FOR THE SAKE OF GOLD.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XLIV, Issue 5967, 7 August 1912, Page 4

FOR THE SAKE OF GOLD.

(AH Rights Reserved.)

By the, Author of "Out of Parknets," "A Day of Reckoning," Etc., Etc.

■'■ ♦ A SENSATIONAL ROMANCE,

PART 8. "Perhaps she may act differently Bow that she knows it is either marriage with you or life in a convent. Her lather w.-s a Roman Catholic, and they would receive such a welldowered young lady with open arms. By the way, I Lclic-.e ;;hc is in love with that fellow Lucas, so keep your eye on her." "In love with Jack Lucas !" exclaimed his son. "Yes. Curse them ! I wish there wasn't a Lucas on the face of the earth," said Squire Basset, in a tone of concentrated passion, as be left the room. "By Jove, the governor does hate them ! I wonder why it is ? I never could understand why he cut up so rusty about Geff wanting to marry Joan. It would have been like grafting the family on to the old tree. Of course, it would be a pity for Sybil's fortune to go elsewhere. Still, the governor's rolling in gold. I fancy he has some reason for hating the Lucas family. Anyway, I shall not speak to Sybil to-night, and I expect she'll make it hot for me," Phil reflected. Meanwhile Squire Basset had ordered his horse, and set off, determined to ride over and see au acquaintance who lived some three miles away. He thought that the exercise would enable him to overcome the feeling of apprehension which had taken possession of him. As he rode along Red Path he met one of his • tenants, and paused to have a word with him ; then just before they parted the squire said : "We shall be having grand doings soon. My son is going to marry my stepdaughter and ward, Miss Marks. We shall have a tenants' ball. You must tell your wife and daughters about it."

"Thank you, sir. I'll not forget. The womenfolk always arc interested in a wedding ; but when it means a dance as well they'll be in fine feather. I'm sure I wish Mr. Philip and the young lady much happiness."

"I'll tell them ;" and the squire rode on, both he and the farmer unconscious that a girl who had been feathering sticks in the wood had overheard their conversation. "It's a sin, a wicked man like him —a man who as good as murdered his own Child —to wed a beautiful, pure young lady like her ; but she shall know the truth. Even if she loves him she'd better give him up, as he's bound to make her miserable," Peggy thought, as she made her way to a gate, which she opened, then went quickly along Red Path towards her home. On arriving there she put the sticks in a little outhouse, and going into the kitchen she began frying ham and eggs for her father's dinner, and by the time it was ready he appeared, and the two sat down it the table. "Father, I've heard that Phil Bas•et is going to marry Miss Marks," she said. "The Lord forbid it ! She's too good for such a scoundrel." "Yes ; but very likely she doesn't know how bad he is." "Curse him !" said her father. " I'll do more than curse him. I'll save her from him. I mean to go to the castle and tell her how he's treated me and his own bairn," she idded, with a sob. "But how'll you get to see her?" "I'll find a way. I'm doing right, ind surely the Lord will help me, though I'm not fit even to speak to her." "Now, don't you go blaming yourself. You were as good a lass as sver stepped till he came after rou," said her father.

"Well, I'm going to do my best to keep her from falling into his iands, as I know he'd treat her :ruelly, whether she was his wedded wife or not." "I'm with you in that, my lass," said Marsh ; and they relapsed into silence, which lasted until the man rose and went back to his work. Sybil Marks was sitting by her Iressing-room fire. It was not quite >ime to dress for dinner, and she wis not anxious to meet Philip, hom she knew had just come in dfter spending the afternoon shooting, so she had brought a book upstairs, and, with her feet on the lender, intended to forget all her troubles in the delight of a new aovel

