“WILTON’S SILENCE”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 20000, 16 July 1920, Page 5

“WILTON’S SILENCE”

(By PAUL TRENT (Author of “ The Vrow ” “ The ftW of a Soul,” etc.)

* ; A ROMANCE OP WEST AFBICA.

CHAPTER XIX. A couple of days passed and Grace’s' (ask became more difficult, by”; 1 0; much Detier, unci was very anxious o see her father, but was, told by brace that the doctor had. given instructions that no ■•one was to bo allowed to sec him. ' . Sylvia was longing, and yet she dreaded, to see Wilton. All the time she was being swayed first in one direction and then in another. Instinct told her that Gerald was a good man, and worthy of her love, and yet appearances, coupled with his confession, condemned him as a thief. “ 1 must see fattier at once,” she ' said to Grace. “Ton can’t. He’s not well enough. And you yourself are too ill to get up. Why don’t yon send for Wilton to come and see you? It’s lie ycu are worrying about.” “I’ve already told you that 1 can’t see him till I’ve had a talk with ray father.” “Talk (:o me, if it’s advice you 1 want,” Grace answered impatiently. 1 “ You,aren’t.the same-. 1 know what | you think.” ! ‘ 1 It seems to me you are anxious ' for someone to tell you that you should give up .Mr Wilton,” Grace said .bluntly. , “How dare you say. that?” Sylvia said indignantly. “I love Gerald. , . . i love him more than I can say.” “Then send for him.” i “ No. 1 must wait.” j As a matter of fact Gerald was 1 then on the way to the Castle. Grace having summoned him there by telephone. She was wailing for him when be arrived, and they went to a siltirigtooni. . “Sir John is ready fer you, but belorc you go to him I have a word or two of advice to offer,” she began gi lively. y “I’m only too ready to listen to you. You’ve proved yourself ,a real ’.riend.”

“Thank you. Urn trying to do the best for everybody. First of all, I ; wish you to understand that you are ; Whig to have .some difficulty with Sir : .lohn- With increasing strength he's becoming more acutely ashamed of/his part in the little drama. J will give him the credit of being anxious to assume the responsibility for what lie' | has done. For himself ho does not varo and has the courage to face his j punishmcnti.’ If lie wore alone, no- ; uhing' would induce him to shelter himself behind you. It’s only Sylvia , that counts.” : ( “I’m sure of that. . . . It’s cn^ - I S.vlvia that counts with me. 1 anon* not have been so mad as’ to do .what I did for Lurgan’s sake, fond ns I am of him. After all, a man lias a duty .’towards’ himself.” “ Unless the woman he loves is concerned,” she said very "cntly. “ That’s right. ... I believe Sir John will sea things as I do.” “Good. .1 need say no more. I will stay here until you come hackI shall bo very anxious to learn what you have decided to do. Discuss with Sir John whafc wo shall say to Sylvia when they meet. That. Is’ highly important. Hn must be prepared to let her believe you arc guilty. That will require great' moral strength on his part. Ho must not flinch. All will be mined if she has the slightest doubt. It’s* either you or Sir John. One must be condemned in her mind.” “I quite understand.” lie said quietly. * . “You had better go to him now. . Don’t stay too long. He isn’t very strong yet,” Wilton nodded curtly, and Grace led the way to the Governor’s bedroom. Sir John was sitting up in bed, and he leaked up when they came in. Grace gave him* a bright smile, and went away immediately. “ AViltoa, J fed an utter blackguard,” the Governor began at once. “I’m Jetting you" carry my burden and ” “ That’s not tine. Y’ou have had no alternative. .1 forced your band i) ’ “ Still my position Is horrible.” “ The position of none of us is very pleasant. Lurgan, 1 love Sylvia with every fibre of my being. I would gladly fay down my life to save her from pain, and I know you to have the same feeling about her. 'Whatever wo decide will be for her aako alone, is that not true?” “Yes, but I have to think of you as well.”

