THE STORYTELLER.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 1125, 19 December 1914, Page 2

THE STORYTELLER.

THE IRONMASTER'S HEIR.

SHORT -AN.D SE-RIALi

- (By MISS KENYON.) £ .Author of "The Winning of Gwenora," •; "The Wooing of Mifanwy," etc.

CHAPTER I. ..'■,'.,.■'.■'■' WILFRID'S SECRET. ' " You love me, don't you, Wilfrid ?" nnd the speaker raised her fine dark

eyes to his. "Yes, my beautiful; more than any- :*•" one in the world I" There was no mis- "'' taking the truth ringing in his voice. ;' . "And you ara such a great gentlet. man, you might have married any lady ■-;■ in the land," said tho girl Avistfally. The.young man put his arm round '; her shoulders and stood looking down g!, into her perfect face. :, - Big eyes, black as sloes, hair of the i • same colour, pretty white teothj and y lips perfectly formed and red like cher,r' lies, caused Janie White to be considered one of tho most beautiful workp girls in the neighbourhood. She was '' an orphan, who had never known a settled home, but had been brought up :*. by alternate relations in a half-kindly, *•• half-grudging manner, until at the age - of eighteen she was old enough and *-'' clever enough to do for herself. By day she worked at a large sore, where .*.,, scores of other girls were employed, '* and she lodged in a little room over a . .. tailor's shop. . 1 *>' Very stoady and self-respecting Janie [J , had always been, and at first when the ,';! young- master, son of Sir Daniel Wontworth, owner of the great Wentworth Ironworks, in Lottingham, paid* her - -somo attention, sho shrank from, and "'i "iscouraged all his advances. But V there was something very-'fascinating J, ..about Wilfrid Wentworth, and when ,;■ he obstinately continued making love as'-to' the beiutiful workgirl, she. found '•■" him irresistible, and ceased struggling against h,is persistent wooing.' . They were married secretly at a. registry . .office,' after which' Janie returned to .' r "heV humble lodgings, and' Wilfrid to his £" • TaAhor?* home' at Rilford Court. ':. v . .Scarcely a day .passed; however, vi i without the young people meeting, and V/ several times Wilfrid and Janie travel- '£":;. led by rail to Blackpool, where they ..-'! lived together for a few days' under ' J the name of Mr and Mrs White.

Thus eight or nine months went by, :' -and Janie grew a little tired-looking, -. • though not less beautiful; also a new '«. tenderness shone m her face, and she ""' clung to, Wilfrid ,more than ever, %*„ grudging every moment of his absence. s; ». Now they had met in an'unfrequent- &■ ' ed,*if ugly, spot,'where a' narrow path '** was overshadowed by the high walls of big*warehouses. There was no one within sight, and the daylight was wan- ?'';' ing fast. 3>; "I'm going to the sports to-mor-i V row,''' Janie,said, ".and I shall stand i— among tho common people and see you -■ among all-the fine ladies and gentle\l \ men; but there won't be a chasm bel\ tween us,',' and she made an eloquent , „.' gesture with one work-worn hand, " for ~# I shall know that you belong to me, and; that in your heart I am reigning, and no one else." "It's true enough, Heaven knows you alone fill rav heart, you blackreyed darling I" And, catching her up in his arms, he pressed her to his heart 3 passionately.' If he could have run r, J away with, her there and then, he s '' would have given up nil oJse willingly—- ... gladly—so that he could have lived Ly j." her side ever after.

Jr.i- '"Wilfrid, I've 'something to tell you," Janie was beginning, when 1 they ' r perceived a man,coming towards them '7\ in the twilight, and, as usual, they „■",;, -separated before he could see"' how ~i"-i closely" were standing to each * 'other. 'Janie went one way, towards Kl. her home, among the humble workers ;• of the town, while Wilfrid, striking off ""'* ". iu another direction, crossed the bridge over the Tarrent river, hailed a taxi,ijv,*rab".'and bade the chauffeur drive him / to Rilford Court.

<?■«•'"■ The young man's fair face was * . ! flushed, and a little smile played about "■ his mouth as, leaning back at his ease, i . lie ..thought of his winsome young wife o» and her love and trust in him. ■■■■*'- When the taxi stopped at the broad ;> : terrace before the fine old Court, it "was with a little frown upon his smooth i"" brow that Wilfrid stepped out of it >tJ and tossed monev to a man-servant to

pay the chauffeur. He was entering a z , _■ different atmosphere, and felt an- ■■'.:. noyed to, think what these common "" - men would say if they knew about their ""J voung masters low-born wife. £*'■. As he crossed the hall to go to his own room a cheery voice from a door on his right called out, " Stay a moment, t * Wilfrid, I want to have a few words *«"' with you." So saying, Palliser Clifford, ;*• a tall,' athletic young man, apparently ;',, a couple of years older than Wilfrid, [,/ laid a hand on his arm and drew him sd., into the library, out of which he had *. i emerged. - The electric light was turned on here l "l" it the full, and the two men. who were L w' r - cousins, could look more closely into * j each other's faces. Wilfrid saw a V* -kind, strong countenance, whose firm j-'« chin "arid steadfast blue eyes betokened i- the very qualities of which he himself ; '' '. stood in need; and the other read dis-

, tress and vacillation in the younger , '.. .man's handsome face. t. . There • was something of compassion i«' in Palliser's tone as he said, " It's just •*■"'• ' this, Wilfrid, my dear fellow, you did ■- not keep vour promise to me about "?.' Durose. The fellow's been getting [' , money out of you again, and it's no j -£ood —the more you give him tho more he will want. You can't go on in that "" way." :-•■;-. Wilfrid dropped into a chair and 7 looked moodily at the carpet as he conw -... i'essed, " Durose knows something I r . .'. wish to keep secret; and, although he , ■■ does not say it in so many words, I ':■--" know he'll give me away if I don't let '"?■ him have money when he wants it." :. "■'■' "But that is sheer blackmail! Why ;1 -, n<jt tell the rascal you will prosecute r = him?" exclaimed Palliser. "He de.i.. serves a few years of penal servitude." "He deserves a thundering good v,r kicking, and I'll be obliged to you if ?"., vou will give it him I But—the fact is, j 1 have to pay him to keep the secret." ".i' ? . "Is it of so much importance, Wil-

.. lie?" Palliser asked. "Does it matter " Yeß. I can't have it told at pre- ~* sent." "Wilfrid's lip quivered for a „,,- moment. ''l've done nothing wrong," he continued, in response to Palliser's ■iV' expression of grave concern- "I've - done nothing but what is straightforward and honourable; but it may spoil . my future if people get to know it just now."

"I understand. And it is important to you that Durose's mouth should be ! shut— l'll go and settle him!" Palli-

Ber turned to the door as he spoke. But Wilfrid, springing up, caught •- hold of him by "the hand. " Not "tonight," he said. "Not on tin eve of the sports. I—l've got to hand over - . the money until Monday—Monday is the time he fixed. Meanwhile much may occur—l've a sort of presentiment that there wall be happenings, so don't &o anything until the day after to-mor-row."* " Very well. If you will promise not to pay him anything until then?'' " Certainly, I won't pay him anything till then. I haven't got it, for

that matter!" muttered Wilfrid. "The

governor—or is it you P—keeps a tight YtavA on his money. I get precious little, T know." " My dear fellow, you cannot know ,' r , what a lot you have had this year, and '* how I have had to smoothe down uncle's '".. just indignation! He has even been angry with me about it." Palliser was ■< J , J Ws uncle's secretary, and in charge of - 1 "the home exchequer. •'.j y "I'm awfully sorry, Palliser, but you ' '•' must know I have been trying to be~l com© independent of him. I'm not a

schoolboy, to be allowed .so much a month; I'm a man, with a man's expenses—which nmst be met." "As if■ vou had'.exoenses running to the tune of £2OOO a year! Really Wilfrid !"