"Miss Sybil, there's a girl begging to see you," said her maid, entering the room. "A girl? What sort*of a girl, Janet ?" "I believe her father works on the estate. I happened to be passing the baok door, and I hoard her begging Phoebe, the kitchenmaid, to tell you she had something important to say, and the poor thing spoke so pitifully that 1 went to the door and asked her what she wanted ; but though I told her I was your m.iid sie wouldn't tell me any more, but begged and preyed to see you." "Poor girl ! I wonder what she wants. But you can bring her here," said Sybil. "Yes, Miss," and Janet, who was a kind-hearted girl, went to the kitchen and told the stranger that her mistress would see her. With a feeling of awe Pcg-.;y March followed the maid up the ?.rand staircase and along the corridor ; ;o richly carpeted that not 'a footfall could he heard. Then, wl en the maid opened a door, she entered a room which to her seemed almost too grand to use. "This is the - young woman ma'am," said the n'Mil. "Very well, Janet, you can leave us ;" and as the girl close,l the door Sybil turned to the stranger,

saying: "Won't you come nearer the fire ? It's a cold night." "Thank you, miss ; but I've not felt the cold. All I've thought of was how I could to see you." "Why did you want to see me ?" asked Sybil, looking at the girl, and noticing ber dark, rather uncommon beauty, but, above all, the sad expression of her face. "I wanted to warn you. Oh, miss, I know you're high above me, but ; ou're flesh and blood, so you'd feel Uitelty the same, or even worse, seein; as you will have a more tender luart.'*

"I don't ~ ■;•! ■ - , _ .m. ''.'hat is it you wauled to v.ai,i me übout ?" "About Mr. Phil. 0.1, miss, don't marry him, or he'll break your heart." Sybil drew herself up rather haughtily as she said : "Who t.i!;l you I was going to marry him ?" "I hard the squire tell Mr. Binks, the farmer, about it, and he said the wedding would be soon, and there'd be gay doings—a dance and suchlike. They didn't see me, because I was in the wood picking sticks, and they were in Red Path." -

"I am not going to marry Mr. Phil. My stepfather wishes me to do so ; but I shall never be his wife," said Sybil, decidedly. "Oh, miss, I'm thankful to heai that. I thought it must be true, because the squire spoke so confidently, and I felt it wouldn't "be ri;;ht to let you, a good young lady,, marry a wicked man like Mr. Phil." "How could you have prevented me ?" asked Sybil. "I could have told you something, miss, that would have shown you the sort of man ho is, and 1 don't think you're a young lady as would marry a villain. But as it's not true about the wedding I'll just wish you good evening miss, and thank you for the pleasant way of speaking to a poor girl; and Peggy turned towards the door. "Stay a moment," said Sybil. "You have said enough to make me wish to hear the whole," "Miss, it's a miserable story, not fit to be told to such as you, unless it would save you from sorrow." "It may make matters easier foi me. You see, my stepfather is urging me to marry his son, and if, as you say, he is too bad for a decent girl to be his wife, I should have another strong reason for my refusal," said Sybil. "Then, miss, I'll tell you thi whole story."

CHAPTER XII. PEGGY'S PATE. "One afternoon, about a year and a hall ago, I was gathering sticks in the wood and Mr. Phi! came along. I suppose he thought I was a pretty girl. Folks called me so in those days. Any way, he stopped and began chatting In such a pleasant way. He paid me compliments, and one way and another my head was clean turned, or I should have known better than promise to meet, him the next afternoon. I kept that promise, and after that there was rarely a day that we didn't meet. Oh, miss, if you'd heard him talk so loving, and the way he promised that though he daren't marry me .because of his father he would always be true to me, and I s'lt.uld have a nice little home of my own, and he'd love me to the last day of my life—if you'd heard it all, miss, I don't think you'd wonder quite' so much that I fell. Of course, 1 knew I was doing wrong, but I loved him with all my heart, and I thought he'd be true to me ; but he wasn't. Long before my baby was born I knew it had been nothing but a passing fancy on his part ; but I forgave him for the child's sake as well as his own.

