UNTO SEVENTY TIMES SEVEN

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVII, Issue 8, 25 August 1906, Page 21

UNTO SEVENTY TIMES SEVEN

Or, THE FLOWER OF THE PENINSULA

ALL KIAHTS RCSEAVCD

By

Lily Froude

CHAPTER XXXI. IA.M so glad, Branden, that you accepted Mrs, Marlow’s invitation; site is a dear little woman. Don’t you think so’?" “Of course 1 do. who could help it ? I had no idea they were people of so superior a class. Mr. Marlow is a firstrate companion: but then he is English.” -Rut the others are just as well bred, Jiraadeu, aud they are New Zealanders. Airs. O’Brien is splendid.’’ ‘•Yes, I agree with you. but I think, in point of breeding, the New Zealanders are superior to the other colonies. Take, for instance, «a middle class family in exactly the same position, one from Australia and one from New Zealand, you .will find the latter far and away the letter bred of the two. Now, look at Airs. O’Brien, she is only the daughter of a t radesman, I am told, yet site-could take her place in any London drawingroom.” ‘‘Yes, I am sure she could. Have you missed me, Branden? We’ve beeu parted a long time,” said Linda, wistfully. She was getting a little tired of her husband’s praises of Mrs. O’Brien. "Of course I have missed you. Linda. I haven’t seen a finer figure than your’s anywhere.” “Linda sighed. How she longed to hear nim say that he loved her. and how tired she was of hearing about her figure. "1 wish my face was pretty, Branden, for your sake.” Sir Branden was beginning to feel terribly bored with the conversation, and hailed with delight the appearance of Airs. Marlow coming towards them. “I have come to ask you. Lady Langstone, if you would care to visit Lake Takaluma to-day. We have a little cottage over there, and 1 want to see the caretaker. We can either drive or go by ferry boat, and then take a carriage from North Shore to the latke.” "That would be delightful, and I should enjoy seeing the Lake. Is that the lake which Air. Alarlow told me was bottomless? I think he called it the Devil’s Hole.” "The same. It is unfathomable, but that is nothing to what we will show you at Rotorua. I expect, Sir Branden, you have told Lady .Langstone of your awful experiences there.” “No, I have heard nothing.” said Linda in a startled manner. "What was it, Branden ?” "I will tell you some other time, my dear. When do you start for the Lake, Airs. Alarlow?” "In an hour. Will you come with us, Sir Branden. or would you prefer to accompany Air. Alarlow —be intends io ride, you know. We Jiave Black Arab in the paddock, if you would like to ride her, but I wouldn’t advise you to venture, as she is hardly broken in sufficiently to behave as a well-bred horse should.” , ‘Aon are very kind, Mrs. Alarlow, but 1 am afraid I cannot afford myself the pleasure of accompanying you to-day, as I have arranged to meet a man af 12 0 dock on business.” "Business, Branden!” exclaimed I-uida. "Why, you are out here on pleasure.” 1 1 bought some shares in a fatdory, «”<l this man has promised to purchase •bcm from me at a considerable profit to

myself: la-sides, I wish to get rid of them.” No sooner had the party set oft’ than Sir Brandon made all haste to the North Shore by boat, nod then taking a horse wjrich his valet had waiting for him at the wharf, he rode for his life to the latke, and, reining in his horse at the door of a small cottage, knocked loudly on the panel with his whip. A woman came to the door and curtseyed when she recognised her visitor. “Is my wife within? If so, I wish to see her immediately.” “Yes. sir, she is in the back garden. I’ll just tell her you are here.” Presently Aimer- appeared, and ran up to Sir Branden to lie kissed, but apparently he did not notice her attitude, as he said hastily: “Aimee, deal’, get your hat on and eome with me. lam going to take you for the day into the bush, and then to dine at the inn. We will have a happy day all to ourselves. Be quick, now; I am going to take you on the horse; you can sit in front, and I will hold you.” "Oh, how nice, Bruee. I’ll hurry up.” And while Aimee was dressing Branden called the woman out and said: "Has anyone been here?” “No, sir.” “Well, you will have visitors to-day: they are driving. 1 came by boat, so I will keep Mrs. Branden away until they are gone. Mind, not one word. Do you hear? “Yes, sir; you needn't fear as I'll speak so long as you pay me well. I'm getting old, and inonev ain’t too plentiful." Sir Branden took the hint, and threw a couple of sovereigns to the woman, whom he then dismissed with an oath, which, however, did not reach her ears. Alter a few minutes Aimee reappeared, and Sir Branden lifted her on to the saddle and held her with one arm, and the reins with the other. A few minutes’ sharp canter brought them to the bush, where tney dismounted and wandered about for a while. Aimee was in a perfect state of bliss, with no thought for the morrow, bill her husband’s brow wore a heavy frown, and his maimer was reserved and abstracted. “Are you not glad to see me. Bruee!” asked Aimee, as she hung on his arm; "it’s a whole week since you saw me, an' I’ve just felt like to die, I missed you so.” "Of course, deal’. I've missed you. and hastened bat-k the moment 1 was free to do so.” “And is your business all done now, Bruee. and will you take me back with you —it’s so lonely here?” “I am not free to do so yet, Aimee. You must wait a little longer, dear. 1 will send Sandy over to take you for a row—would you like that ?” "I don’t know, Bruee: but if you want me to go 1 will try an' like it.” “Oh, don’t make a martyr of yourself for me. Aimee.” Sir Branden spoke irritably, and Aimee looked up quickly in surprise. Then she said: “What is a martyr, Bruce? I'm only Aimee, and I don’t make myself anything else.” “Never mind, little one; I'm out of sorts to-day—had a lot of worry. Suppose we sit down here and eat these cakes 1 brought iu my pocket, instead of

