CHAPTER III.

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1634, 23 December 1882, Page 4 (Supplement)

CHAPTER 111.

Victor Levison's curiosity had been roused by tho remark of detective Smith as to the good-looking girl in the next carriage ; and, therefore, when he found himself sitting opposite to the fair unknown, in a stuffy little cab, his first impulse was to try and get a look at her face. But in this he was completely baulked, for the young lady persistently kept her face muffled up in a thick veil. "She has got a pretty foot at all events," said Victor to himself," and a beautiful figure. The pose of her head is simply superb, and what lovely hair ; the very colour of Lucy's." All at once the thought rushed into Victor s mind— the conviction almost — that it was indeed Lucy. His heartfelt strangely oppressed; his breath came in short quick gasps; his face flushed, and his fingers seemed to burn and tremble with an eager longing to touch the hand, the dress, the hair of the sweet girl who seemed to efface herself in the farthest corner of the oab as if to keep as far away from himias possible. Lucy, on her part.Jknew Victor; and all

her passionate love for him which, in the dear old days when there was no barrier between them, had been fed on honied words and kept alive by tender caresses — whose banished joys it was now an agony to remember — made her bosom swell and her heart throb painfully while she could'hardly control the impulse to ,thro\v herself into her lover's arms,' and sob out her 'agony on his bosom. Her blood ran cold the next moment,'aqd ncr highly wrought feelings found rejief in a sigh which, but for her fear of betraying herself, wouls have been a moan. Victor felt as if he wag standing on a precipice and wa3 seized with a mad desire to fling himself over. Three or four times he opened his lips to speak and as often the unspoken thought died upon his lips. His heart beat furiously. If it was Lucy, and he allowed her to escape without speaking to her and endeavouring to clear up the mystery of her disappearance, he would curse his prudery as long as he lived. But, if the ypung lady was a stranger, upon what' possible pretext could he address her ajfc all. And Jheri jt could not possibly be Lucy, or she would have spoken. Yet, in spite of all hjs arguments against the possibility of its bsing the girjl he lo,ved, he telt surrounded and steeped in an atmosphere charged with emotions such ag he qnly fjft when in the presence of one woman, The situation was becoming painfully tense. The atmosphere of that cab was charged with love's electricity, and it is difficult to say what would have, happened if a lightning conductor, in the shape of Henry Maitland had not entered the yenjcie »$ $has moment. Henry Maitland was on his way to Melbourne, and had purchased his ticket when he chanced to look into the lady's car» riage. He saw Lucy, and his guilty conscience, ever on the watch for possible discovery of his crimes, made him suspect that Lucy's appearance in the district boded no good for him. ' After he h^d accomplished his purpose so cleverly ot &urdering his cousitt W.ajtter by manipulating his b'reegh-lpa^er a£ artistically, he had interviewed Mrs, .WftijNF, -Brown, Lucy's mother. He, 'explained ,, to ; fter jilje exact position of affairs as a candid friend. ,His explanation was charming in its f simplicity, and could not possibly have deceived anyone but the simple-minded woman virhom he took the trouble to deceive. According to him Walter Maitland bad married Morrison under an assumed name,"" Walt§i? Brown, in facf, had married Jane" Monjson, Walter Maitland had died, and Walter' Maitland being also Walter Brown, it/followed 'that Walter 'Brown had died. But -nobody kn,ew Walter Maitland as Walter Brtyfijg^%tsept he himself, Henry Maitland ; and^&w-a* not only "riot going to identify WaltfefcMait. , land* as Walter Brown;, but 1 fie wowjibfk).'