"Miss, I did love my bairn ; though folks said she was my disgrace, I 'oved her ; but my father had an illness, and the little one was delicate, so one day when I saw Phil I begged him for the bairn's sake to give me money to buy her nourishment ; but he laughed and said it would be a good thing if she'd die. Then I begged all the more, and held the little one for him to see, but he pushed us both away, and the bairn's head struck against a tree. "Miss, she had what the doctor :alled concussion of the brain, and [ thought she'd die, but Dr. Lucas spared no trouble or expense to bring her through ; and she was getting slowly better when she took the measles and died." Peggy's tears were falling fast, and Sybil reached out her hand and clasped the poor girl's. This touch Df sympathy made Peggy forget sverything but her trouble, and she sobbed :

"Dr. Lucas said the measles killed her, but I know it was because she was weak with the other illness ; and he told Mrs. Don that if the bairn had lived she would have been in idiot. He didn't mean her to tell me, but she thought it would make me fret less if I knew that she would never have been right. Miss, it's poor comfort to know that the lather of your child has made her in idiot by his cruelty ; and from the day I heard that I have hated Sum, and I thought it would be a 3in to let a sweet young lady like you marry him." "It was kind of you. I know it must have been painful for you to tell me this story, and I shall not !cr,~et what you have done," said Syijil, pressing the poor girl's hand. "Oh, miss, you don't despise me ? t was afraid you might," Peggy sobbed. "X pity you, but I don't despise you. I feel sure you will make a good woman yet." "That was what Mrs. Lucas said. She came to see me when my bairn lay dead, and she told me I must leave the past behind me and grow into a good woman. She was kind ; and T)r. Lucas is the best gentleman that ever lived. He's not one to wrong a poor girl," said Peggy, vehemently. Ky. ii's face flushed and her eyes grew bright at hearing her lover praised. "I know they would be kind to you," she said, gently ; but there was something in her tone that made the girl lift her eyes to Sybil's face, and what she saw told her that the young heiress loved Dr. Lucas.

"Thank you, miss, for your kindness ; and I'll be going." "You haven't told me your name," said Sybil, shaking hands ; then she rang the bell and told Janet to show her the way out. That night Sybil's toilet was a hurried one, and the dinner belLhad rung when she went downstairs. She proceeded at once to the diningroom, where the others had already taken their seats at the table, and the squire spoke rather sharply about her unpunctuality. Sybil did not reply, and she was unusually silent during the meal. Then when her aunt rose she followed her, with a feeling of relief, into the drawing-room; but they had not been there many minutes when Miss Melita remembered that she wished to write a letter, and went •■to her, own sitting-room for that purpose. A little time elapsed, then the door opened and Phil entered. "All alone, Sybil ?" he said, as he lounged across the room and seated bimseU near her.

■ "Yes ; and I nnd mysen very good company." "If that's a hint that you want me to go, it's no use] because I've come to have a chat with you. Don't you think it's time you fixed oui wedding-day ?" he said, leaning forward and taking her hand. Sybil snatched it .away, exclaiming : "How dare you insult me ?" "By Jove, I never knew it was an insult for a. fellow, particularly il he's heir to an estate anil lots *ol money, to ask a girl to marry him."

"Not if he's a decent fellow ; but from such as you it's a downright insult." "What do you mean ?" he asked, in an angry tone. "I know all about Peggy Marsh," she answered, quietly. For an instant Phil was silenced ; then he told himn~lf that she muat have heard some gossi;i. Perimpe her maid had broiv-ht it to her. But it was most unliiHy she would know the whole truth ; so he assumed a careless air, snyincr : '

"So you attach importance to village gossip. I thought you were above it. However,. I admit that I did talk once or twice to the girl—a pretty little fool." Sybil's indignation rose. "How dare you speak of her in that way ? I know the whole truth. I know how you treated your own child, and that if God had not seen fit to take the little one she would have grown up an idiot ; and all through your cruelty. - Phil, I have never really liked you, but Peggy Marsh has revealed your true character," she said. Phil's face had darkened, but when she named Peggy he looked as though he would like to strike l-ybil. "Where did you see Pegcy MiTF.h?" he asked, in a tone of concentrated passion.