" I tell you I have been trying to make more money, and should have done so had I'not been so confoundedly unlucky." "Ah! If you will gamble on the Stock Exchange-— ■" Palliser was interrupted. ''"''. " 1 don't do that, Pall. Betting on horses is a thing I have been lucky in, in the old davs, and 1 may be again." "Don't believo it, "Wilfrid! It's an ill road to travel."

Again Palliser was interrupted, this time by the dinner gong. With an exclamation Wilfrid tore off to his dressing-room, whence ho emerged in 'an'incredibly, short time, looking very well set up in evening dress. Their great friends and neighbours the Elvingtons were dining with__ them that evening- The Marquis of Elvington lived at the Hall, and owned all the Elvington pits and mos+. of the colliery town of Lottingham, separated from Rilford by the river Tarrent. Lord Elvington was. a widower, with 'two daughters, Lilith and Adela, and one son, Lawrance Viscount Heliot, who had just left Oxford. Lady Lilith was beautiful. Her colouring was good, nut-brown hair, dark blue eyes, with long dark lashes, a complexion exquisitely fair, save for the .blush-rose colour in her cheeks and the scarlet lines of her beautifully curved mouth. Most of the young men in tho neighbourhood, aye, and many of the older ones, loved Lady Lilith with more or less enthusiasm. Palliser'Clifford, who, being . an orphan, had been brought up by his uncle, was disappointed. because Lady Wentworth had arranged that on this occasion Wilfrid should.take Lady Lilith in to dinner. Lady Adela fell to him, and Palliser felt rather sorry for himself—Adela was not by any means a favourite of his. Under cover of the hum of conversation at the dinner-table Adela said to him, with. a little air of haying taken offence, "I"met you to-day on the bridge; and you walked past, as if there was no one there." .

' " Ah, I thought you did not see me, and I did not care for the man you were talking'with." "Mr Durose? Why, whit is wrong with him? He is a most brilliant journalist." . :'. ■■' : ' "Indeed!" Palliser Clifford looked up uneasily,, startled by the tone of the girl,, whicli; said more than . her words. ,; ■ - ''-:.\ .•■"-,■'■■■ ■,■■■"'-•"'' Adela was -three years; younger than Lilith; ( .She .was- eighteen , and Lilith would he „.t wen ty-one on, the: m or.rbw ': He had;thought of-Adela as;a" school girl,, discovered all at, once that she was grown up and a woman._ '";■" "I dare:say that means nothing to you, who are not at . all literary,". Adela said, rudely; ••"■bait I think, ail the more' of him -for it;"-. ~ " You're" f?etting';'it hot,: Palliser," observed ..Heliot,: whorsat ..'on; th& other side of the :youngier 'sister. '" ! Lf -you want any. assistance you' know I'm here."- ' •" '■"'

"Be. quiet, Lawrance!" said'Adela impatiently. "Everybody will, hear!" .Addressing Clifford, she went on, ".Mr Durose has come down from London to; be- present ■at c -the-show "and at -the/sports- :tO'-morr'dwY ; fn order that he may write "about" his paper, He is: going to ..put in a-paragraph about the Queen: of : the Sports -" " That won ! t be you I" chaffed Lawrance.' "I know." There, is no such luck for ma!" sighed • Adela."- " Lilith gets all, the- hopdurs l ! -It'-s iiotfairl Mr Durose; said ,it .was hot!',' "I am Surprised at your discussing. ' such ■a : thing with " a'::.- man like that:.'.' Palliser said.-gravely.: "You cannot be aware what sort of a fellow he is.!" "He's as good as you are. any way," .the girl retorted.- "I should think a journalist is quite the equal of a secretary!" ■ ■",; .''"';'.'.' ''■",; "...;•■ ■-;•; .;"/.. "Cei;tainly, as. far,as professions'go,. But you-mistake riiej-AdelaJ' and .'.'he;; looked kindly on the girl _lie; had known from lier childhood ;•■" it is not the; man's profession, but the man .himself to whom I object." ' Adela' could make no response, for. Lady Wentworth was saying';," Come, my dear, .girls !". . rind: 'Lilith and " she had risen,; and followed; lier 'from .the room." --■:--• 5..-„ ;-*/.■,,. ; . i '-.; CHAPTER"-JL'■:'.■. THE ' NEVER-T0 : BE-FOKGOTTEN T STOBTS. ■ ■ Long-ago the River Tarrent at Lottingham flowed peacefully between its high'wooded bank on the one side and sleepy flat meadows which encompassed the little town on the' othei\; : but that was before ri.ien in ./their! search for! treasure, 'discovered -that' r the rich meadowlands were-but ; the rcof of a storehouse containing far , greater wealth. ; .' It was a Marquis of -Elvington < f three or four generations back who drained'' his resources seeking coal there, and died on the very day that success crowned his efforts and the seam w-as struck which. made the old,. impoverished family a very rich one. The'coalpits, together with the"great ironworks which they brought in their wake, changed the pretty rural aspect of the ' place into a' vastly different scene. On every side the town extended itself ..like a monster intent on devouring everything green and fresh. The, coal shaft was sunk almost close to the water'.s edge, and the riverside became noisy with the clank of engines, and the loading of the drays, while it was thronged with thn stream' of grimy, miners going to nnd from their work. On the west, the Tarrent spreading itself out, shallow but broad, served as, an abrupt dividing line between town and country.

Across the river .began the-domain of Lord Elyington, whose, .wealth, derived from the pits at Lottingham, enabled him to ignore the fnost tempting offers of the speculative builders who would have made a town suburb of the pretty little village of Riiford. Tfc was a place of thatched roofs, rambling cottage gardens, high, bramble-covered hedges, and well-tilled fields. Past, the old church and the village green the road ran with an elevated side ■path which led under a double row of elms by the river sidp, a terrace between river and road, until the latter turned aside to wander round the base of the hill, leaving the elm grove to the pathway. This path rose still higher, and became more wooded until the trees formed a majestic avenue two hundred feet above the Tarrent. of which one below could only catch glimpses between the boughs of a miniature wood covering the almost perpendicular road. The avenue led to ElvhigtoirKnl'. a plain, square building. wh°re .lived the man who derived his wealth from the smoke and toil of Lnttingham. while residing comfortably out of ,; ts reach.

Halfway between the Hal! and Gilford Church an '-'.imposing' stone . gateway gave, entrance to the grounds : of Riiford Court., the fine 'modem residence of S : r. Daniel WentworMi. the owner of the great Went worth 'lronworks,, which gave employment, to twothirds of the inhabitants of the town.

T/TyTT?. " For disorders ..of the liver

stomach there is no mod'-iie + lnn Chamberlain's TabMs," writes Mrs M"rcf>:-ef J. F-vcra'd. Q. "[ Mi!f""ed wit'- bid h?!>d'"h^; ; c:mvvl by a disordered livei'. Dei'rin-r mv customers sneak so hii'hlv of Chamberlain's Tablets, I thought I would try what they would do for me. After the first few doses I noticed an improvement, and after i had taken a, couple of boxes found mvself quite relieved of headaches, which have not returned," .7

He was scarcely less rich than Lord Elvington.

Though for the most part the inhabitants cf Lottingham left-llili'ord to its peaceful seclusion, there was one day in the year, that of the llili'ord flower show and sports, when the great; park at Elvington was thrown open to the public, and then, from pit and foundry the toilers poured forth to avail themselves of the privilege. On the present occasion both; Hall and Court were contributing competitors to-the races, for Sir Daniel Wents'orth's only son, his nephew, and Lord Elvington's son, were going.to take part in them by way of putting the local candidates on their mettle.

Moreover, it was the coming of age of Lady Liiith, and she, as quewi of tiie Sports, was going to present the prizes. fcjne van popular, and deservedly soj for wherever there was sickness and want, so far as site knew it, her hand was read}- to give help, and her sewet voice quick to proffer- sympathy. Tho Lady Lilith bowed and smiled graciously from her brougham, as the crowd

cheered her upon her arrival with her sister and father, and as, on alighting from the carriage, she stood smiling at them all, and acknowledging first one greeting and then another, sho looked so fair and' beautiful and so exceedingly happy that, as the pool folk said, it fairly did them good to look at her. Palliser Clifford, dressed in his light running clothes under a long overcoat, having assisted her to alight, turned to her father, exclaiming, "I was beginning to fear that you would.not seethe first race, Lord Elvington. We have reserved seats for you all ou the grandstand."