going to the hotel to lunch. Are you very hungry. dear?” “N-o. Not hungry at all.” And Aimee sat down and nibbled at a coke with unshed tears in her eyes. Poor little girl! She had tried her best to be patient and contented all that long, weary week, and now Bruce was -displeased with her. She knew he was, for he had called her a martyr, and she was sure a martyr was something unpleasant. for dear -Granddad had never called her that. Then she felt an indefinable something in Sir Branden‘s manner that she had never noticed before, and it troubled her. “Why, Aimee, surely you are not crying?. Come, now, don’t be silly, there's a good girl. What is the trouble, eh?” Aimee's only answer was such a look of pathetic reproach that it roused all the manhood tliat was in him, and Sir Branden took her in his arms and reeked her gently, as one would an infant, to soothe it. His love for her had waned a little under the influence of Airs. O’Brien’s beauty, but now it returned with double force, and he called himself a brute for neglecting Aimee for so long. Why had he brought, her there, when, but for him, she might be a happy, innocent child in her mountain home with her old grandfather, whom she had loved so well? But, unfortunately, these feelings of regret soon died, and left him more careless than la-fore. So. after a few minutes, he said: “Now. do you feel better, my pet? If you sit here on this log 1 will light my pipe; it's ages since I hail a smoke.” Aimee smiled and obeyed, but she still felt depressed in spite of the caresses Branden had showered upon her. Aleanwhile the Alarlows had arrived at the cottage, and very much surprised Huia was to find installed as caiotwher a strange woman in place of the one she had engaged as such. “T wish to see Mrs. Murray, please,” said Huia. "I’m sorry, mam. io tell you that she is away for a change, and I’ve took her

place. I’m her sister. and take just thf same care of the place as she does.” “Oh, very well, but I should like to look over the place now I am here. I think it strange Mrs. Murray <IM not tell me of her intention. Has slm* '»eeE away long'” “■Oh, dear no. mam, only a few days, and she’ll be back irra couple more. She thinks the Lake don’t agree with her, mam; she’s been poorly this long whiln now.” “I am sorry to hear it. and hope the change will do her good. Now, then, snail wc start on our tour of inspection, Lady Langstoneand Huia turned to her friend with a smile of invitation. After going through the rooms tlie party went into the bark garden. ami seeing a book on a seat. Lady Langstons took it up, and carelessly insjiectcd ths title pages; then she quietly fainted, and lay white and still on the grass. Valerie had noticed Linda lift the book, and suspected her swoon had something to do with what she had seen therein, so, while the others concerned themselves in restoring her, Valerie took possession of the book and hurriedly glanced through it. Iler suspicions proved correct. for inscribed on the front leaf wore these words. “From Bruce to dear Aimee,” and along the margin Aimee had scrawled in her unformed hand. ‘Aimee Langstone, Aimee Branden,” doubtless to see the effect in writing of her new name. The hook was an ordinary-looking volume of miscellaneous poems culled from tho best authors. Valerie laid down the book with a heavy sigh. Khe did not know which of Sir Brandon's victims she pitied the most, and wondered how it would end now that his wife had discovered pari of his treachery. But how did the book come there? That was the mystery. Was Aimee in Auckland? ‘Valerie asked herself these and decided that she would find out. She hated Sir Branden, and could with difficulty control her impulse to tell Huia what his true character was, especially as she

mw Iter two sisters daily falling under the power of his fascination. When introduced to her, Valerie had aeted as though she had met for the first time, and avoided offering her hand. When 1-ady laingstone revived she explained her faint by saying that she had seen a large black spider on the seat close beside Iter, and t..at it had frightened her very much, spiders being her particular aversion. This was perfectly true so far as the spider was concerned, but Valerie knew well the insect had not caused her to swoon. Before starting for the Lake the sisters had arranged to call upon an old friend who had lieen their mother's nurse in their childhood, and who was now old and crippled. So as soon as Lady Langstonc was comfortably settled in a cosy nook in the garden, with a cup of tea and a book, she insisted on their going and leaving her. “I don’t like leaving you, Lady Langstone; indeed, 1 don’t,” said Huia. "Aly dear Mrs. Marlow, you are only going across the road, and I am quite happy and comfortable here. See, I hava Browning's poems. I brought this pocket edition with me, so please do not hurry baek on my account. Besides, if 1 feel lonely 1 shall avail myself of the pleasure of a gossip with Mrs. Black,” and Linda laughed as she threw herself back in her seat. "Oh, well, if you arc going, to be so independent we shall go,” returned Huia, archly. "Only 1 don't think you ■will get much fun out of Mrs. Blaek; she has a mouth like a rat-trap, and she doesn’t look at all garrulous.” Valerie knew the reason of Linda’s anxiety for them to go, and leave her alone. She knew that the poor woman •was racked with doubts and suspicions that she was longing to set at rest by questioning Mrs. Black, so taking Unia’s arm she gentlv drew her awav towards the gate. CHAPTER XXXII. When the sisters had gone, Linda sprang up and hurried into the cottage with Aimee’s book in her hand. “Are you there, Mrs. Black ?” she