'w|»s fiJ falter Maitlatfd'a'-M^wss'j^oat 'i*e ltu!ew r W«ilter Bro'vra^well erfongH, and 1 that M had" siiaajply, disappeared in o*derto v lendja cdlottr.'to v her claim." He went so far as to say that she was not really married from the fact of her having married Maitlandi under the name of Brown. That Walter himself was aware of this, and as damning evidence of that he produced the will, in which he had left to Miss Jane Morrison, commonly known as Mrs. Walter Brown, £1000 per annum. All this was like a hideons dream to Lucy's mother ; and she was so overwhelmed with the apparent completeness of the thing, that she was perfectly helpless and utterly incapable of seeing her way out of the difficulty. The one hideous appalling fact that stood out boldly in all the entangled surroundings, and struck coldly to her heart and turned her head dizzy, was that she was not married to the father of the child, and that her child was a bastard. She dared not tell Lucy, but in her feverish mutterings when the terrible blow laid her upon a bed of sickness, her daughter gathered so much that she was compelled to tell her all — and believing herself that she had been deceived, the sad story was imparted in such a way that Lucy was compelled, in spite of herself, to think the same. It was a crushing blow to the poor girl. She was so proud of her father, so fond of her mother. And to think that all this time her father had lived a lie 1 But when she thought of her love— of Victor — it almost drove her mad. There was but one thing to be done. They must disappear from the scene and blot out the past ; they could live where their story was un&novra. Parking with Victor waa the severest trial, but she could not endure the thought of linking her sullied name to that of the man she loved too well to drag down to her level. Thus she wrote her parting letter to Victor, and this is why she dreaded his discovering her. Lucy and her mother had a hard struggle. She was now on her way to Bargooma as governess to Mrs. Campbell, who knew the whole of her sad story. Henry Maitland, being a high-class villain, knew that the fiction he had so industriously elaborated, would not stand investigation. As long as Lucy and her mother were alive there was danger. Lucy was even more dangerous than her mother ; and, therefore, when he saw her in the railway carriage, and saw her afterwards take her seat in the cab which was to take her to the coach office, he changed his mind about going to Melbourne, and determined to find out her destination. this object he also got into the cab ;

and if the reader wishes to know how long it takes to go through all the different emotions and life experiences which we have attempted to describe, and trace to their sources from the beginning of the chapter up to this point, the cabman, if he were at the same time observant and truthful, would probably inform him that the time was three minutes. The entrance of Henry Rf aitland into the cab was a relief to Victor and Lucy. Not that he was a desirable companion, but the emotional currents 'were diverted', and- both Lucy and Victor' breathed 1 more freely for his presence, although Lucy knew him and loathed him, while Victor didn't know him, and didn't want to know him. The cab drove up to the coach office ; and as soon as the luggage was arranged, and the mails put on the rack, and in the boot, and under the seats, and wherever they could find a place to stow them, the coach started out of the thriving township of Telora with the usual plunge of the near wheeler, without which, it is apparently impossible for Oobb & Co. to get away. He was a cranky brute that near side wheeler, and Jack M'Lean, the driver, told Victor— who 'was sitting alongside him— in a confidential whisper, that the animal w^'s a '''blooini'ng^ fraud." There was anqther gentlemen on ,the box seat,' and Lucy \srss insjde.'^ere, Jfaitland had elected Jo/gp,. ' Although {he weather f pr phe lasj; fgw days had been fine on the cqas.t and a short distance inland^ the country about Telqrq, gave evidence of heayy rainfall. There had been steady ram for three or four days higher up the country also \ and aU the greeks were running bank high, The road crossed the valley of the Telora creek, about ten miles out of the township. The creek had overflown its banks,, and whan the coach arrived at the edge, of the wafer, it was evident that it would takg very oareful piloting to get through with safety. The current was not rapid, and the water was not more than foiir feet de>£on tfie average ; but these floods, which look so" innocent, have a na,sty habit of working deep holes in the blue cj^y, which fprms the Bed of iihe valley, and if th@ cpa^ch, bj aepjejent, gqs intq.qne qf these hql§s, ]t wquld he a serous, inat^er. A.l} this was known to Henry l^aijilftnd, wljo. wa.s, algo perfectly acquainted with fch§ track across.. 4 diabolical idea suddenly entered his heao\ Jf he could entice the driver of , the coach into qqie of these huge holes, the inside passengers Of thegoash WQ»I4 b§ certainly * drowned, Lucy once oufc gf fcha way ? ' ha would be safe. , The coach stopped at the §4ge Qf,th§ water,, - ','Cfon any'genttewan drive the' coach after me through thi» swamp, if I , get,a i: h6rse, and pilot the v way f " asked the driver, . ' , > t " , __ '.

<f#ti : yop'wotiitfalfow ing wMke a'suggesV tibifMii BJr.MaitlatidV" I- think"' we can get 'over the r t)oubtless this gentleman/ reierring to ' Victor, "i& a' proficient driver, bat I think Jack had better stick to the ribbons. I will ride on, and act as pilot." " All right, old son," said Jack, " you're a trump ; here comes Bobby with a horse ; fire ahead !" and the coach went down steadily into the yellow turbulent water, while Henry Maitland rode on in front, with an angelic smile upon his face, and murder in his heart, i