THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3078, 24 December 1908, Page 2

THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

CHAPTER VII. AN UNSUSPECTED WITNESS. Edith was in dispair. She had plenty of spirit; but what was left for her in such a strange and hateful emergency? She went down to breakfast the next morning almost resolved to appeal to the guests of the house for protection from her cousin. But this humiliating alternative she relinquished whew Randal Heathcote did not make reappearance; and, to her immense relief, she learned that he had been summoned away on business that would keep him until the following day. At evening the guests of the house met as usual in the drawing room. Edith returned to her own apartments early, and did not know, therefore, that her cousin returned unexpectedly about half-past nine. She did not even suspect that anything ■was wrong when Fantine did not make her appearance, though she had forbidden her to be absent after ten o'clock. She felt in unusual spirits. It was a relief not to be fearing her cousin's mysterious appearance at any moment, and she hoped her husband would return before another night. At eleven she rose from before the fire to ring for her maid. Her hand was on the cord when suddenly the door from the corridor swung noiselessly open, and Captain Tyrrell came across the threshold and stood looking at her with a deadly whiteness in h ; s face, and an awlul glitter in his eyes. He ljoked so strange, so unlike himself, his appearance was so unexpected, that Edith remained at first confounded with amazement. Thus confronting her, he slowly reached behind him and slipped the bolt of the door, shaking in every limb all the time.

After the first moment's hesitation, Edith sprang forward eagerly. No man in his senses could have doubted that she was glad to see him. even before she spoke.

"Thank Heaven you are come!" But Fairfax Tyrrell repulsed her rudely with one hand, while he held before her in the other an open letter.

"At last I know your infamy!" he said in a hushed whisper. Edith stared at him one irresolute moment, her heart sinking like a dead thing in her bosom. Then her courage rose again. After all, this was only, at the worst, what she had feared so long, and almost expected, and it was so fortunate that her cousin Randal was not at home. What had her husband heard? Doubtless Ror.s had written him something; but what? Sne must not be in hastv? to deny things with which she was not charged, and this was no time to tell him all that long and painful story of her cousin's persecution of her. He would never listen, much less believe, while he was under such excitement. Something like this reasoning darted through her startlad brain. She snatched the letter from his hand. He made a movement to take it from her, but changed his mind, and stood still, watching her from under his shaggy eye-brows, while she read it.' "if you wish to be satisfied of your wife's unfaithfulness to you, return „,to Heathcote House at once. There is a secret passage leading from Randal Heathcote's rooms to the Nell Gvvynne chambers, and communicates with them by a concealed door. They have sent away Barbara Fane, to secure to themselves mure freedom, and taken in her place a young girl whose eyes are not so sharp, nor her honesty so incorruptible. By coming' to Heathcote House with secrecy and despatch, and concealing yourself in your wife's chamber, you may surprise the pair and satisfy your doubts forever."

Edith's eyes ran rapidly over the contents of this diabolical epistle. She barely gathered their import. Her thoughts were flashing two and fro like lightning. Her heart was throbbing so fast as almost to take her breath. What if, after all, her cousin had not gone away after all? What if his pretense of going had only been another trick, like his sending away Barbara? If so, he was liable to enter the room at any moment. What could she do to prevent it? She raised her eyes. Her husband had moved towards her noiselessly. In his hand a slender dagger gleamed, in each of his eyes a savage devil sat. "Is this letter true?" he demanded in an awful whisper. "It is false so far as it accuses me of unfaithfulness to you," Edith answered, speaking aloud, so as to warn Heathcote if he were near, though she feared to irritate her husband by so doing. "Speak as I do," he said, menacing her with his glittering weapon. "Has Barbara Fane gone away? "I did not send her- " began 'Edith. "She " Tyrrell stopped her. "Has ehe gone? Answer my questions; I don't want any explana. tions." "Yes, but " "Is there a secret passage from these rooms to Randal Heathcote's gppartments?" ■ Edith hesitated, with the dagger almost pricking her throat. ■ "Answer, or " The shivering tlade touched the bare white flesh now. Her husband's eyes, glowing like fiery coals burned into hers. "Yes," she said slowly. v " . v at is ero-igh. Sit there." He put her in a chair. "If you move or utter a sound, I will kill you!" he

By HELEN COEWLN PIEECE, Author of "At His Own Game," "Carrie Emerson Wilde," "Badly Matched," "The Cheated Bride," Etc.

(To be continued)

! threatened in the same hissing whis- ! pei'. j Never in her life had Edith fainted. But she felt her senses slipping from her now, and strove desparately to retain them. In vain. Her husband's black, threatening face and upheld dagger floated away from her sight in her gasping effort to hold I them in her horrified gaze. The I blunkness of darkness swept up and ' swallowed her. Her head fell hack i upon the cushions of her chair. I Whatever horror the next hour held, she was to remain mercifully unconscious during its passage. _ i Life and senses came back with a ! sharp pang. Where was she—alone? i No. Her cousin Randal Heathcote •' stood gazing down at her with flam- | mg eyes and.face whiter than death. ! She gazed back at him a moment, j then started up with chattering i teeth. j "What has happened?- Where is | Gaptain Tyrrell? He was here. Ah!" i as she caught sight of something lyir.g upon the floor beyond Heathcjte. "The dagger! Has he gone?" She gazed about the room. Only she and Heathcote. Then the dagger drew her gaze again. She was about to pick it up, when her cousin stopped her. "Wait, Edith; there is something upon it," he said in a voice so strange that it did not sound like his own. She flashed him an awful glance and stooped to look. The next moment she would have shrieked for horror, but he stopped her mouth with his hand. The dagger lay in a pool of blood. With an arm flung round her, a hand laid rudely upon her lips, Randal Heathcote whispered his awful I story in her ears.

When it was done he let her go. Tottering from him, she cowered against the wall and stood staring at him, with eyes intense and terrible in their blackness and reproach. "You would not be warned!" she wailed brokenly. "Oh! I knew some dreadful thing would happen. I hope you may hang for it, you curse of my life —you murderer!" Out of Heathcote's sunken eyes darted two flames of bitter malignanly, before which, in spite of her fierce and roused spirit, Edith quailed. "If Ido bang," he said in a low and deadly "you hang, too — mark that! Let me alone, and I'll save you and myself, too. Interfere with me by as much as a glance to reveal the truth to others, and I'll destroy you utterly. You know whether I'm one to keen my word or not!" "I know you broke, it once," retorted Edith bitterly; "and if I never was thankful before, I am now for the lie you told in breaking your engagement with me. Why should I fear you now? I have done no wrong." A sneer writhed Heathcote's livid lips.

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