The Ironmaster's Daughter.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8293, 23 November 1906, Page 2

The Ironmaster's Daughter.

Bv OWEN MASTERS. Author of ii Clyda's Love Dream," " Nina's .Repentance t " i( JELer Soldier Lover,'' (> The Mystery of Woodcrojt," *' For Love of Marjorie," etc. ["The Ironmaster's Daughter" was commenced on October 17tli.]

CHAPTER XXll.—Continue!).

From Birchdene Charles Benson "was driven to the ironworks. His master had loaned him the use of a carriage. There was often a good bit of running about, as many of the customers were within a dozen miles from Smethwick, and personal interviews were more satisfactory than pages of writing. And the trans- - actions are often too important to trust to the vagrancies of the telephone. Arrived at the office, Mr Benson discovered that his heart was leap-, iug painfully. He had fully expected to hear of Hilda Craven's dismissal, biit she was in her usual place, and the sunlight was playing uide-and-wek in the slranu • i her golden hair. She heard his voice and her hands trembled over the keys of her machine. She gave him one swift glance, but he was resolutely looking the other way. He attended to the letters and went out without appearing to notice her, leaving his instructions with the head clerk of the bookkeeping department. He was driven to Tipton, and from Tipton to the Birchills. This occupied the remainder, of the day, and he went back] to the office to write up his report for his employer. This had to be sent by mail, Mr Benson had purposely delayed his return to the works until after office hours, but was considerably disturbed to hear the clicking of a typewriter when he passed through "the great gates at the entrance to the yard. "Who's that Jones?" he asked the timekeeper. He knew who it was. :t Miss Craven, sir." Mr Benson frowned, and bit his { lips. He stood still for a full min- j ute. Click-click-click went the machine. He pulled himself together and entered the corridor. He couldn't avoid Miss Craven as her desk was in the corner of his office. He fumbled among some papers, and coughed. The machine was silent now. "It's half-past seven, Miss Craven," Benson said, witlj his back to the girl. He heard a sob, and started round. "I beg your pardon, Mr Benson," Hilda murmured, "but I feel so wretched!" His heart vibrated with pity. "H'm! " he said vaguely. -'Why are you here so late? I—to speak plainly—didn't expect to find you here at all, after what you told me. Have you spoken to Mr Tressidy with equal candour ? " 1 "Mr Tressidy trusts me ; he is a man of the world; he knows; he penetrated my miserable disguise at once. But I am sorry for him. he has so much trouble." She hesitated. "I have worked until eight and nine every night. I have typed everything of importance." "Then you are really sorry, Miss Craven ?" "I am sorry for myself, too. I am a most unhappy woman." "I wish I could help you." His voicfe quivered, and he felt the old pain' at his heart returning. Her tear-dimmed eyes were turned up to his. "Oh, you can—you can!" she cried hysterically. "I'm not afraid of appearing silly before you; I'm not afraid for you to see my real self." "I don't know what you mean," he said helplessly. "Your language is cryptic, and I'm an awful dunce." He mopped his brow, and rushed to open a window. "Whew! The place is suffocating." He walked back to Miss Craven's desk. Her face was hidden in her hands. He was only a mortal man, and he loved this woman. He caressed her hair with tingling fingers. "I don't believe that" you evermeant wrong, Hilda —I never did believe it. But I've been trying hard to forget you, and I never wanted to see you again. You said that the very idea of my love was disgusting." Then he added hoarsely, "Don't let me make any mistake. How can I help you, Hilda ?" " By being kind and nice to me." He pulled a chair near to where she was seated, and sank into it. "You mean it ?" "Yes," she said bravely. She looked at him with swimming eyes—eyes that looked love. Could he believe his senses ? He thought that she dispised him—that his advances bad tilled her with loathing. He. was'half ddlirious and,'groped for her hand. * "You like me, Hilda? I'm bo awfully ugly—and you are so different." "You are handsome to me, and as for my good looks —I hate them. They have been the bane of my life. The man I married when a mere child was old, very old, and my beauty was all he cared for. And there have been others, attracked by my unhappy face." She shuddered. •< And I am one of them," sighed Benson. "No, no ! If I were proved to be bad—wicked, you would hate me." < He shook his head, 'l'm not good at hating. You could not be really wicked. Mr Tressidy knows that; and anyone is liable to be misled by a father." He was regarding her fondly, his whole frame trembling. Oh, it was

almost too good to be true. He bent nearer, and kissed' her face. "I'm in love, Hilda,', he said. "And so am I, Charles." "For the first time in my life. I did have a fleeting passion for a fat young woman when I was young, but that wasn't love." "I have never loved a man until now, Charles." . "I can't realize it yet," he said, again and again. "This morning I was utterly miserable and cast down. I think- that I should have gone to New Zealand but for the elder Mr Tressidy's death. I've got a brother out there. Then I found that I had a duty to perform ; and I hurried back here, never dreaming of this." There was a knock on the door, and Benson jumped up. It was only the timekeeper ; but there was a sly smile on ins face. Mr Benson reddened, and mentally wondered if thfe man had seen anything. He might have peeped through any of the office windows outside. "Wilton's relieving me, sir," he said, "he's got the keys. Goodnight." "Good-night," Mr Benson answered faintly. [to be continued.]