sa’d. “I came to thank you for that nice cup of tea; it has quite revived me.” - ■ "You are very kind, mam, to say so. V»nl you take another cup? 1 kept the cosy over the teapot in ease.” “Well, I really think I could enjoy another cup, Mrs. Blaek, and a piece of cake, please.” "Yes, ’em,” said the woman, as she prejiared a tray for the tea and cake. “Ob, don’t trouble to get that for me, please; I shall just take a piece of cake in my hand. This cake is delicious.” “I made it, mam, myself. I’m reckoned a good hand at pound cake, an’ tipsy cake, an’ trifle no one ean treat me at,” “I am quite sure of it. Have you been here long, at the Lake, I mean?” "Only a few days, ’em. I live t’other side.” “Oh, I found this book in the garden,” said Linda, with an air of having just remembered it. “Does it belong to you, Mrs. Black?” The woman took the Irook from the lady’s hand and ran her eye over it with a slight frown on her brow. Then she said, indifferently: "No, mam, I never saw it before. I suppose one o’ them picnic parties has left it here; they’re always coming and Irothering for hot water to make tea, and while I am getting it for thefn they sit down about the garden, as the cottage ain’t too large.” "Oh, well, I suppose I may keep it, for I see some of my favourite poems are in it. I shall ask Mrs. Marlow to allow me to keep it, in memory of this very pleasant day.” "Perhaps, ’em, the owner will return and ask for it.” "I did not think of that; but, anyway, 1 would like to borrow it. I could return it by post to-morrow. Would that do?” "So far as I know, mam, it will.” The woman knew perfectly well the reason why her ladyship wanted to get the book, and she saw no help for it but to let her have it. When Sir Branden had engaged MrsBlack as housekeeper he had told her that Aimee was his wife. But her suspicions were soon roused as to Aimee’s

relationship to her master. He was so anxious that Aimee should not leave the garden, and that no one should see her in his company. Then he always kept the gate locked, and no visitors ever eame to see them. Then-Mrs. Black bad talked to Aimee in sueh an artful way that she had elicited all the girl had to ten about her past life, and poor, unsophisticated Aimee was unconscious that’ she was revealing anything that Sir Branden had forbidden her to tell. So when Sir Branden hustled them off to the Lake one morning, she made it her business to find out his motive, especially as he did not accompany them, and now Lady Langstone coming upon the scene explained everything. She had gone to her master two days previously and told him that she had found out that Aimee was not his wife, and that she refused to live in the house any longer. Sir Branden knew that she was avaricious, and appealed to it by doubling her wages, so on those terms she elected ta stay. "One thing, mind, I insist on, that you never tell that child that I am not her legal husband. If you do you will kill her, and then I will kill you.” Sir Branden had intended taking a furnished house at the Lake, ami, finding a difficulty in doing so, had consulted with the woman, who said that, if he. did not mind, she would take her sister's place for a few days, and take Aimee with her. "She is caretaker of a cottage over there, and the gent as owns it don’t often go over to see it, an’ my sister writ to ask me if I’d go and relieve her for a few days, as she ain’t at all well, so if it will suit the young lady it’ll suit me. sir.” And so it was settled, and that was how Aimee eame to l>e there. Sir Branden, of course, did not know that the owner of the cottage was Mr. Marlow, so his surprise may lie imagined when he found out, and that they contemplated a visit to the place. So he had not much time to get Aimee away liefore their arrival on the scene. When Huia’s party drove away from the cottage, Valerie noticed that Linda had the book of poems hidden under the

cushion of the carriage, and wondered what she intended-doing with it. CHAPTER XXXIII. It was Huia’s “day,” and as the name* of Mrs. Truebody and Mr. Bourne were announced, Valerie eame forward and led her friends across the large drawingroom to where her sister stood ehatting merrily with her visitors. • • “Huia, let -me introduce you to mJ friend, Mrs. Truebody— Mr. Bourne you already know, I think.” ■ ' “Certainly, Vai; I am delighted to meet Mrs. Truebody, whom I know so well by name that I feel I do not require an introduction,”., and Huia smiled sweetly in the lady’s fa-1 as she extended her hand in wejeome. “Ah, Mr. Bourne, 1 am so pleased to see you. The dear El—l mean Mr. Marlow-—will be delighted to meet you again after vour long absence in the South.” “Indeed, my dear Mrs. Marlow, we would have called upon you weeks ago, only my cousin here had made up her mind to see Rotorua, and the usual sights up that way, and we accordingly went, and just eseaped being buried alive—indeed, we only left Rotomahana that evening.” “Really!” said Huia. “Well, as you did escape alive, I am very glad.” “Yes, Mrs. Marlow’, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you; but, unfortunately, this is to be my last as well as my first visit,” put in Mrs. Truebody. “I am afraid, my dear, to’ stay in this terrible place. What do you think, Mrs. Day?” Valerie laughed. "Ob, it is really nothing,” she said. “What is to lie will be, you know.” “And are you not home sick, my dear? Your poor young husband must be missing you very much. But I must say you are looking a vast lot better than when you came on board at Lyttelton six w T eeks ago.” .Valerie laughingly said, “Mr. Day is no doubt longing for me as much as I for him, but I mean to finish my visit all the same.” “Ah, well, when I was young Mr,