"Very well, Palliser, we will take our places at once," agreed Lord' Elvington, following. his daughter-as she led the way, accompanied by young Clifford.

Upon the stand, which a draping of white cloth made a quite, imposing structure, they found their friends were already taking their seats. The bell had rung announcing the first raco, and Viscount Heliot, who had joined: them with Wilfrid Wentworth, called' to.Clifford to hurry away with them.-

When ' Pal User returned, with his good-tempered cheerfulness quite unaffected by. the fact that his' cousin Wilfrid had beaten him by about a foot in the-first race, Lady Lilith'.smiled on' him with great approval, and kept"him chatting by her-side for several minutes.., '. " '• '■••■■'■ Wilfrid had returned to the stand also, aud' the delicate face of his mother glowed .as she looked at her hero. ■lf Lady Wentworth had a weakness it was her passionate adoration of .'hiif only child, •■ He J was; indeed; pleasant -to-look upon. ; ■Gommanding_in;Stature -like hi's-'father, ahd'with a face ;So con-, trastin'gly youthful that it had gained hiin at College the nickname of The Seraph, Wilfrid Wentworth was one : of those who succeed easily in anything they take in hand. Only a judge more critical than his mother. might have detected weakness in - the handsonle boyish face, and recognised'danger".in the fact -that Iris" easily gained"- popularity might make him selfish. He. was very fond of his mother, and stood'contentedly,'beside her, talking about the arrangements for the day. The runners had to start again , for the next heat, and Palliser went with Lady Lilith's injunction' ringing like.sweet music, in his .!", ears. ! "JWin, -tJiis. time, Palliser,,, for my sake.". - .The.starting pistol sounded, andthe half-dozen lightly clothed figures, which a moment before Had been tense, motionless statues, became suddenly ; running men approaching rapidly. , ■'' I was afraid '•' Clifford '■ was put. of ■ training ;''-h&> got a bad 'Start;" .said a' gentleman near-.- '''.- .•;' , 'li^was..true the- young man she was watching with . such intense !- interest was now fourth among those who were running. She felt a pang of disappointment and a keen wish that.be might do better. ..-.is if conscious :of:her-wish-the runner- braced himself/ to a; great ,; effort, and .suddenly passed • the- 'mari> before him and gained, upon the next.' Lady Liliib clasped-her hands unconsciously as the distance between tho two became gradually less. Palliser had passed tho other now-; and the winning line was only a. .-dozen, yards .before, him, but one competitor,' a. champion' short distance runner;; from .the ironworks, was', still hi "■'front'."''•' -.' J '--- '' "Can't do 'it I"" cried Lilith's neighbour, and then abruptly burst into. a shout of congratulation, as Palliser, making a supreme effort, breasted the tape a moment before the champion. Heliot turned to the winner of-the first race. . "You will.have to look-to-your laurels,' Wentworth,'..' lie said.:,"l had no idea! your cousin, could mm so .welU' , ■".'.' '.

'" Nor I/' said .'Wilfrid/;."! "And I don't suppose he had .an idea either, or he would have gone in for the sprtrts at Oxford."

Lady Lilith did, not hear him. The winner and hero of the moment, haying c6me up to her. where she sat, made her suddenly, conscious of her clasped hands and excitement. She flushed, a little as he smiled. " Are you satkfied?" he asked. " Quite! You ran splendidly." It was all she had timo to say, for others were 'around congratulating him, and she noticed with pleasure how modestly he bore himself, and how handsome he was looking. Soon she had an opportunity of tolling him - how anxious she had been ior him to win the race, and how satisfied she now was, ■ arid ho said low inlier ear that the thought of her had animated him. A little later in the day Palliser beat the collier champion in the high jump, a.nd a few Kbsos marred the ple'asanti.css of ths cheering:. There were not wanting those who imagined that " the quality" were being favoured iii some way, and tho poor, handicapped. ■ "AVait until lie tries" his" strength against Gotlison," one of the', working men was saying., "Ho.may be lighter on his legs, but when it comes strength, we'll see whether a.'working man does not take the shine out of the young gentleman."

"Yes, Gothson will show him," echoed another.

The contest on which they ' were counting to establish the physical superiority of their class was the next on the list, and a hoarse cheer rose from every side as the workmen's champion appeared on the course near the spot where Palliser stood. lie was a. man past middle age. Short in ■statute and clumsily built, his broad shoulders and tremendous girth distinguished him at once from iho other competitors, even among the ironworkers. Cliff.ird's slight, erect figure seemed almost boyish in comparison, but it wa=; m iriud by that perfect proportion which makes for strength- as well as beantv

fl.e was chatting now to his formidable opponent as they stood in 'the centre of the course waiting for the trial of strength and skill to begin. "You are. not in for aiiv 'of the other eventsy'' he asked, and Gothson shook his head.

'" No, sir, I have never taken a pn'xo for anything but putting The weight, and nobody in rhe district has beaten me at that, for twenty years now. When they <[ t » J si lii 11 know that, I am an old man ", Palliser answered encourainngly. The veteran's evident anxietv seemed' to bun very pa*.beik:: he noticvd the man's face had whitened. " Why, you are scarcely fifty yet." he said. " and at any ago a. man may find his superior."

The. contest began as ho spoke. One of the puddlors, almost

gigantic in build as Gothson, was raising; the £i'eat shot aloft on his hand.

and, bonding forward, sent it plunging before him, to In 11 with a dull thud on the- turf. It was a good throw, and Lhc-> faces of the competitors became more serious.

.Heliot followed, and, bringing "gi'eater skill and agiiity to the support of'his, inferior strength. 1 felt very satisfied wii.li his performance, when lie, found that the shot had come down an inch or two in front of the first mark... But his satisfaction was shortlived, for it was Gothson's turn to fellow, and a cheer broke from the onlookers as .the champion justified_ his reputation by sending the great iron ball ,')■ clear couple of feet beyond him. It was a mark that the five who followed 'all failed to reach. ''_ . Heliot had the- pleasure of feeling that no 1 made a good second,, when Cliiford, the last to throw, took up the weight.

Palliser wanted 'to'''win, for he thought of Lady Lilillv.and the joy that would shine in' her eyes if.ho did well, and-the-thought put nerve and sinew into his arm "as he flung the ball forward with all the'power of his spirit,, as well as of body and limb. Ho'was ■conscious 1 then that the' silence had given place to a hubbub of voices. The ball had fallen so near to the champion's mark that everyone was asking which was furthest, and those nearest were passing on the' word, which travelled quickly round the course. Clifford's was first by an inch. From the stand came a gentle sound of clapping, but on the course no one took it up. Clifford, however; was un-conscious-of all-that. A .groan behind him made bum turn.., to find Gothson muttering to himself,- ■■' The puddler's face, startled him by its expression of heart-broken despair. His lips were twitching.. , "I knew-tl(js was the end. I am too old," he was saying, and Clifford shook , his head. "Nonsense! You'll beat that in the second' try. and, this is the best, that I can do. You are not beaten yet." '•'No, I'm not beaten yet, sir." His uneven voice had a touch of fresh hope in it.

