A Tardy Wooing.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIX, Issue 8130, 3 May 1906, Page 2

A Tardy Wooing.

CHAPTER Xlll.—Continued. Accordingly—though with extreme reluctance—Wynuie presented herself at the door when an elegant equipage was driven to it by Cyrilla, who, throwing the reins to a smart lad in buttons, came slowly up the steps, conscious that she had never looked better than in the purple velveteen and s furs of her carriage dress. She was unchanged, save that she wore a, leas airy costume, and tnat there were\3eeper shadows under her eyes—shadows of grave thought, or gnawing aoxiety, and that her obeeks were suapiciously hollow, as if she had entered too freely into the dissipations of the London seaBon. In all else so unchanged that Wynnie would have recognised her anywhere; but how was it possible, that she could recall the features of Wynnie. Tbe:e eixsted but the faintest resemblance between the slipshod, lagged, unkempt flower girl and the maiden whose abundant hairthough it persisted in crinkling and waVing all over her bead—was drawn back from lier temples like that of a Grecian statue, and whose delicately moulded features had filled out, and lost for ever the haggard aspect imparted to them by semistarvation and ill-usage. No; Cyrjlla's oarelesa glance at the young girl did not carry her back to the day she watched so vainly for the coming of Harold Outram, and Wynnie was relieved. Mrs mother neice in the hall, and exohanged with her a few sentences, of which it was impossible to avoid catching a word here aud there. "Jußt the same," she said piti-. v fully; "the viotim of her own vile jealousy—while his conduct had been admirable, always patient, always forbearing." And then—Cyrilla not testifying as much sympathy as 'was expeoted —Wynuie was sharply commanded to take Miss Dartison upstairs. , The bar was thrown back, the door opened, ere the young lady reaohed it, and Linda, attired with unusual care, gave her cousin a cordial welcome. "Don't go away 1" sho was saying the next moment to Wynnie. "My mother, in her anxiety for Miss Dartison's safety, stipulates that someone shall remain in the room who uan give the alarm if 1 should make a savage attack upon her; so ait down close to' the bell, and be ready to ring a good peal upon it as soon as yoq see that I am growing violent I" "1 am not afraid,' said Cyrilla composedly; "but I pity my aunt for heing obliged to live in a house with ft person who plays upon her fears bo unkindly." Linda's eyes flashed, "la it my fault that my relatives regard me as mad because I take a few precautions in self-defence." "Is it your mother's fault that she lives in continual terror of what will be the result of ner daughter carrying firearms?" "Pshaw!" and Linda tossed the pistol across the room. "It is not loaded, and [never has been. It was only used to frighten a coward !" "It has terriflod poor aunt dreudfully; and for her sake all your friends would be thankful —but I did not come to play the mediator." "It would be useless!" she was haughtily assured. "I suppose it would, as long as one is kept in ignorance of the particulars of this very sad and strange affair." Cyrilla paused, but no notice being taken of her hint for further information, she went on. "I came to you • partly because papa has heard, accidentally, that you are threatened with a visit from a couple of medical men, whose certificates would consign you to a worse imprisonment than this." Linda was white to her lips, but did not speak. "And "partlv because I want you to come to us."

"Although it is wbijperad that I 'am demented?"

Cyrilla shrugged her shoulders and smiled incredulously.

"We are willing to risk that. Maaama is ill, and keeps me such a prisoner, with her nervous feara and complaints, that 1 am growing weary of my life."

"Then you are not yet married?" h«r cousin observed.

It was with a very sombre look that Cyrilla answered in the negative, and she sat for a while knitting her brows moodily and j tapping her foot ou the floor. "I must-have a change," she went on presently; "even the doctors say so; yet mamma crJes and bewails herself if I leave her to the care of the nurse, and she has never got on with my maid Pauline. But you were always her favourite niece, and when I mentioned your name, she said directly that she would not 5 mind having Linda to stay witn her. So come, will you? You have nothing to keen you here, and it will be doing us an immense favour." It was a selflsh speech. The DartisoDS, ever since they had risen in the world, bad taken but very little notice of the Aydens. Her ladyship would often have enjoyed a cud of tea and a chat over old times with ber sister, but Cyrilla'a engagements were generally timed so as to render it impossible for her to carry out her wish. Oyrilla and Linda had been fWends in childhood, but they rarely" met no«v, and the latter knew that this visit would not (have been made bat for the motives ber cousin had frankly set forth. She was tempted to refuse to quit her retreat, but then that warning had given her a terrible shock. She thought she hated and despised living creatures, and would fain avoid them, but she trembled at the thought of being shut up in a lunatic asylum.