Truebody a imply would not let me out p'f his Bight. But young people nowadays seem so independent, my dear.” -While Mrs. Truebody was speaking to Valerie the- Elephant appeared on the peene, and carried Mr. Bourne off to the garden for a quiet smoke. "When do you leave here for Sydney, Mrs. Truebody?” asked Huia. "Well, my dear, as soon as a little matter is settled,” and here the lady blushed and looked down at her little fat hands; then she .sighed as she glanced at Valerie, whose sympathy she appeared to count on. Valerie was quick to respond, and laughed as she said softly- in a low tone: . J. “I knew it; accept my hearty and inost sincere congratulations. You are just made for one another.” "So kind of you, dear, to say so. I am quite sure we shall be very happy. JVe were sweethearts once, years ago.” Huia also hastened .to offer her congratulations to the bride elect : then she said : “We won’t be able to visit you here at all, then, for I expect you will have all your spare time employed until you leave.” "Every moment, my dear; but you must eome to .Sydney, and you, too, Mrs. Day. I have a large house and plenty of room, and, after much coaxing, I have persuaded Mr. Bourne to live there for a while after we are married.” "Why- did he require coaxing?" asked Huia. "Well, my dear, Mr. Bourne is a man jvho is a man in every sense of the word, and he says he hates to benefit even to the extent of a penny through his wife. He wanted to build a house, but I told him that I would not live in it while I had so large a one of my own in Sydney. Then he said. ‘Fancy me living in the home your first husband provided for you ; I should ..despise myself or any Other man who did it? And so you can understand, my dear, what a lot of coaxing I had to do,” and Mrs. Truebody leaned back in her chair and embraced the sisters with, a happy, smile. At this juncture Lady Langstone came up. and asked Huia if she had seen Sir Branden. ■ "Oh, yes; he is in the garden with Mr. Marlow and Mr. Bourne. By the .Way, Lady Langstone, will you allow me to introduce to you Mrs. Truebody, who is on a visit to our city- from Sydney.” Linda, who was always reserved with her equals, showed great cordiality to inferiors, and as she extended her hand to Mrs. Truebody she said how pleased she was to know her, and hoped she would have the pleasure of meeting her in Sydney, where she intended to soon go- \\ hen Huia pronounced Linda’s name, Mrs. Truebody was so overawed at the' honour of the introduction that she rose up, then sat down, then rose again, and bowed or curtseyed, as she had been taught at school when a girl. Then she took Linda’s hand in a reverential clasp, and shook it gently-, as though it were something sacred. Then, smiling at the lady’s agitation, Linda glided from the room to seek her husband. "And to think, my dear, that you are on terms of intimacy with the nobility, and I never knew it. Well, well! And I have aetuaHy been~introdHced-to Lady Langstone and shaken hands with her. I thought, my dears, you were just plain people like myself.” And Mrs. Truebody sank back in her chair with a look of consternation at the sisters. "And so we are, Mrs. Truebody; very plain indeed,” said Valerie. This assurance did not seem to satisfy Mrs. Truebody, and her manner grew shy and awkward, until, out of pity, .Valerie suggested a peep into the nursery. "I should like it, my dear. lam sure the children are pretty creatures. But who is that beautiful girl over there who is watching you so attentively?” Valerie looked, and her face lighted up ’frith an expression of great love as she said quietly: that is my sister. Mrs. O’Brien.” , "Oh, my! And is she a great lady? SShe is very lovely.” "My sister's husband is a schoolmaster. She is on a visit to’ Huia, as I am.” Few could fathom the depth of love that united those three sisters, who had suffered together in their girlhood from the selfish and tyrannical rule of a e'rnel step-mother. It was the knowledge of ■Valerie’s unhappy lot which offered no compensation for past misery, that caused the beautiful eyes of Milford J) Brien to fill with fears whenever they rested upon the object of her love and pity. She would have given everything she possessed to see Valerie happy, but Uns could not b*.