Few of the competitors cared to avail themselves of the privilege of another try. Heliot, as usual, cheerfully 'lid his best, and succeeded in improving his distance by a couple of inches, but the others contest to the champion and his rival. - 1 Gothson again threw first, his face an almost terrible picture of despairing resolve as he braced every muscle for the effort on which for him so much depended. With the energy of desperation he flung the ball'forward, to reel back in an exhaustion even more mental than physical as the result was known. He had crept an, inch beyond Clifford's mark, and-was leading again. .••., There,.was a little applause, but it died away quickly. The tension was too great. As Clifford poised the ball once more his eyes instinctively turned -to the centre of the stand, where the. girlish Queen of Sports sat on her .throne, but they turnet! away quickly-to glance at ■■thev:whitey-'t*nse face of his -opponent. Then the; weight 'flew forward and touched, earth a little-'.short even of his first, mark. . . , ■" Turning to Gothson he held out his hand, touched.to see.tears of relief in his eyes. . , ; "You are -still champion. ' I yield you the palm." . ." This was the ending of .the first half of the sports, Those.oll the stand were already'; (making their: "tyay down its awkward' staircase, to to the tents where the flowers were, to be' judged, arid Palliser threw on his long overcoat, in order to join his' friends as they oame down. It seemed to him that Lady Lilith had been. expecting .him. '.; ; "I want to ask yoti sdhiething," she said 'i'. c/uiet'ly as he .took- his place ;at her'side. "Will you promise to,answer me?" : " ■,.'''. ,'

"Certainly:" He looked down into her sweet, blushing face, knowing that he could refuse her nothing. , . , "Then< tell me- whether you really tried:.to win the .last prize?" He coloured: like a: boy: . The tion had taken him by surprise. '.■' ■■■■■; ~, ",L hope r that.l, loqked'.as;if I! were trving," he said anxiously. "I would not haye Gothson know for anything.And very probably he would have won in any case. My last throw was not the best, I could do." '" You need not- fear.-my betraying you," she answered,, with -', a tender little smile. "I don't;, think anybody else suspected it. I only did sp because': T had felt sure that. I 'you. would win. Why did you do it?" , "If 5-0U had seen Gothson's face yoa would not ask. He has been champion for twenty-years.- I had not the heart even "to try when I saw how Tie felt •it".:-','- But please don't .breathe a word of .this to anyone else." : '■ It is quite safe with riie,'hut when I give the prize for putting the weight I shall feel that I ought to-be'giving it. to you. The achievement which ;t would'please me most to reward will 'remain without one."

' ~" Unless you choose to give it to me rfow." he said,, glancing at the roses on her breast:' 1 , ■•.,-... .',.-

■ With" a quick, smile' she selected one and handed it to him.

Lady Adela perceived this little scene. ".How absurd Lilith is." ■■she said to herself as the rose changed hands, and she frowned angrily the next minute. "However, she is not married yet—and we shall see happenings!' There's many a slip, etc.," and she laughed.

CHAPTER 111. THE TRAGEDY OF THE BAT.

The shades of evening'closed over the park, and as they deepened hundreds of little twinkling lights appeared round the margin of the lake, and shone.from festoons of many coloured Chinese lanterns suspended from the trees to turn the scene into fairyland.

I The 'Sports Avex-e over now; the prizes had been presented by Lady Lilith with I a sweet, gracious dignity, which \ brought even to Gothson a sense of I reverence for some indefinable differf ance, which wealth alone can never give, between her class and his. To .others of the rough colliers and workers 'she gave '■ form and reality to vague ideals, making, as every good and. beautiful woman does, womanhood itself. more sacred. '". They held their breath as they took their "prizes from her_ slender white hands and met the gracious smile which

accompanied them, making the prizes themselves more valuable.

Despite the jealousy and uneasiness of the working men, it was found that the solid rewards of the day's striving where to go to them, as just before the presentation Sir Daniel Wentworth made the pleasing announcement that Mr Clifford Palliser, Viscount Heliot and Mr Wilfrid Wentworth had waived their rights to. the spoils they had won. The announcement brought back complete good humour to the crowd, and the cheers which greeted the hero of the day when he received from the Queen of the Sports the bow of ribbon which alone he would accept were as hearty as those given to the veteran champion from the foundry when he mounted the platform to receive his guerdon for the putting of the weights. ° The grandstand was deserted by now, for the party from the Hall had returned there" with their guests, and they were all dining before coming out to watch the fireworks from the terrace. Later, after dinner, Lady Lilith, who was scarcely free for a moment from the guests 'who thronged about her — most!v gentlemen, who, naturally, admired so beautiful and gracious a l a civ—found herself looking a Kfatle wistfully after Palliser Clifford, as he passed the open windows of the draw-ing-room. He smiled gravely when his eyes met hers, but did not stay to speak more than to briefly answer the question she called after him, in her low sweet voice; "When are the fireworks to begin?" He caused at the top of the broad stone steps leading down to the park, and, looking back, replied: "They should have begun ten minutes ago. Mv uncle has sent to hurry them up"" The fireworks with which the festivities of the day were to end were to be displayed from a little island in the centre of the lake, and almost as he disappeared the first rocket shot into the air, to be followed by a murmur of. applause from the crowd round the banks as its cloud of sparks fell and reflected itself in the water. Lady Lilith was looking towards the steps 'but if she hoped that Palliser would return when he found her errand unnecessary she was disappointed. He had been glad to find himself alone and able for a while to remain so, as lie wanted to think about Lilith and her sweetness and grace. That day the love he had long felt for her had flamed up into its zenith of warmth, and he knew that she was the one woman in the world who could _be his wife; she was his affinity, his dual soul, the other half of his being. With her he was at rest and full of joy; apart, he was consumed by only one desire, to be with her again, to touch her hand, to hear her lovely voice, to see her beautiful face, to note her gracious acts, and the beauty of the thoughts she half revealed and half concealed, often suggesting far more than she said. ' ' Yet ho was leaving her now. Was it to spare himself the dissatisfaction of seeing other men discoursing with her, and perceiving their looks of admiration, and the new "tendernessyvhich crept into their tones? Did that make him long, for the day when he could claim, her all for his opi? Did that remind him that there #ould be difficulties to overcome before that day would come ? .-.ft was .not, as if ho were his cousin Wilfrid, heir t'o all., Sir Daniel's immense wealth. He was only the comparatively ' poor relation, left a pensioner on his uncle's kindness. Sir Daniel had educated him well, had given him a liberal allowance throughout his ; . University life, and now had made him his secretary, with a salary of £BOO a year,; a generous salary, but nothing as an income for. the husband of Lord Elvington's daughter. Yes, she loved him; he was quite, quite sure of it, and there was a saying that she could twist her stern father 1 -round her little finger—that was what the poor said when grace and .bounty flowed to them from Elyington Hall—and he himself had often observed- the wonde,rful compliance of the Marquis to -her. slightest wishes.. Again and again he had yielded to her will, but, it remained to he seen whether he would do so in the great matter of her marriage. Personally he liked Palliser very much, but as a possible husband for- his, idolised daughter he .might stmrn him. '.■■': t( li I had only beep in Wilfrid's place," involuntarily Palliser ■ spoke aloud, " then* all would be smooth sailing."' But the next moment he was ashamed of the momentary thought, and said to himself, '"'No, I don't envy him; I never, did, and I won't:" Pulling himself together, he passed on. Hitherto he had avoided the crowd of merrymakers round the lake. Their shouts of approval, hoarse murmurs of applause, breaking the intervals of silence, had made a vaguely-noticed discord in his thoughts; but now he no longer wished to be alone. His heart warmed towards the dark mass of indistinctly seeii figures, and, being essentially one who loved mankind, he hurried towards them.