|g£"l3 this how be proposes to re-

By Charles W. Hathaway. Author of " Mar) orie's Sweetheart," "A Long Martyrdom," "A Hash Vow," "Joseph Dane's Diplomacy," etc., etc.

venge biaaself?" abe muttered ; and Cyrilla started from another reverie to ask bet what she said. "It wjII do you good, Linda, to be diverted even temporarily from your depressing trouble," Miss Dartiaon added. "You shall have a pleasauter room than this at CbisUehurst, and mamma is not dirJHoult to please if you are content to humour her." "And the world would see that 1 am in full possession of mtf senses," thought Linda, her colour comiug back. "Does my mother know?" "Not yet; must we consult her?" "It is not necessary. She will breathe more freely when her dangerous daughter is out of the nouse. 1 will go to Ohistlehurst and help to nurse my aunt as long as she needs me. Afterward " She stopped, but there was a look of stern resolution on her 'face. The barred room on upper story would receive her no more. CHAPTER V A SHOCKING REVELATION. Very silent and subdued was Wynnie when called upon to assist in packing the trunks Linda intended to take with her. Before Miss Dartison drove away she made her cousin promise to join ber at Ohistlehurst that same evening, and after a brief conference with Mrs Ayclen, Linda consented. Swiftly she around her roomß, selecting everything she valued, destroying a heap of once treasured letters, a photograph, and veral trinkets, exceedingly pretty, though of little value, exclaimiug as she did so, "What folly could have possessed me that I kept them so long!" Presently-she tapped Wynnie on the Bboulder sharply. "What are you thinking about? Yoa are crying, and your tears are staining the covers of those books! Silly girl, what ails you?" "Is it fstrange that I should grieve when I lose the only person who cares to teach me anything?" she asked vitb a sob. "I know you do nut mean to come back!" "What matters? You are going with me. My mother doej not think herself justified in letting me go to Lady Dartison's without some one to look after rae. You are to be my keeper, and send her a weekly report of my behaviour—whether 1 am excitable or sullen, and so on." "Are you serious,? I could not, and I would not, act as a spy upon you." "Nonsense!" and now one of her rare smiles softened and beautified L'lida's features. "It will do me no harm and will set poor mother's heart at rest. I have been a sore tnpl to her, and yet I could not help it." "Am I really to go with you?'"* Wynnie took courage to enquire. "Yes; I told Cyrilla 1 should bring a maid with me." "But the little boys?" 'O'h, it they are dearer to you than I am, stay where you are. But they have shown themselves so thoroughly at home lately, that my j sisters said they did not think they j need keep you here in attendance j upon the uhildron much longer." "I shall be much pleased to go with you," faltered Wynnie, quite overcome with these tidings; "but 1 think—that is, I am afraid— l.hey will miss me a little just at flrst." "In this world we'can never keep what we love," was the bitter rereply, "or if we do it turns to asnes and dust in our hands. I am not many years older than you, but have had this lesaou impressed on me, and you will have to learn it ere long. But Wynnie did not want to learn it then. As soon as ahe could be spared, she ran away to thrust her own clothes into a trunk with which Linda had provided her, and then slipped out of the house to spend the remains of Chris Kennett's sovereign on toys that were to cousole her nurslings when they awoke in the morning and called ber in vain. Only Mrs Ayden came forwaid to bid tier daughter good-bye, and she was flurried and anxious, as if in constant fear lest the girl who clung for a moment about her neck so lovingly, should say or do something dreadful ere sho departed. Wynnie and her new mistress reached Cbislehurst about the time they were usually in the habit of going to bed; but a carriage was at the door, and Sir Jasper was drawing on his gloves in the hall, waiting his daughter's appe ranoe to conduct ber to a party. By him the newcomers were consigned to Mademoiselle Pauline, a pert little French woman, who, in answer to Sir Jasper's murmurs, told him, with a sauoy toss of her head, that her young lady could not be hurried at her toilet. It was the duty of the gentleman to wait, wait, wait. "Milady Dartiaon is impatient till , you arrive," she more courteously i apprised Linda. "He* bell rings , and rings till there is no one willing to answer it. t shall conduct , you tu her ." Scaroely had Linda reached her Ladyship's bedside and been folded , in a capacious embrace, when the ; door of the room opened again to \ admit auob a dazzling visiion that t Wynnie shrank into a corner, feel- [ ing unworthy to be so near so beautiful a creature. (To be Continued.)