"She ceme to see me. Your father has been telling people that we are to be married shortly, and she came to warn me." "Curse her ! I'll find a way to pay her for this," he said, in such a viniictive tone that Sybil felt alarmed. "Remember if any harm happens to her I shall tell what I know," she said, quickly. "I'll not say anything to her if you'll promise to he my wife. I'm no worse than other fellows, and I'll make you a good husband," he said, speaking quickly. "Hush ! I'd sooner die than marry you, and if I thought all men were like you I should pray God to take me ; but I know they are not," she said, rising and going towards the door.

"Of course, you think Jack Lucas is a saint," he replied. Sybil did not answer him, but went straight upstairs to her aunt's sitting-room, wh-rc she found Miss Melita had just finished writing her letter. ■ "Don't go downstairs, auntie. I want to talk to you," she said : and drawing a stool, sho seated herself in front of that lady. "I've a very sad tale to tell you ;" and Sybil proceeded to tell Miss Mehta all Peggy Marsh had told her in spite of that lady's exclamations and interruptions.

"My dear, it was very wrong of that girl to tell you such dreadful things," she said, when Sybil ceased. "I think it was right and kind. She thought I was going to marry Phil, and she resolved that I should know the kind of man lie is. Oh, auntie, and this very evening-he has dared to ask me to fix the wedding day !" Miss Melita looked perplexed. "My dear, the squire lias set his heart upon this marriage," she ;a',d.

"Auntie, surely you—who loved my mother, and I always thought you loved me—won't agree to me marrying such a man as Phil is ?" "My dear, it's really very distressing ; but, after all, I have Heard of men who have been wild making very good husbands." "Auntie, do you think for the sake Df pleasing my stepfather I ought to marry a bad, cruel man ? Kemember he would probably treat me cruelly when I was his wife." Miss Melita's eyes rilled with tears. "Then you shall not marry him, my dear. I knew he was not very steady, but, then, young men will sow their wild oats ; and when I was young it wasn't thought much of. Young ladies accepted it as a fict, but never to be mentioned. It's the cruelty I object to ; and, ;s yau say, if he could treat even : Jidt objectionable girl and her child as lie did, I don't think he's to be trusted."

Fy:-il jumped up and flung her armi roun ! Miss Melita's neck. 'Your dear, pood old auntie. You will tell my stepfather that ?" The old lady's face flushed slightly. "Sybil, my dear, I couldn't discuss such a thing with the squire. I'll tell him I do not think Phil a suitable match," "That won't do. Do you think he would be satisfied ? No ; you'll have to tell him all Peggy t:;vi." "My dear, I really couldn't go to the squire with such .-> 1.-lc." Tin n she had a sudden iiisji'r .lion. I'll write a note and tell him all, .vvi th:.t T shall not consent to you marrying Phil." "That will do beautifully, auntie ; and, please, write the letter now," said .Sybil ; and Miss iviei.ta, who now began to feel as anxious to settle the matter us the girl was, lest it should en 1 in FyMl i eing married to Phil an.l cr'iel';/ trcate.!, sat down at her v:;-' ; ;-■ t:'> a:;.d wrote a full account of i'e;;::y Marsh's story, and ended by saying she would nev< r consent to her niece marrying Philip. When the letter was written Sybil rang the bell, and it was delivered to Miss Melita's maid to give to one of the footmen, who took it to his master.

Squire Basset read it carefully, and as he gathered t!><> contents he grew angry and disgusted. He could have pardoned Philip's wrongdoing, so far as the girl was concerned, but the cowardly cruelty he had shown to the child made him feel a contempt for his son, and he scarcely wendered at Miss Melita refusing to sanction the marriage—a refusal he was at first inclined to think very lightly of ; but a second reading of the letter showed him there was a firmness and decision he had not expected. "She means it, and I can never coerce the girl into the marriage if she opposes it. Sybil would be quite equal to inciting her aunt to li-.ve her made a ward in chancery," i bought the squire as he rang the bell. (To be Continued )