Tho fireworks were near their end, arid - the. little island was aglow with, the coloured lights of an elaborate set piece which, reflected in the water, changed the lake into a sea of blood. Against the radiance the temporary grandstand with its memories of the afternoon stood out blackly, a deserted thing, it seemed to him, until a clatter of applause breaking from it, in approval of the display, toM him .that it must be fl '.ed again with a fresh complement of spectators. The people watching the fireworks had no d'oubt found its deserted benches ,a desirable point of vantage from which to watch the display. To Clifford, as he approached, it seemed as if the silhouetted structure seemed to sway beneath the crowd which had clambered upon it, and which now expressed noisy approval, with hands and feet, of the spectacle before them. ' Palliser's face grew anxious as he realised the fact. The staging, tall enough to suggest an appalling catastrophe if it fell, had been built for the accommodation of a limited number. It was probable that neither Lord Elviiigton, who had given the orders for its erection, nor the workmen who had carried them out, remotely anticipated the use now being made of the stand. Already, it had lurched a little forward under its unintended burden. He quickened' his steps to speak_ to some of the men on the lowest tier, making his voice heard with difficulty above the clatter of the hob-nailed nhoes that still stamped approval of fthe lurid changing lights. " I would come off that stand if I [were you; I don't think it safe," he iflaid. 1 The man nearest to him repeated the .word jeeringly to his companions. They jtad' been half expecting some' interference with their enjoyment, and were prepaid to resist it. "Come off?" said one. "Not likely. What chance would we have of seeing ever all them people in front?'' "The fireworks are just about over, irir," said another, more respectfully. "The platform has been groaning a Mt. but we're willing to risk it for another live minutes." . .The recklessness so characteristic of their class 'discouraged Palliser. The culv fear that had been in his mind as he hastened towards them had been J.rst. his warning should create a panic end cause a catastrophe almost as serious as the one he was trying to ,-ivort.

Even now he was afraid to speak nioro urgently, or to make liis fear known to the people above. For n tnougbtless and reckless confidence is vever far removed from an pomillyunpanic, which follows so quickly if the confidence gives way. Lnstead ho made his way quickly iv«iuid to the back of the staging, to see for himself, as far as possible in the lurid green and red fires from the island, how serious the danger was. The (ires flared up afresh, causing great black shadows from the beams and scaifoldiiic to fall across his path,

1 anions the ■irent chaos mcath the h still Ktan liiin rover even above the stage the. strail ■in as no onof'beams and seats whore ipiii'". The horiuod deal- » tlm tumult, e sound of Jiowcd that wore tried to i placed upon

For a moment ho was in complete darkness. Then a t'resh burst of green lisjiu from tlu; island lighted the place abrupdy, casting black shadows of pole and scaffolding around him. Palliser 'ooked about anxiously, and tho colour left his cheeks. The position was even more serious than ho had j imagine?.. 'L'he groat central npriglu on-which tho stability of the structure depended

had bent forward, tearing itself <uya? from its cross-beams, and threatening every moment to fall forward, bringing the densely packed platform with itv Even as he looked another of the beams gave way, wiih.a eracli that must surely have been 'heard "above, j Rut the tumult of riolous applause con« tinned, and Palliser turned hastily. At the risk of causing a panic down ilia awkward stairs lia must get thu »***£

cleared at once. It seemed to him that a few inmutes at tho most would see it fail, a net, he -had already taken a step forward when his eye fell on the toola Vthat the workmen had left to be ready-

for taking down the stamt on the

"morrow. ; At the same moment the band across the lake sounded tho first bars of "God Save the King!" It 'could only be a few moments now the stand was cleared naturally by the end of the display. It it could but remain erect till then all would ke well, and the danger of a panic would be,averted. With an instant decision i lio seized one of the heavy mallets. If he could only drive in again the .supports of the corneal beam in time, it .'aught bear it» ourden for the few minutes more that remained, and so .thinking, he raised the heavy mallet, wrni all the splendid strength he possessed, to bring it down on the loosened post. The stamping above him had ceased, ;»s the last effort of the pyrotechnist's .ekill, a portrait in fire of the King *nd Queen, revealed itself slowly, it was a lull before a greater storm, and Palliser worked desperately. Tho tot- ' tering beam had one support opposed to it now to meet its yielding weight, and in the momentary silence, the thud of Kis mallet sounded like the • heart-beat of a giant struggling hard

against the Fates. The people above must have heard t it and realised their danger, ho told 'himself. They were verv .silent. Only the strains of'the band across the water came to his ears, as he laid down his mallet for a moment, to place another * prop in position. : Then clearly in the silence came a voice which he recognised instantly, though it spoke in little more than a whisper. ' , "No ono will see us here for a minute or two, Janie. but you really ought not to have asked me to meet • you • to-day. * If we are seen to-night - all might come out, and then there .'*' would be the devil to pay." 1 The word* registered themselves automatically in his memory, like a Photograph- that waits to be developed. At the moment they brought neither i meaning nor suspicion. He was only asking.. himself, as he placed the wooden post in position, whether his recognition of the unseen speaker was not a mistaken one. But too well ho knew who he was, and called earnestly into the darkness whence the voice proceeded: "Wilfrid!" ' ■ He was plying the mallet*agam desperately when the cry was answered, and his cousin stepped into the fitful light, his face flushed and angry. "What the deuce do you want, Palliser? You are not my keeper!" , The other did' not wait for any more. "Get a mallet! Quick, man. Don H > you see the stand is coming down with all the crowd upon it?" The burst of applause for which the silence had been only a preparation "broke out as he spoke, and drowned his words. The portrait of the King and Queen so clearly revealed were greeted with loyal enthusiasm. The stnging creaked more than ever, ; icid the great central beam leant forward another inch, to strain against the prop Palliser had already driven against it. The sinister movement niide further . words unnecessary. Wilfrid Wentworth needed no more than that, and tho mallet' in his cousin's hand, to make him realise the position, and his faca /changed. The flush of anger drew out of it, leaving a look of calm determination. Quickly he sent away the woman with whom he had been speaking. Iu this supreme moment, when he saw the lives or men and women depending upon his muscle and courage, the weakness which marred his ft.ee disappeared, leaving it dign«~ed and ennobled by. the appeal to action. Having found a mallet, he was at his cousin** side now, seconding his efforts.. To him, as to Palliser, it was apEarent that if their attempt failed their ves might be forfeited; but to him, as to his cousin, the thought brought .'-no.idea-of selfishly escaping. A chance of saving others offered itself, anti, with the dogged English courage that so seldom fails, they bent all • their efforts to utilise it. ■ The noise above was dying away, and Palliser could make his voice •• heard. , , "It was no nse warning them, there would only been a stampede." Wi'frd nodded. "It is only a few minutes now. If that confounded hymn would only

stop. Palliser thought, too. that the band * was playing it interminably.. As a : matter of fact, it had not given more tn?m> the first verse. . 1 There was still a final tibbau, it seemed, and the cheering renewed itse!f as fresh coloiired fires into flame to caift a last glow of radiance • over the -lake and park. It threw a red Vght upon the faces of the witchers on the terrace, looking down on the-scene, in-tragic unconsciousness of what the semi-darkness hid., and little dreaming of the tremendous 6truggie between dogged couraae and imminent danger waged by those they held so dear.- ; ■'••■• "I wish that Wilfrid would com© .•in." liadv Wentwortb was saving. •' 1 ■am sure he has done enough to-day. I ■thought him pale at dinner." . Down beneath the luridly lit stage Palliser looked up anxiously as the •woodwork groaned afresh beneath ..ne .thoughtlessly enthusiastic crowd. "It is coming! Save yourself, Wilfrid," he shouted above the din, and threw down his mallet as the groaning beam bent farther forward. ' ; But if Wilfrid hoard he gave no