‘‘By thinking of Sylvia yon niil be thinking of me. Get that into your head, Lurgan.” “Wilton, you are a splendid chap.” “I’m not at all sure, and my job isn’t worse than yours.” “ Yes. Your conscience is clear, while mine •” Ho broke off with a sigh, and looked miserably at Wilton. “ How do yon stand with Sylvia?” he asked. “ I don’t know. She sent a message by Miss Gifford to say she loved me. That is all. I believe she wishes to talk to you before seeing me. Lurgan. she will ask you questions. She will ask you if you believe me to he guilty. You must say you dp.” “I can’t! I can’t!” Sir John said vehemently. “But you must. There Is no alternative. One of us is guilty. If she has any doubt, about myself, she may become suspicious.” “I’m sick of it. I haven't tho right to accent this sacrifice from you. Neither has Sylvia. I’ve done wrong, and I and mine must pay tho price. Why should we be protected?” You are not being protected—-only Sylvia. You know her better than' 1 do. You understand how much site cares for you. She has act vou on a pedestal. If you were to ’fall, liei j faith in human nature would be de- | stroyed.”

“ She loves yon. Isn’t vour fall equally liable, to destroy her faith in human nature?” Sir John asked gravely. “ Y ou she has loved all her life. Myself. only ior a few short weeks.'’ “There is another thing we must discuss What is likely to he tho euect of her'belief in vour guilt? Have yon _ contemplated the extent of the .sacrifice you may have to make?’' “Yes!” Gerald answered steadily, out his laco had become white. “As you say, I understand Sylvia, tier ideals are of tho highest. Her ideals have always been sans pear ct sans reproche. The belief that vou were a thief—l won’t shirk the Word —may destroy her love for you.” “Do yon think it will?” Wilton asked with an effort. "Yes,” Sir John answered afty a pause, and then continued. “If my supposition should prove to b 0 right and she gives you up, then I must tell her tho truth.” “I cannot consent to that. If Sylvia turns from mo, then she is not the woman of my dreams I shall try to get over my love for her and doubtless she will soon forget.me.” “ Good heavens! However can you I bo so cold-blooded? It makes ’me j doubt if you really earo for her—talki in;.; in that way.” j Wilton restrained himself with an j effort. Ho. was playing the game as I he thought it should be played and had I lied deliberately. But to be called | cold-blooded, when his soui was fired j with longing for Silvia. “You ought to be glad I can regard I tho matter so philosophically. I was warned by Mias-Gifford not to stay too ■ long with you. Will you see Sylvia as conn ao possible?” * • “ Vcs, Grace has been simply I splendid. I don't know what I should do without her. And she doesn’t look upon uw as a criminal, sho has allowed

Me to retain a little of, mv self-re- .. spect. • J <gl * a go °? sort ’-” Wilton anm with a smile. Be had remarkSme unconscioUs Uso of the Christian “There’s another thing. I’ TO forwarded my resignation to the Secretariat, and Carruthors sent for me. rie says ho can’t accept my resignation without your consent and suggests the Colonial Office at home ourlit to be consulted with reference to a possible prosecution of myself.” “I’il soon squelch that idea'” Si” -ohm answered grimly, and then went T“’ i, la ~ fc /’ksolutely neiessari- von should resign?” . “^’j s cither that or dismissal. Besides, 1 ve a good thing on—a big rubber proposition, Sinclair is coming in with mo as a, partner.” “ It’s an infernal shame. You have tnc chance of a career in the service.” " And now I've the chance of becoming a bloated millionaire,” Wilton answered lightly. I cion t know what to do. 1 feel a skunk, ’ Sir John muttered miserably. Lnigaii, you’re not a weakling. "'o ve decided on our course of action, and surely you’re man enough to do the tiling thoroughly.” “ Anyhow I can sec Sylvia. I’ll do so as soon as you have gone.” •Lverytliiug depends on your attitude. AIJ the time, you must ba remembering rt is I who am asking you to tako up this attitude. In fact, I am compelling yon to do it. Already I I vo Mulcted ail the iiarm that can cornq to mo. I’ve faced the worst, and weakness qn your part will only make things immeasurably worse. Have yon got that into your head?” “ I suppose so.”’ “ Then there’s nothing more to hoi said. By the by. can young Taynton! he appointed Assistant D.C. in my old district?. There is a vacancy. 1 like Idm. and could give him a few hints. He might travel with Sinclair and mvself.” 1! I will give Camithcrs instructions at once. Is there any tiling eke 1 can do for you?” . “Nothing, except your, promise to keep your head during the next honr.”_ <! If Sylvia should over find out the truth.” “ Then I should tell her the truth—that I forced you to do what vou dub' “ Wilton, Tin a very unhappy man. ,I’m not escaping punishment.” “ None of us do. in this life. Tli go now- Ask Sylvia to see me as soon as slio can.”