“Well, Mil,” said Valerie, as they passes, on-their way to the nursery, "you look so lovely, dear. This lady thinks so, anyway,” and Valerie introduced Mrs. Truebody. "Ah! you are the lady my sister told us almut. We had quite given you up, for we all went to call upon you one day, and found “you had gone to Rotorua. lam so pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Truebody did not eare to mount the stairs to the children’s quarters, amt her love for children had reached that stage when distance lends enchantment, so she lingered talking to Milford, until she suddenly remembered that her visit had already exceeded the recognised limit. So she sought Huia, and, having quite recovered her equanimity, smilingly said: "Mrs. Day has been kind enough to offer me a peep into your nursery, Mrs. Marlow, but I really must defer the pleasure until some future time. I am quite sure they are lovely children,” and she looked meaningly at Huia. "I am afraid they will lie grown up by that time,” laughed Huia, who perfectly understood the lady’s excuse. Valerie sat up late that night to write to her husband, for somehow she never managed to get time in the day to dis-<-hargc this duty. There were so many interruptions; the children were constantly demanding either the head screwed on to a headless doll, or a horse, or some other animal was minus a leg or an arm, which “Auntie Valerie” was earnestly entreated to mend. Then thete were visitors to see, and calls to make, and excursions which the ever-exuberant nature of Huia demanded they should make to various places of interest and beauty, so that Valerie generally found herself writing to Frank when she should have been sleeping. She was just about to put out the light, when she heard Sir Branden pass her door and enter his own apartments. Presently she heard Linda speaking in an agitated tone, then angry denials from Sir Branden; then Linda bitterly reproached him for his infidelity and her long misery through his indifference to her. Poor woman, she could no longer hide from the world that she was a neglected wife, and she felt the sting of her busband’s neglect keenly, especially in the presence of such devotion as Mr. Marlow displayed, for his wife. She had tried- to shut her eyes to his growing coldness, and had noted his face light up when Mrs. O’Brien entered the room; it had never lighted up for her like that, and, after finding the Imok at the Lake, which had tortured her soul, she decided to demand an explanation. She had for various reasons put if off from day to day. hoping that she might l>e enabled to see some hopeful sign of his repentance, but that hope had died, never to rise again. She had retired to her room early. Sir Branden having been absent all the evening on the pretext of an engagement with a man whom he had known in England, and whom he had met at the club. Linda was feeling lonely, and sat up trying to read, but she could not see the print for the scalding tears blurring her vision. How she had loved him! And this was the end of her patient waiting. Toby had told her only that day of the pretty child whom he had seen at Epsom. and how Sir Branden had run in and locked the doors. Then of his visit later on, when he found the house "To Let,” and of Sandy’s drunken babblings about Aimee. Toby had met him and taken him into an hotel, and given him his All of liquor, hoping to get some admissions from him about Aimee. Toby plied him with questions cunningly put. and the unhappy McPherson fell into the trap, but only admitting so much as would satisfy his revenge without betraying the whereabouts of Aimee and her chaperon. So Toby had decided to fell Linda all he knew, and advise- her to get rid of tile man who was devouring her substance in gambling and upon other women.

Linda had meant to begin gently, and lovingly try to win a confession from her htisliand of Iris misdeeds; but for the first time since her marriage he swore at her. He was harassed about Aimee. and had also lost heavily at cards that night, so when his wife - began to' speak of Aimee .and the beok jshe had found, be swojne at lifer. denying every.-; thing, although be could see that she did not believe him. Like most of the. New Zealand houses that aye built of wood,'.tlie walls nre so ijiin that the qliglitest Sounds ->pc'ne,trate »to the ait-’ joining room, adn the Langsioncs, "in their presentto of mind, had forgotten this, so that their conversation was forced upon Valerie’s unwilling ears, and secrets were made known to her of which she would rather have remained ignorant.

"Toby has told me all about the poor child whom you have deceived, and 1 am going to find her and hear from her own lips to what extent you have deceived her.” “Excuse me, but your brother is a liar of the meanest order.” "No, he is all that is good and true—at least to me he is, and father trusts him. Why did you marry me, Branden? 1 have given you all, and received nothing.” "1 wanted money, and you had plenty,” he answered brutally, regardless of the pain he inflicted, and completely throwing aside the mask he had worn so long. “Father was right, then, after all, when he warned me against you; but I would not heed him. I never believed one word against you, and 1 loved you so.” "Thank you, but I never asked for your love, Lady laingstone; only your money. You received a title in exchange.” "A title! Oh, Branden, don’t be so cruel. I am only a woman, you know, and only thought of your love, for 1 believed so well of you that I never dreamed you wanted my money—not even when you liegan to ask me for it after we were married. I never thought you would descend so low as to swear at me as you have done to-night.” I certainly forgot myself, and I apologise to you for that. Now, let us close this unpleasant discussion. 1 am tired.” “I could not live with you any longer after your admissions to-night. You already have a wife at the Lake whom you love, and so can dispense with a plain woman whom you only look to to fill your purse. I will no longer supply that need; you may go.” “Go where?” “To your —your —the little girl Toby saw.” Linda was too refined and compassionate to use a coarse word or judge Aimee, for Toby had told her that from W'iat Sandy said Aimee thought she was Branden’s wife, and her heart ached for the child whom her husband had so cruelly deceived. “I tell you it’s lies. How does Toby know my business ? I am sure I do not confide, in him, and 1 always thought you were above vulgar gossip.” "So I am, but this is not gossip: it is a bitter truth. Do you see. this book? f picked it up at Mrs. Marlow’s cottage at the Lake. Listen: ‘From Bruce to dear Aimee? And on the margin here is written: ‘Mrs. Branden, Aimee Branden? and now, please, go, for I, too, am tired.” "Let me see that book: it proves nothing. Who the mischief is Mrs. Branden? I’m quite in the dark.” Sir Branden had turned a shade whiter as he held out his hand for the book, and began to realise what Linda’s words meant." They spelt ruin for him, for love was all very well when one had plenty of money, and he did not relish tbeidea'of losing the benefit of his wife's large income. "I will not give you the book; it is a witness against you, and I require no otner at present. If you do not leave me at' once I will ask Mrs. Day to allow me to share her lied. "Take' my advice and avoid that, woman; you will rue it if you don’t. I detest her myself.” "That is because you have no affinity for a good woman, and Mrs. Day is one.” ? “I cannot say I adore the type you describe; they’re too monotonous.” ' "I am supposed to belong to that type, am I not? At least, so you have often told me. Then I thought it a compliment: now I know it was an insult—from your lips. Well, I would rather be a good woman than a bad one.”; “So you may, but you wouldn't rather be a good woman than a pretty one.” “If I had the choice, I might choose beauty, because I admire it so in others, and if I were beautiful Mome one might love me. It is very JiaVd to be’ a plain woman, for their hearts slowly break: while they see others more favoured winning the love that by right is theirs. But.