feign; with lips grimly set, and a light lif-his eyes, the light of an unswerving find unselfish determination, which made his whole face heroic, he onlv praised his mallet to strike again more 'desperately. • • Theheam strained forward, the whole stage moving with it, and sudden cries of.terror, piercing through the hubbub bf sounds, told them that the people above at last realised their danger. * It-was already too late, for the realisation to do more than precipitate the catastrophe.' /. As*the'two young men rose, with one accord to their feet, struggling to escape from the doomed sfage, the ifinal support at which Palliser had been labouring was thrust aside by tho weight of the descending beam. He threw down his. mallet, and with desperate effort of despairing courage raised his arms in the endeavour to k»?ep it back by sheer strength. I But the' muEclo of one man, even ] : "though he made an almost superhuman ; effort, was futile and ridiculous against tho weight of a struggling crowd, and 4 the beam, bending forward towards . liini, made him close his eyes with the thought that death had come. 1 Above an* the panic raged, and cries I become ft babel, yet through it all he ■•was conscious that, the band across the lake was still playing the last triumphout bars of the Anthem. He .would have escaped now hod tho side struts pinned him in, and t\\& beam against which he was struggling descended lower and lower upon him. Another moment, and it would be 'crushing him into the ground. But the. moment did not come. The whole stand had-been falling forward. But as the movement brought the back part away from its supports it seemed to throw itself back like an animate thiiig and to come clown backwards with one great crash of timber. . Palliser raised himself from a moment of unconsciousness to find that the beam above him, relieved of its strain, leant oyer him motionless. A strut of tiiuber wrenched away from it had etrifc'-fc t sin.' oti tho temple!, and biobd flowed down over his cheek, but lie had Bo coascioiisnes4 of it. His thoughts were still.with the people for whom he had risked his life, and who still needed his help. Their cries filled the air as ho groped his way out of the darkness to the front of tho ruin that, with the fall of the front, was tilted upwards. The woodwork trembled and groa-ned as ho crept out into the light of • the red- fire still casting its last flickering glow over the.scone, making

it appear more than ever weird and terrifying. It was the spectacle of a confused mass of human beings rendered for the moment inhuman by their terror of a danger that seemed to them nil the more appalling .because it was only dimIv understood, a danger which, had thev realised it, was at an end. The distance that the platfonn could now subside was iinsiguifioant. Nobody could bo injured seriously except by the frantic struggle to escape injury, and anger flashed from Paihser's eyes as lie saw men and women,leaping from all sides of the tilted woodwork, careless of those below urged on by the frenzv of those behind pushing their way to the edgo to leap as insensibly hi \heir turn. It was a relief to find ono sane man there. Gothson's voice, purposely very deliberate, made itself heard above the tumult. . " Not so much hurry, please, it is all over, and nobody's hurt." Ho was clambering on to tho .stand tho nest moment to'try to force back the mad rush of people from behind l>s sheer force, and in a- minute Pollises joined him, raising his voice to bring back reason and common sense. Their influence made itself quickly felt. The very sight of men climbing on to tho stand, instead of leaving it. brought confidence, and in a few moments tho panic was at an end. Clifford and Gothson. were helping the people who remained on the wrecked platform to descend hastily, yet without recklessness; while on each side of it men and women picked themselves up with bruised limbs, wondering what it was exactly had made them leap down regardless of oonseouencea.

One poor fellow had broken his le? in falling, a woman had been rendered unconscious by others coming upon her before she could raise herself from the ground after leapiig down. Others were suffering from less injuries, but from the actual accident itself no one had suffered more than a severe shaking. .•■"., The curious ssirrxag manner in which the T>latform collapsed had lessened the shock, while the fact that the final faJJ haying been backwards made the tiers level, prevented'the people from being thrown upon one another. But it was only afterwards that anybody knew how comparatively light the list of injuries actually was. At present tho darkness —for the last of the firewefrks had flickered out—seemed to cover' untold traged : es. Palliser was helping down a little child, the last to be placed on the safe ground, when one of the servants from

Rilford Court touched his arm. "Mr Wentworth is asking to see you, sir. I am afraid that he is dying. He was at the back of the stand, and was caught when it fell."

CHAPTER IV. THE DEATH OF WILFRID.

From tho moment when he crept out from under the fallen stand, Palliser was conscious of a vague questoning as to where h's cousin could be. It had seemed strange to him that he had not heard Wilfrid's voice raised in support of his own to help to lessen the panic, and that he had not seen hi < great figure opposing itself to the mad rush from the rum, but the questioning. had scarcely become uneasiuess. 'When every minute appeared to him like an hour, an interminable time seemed to have elapsed between the moment when he shotued to warn Wilfrid and the final crash. He had never doubted that it was more than sufficient to enable his cousin to escape from beneath the scaffolding. But his confidence'had been unjustified, as he realised when toliowuig tne. groom round to the back. The abrupt fail of the back part of the staging nad either caugat \Ventworth in tne act of getting away, or had surprised him as he wacdied i*aiJiser from wh.it appeared a piaoe of safety. In the light of a flickering Chinese • lantern, wmch somebody had brougnt. from one of the trees near, he lay on ' tne grass, cousciou-s -stilt, but fatallyl crushed by the mass of woodwork trom \ winch they had just removed him. His face, strangely enough, had received no scar- White with the hue of approaching death, it seemed to have grown more etherealy and to have assumed more of that innocent sweetness which had earned him his college nickname.

His eyes had been closed, but they opened as Palliser knelt by .his side, his heart sick with the dread which the look on Y> ilfrid's face betokened.

"Oh, Will, old man, ' ne said brokenly,, "why wai it you, and not I?" More agonising than the thought of his own loss was the sudden realisation which had come to* him of what this would mean to Lady Wentwortb, the idolising mother whose life was bound np in that of her only son. If the choice had been his, he would gladly at that moment have changed places with the man who was dying. For he had neither father nor mother to mourn him. -..

He looked up at the people around, searching for some hope in their faces, though he could feel none; then he asked, "Is there a doctor anywhere here? One ought to be fetched at once." A moment after the Wentworths' medical man, Dr Gray, appeared, and knelt down by Wilfrid's side, directing the man who held the lantern to bring it nearer.

His examination took only a few minutes.

" There is nothing to be done, Mr Clifford,' 5 he said, in a low tone. "You had better ask if he has anything he wishes to say. He is more or less conscious, and it is only a matter of a few minutes."

His voice sounded' almost heartless, Palliser thought, in its certainty. The doctor rose, and went away to others who still needed his professional services—he was not heartless, only intensely practical, and, when there was nothing to be done in one place, he hurried off to another where his services were required. Palliser knelt close to his cousin. " Willie, old- fellow, is there anything I can do for you?"

His cousin's voice came, dreamy and indistinct, _ as from the uncertainty of semi-consciousness.

"' Pall, I wanted you "—the words were so low that Palliser had to stoop lower. '•' You are a good fellow," the dying youth went on, dreami'y; " you will look after her, and not * let the mother know- It would break her heart." To Palliser it seemed that Wilfrid, too. was only thinking of the blow that his death would be to the mother who had no thought but for him. Only in a dying man's fancy could there' be any idea of keeping the news from her. He pressed Wilfrid's hand. "I will do everything I can.''

The cold hand he was clasping did not return his pressure] it would return it any more, nor would his cousin speak again. Swiftly, in his great weakness, he had passed away for ever from the changes and chances of this mortal lifeEven as Palliser knelt there, overcome with emotion, the thought obtruded that perchance Wilfrid's secret might never be revealed. The next moment two disturbing figures rose to his mental view: one was Duro«e. the journalist, the other the ohadowy form of tho unseen woman, whom his cousin had sent away.

A foreboding of still more trouble came over him.

CHAPTER V. PALX.IS?.n'o OOLL.U'SK

Palliser Clifford was scarcely conscious of wiiat followed. He had been kneeling, he did not know how Jong, by the side of the silent figure no word of his would ever reach now, still clasping the cold fingers that would never again clasp his, when he was aroused by the voico of the doctor, who had returned as soon as the urgent need for his services among tho people was over.

" Gpme, Mr Clifford/' -he eaid,

kindly enough, but with business-like brevity. "It is all over, and you cannot da anything more. 1 think that cut on your face- at id the bruise rn your'head need a little nttontion.'' " I'm nil right," said Palliser, rising dizzily. " I must tell his people." Tho duty had outlined itself dearly in hid mind, although everything was so confused. He must not leave the dead man's father and mother to hear tho news bluntly from strangers. Ho hlaiiud himself thai lio had allowed his own gViof to make Jum for a moment forgetful of fhe.ni. The doctor stood watching him doubtfully as lie made his way through tho little' crowd that had collected at the hack of the breJ;en-down stand; but there was still much to be done, work that was waiting for tho only doctor on the spot. He could not lose time running after and arguing with a reluctant patient. A girl wus at his side begging him Lo come to Iter mother, who had fain ted with the pain of a sprained ankle. He therefore went to her.