“ Will you shake bauds with me?” “Why not?” answered Wilton, and they exchanged a hearty grip. “You won't avoid me. it things go wrong. You don’t absolutely despise me?” “No. but I shall if you fail me.” Wilton nodded from the open door, and went to the drawing-room wimro Grace was anxiously awaiting him. 1 “ Well, is it all right?” “ I’m more than sorry for him. 'lt must Im-hellish.” “Tin glad that is your impression. T feared you wouldn’t, be able to see it from his point of view,'’ “Hi* wishes to seo Sylvia at once.” ■ “ Yes—the sooner tbo hotter. ’lbis suspense gets on one’s norvctT’ “ Bo has promised, but I’m not mute | satisfied ” “Neither, am I.” she answered with a rig!*.. The worst of it is that I’m beginning to feel doubtful myself. I’m sick of the whole business. Before it gees any further I’ve got to bill yon something. i’.rn not altogether disinterested in what I’m doing. I’m in love jv'th Sir John.” “ That is not altogether news to me. I suspected it. 1 also believe he’s in love with you.” “I’ve fancied myself in love before, but I’ve never felt what I feel now. I would do anything for him. I would sacrifice ycu to save him. I'm planning ; to do so.” “ I thought it was for Sylvia's sake,” ho remarked quietly. “So I tried to deceive myself, but now T know the truth. It’s for Jehu I’m working,” she, said with great deliberation. “1 don’t see that it_ makes any difference. Yon are working for Lurgan and I for his daughter. The motives don’t matter.” “ They ■ matter—to my conscience. I’ve discovered I have a conscience. Hence my telling you I’m working for Sir John.” “It was honest of you to toll me.” “ You don’t want to back out of it —now you know?” Wilton laughed heartily. “ Your motives don’t concern me a little bit.” “I shall always bo grateful to you for having saved the man I love. You’re a good sorb, a man in a million.” She had drawn closer to him. Moved by an impulse of. gratitude, she drew bis faoo quickly towards her and kissed him. “There, you deserve that,” she said,’ , .She had ‘ been unconscious of the opening of the door, and of Sylvia standing there, watching'her with horrified eyes. "I am sorry—l came . . . Grace turned quickly. “I was just coming to fetch you. Your father wishes to see you,” sho said hurriedly, and was praying inwardly that Sylvia.,had not witnessed bho caress she had given Wilton. The latter, after, a. moment of hesitation, had gone away. CHAPTER XX. Grace made a mistake, and judged Sylvia by herself, deciding that a touch, of jealousy could not do her tuiy harm, and might help Wilton. And bo sho did not make any explanation of the little scone which Sylvia might have witnessed. “Your father is ready for you,” sue said cheerfully. “Has Mr Wilton seen my father this morning?” Sylvia asked coldly. “ Yes, for a few minutes,” “I wished to be the first to see him.” " Then _yoji arc much too lato. i'vo been seeing him every day—as Ins nurse,” Grace added demurely. At the moment Sylvia hated the woman who had been so kind to her. flow dared she kiss Gerald! What she, had witnessed bad given rise to a feeling of mad jealousy of which she had not deemed lierseA lo bo capable. “Twill go to father now. No, you needn’t come with me. 1 know tho way quite well.” Sylvia said lyHer voice trembled a little, and sho held her head high, as she walked from the room. In the passage she stood for a while, seeking to recover her self-control. Her breathing, which had been hurried, became nonmil. Kho must remember that her father, was ill. The colour was still on her checks when she went into his room. He hold Ids arms towards her, and with a cry she Tan towards him and sought his embrace. “ I’vo been so unhappy,” she whispered, as He held her closely to him. “ And 1, dear,” he answered gently. “I’vo wanted you so badly. Them was no ono to talk to, and I’ve so much to say._ 1 haven’t seen you since - that terrible afternoon—it seems years ago.” _ “ Yes, the timo lias .passed Heavily.' - he answered with a sigh. “ You have seen Gerald. I’ve been longing to see him, but 1 daren’t. Gad, ms it true? Ho _ admitted that ; once he had been a thief. I couldn’t. , believe it. T can’t believe it,” sho ' cried passionately. I “It is difficult to believe,” ho answered, nervously. j “If anyone eke had told me i shouldn’t have believed it. But he , himself saia ” “That’s the difficulty.” Turgan dared not meet bis child’s eyes. He was thoroughly ashamed of I thiw'part he was . playing, and onoe , 1 more was templed to face the worst..

