A Tardy Wooing.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8150, 26 May 1906, Page 2

A Tardy Wooing.

By Charles W. Hathaway. Author of Marjorie's Sweetheart" A Long Martyrdom," "A Hash Vow," t( Joseph Dane's Diplomacy," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXXl.—Continued. "Poo cannot stay here," she was told. "Do you think 1 want to? But where am I to go, without a penny in my pocket, and all these froui borne, and don't know a soul in London to g vo me a night's lodging?" Wnynie let her cry till her noisy weeping began to subside into occasional sobs. If Becca were married to Tom Jones, the yachtsman, whom she remembers as one of the smartest young fellows of his class, her conduct was even more inexcusable than if poverty had tempted her to accept Chris Kennett's bribes. But wbeu she raised her tearful face from her handkerchief she found another person wonderingly regarding her. ft was Liudn Shirley. She bad come to find Wynnie, for whom Miss Dartison was inquiring; an not finding her alone, was look'ng from one io the other for an explanation. It was promptly given. "This person cntne here, Mrs Shirley, to take part in a shameful imposition." "It wasn't my doings," whimpered Becoa. "By Mr Kennett eho was induced to represent herself to Miss Dartison as Mr Outram's wife, whereas her husband is now on board the 'Sunray 1 schooner cruising in the Mediterranean." "Iu never heard anything so disgraceful 1" cried Linda. "Give her in charge!" Becoa screamed for mercy, and Wynnie pointed to a writing table. "Sit down there and write what I shall dictate, and I will help you to get back to Dover. 4 '

"I can't write; I never gave my mind to learning," the Culprit admitted. "But you can sign your confession, and Mrs Shirley will witness itl" To this Becoa gave sullen consent; and ere Pauline could appear to announce that mademoiselle was furious [at Miss Moyle's tardiness, Wynrjie had dashed off a few lines, to which a clumsy "Rebecker Jones" was reluctantly affixed. "Are you doing right in letting this woman off so easily?" Mrs Shirley whispered, as she saw the few coins—gifts from Lady Dartiaon— which were Wynnie's little all, poured into Becca's eagerly extended palm. "She has been merely the tool of a bad, revengeful man and she can be found again if wanted."

'lhis reminder appeased Linda and a eservant was summoned to ecsort the convicted imposter ;o the railroad station with directions not to lose sight ol Iher till she was in a train and en route for Dover.

Scarcely had she departed' ere Cyrilla dashed into the room to inquire whpt had become of her, and Wynnile could answer her half-fienzied questions with smiling composure. Whether' Chris Ken - nelt lived or died his scheme was defeated. Beoca'e confession had nipped it in the bud, and the certificate which she bad dropped in her confusion vjas in the possession of its rightful owner! CHAPTER XXXII. YOU DO NOT KNOW THE DEPTH OF.HIS BASENESS! Linda Shiiley, who remembered but too vividly the sufferings of her dying husband, was horrified at the worse than indifference her cousin manifested regarding the condition of Chris Kennett. It was true that his impatience of pain aDd his fclasphemous exclamations made bim a very unpleasant person to approach, but still he was an object of oity, for he was seriously, if not dangerously, hurt. His leg was fractured, his ribs badly bruised, and he had a claim on the humanity of Sir Jasper, whose inability to control his horse had certainly had as much to do with the 'accident as the heedlessness displayed by Chris Kenneit himself. The doctor, who was quickly in attendance, when called upon to pronounce whether his patient could be removed to the nearest hospital, had said hesitatingly that it might be praaticable but was not at all advisable; yet Miss Dartison bearing down her father's feeble opposition was insisting upon it when Harold Outram arrived. As soon as "she saw him she remembered the Cuarse vulgar girl who had declared herself his wife; and when he began tenderly expressing his regret for the alarm she must have undergone, Cyrilla repulsed him, crying passionately that everyone was in league to harass her, and rushed back to the room where she had left Becoa. The relief of finding her gone was very great, and to know chat she had avowed herself an imposter was immense. Her confession was read and reread, and wickedness inveighed against with suoh vehemence that at last Linda bade her cousin remember that all of us are apt to yield to temptation. But CyrilJn took no notice of the warning. With this confession in her hands Bbe could defy Chris Kennett to frighten her with a repitition of old tales of Harold's faithlessness. Wretoh that he was to invent suoh a fatle! Were not his present suffering a judgement upon him for his wckedness? She would try not to hope that he might die, because it would not be correct to do so, but pray for his recovery she could not. And still she persisted that he must be

