought it over to show you. It's a crushing blow— a regular breakdown blow, Straight." He was taking a. letter from bis pocketbook as be spoke,, and putting ifc into Straight's bands. It was the one be bad received from Scotland Yard, signed "James Jadd."

" Straight read it in silence, Sir Richard watching his face anxiously as he did so. "Well?" he said, when the barrister finished the letter and folded ifc up. Still Straight was silent. He was thinking of tbe other note handed to. him in the gloom of the avenue, tbe note signed "Yours obediently, Ambrose Maitland." "It means ruin tome, Straight, absolute ruin. I may tell you thafc plainly, my dear fellow," broke out tbe unfortunate baronet ; " and ruin for my poor girl," he added, in a lower tone that faltered almost in a sob.

"No, no," said Straight, hastily; "for God's sake don't say that Sir Richard !" It was«terrible to. let ' Dora's father go on suffering this cruel anxiety, and yet how disregard Jadd's instructions. Straight had a respect amounting almost to veneration for the detective's skill, he had known him to disentangle the most seemingly hopeless intricacies of criminality, and he trusted him absolutely. If Jadd wanted the matter kept dark be had an imperative reason for it. After , a momentary debate with himself he said, laying his hand impressively on Sir Richard's arm:

"I ara goiiig to say something in the strictest confidence, Sir Richard ; in the strictest confidence, remember. You will promise me that ifc shall not go beyond yourself, to anyone — to anyone afc all?"

"Certainly," said Sir Richard eagerly, seeming to divine fchafc there might bo hope in the coming confidence. "I shan't mention anything you tell me to any living soul."

"Well, then, black as this business seems at present, I have some cause, which I can't explain at the moment, for believing that it is not hopeless."

" Bless my soul !" exclaimed Sir Richard, his faded eyes brightening with excitement, " do you mean to tell me you think you can see even a glimmer of a hope that the stone may be found !"

" Yes, I do. I think I see a decided glimmer, but "he added warningly, "it is a glimmer which may be very quickly extinguished by any premature talking or inquiries on our part."

"But, but," stammered the baronet almost breathlessly, " they've thrown up the case, and after that, how can there be even a ghosfc of a chance for me!"

" Thafc I can't go into now ; I can only ask you not to lose heart, and tb remember that any indiscreet talking may do irreparable damage. Believe me, I am not speaking without reason."

Sir Richard was breathing hard. The resurrection of hope was affecting him physically as well as mentally, and he was trying to control himself under the strain.

"How is Miss Chesney?" asked Straight suddenly. He had been plucking up courage to change the conversation by asking this question calmly, but ib came with a jerk after all.

"Ah! this trouble has had a dreadful effect; upon her. She's looking wretchedly ill. I couldn't haye r believed anything would have upset her so terribly. It's her anxiety, of course, poor child she is quite unlike herself. I've been going through torment on her account, I assure you, Straight —as well as about the diamond. She had been so brave over the loss at first, but she suddenly broke down. Let me seeit was—yes* it was Saturday I noticed she

was looking so ill — the day you went up 't-o town and Smith came. She has been drooping ever since, but perhaps, my dear fellow, you could cheer her up a little, give her a hint, as you've given me ; suggest there's a glimmer of hope, eh-^-tb a t can do no 'harm, and it might rouse my poor girL p,.. little." Johd Straight murmured something acquiescent, but did not mention tbat he had already given the hint which was to cheer her up the very night before she first lost heart and began to droop.

"You'll come back with me now, won't you?" said Sir Richard, entreatingly. " You'll spend the day with us. It will be a real charity, I assure you. Smith deserted us suddenly. I'm rather hurt with bim, to tell you the truth — he went off at a tangent, as it were, just when I wanted him most ; but perhaps he had important work on hand. London sucks all you young men back to ifc very quickly; you soon, tire of the country."

' Straight was glad to let his companion dp " 'all the talking. His mind was fully occupied on the road toiJ^e Courfc by conjectures as to whafc hje ..^uldj^. to Dora^ when .they met. >'''"* '^VVyy ?■'

He might have spared himself the trouble of conjecturing, for he did riot see her,' Neither ab luncheon, afternopn tea, nor dinner did Miss Chesney appear, and J<jhn Straight returned to the farm at half-past ten too dejected to fmd consolation even in tobacco. It was; evident now that she was deliberately avoiding him. . That she Aa,^. a headache severe enough to keep her a prisoner in her room all day he entirely doubted, and, after debating the matter through the best part of a sleepless night, he resolved to go over to the Court early, take his chance of waylaying her in the grounds and ask her what he had done to displease her. The plan was Bimple enough if he had only the luck to meet her alone, but, as he thought of Robert Greenhough's interruption of almost every tete-a-tete he and Dora had had, his spirits, which were rising, fell again, and the staggering thought came that perhaps her cousin was afc tbe bottom of tbe extraordinary and baffling change in. her. G-reenhough was still ab the Court, and it might well be was remaining there nob to support his uncle under the disaster which had befallen the family, but to frustrate die designs of anyone who should endeavour to gain Dora's affections. Nevertheless be set out, resolving to go fixsb to thie bouse and ask after her. If she was not well, it would be useless to seaich the grounds for her. Ho, ab a swinging pace he turned into the gravelled sweep before the house — and— %urely luck. was favouring, him at last — saw her alone, on the stppa qi the portico! He spraaig forward, forgetting every word of tbe appeal be had .composed in the small hours of the morning.

" Miss Ohesmey !" he stammered, before she oould turn away. "Miss Chesney. I am so glad to see youi" Her face was white, her lipts twitched nervously. The evidonoe tha* she was suffering deeply was plain. He could no longer restrain his emotion within conventional limits. " Dora !" he burst out, taking her hand in his and speaking in a voice hoarse with" agitation. "Forgive me, I must speak. Oh, my darling, don't think again of tihis wretched diamond! Leave all the trouble of it to me. I will see tia,t your fsthsr.

suffers nothing through the loss!" T'Wflif take all the burden that troubles you — only let me win your love — ifc is all I care for on carth — only let me hope that some day you may — may — be my "

He suddenly stopped. The girl bad torn her hand from bis. Her beautiful soft face was stern, almost hard, as she raised her head and looked at him wi't-h eyes full of horror, eyes that were not like Dora's. "How dare you!" she cried, panting heavily, and indignation vibrating through her low suppressed tone. " How dare you speak to me like tliis — you, who are another woman's husband!" Then she turned, and rushing up the steps disappeared through the great door of the portico before John Straight bad fully grasped the meaning of what she said.

(To be continued.)