you sec God. in His wisdom. chose me to Im* h very plain, ordinary woman for some [>ur|M>se of His own. and ( cannot alter myself one jot.** “Gome, Linda, give me tliai book,” and Sir Branden threw all the elocjßcncc that he was master of into his voice and eyes as he asked the question, lit* was feeling terribly bored, ami sick of his wife’s society, but he wanted the Imok. “Perhaps. if I promise to reform, you could look oyer my delinquencies, and give me another show.” “1 have done that too often. Branden, and f have no faith now in your promises. You have never had any pity for me, and I have suffered—what have I not suffered through your cruelty? Alone, night after night, I have sat while you have l»cen spending your time and my money on other women. But 1 never found fault with you; I waited patiently, hoping that you might come back to me, ami 1 would have forgiven you all had you only confessed and repented. and loved me. But that hope died to-night, never to rise again: my self-respect forbids me continuing to occupy the humiliating position that, has been mine since 1 married you, especially after your candid admissions tonight. and if I had known that you did not love me, and that you did not want my love, only my money. I would rather have died than marry you. A title had no charm for me: if it had, I daresay my father could have negotiated for a higher one than yours in exchange for my money. I have been more unhappy as Lady Langs tone than I ever was as Miss Babbington. Have you over kept a record of the number of women whose ruin lies at your door. Branden?” “f never pretended to Im? a saint, either to you or others, and so far as the women go, they have been willing victims. Besides, I have only flirted with them—nothing serious, I never knew that you were lonely at night. Why did you not say so before? I always thought you went out a lot yourself amongst your friends; I know Toby took yon often to theatres, and you know, Linda, that I can’t stand the sort of people that you like.” “I know Toby took me out occasionally for my health’s sake: there was no one else to take me—my husband was almost a stranger to me. Are you only Hirting with 'that”poor girl whom'’.Toby saw vou with, and whose book 1 now hold ?' “I tell you Toby lied to you: can’t you believe me?” “No. not in the face of those two names in this 'book, and one in your handwriting. ‘From Bruce to dear Aimee.’ Those words art* in your handwriting.” * “I am not able to call to mind anyone rejoicing in that name. 1 knew two Mr. Branden’s in London, but they were no relations of mine—the name’s common enough.” “But not the writing—and now let us end this.” Linda’s voice shook, with emotion. She could not part for ever from the man she loved so dearly without feeling her heart torn out. If he had only loved her she would have forgiven him anything: but he had just said that he did not, and so she braced herself for the final parting. Iler voice had changed from anger to sadness during the latter part of the conversation, and now she held out her hand as she said: “Good-bye, Branden; 1 am sorry our marriage has proved a failure, but it is l»est to part, at least for mo it is. Will y,op try and live a better life, and when I set you free you will be able to marry the poor child who already believes herself to be your wife?” “Do you mean to say you intend to divorce me?”*: t “Wliat clseLcould I moan? I have no choice. Surely no man, or, I should say, no gentleman, would expect a lady to continue to live with him after the insulting admissions that you made tonight? If I did not divorce you, how rtuhl y<»u marry the girl whom you live With !” The effort that Linda had made proved too much for her overwrought nerves,

Bud she sank into a chair and bur»t into learn. Kir Brandrn had not taken the hand »he offered him when she bade him goodbye. nor did he move from the chair on which he sat, and now’, as he watched tier with an ill-disguised look of disgust, he thought how plain she was; indeed, she had never appealed less to his fastidious taste than now. Iler nose was flushed, and her pale, greenish eyes were swollen ami red, for she had been crying most of the evening. She presented a pitiable contrast to the lovely Aimce, and if that sweet girl’s society was beginning to pall on him, it is not to lie wondered at that Linda’s should have had the same result long ago. In fact, there never was a day when she did not bore him, and he had always looked upon his marriage as a necessary evil, and chafed at the ties that bound him. lie constantly longed for freedom, and his tour of the colonies had been a pleasant experience, which was now ended by the advent of his wife, whom he hated. No feeling of compassion stirred within him at the ruimsl life of the woman whose money hr hail freely spent on selfish pleasures, and whom he bad promised to cherish and love, but never had done so. No pity moved his heart for tlie young girl whom he had taken from her only earthly protector. He wanted freedom, but he wanted money, too. and he had come home that night e\|H*cting to find his wife with her usual smile of welcome, ami had decided to ask her for a loan. But now’ lie could not do so, for he had said too much, ami his insults had cut too deep for him to ever expect forgiveness for having uttered them. He knew that Linda would keep her word, for she was a proml woman, and the wounds he had given her wen* the deepest she had ever received. So he sat and brooded on his future as he watched her crying. He found himself wishing that she would die, and arrange matters that way, then his property would again revert to himself. Before leaving England he had induced Linda td make a w ill in his favour, and he womtered if it still were in existence. He did not want his freedom through a divorce court, for he was a proud man, ami looked up to by people who did not know him. as well as his boon companions did. What would he $o? He asked himself this question over and over again, ami wished that he had not married her. He was dreadfully tired of her, and to-night positively detested her. Presently she looked up at him from her low seat by the table, and between sol»s requested him to go away. ‘‘Jt you do not,’’ she said. "I will sit here all night. I wonder you stay„when you hate me so.” *T can’t disturb the house at this hour. Your own sense ought to tell you that: I am going to bed, for 1 am too tired to sit up all night, if you are not,” and Hir Brandon passed into the dressingroom adjoining their bedroom. After he had gone to bed Linda sat Bilent and wretched through the night. CHAPTER XXXIV. The next morning Lady Langstone did not appear at breakfast, ami Sir Branden excused her absence, by explaining that she had gone for a stroll to the beach, and that she would not require any breakfast as she was suffering from a bad headache, and liegged that Mrs. would excuse her absence. •*L am so sorry,’’ said Huia. ‘T noticed that she was not well last night. M’i? retired early, although she did not complain of illness.” "It is nothing serious. Mrs. Marlow: only a nervous headache,w hich my wife is subject to. more especially when reading exciting books, which she has been guilty of lately: indeed, she sat up half the fright over one you lent her.” ♦ alerie glanced up (prickly at Sir Ttranden, which appeared to disconcert him. "I had a decples* night myself,” she said. "The waves roared as though they Mere hungry.” The man gave her a swift, anxious glance. which she apjwared not to notice. and placidly continued to eat her breakfast. "Lady 1-angsfcono does not look like a nervous Mibjvct,” remarked Air. Alarlow. "Nevertheless 1 am very often anxious on her account. for she is not as strong as she appears to lie, and I intend to devote more of my time to her now that 1 have recuperated my own health a bit ” ••Did you enjoy your early walk to thfl