Clifford was striding out towards tho hall, battling wiih a strange feeling of dizziness which had seized him. Around him the forms of men and women seemed to pa;-s. vague and indistinct, like tho emilvires of a dream. And as if- in a dream he made, his wav among them, conscious of nothing very clearlV except tho lights of the halt, which glowed out of the darkness beyond to direct his uncertain steps, and of the duty lying before him when he reached them. He was away from the people now. the darkness and silence of the park lying around him, and unconsciously bringing to his strained mind some soothing sense of an all-pervading harmony, in which the seeming discords of death and disaster were but parts of a arcat design, imnerfect only to the short-seeing eyes of a'man. 'I he thought seemed to give him strength for the task tying betore him, and he was thinking of the words m which he would break the news to his uncle, when the dark figure of a young woman rose from the giound almost at his feet. She had been extended en the grass at fuil length, her frame shaken by convulsive sobs, her face buried in'her hands as if to shut out the sight and sound of the indistinct crowd moving too and fro by the wrecked stage. She had risen abruptly as Clifford approached, to appeal to him, with hands nervously clasped, and wild eyes full cf tragic anxiety. . "•They s'av Mr Wentworth is killed. Oh. sir. is it true? Is it true?" There was agony in her tense young voice. ..... Her face seemed vaguely familiar. At another time he might have recognised it. as at another time he would have been -touched by the agony of fear sounding in the fresh young voice to which the local accent only gave an added softness and charm. To-night it all seemed part of a dream. The face and voice appeared to him as out of a mirage, which made everything unreal "It is only too true. He gave his life for the others," he said, his own voice thick and hoarse; and the girl burst into a. storm of sobbing ; covering her face over again and wailing. "What shall 1 do? Oh, whatever shall I do?"

Afterwards the words came back to him, together with the gesture of •abandonment and despair which accompanied them. He was trying to clear his voice, to say' something soothing, but at that moment she caught sight of a group of people approaching them, and hurried away into the darkness,- as if fearful of being seen. A-party from the Hall, carrying lanterns, and with Sir Daniel at _ their head, were coming to ascertain for themselves what had been happening. Already frightened stragglers from the disaster 'had met them," with confused stories, which only increased their anxiety .. Sir Daniel's voice called out of the gloum.as he perceived his nephew's tall figure: -," Wilfrid, is. that you?" The anxietis question cut into the young man's consciousness like a knife, and drove back the lethargy that was stealing over him. His uncle did not know. then.•

"No; I have just left hira. I was coming to tell you," he said, his voice blurred and indistinct. The lantern • shone in his face now, showing him- his uncle's sternly selfsuppressed, and Lady Lilith's. The rest were all blurred to him, but his anxious, glance had told him that Wilfrid's mother was not there. The fact made his task a little less terrible. Sir Daniel laid his hand impatiently on his shoulder.

"You have just left Wilfrid?'' he said. "Tell me, is ■■ he -hurt? Some silly girl said he was injured but no one seems to know. • Speak!"—more anxiously—-" is he alive?' f Palliser, moistened his. dry lips to answer.

"He acted nobly. He was under the stand, trying" to strengthen the beam that was "falling." "He is dead?" The ironmaster's voice, still strangely self-contained, interrupted with the sharp question. C'ifford bowed his head. "He died as he would have wished to die, giving his life for others."

His uncle's voice broke sharply into the words with another question, "Where have they taken him?"

In his heart there was perhaps still some lingering hope. But he was ever a man who thought 'first of action, and guarding-every emotion jealously, as if its expression were a crime. His face in the lantern light seemed to have grown older since the afternoon, but it betrayed no feeling beyond an impatient eagerness as Palliser answered his questions dully. Sir Daniel forgot his nephew's presence as soon as the answers were given, and walked on with a pathetic eagerness, declaring that it could hot be true. They must hive made a mistake in thinking that his son was dead —quite dead. He repeated; the words. The medical skill that bis wealth could command should conquer still. It was impossible that this blow could have been dealt to him, a man who had never allowed any difficulty to conquer his w'!i, who had never failed to carry out his purpose, and make his will the ruling one.

The others were following him. speaking in whispers to one another, of the tragedy which had closed this dnv of pleasure, and of th rt wonderful calmness with which the dead man's fa'hfr bore his loss

Rut Lady LiT'rh caught at her father's arm, saving: "I think wo ought to stay with Palliser. father. T am sure, he has been hurt, or be would not stay behind."

Lord Elvington turned hick just in time to catch Palliser's slim young figure in his arms as lie was falling down in unconsciousness. "Ah, Pallr'ser!" Lady Lilith cried, kneeling down by his side, and endeavouring to raise his head from the ground.

His head was very heavy. She was unable to move it. So she sat down in her beautiful while 'dress, and, legardless of the wet grass or of the staring peop'e who had gathered round, entreated her father to lift Palliser's head upon her knee. "Yes, my child,'' sn-'c! the Marquis, doing so at once. He had always ,: '-"d P'llJisor. whom he had known from childhood,'- and was terribly shocked about, the accident and its fatal termination.

Looking round and perceiving one of his servants, he sent him off at once for '*■'*: motor-brougham. " We will take him home, our house is nearer." hf ?ain to Lilith. "Yes. ye*, f-ulvr'. ho is bleeding— ■* 'f-To is Mend eov-'iH-- ";'i |v 't from this wound," and she tried re bind it un with +he fratrment of I"ee "-ji-'eh was sunnosed +o be her handkerchief.

Her tithe l- nut h's linger one. in*rt her h-nef. " TTcr. +hat," he said. *' : It is a handkerchief."

CHAPTER VT. pTTijosE AN'I) I,.\UY AIIST.A

Lord Elvington and his older d<msrhter were so absorbed with Palliser's

condition and their efforts to improve it by bringing him back to consciousness, that thev took no notice of the fact' that Lady Adela was no longer with them.

She had discovered Durose, her journalistic friend, standing a little apart, looking at Lady Lilith very fixedly. As she. approached hira quite near could discern, even in the dim light which the lantern gave them at that distance, that a very black, displeased look was in his narrow face and keen dark eyes. Divining that lie was annoyed at the attention Palliser was receiving from her father and sister, Lady Acieia hastened to explain how it was.

' Then ho talked with hei; for some time in lov.\ rapid tones. She replied rather shortly, and in tones so low that he conld scarcely hear them.. _ They were so absorbed in each other and in what they were talking about, tht they did' not observe the motor brougham come up, and that, after a little demur on the part of Lord Elvington, Lilith pot into it, and Palliser was lifted in beside her, so that she might support his head'. Then they "motored oft without stopping to look round for Lady Adela. "My taxi-cab is just over there," said Durose to her, " 1 will take you home."

"All right," said Adela. And then, as he got into the taxi beside her she cried, "Oh, it's awful about poor "Wilfrid ! And Palliser looked bad: perhaps I ought to have gone with Lilith to help look after him; but she did not seem to want me, and I hate illness! I cannot bear to have anything to do with wounds and accidents "

" Then you can't do the ministering angel business?" '• Not I. Give me a man who is mentally and physically strong. • But look.' How the people are all hurrying to the scene of the accident 1 And oh 1 horror! What is that?"

She was filling up the window, so that Durose could not see out of it; therefore he asked, " What is what?" "That awful thing they are carrying. Is it a stretcher—and it's covered over ". " Don't look!" commanded Durose, trying to prevent her from seeing the stretcher on which lay all that remained of young Wentworth.

Adela ga~ped. "Why should Wilfrid have been killed instead of auyone else ? Why couldn't it have been his cousin Palliser? No one would have missed him—but Wilfrid, the only son and heir, and such a pleasant fellow I We've always been more or less chummy—oh, not in love, or any tiling of that-sort, but, you know, we were children together, always at each other's homes. And when we grew up, as I said, we were chums in a way. Orie can't forget that." "Was your sister jchnms with him, too?" inquired - Durose. "Lilith? No. Ever since PalHner was adopted by Sir Dnn.iel and Lady Wentworth he and Lilith hung together. They were chums, if you like."