“Yet I thought- I knew Gerald. To me lie is honour itself.''’ “ Wilum is a white man,” her father said hastily. “ How can you say that, when hi* himself confessed ’ ’ “Yes—that’s the difficulty,* - ’ ho repeated. Dad., do you believe ho was guv typ” she demanded, and waited breathlessly for his answer. “ Whatever happened—l 6 was years ago. I can say this, whatever happened years ago ought nob to inliueiico you against "Wilton. 1 could gladly trust you to him. The lover you ” “But if he was once a thief,” she persisted. “I am asking yon to judge Wilton by what ho la. I air/ willing la trust jinn with what I most value m the world—yourself. Surely that is sufficient answer,'’ he said urgently; “No. I. waul: to know if the man I love was once a thief.” “ dust suppose that he committed n mistake years ago, would one error make any difference to your love lor him?’’ ■ “But a, thief—to take money that was entrusted to him. It ho was once capable of such an action— ■ She broke off with a toh really change his nature;' ■ I. snoiild always bo fearing- that- he might make a mistake again. I could never really trust hint, and without trust can there really ho love?” “Don’t you love him?’ lie asked miserably. ■ “I don’t know. Sometimes L reel that nothing matters except bus kisses. I fear that is only an unworthy passion ; by which i ought not to bo swayed. And yet at other times I judge him coldly. I compare him with yourself. You could never have done the thing to -which ho confessed.'’ “We are all human. You place me on foo high a pedestal. There are many things in my life of which I am. ashamed. I would hate you to know of them. Syl, dearest, you arc very young, and have little \knovylcdgo of life as it really is. Lot me judge for you. 1 give you my word I helievo Herald Wilton to be a man of honour, and in every way worthy of your love. Just now ho. has the whole world against him, except his friends. You arc naturally lovaf. Dim will stick to him. M v little ‘girl will help the man ahe loves —she will help him carry his burden. You can’t do anything else. The mere fact of giving him up will condemn him.” _ • “He has condemned himself. Dad, 1 don’t understand you. L believed you placed honour above all other things, and yet you seem anxious to condone and forgive a crime. If Gerald had killed a man in a passion 1 could more readily pardon him. But theft is so mean--so petty.” “ There is nothing mean about Wilton.” ho said with spell unusual vehemence that she. was startled. Still she did not suspect she was being deceived. She placed his eagerness that she should forgive Wilton to his loyalty towards a friend, and admired him for it. And. yet she was surprised at his attitude. But what be had said was weighing with her. Sue was essentially loyal, and would do nothing that might cause Wilton further injury. No, she could not >dre him up, even if she found it impossible t-o forgive and trust him. Sir John was regarding her anxiously, and wisely remained silent, for ho guessed a struggle was taxing place in her mind. And then, for the first time since she had joined her father she remembered the little scene of which she had been a witness. “ Dad, just now I saw Brace kissing Gerald,” she announced quietly. “ Good heavens!” he cried, and thought for a moment. With a laugh he turned to her. “ Letch Grace at once,” he said peremptorily. “ But, dad— —” “Do what I say,” he insisted, and she protested no further. But there was a flush on her cheeks and her manner was .nervous when she joined Grace. •* Father wishes to sec you, Will you come at once!'” Grace gave her a quick, inquiring look, but asked no question although she was longing to know what had Happened. Sir John nodded when they came in, and his maimer was apologetic. “ This silly child is rather upset neoanss she saw you kissing Gerald,” lie remarked. “ You're right. She is silly. Anyone could have seen,what sort.of kiss 1 gave him. . It was just the kiss of a pal, and be deserved it,’-' Grace answered tranquilly. ”1 could- have told you so,” tnr John said to his danghtcV, and then added, “ Anyhow. I’m glad to sec yon were jealous. It’s a good sign.” “ I was not jealous,” Sylvia answered indignantly, but he only smiled. “I’m more interested in knowing what has been decided,” Grace,,said, and then waited. “ Has anything been decided?” chi John asked of Sylvia. “ I want to see Gerald,” the, latter said with-an effort. 1 In an instant Grace was by-her side j and kissing her. . ” [ (.To be continued.) ,