beach. Sir Branden?” asked Valerie, as she looked straight into his eyes; but this time lie met iier gaze steadily, with an expression of intense hate. “Pardon me, Mrs. Day. I did not go to the beaeh, nor anywhere else; I slept late,” lie spoke defiantly, and Valerie lowered her eyes and paled a little. She was still afraid of the man, and regretted that she had raised his ire. Why was he trying to deceive them, for she had seen hint follow his wife, and soon after saw him return alone? She had looked at her wateh, and found tnat it was only six o’clock, so' she had sat on at the window watching the sea, and thinking about larwis St. Afar, wondering if he ever thought of her. Then she had heard Sir Branden tip-toe to his room, and gently close the door. She supposed he had gone after Linda to try to patch up their late difference, and when she saw him return alone supposed that he had failed. But why that deliberate lie? What could, his motive be? Valerie pondered these questions, but could find no feasible solution to the mystery. She had heard all that had passed between them the night before, and when Sir Branden had spoken with such apparent sympathy- for his wife she knew he was acting a part. Milford noticed the look of hatred that Sir Branden gave her sister, and sought to change the subject by asking him if he intended going with Mr. Marlow to the Bowling Green. “I cannot go to-day, Mil, as I find I must go to the Thames on business, and I intended asking Sir Branden if he would care to accompany me. I am sorry,” he said, turning to his guest, "that this business is important, otherwise I would postpone it. However, it will not detain me more than a couple of hours when 1 get there, and we can lie home to-morrow night. What do you say? But please yourself entirely in the matter. Sir Branden.” • "I shall, be delighted. Is there any shooting to be had there? 1 eould amuse myself that way- while you attend to your business.” "Oh, yes. plenty. Well. Tluia, my child, I will soon be back again,' so don't fret.” Huia laughed. "The idea,” she said, "of you thinking I still fret!” "We always hate to part, even for a few hours,” explained the Elephant to Sir Branden, with g fond look at his little wife. "I don’t blame you for hating it, anyway, Mr. Marlow,” returned Sir Branden, with an admiring look in Huia’s direction. She coloured, and told the Elephant to speak for himself. When the two men had gone the three sisters sat and had what they- styled a good gossip, until the morning wore on, and the clock announced the fact that it was twelve o'clock. "Good gracious!” exclanu-d Huia. jumping up and touching a bell as she spoke, in answer to which a maid appeared. "Has Lady Langstone come in, Anna ?” "I have not seen her, mam,” "o to her room and see if she is there, but do not disturb her if she is asleep.” Presently the maid returned to say that Lady Langstone was not in her room, nor had anv of the servants seen her. "Girls," said Huia. turning to her sisters, "let us go to the beaeh and look for her; something must be wrong, or she would have returned long ago.” The three sisters got their sun bonnets ami gloves, and hurried down to the beaeh, but no trace of Linda could they find. The tide was in, so they eould not go round the rocks. "We had better eoo-ee; jterhaps she is round that point on a ledge somewhere,” suggested Milford. "1 don't think so,” said Valerie. ‘T believe she is dead, but try the coo-ee, .Milford: your voice is the strongest.” "Coo-e-e-e!” ' The musical bush cry rang clear on 'the crisp autumn air, but there was no - -answer. The waves rippled calmly at their feet, and the sea looked plaeid and peaceful as it glistened in the morning sunshine. "Valerie, do you really think that Lady Langstone is drowned? I do not; the thought is too horrible,” and Huia shuddered. "We have often been nearly drowned ourselves round that point; you know how the tide creeps in, and Lady Langstone could not swim.” "1 have it. girls,” cried Milford; "she has gone for a row. I will run to the boat shed and see if the boat is there.” " But can she row ?” asked Huia anxiously.