taken away; till Sir Jasper, showing no disposition to issue the necessary orders, she appealed to 3 Mr Outram. He heard her with surprise, ; "My dear Cyrilla, the poor fellow ' might die on the road; and think j what additional agony so long a i journey in his present state would . entail upon him." "Wo could have an ambulance; ■ he could be moved carefully; and indeed, Harold, it must be, done." "I fail to see why," he respondi ed. "For my own satisfaction I i should like to be convinced of the ; necessity for such • extreme measures " i "Why are you so considerate for him?" she asked, in her vexation. "He is no friend of yours, but rather your worst enemy." Harold started. "What ujakes you say this as well as Miss Movie?" "Miss Moyle, indeed!" Cyrilla angrily repeated. "By what right does she presume to meddle in my affairs? Does she peep and prj, read my letters and listen while 1 am talking to him?" "I shall to very sorry," he answered earnestly, "if my incautious j question has made you suspect a | youn« creature who —if I judge her j rightly—is incapable of any act of meanness. It is true that once she warned me to beware of that man, but it was because she fancied it was he who would have attacked me in the grounds the night her interposition prevented it." "I am not of a suspicious disposition," Miss Dartlson declared, "but if I make such doubtful speeohes, who can help misunderstanding them?" To this question he gave no response, Her manner displeased him almost as much as her injustice to Wynnie, her mother's faithful, patient attendant. But she would not see his pained look, nor the frown gathering on his brow. She returned with eagerness to the subject under discussion —the removal of Chris Kennett to the London Hospital. "Unless his physician were to advocate the step who could take upon himself to attempt it?" urged Mr Outram. "Papa could," she answered, vexedly, "and would if his fall had not unhinged him so that he is as helpless as a child; but you can aot for him." "Iu such a case as this I must decline doing so, it would be positive-ly-inhuman." "Ah, you have no consideration for mel" she oried, with an odd sort of catch in her breath. "Do you forget what 1 shall havo to endure with a howling, snarling maniac iu the house? 1 oannot—-I will not endure it! Unless he iß'taken* away I will go to a hotel! It is a shame that I should be expected to remain under the same roof with a man who, at the very moment of his accident, was plotting against my happiness." "Cyrilla," and Harold Outram's tone was an incredulous one, "do not let our mutual distaste for the fellow make you unjust to him. If, as you have led me to believe, your happiness, is bound up in mine, how can Chris Kennett mar it?" "He would have done so," she responded, angrily, "if his accomplice had not taken fright on learning that he had been run over and made a written avowal of their scheme." "You are perplexing me immensely. Neither you not I have done this man any harm. Is it for pure love of mischief that he plots against us? or—or is there any other reason——•" and Harold eyed the young lady distrustfully—■ "any other reason for this strange, very strange conduot." Cyrilla knew not how to reply, but finally seized upon the first pretext that offered. "It is all you fault, sir! yes, yours. Had you come straight to me from Paris nothing of this could have happened." "Do not blame me for circumstances over which I had no control," he asid, gently; "it would be as unreasonable to blame me for being hurt in a collision as to " "There was no collision just then. I wonder you persist in trying to force a tale upon me for which there ii not the least foundation. Harold Outram drew himself a little further from her, as he demanded haughtily if she believed him capable of a deliberate attempt to impose upon her credulity?

His stem looks and resentful tone made her moderate her own. "1 do not accuse you of anything. There has been a mistake, that is all; but 1 still maintain that if you bad oome to me at once, or let me know where you viero staying, I should have had it in my power to set Chris Eennett and his malicious insinuations at defiance." "Then he has been as much my enemy as Miss—as I was told. But why?" "Beause he envies you your good luck; or, if you do not like the word, your prosp?rity, and, all your other worldly advantages." "Had you given him cause for disliking me?" Mr Outram suddenly demanded. If Oyrilla had teen wise she would have made a truthful reply, and, throwing herself on her lover's meroy, told him all; instead of which she burst Into an unpleasant laugh. (To Be Continued.)