Durose did not like, and he made a wry face.

Adela perceived' that people stared m at the taxi as it_ passed them; the tact-that it was coming from the scene of the accident lent it 4 interest "How the people stare!" she cried. " I shall lean back, so • that they may not see me."

" So you are ashamed of being seen with me!" Durose grumbled. " I should not have thought it of you, Adela—but 1 beg your pardon, I have no right to call you by thatuame."

" You have every right because I give you leave," she returned, with an arch smile.

"Do you give everyone leave?" he said, with an air of displeasure which made his rather narrow face look sinister. ... .

"What do you take me for P" cried Adela. " I assure you I am much more exclusive than Lihth, who takes all the world into her heart. She always has dozens of intimates where I have onlv one." " But 'she knows where to draw the line. She :an be very stand-offish.] Durose added something under his breath. ' "That's when she does not hkfl people," Adela returned. "And I can't think." she added frankly, " whv she doesn't like you." "Nor I," muttered Durose. "Unless it is that I am onlv a poor journalist, while she is My Lady!' " Don't talk in that way, Mr Durose, as if being My Lady were a bit better than being a clever and ambitious man, who will make his mark ono day!" , _ "Ah. you believe it?" asked Durose, pale in'tiis earnestness, and he touched her arm with the hand thai/ was nearest. His touch thrilling her, Adela exclaimed, "I do—and more, I know yon will." Durose felt elated. It is one thing for a man to believe in himself and another to have a pretty, charming girl sharing the belief. Ho though* Adela was cleverer and more interesting that he had hitherto considered her. '■'lt's verv charming of you to say all this, "he s-.id. ;' I wish I dare ask you something else." Adela coloured vividly. Sho was too sbv to raise her eye 3. Surely lft was the question of questions he meant; to put to her. . " You see, continued Durose £ m ms excitement- touching her again, "if vour answer is not what I want ifi to be I shall bo so awfully disappoint- ' "You needn't fear/'' Adela- said in .* low toue. "We think very much alike."' . "Then what I have to say is this, I've been in love ever so long, but without much hope. It seemed so audacious of me"—he stopped short, staring at Adela's changed countenance. She was verv pale, and—yes, certainly—her eves were full of tears. ""What's +he matter?" he asked. -'Aren't you we'll. Ladv Adela?" "I'm. all right. Go on. she said, niim.st crosslyT " But, for goodness sak". teil me who she is?" "Your sister. Liliih. I've loved her ever no lone—in fact, since the day on winch I "interviewed her after 4k> had been presented—she was so sweet and gracious." Auvla laughed shortly, and not :st all hanpiiv. ""It's n pity yon are wastin;:' an'v thoughts on Lihth," she said. "You'haven't any chance there." •'• Are vou ceitnin? I'm of goou fa: ilv. though Tin only a journalist—^" Adela interrupted. " Didn't you' seo her face as she bent over Palliser?"

"I did. It was LA\ of compassionshe is an angel, yon know, awl licsympathy is very keen. She would hare been just iho same if 1 had bean in-

jured—eh, what? Don't vou believe it?"

" Not I! Lilith's lovo ;*s not for you!" cried Adeta. "Uh, behove mo, sho cares more for that other'man's little finger than for your whole body ''

Duroso uttered an ejaculation of disgust, nm! turned from his companion to stare moodily out of the window. Adela shed a few tears surreptitiously. It was always Lilith who carried off vorything. Lilith had been made so much of that day. She had been the queen of the sports, and had given iho prizes, speeches had been made in her honour. Everyone had praised her. Adpla had been nowhere in comparison, but she had hugged to her heart the thought: "At- least Arnold Duroso loves me," and now he, too, had pone the way of everyone else, and laid down his devotion and his lovo at Lilith's feet, who didn't want them at all. Nevertheless, Adela felt it was her sister's fault.

" I hate Lilith!" she said in her heart. "I hate her! I hate Her!" A very tempest of jealousy shook the youager girl's soul. The man by her side would hate Lilith, too, in all probability, when convinced that die would have none of him.

But the taxi-cab had reached Rilford Court, and a footman had run down the steps to open the door that the young lady might step out. "How is Mr Clifford now?" she asked, 83 she, alighted. " 1 don't know, miss. Hie doctors are with him, and Mrs Elvidge." She wes the housekeeper. "Come m, do," Lady Adela said, rather half-heartedly. ' She did not know whether her father would like to see Durpso there at this juncture, and no doubt her father would be returning soon. v "Thanks! I fear I should be in the way. Yet I should like to know how Mr Clifford is." And Duroso hesitated.

"You can wait if you like in one of the small reception rooms near the hall door, there you will be in the way of no one, and I will come, or send to you, as soon as I know anything." "Thanks, awfullv! I'll wait then." The journalist followed # Adela into thehall, where she left him in a small ante-room . near the front door.

After what seemed to him almost an interminable age, Adela returned, looking pale, and with reddened eyes," as if she had been crying. After carefully closing the door she came and stood quite near TJurose, who asked, "Well, how is he?" "Oh, pretty bad. Ho is suffering from shock, they say. And he an ugly wound on the. back of his head, too. The doctor it is a wonder he was not killed, and that he is suffering more now because he did not let his wounds be attended to at first.

" HVII be laid up some time, then? Is he going to remain in your house?"

" Yes*. He - is not to be moved. And what do you think? Lilith is going to nurse him."

"Confound it!". The irrepressible words slipped out. "Most improper!" '•Thcn-Ml be nurses, of course, but Lilith insists upon assisting. She has got father to promise she may." " I don't know how the marquis could ! That young girl " " "'he is of age, and she 'can twist Father round her little finger." Adela said, in qu'te a cross manner. "He is was in her hands." »

Then T expect they'll make it up," muttered Durose.

' : They'll have everr opportunity. It's disgusting!" cried Adela. "It ought not to be allowed. Surely Lord Elv'ngton knows what the fellow lias done!" "What.do .von meanP What has Palliser done?" Durose did not answer in words. He made a gesture signifying monstrous wrongdoing. " Someone ought to tell Lord Elvington," he said. "Tell him what? What .do you mean?" questioned Adela, opening her eyes wide. She could not imagine anything to be said against Palliser Clifford's blameless life. Though she disliked him, it was more because of his goodness than for any other reason. In her heart she thought him a prig, simply and solely because his standard of conduct was higher than her own. Often in the past ho had made her ashamed of her idleness, bad temper, and jealousy, by nothing else than being essentially the exact opposite. Therefore she had hated him, and still did so. ■

The journalist understood her attitude, but thought it best not to confide in her yet, at all events. She was so young, and so apt ,to be carried away by her feelings. "'You won't tell meP" asked Adela, •ie remained silent. "Not now not to-day; another time, perhaps." " But you ought to tell me now. It may be too late another time," insisted tho girl. " What do you mean by too late?" he demanded. These was suspicion in his tones.

" Lilith may have pledged herself- to him. She's just the girl to keep a promise of that sort against everything in the world. Father could not make her clnvnge her mind when once she had promised." "Jo-ve! Then it must be'stopped. But I cannot tell you, Miss Adela. What I have to say must be told to Lord Elvington in the tirst place. -No one else must hear it -until, he knows.'' " Y'ou are verv strange and mysterious!" cried Adela, shrinking back from him, for there was that in his eyes which was not pleasant to look upon. "'Well, it is a matter of life and death." he said dramatically. A footman entering at the moment informed Adela that Lady Lilith wished her to join her for a few minutes in tho south drawing-room, where sho was having tea. " Very well, Thompson,-1 will come," she replied, but lingered a moment or two to say in a low tone to Durose, " Whose life and whoso death? Quick —toll me!"

"The life of one now living, and ;he death of one now dead," answered h. 5, with an inscrutable look. Then he went away. (To be eonrinuodj