"She told me that she could row fairly well,” answered Valerie vacantly. "I wish, Vai, you were not so prone to forliode evil,” said Huia fretfully. She was dreadfully frightened, but would not admit the fact even to herself. "1 am sorry, dear old girl, if I have frightened you. But where is she? If you like, 1 will swim round the rocks and see if she is there; but she must have heard the coo-ee if she is.” "What wan to prevent her going to see her father and Toby, and naturally the time would slip away, especially if she went out late.” Valerie did not tell Huia that her guest had gone out at six o’clock. What was the good of it?” she said to herself; then aloud: "That is a good idea, Huia. Of course she must have gone there; but here is Mil back again.” "Well,” exclaimed the two eagerly, "is the boat there?” "No,” ans were* I Milford, gleefully. "She is all right, so let us get home again. Baby will be erying for me by now. Come, girls, Lady Langstone is enjoying a quiet row- and a read, just padtiling about, you know, and the water is like glass, so she can't, come to any harm. I'll wager she hasn’t her wateh, and the time has slipped away without her knowledge.” "Of course,” exclaimed Huia, in an intensely relieved tone. "How stupid of us not to have thought of the boat sooner. Why, I've nearly had a quarrel with Vai over the wretched affair. Do you know, girls, I'm getting awfullytired of the Langstones. 1 wanted a good time with Vai, and I’ve hardly seen anything of her. No wonder, dear, you’ve been blue mouldy lately, and that led you to think poor Lady- Langstone was drowned.” Valerie laughed, and was the gayest of the three as they mounted the steps which led to "Huia's Rest,” as the home of her sister was called. A nameless dread was lifted from her mind, and she talked nonsense and jested, much to Huia’s delight. "Come on, Mil,” she cried, "you’re lagging, and Irene will be erying for you.” "Yes,” interrupted Huia, "and Claude will be trying to feed her with stockjaw and some eold potatoes that I heard him begging from cook just as we came out.” This awful threat sent Milford flying along far in advance of the others, for she mentally- pictured her baby choking, with Claude enjoying the fun, as he would consider it. Once he had seen the cook cramming a turkey-, and soon after his mother had found him trying the same experiment on the cat. As Huia aud Valerie came through the orchard at the back of the house, they saw one of Iris’s dolls hanging by its neck to an apple tree. "I wonder what Claude has done that for?” said his mother. “Ah, 1 thought, my darling, you were not far off. What did you tie the doll to the tree for, Claude ?” "She murdered her ehildwen, and so she got hung because she was wicked.” “Oh! But who hung the poor thing? Let us see if she is quite dead; perhaps she's sorry she killed the children.” “No, she isn't sorry, muzzer, aud you musn't take her down yet, please muzzer. Iris says she might kill Irene if she isn't hung prop’ly; all her childwen’s dead on the nursery floor, ami bleeding ter’ble.” "Dear, dear. Why ever didn't you ask nurse for some rag to tie up their—are they cuts?” "Yes, muzzer, dre’ful cuts, and nursey hadn’t any- rags, so we had to take Irene's clo’s off her and tear off some rags ” "Oh, you naughty children. Valerie, let us hurry and see what they- have done. Claude, go to your room and stay there until I come to you.” The beautiful eyes of the child looked appealingly at Valerie's to intercede for him. Perhaps he noted the lurking, illsurpressed smile on her lips, but she looked away from his bonny face and resisted the pleading look. Claude heaved a great sigh, and the tears rose. Auntie Valerie had failed him for the first time. When they reached the nursery they found Milford with her baby wrapped in a shawl, with an outraged look on her face. “Just fancy, Huia, I found my baby on the floor naked, not a stitch of clothes on her, and all her pretty things torn to rags. I made them all myself, too. Look at the lace that I saved up for,’” and Milford extended a few pieces of what had once Itceii valuable laee, but was now reduced to dirty string. Huia and Valerie looked first at the

lace. tlwn their eyes took in a row of •nialT ‘dolls tied all over with pieces of r:>gs and a lot of baby clothes scattered about the floor. A cup containing a mixture like paste stood beside the row of dolls, and the baby’., mouth was Bineared with it. I ’"Aiid look.’’ continued the outraged mother, "they’v* poisoned my baby with that stull in the cup; look at her face,” and she opened the shawl and revealed a face that was almost disfigured with grime and paste, while a high polish of Idackleud added to the baby's grotesque appearance. One glance was enough, and Valerie and Jluia gave way to a wild burst of convulsive laughter, which Milford listened to with disgust for a couple of lumwtes; then she joined in until she nearly dropped the baby. When she got lier breath again she asked Il uia if that was the way her servants attended to their duty when her back was turned. “Well, not as a rule; but in flu- fright about Lady Langstone I forgot that nurse asked leave to go out for a couple of hours this, morning—but here she is. Well, nurse, look here at this poor little baby that Mrs. O’Brien found this morning quite naked.” “La, mam, what an ugly little thing, and how dirty. Some poor person’s east it off, I expect, by the look of it. But you’re not going to keep it, mam, are you?” “No; Mrs. O’Brien intends to rear it, though. Isn’t she foolish?” “Indeed you are, mam,” said the nurse. ‘•Let me take the dirty little thing front you and wash it. Perhaps, mam, you’ll like some of your own baby’s clothes put on it for the present ?” "Yes/’ replied Milford, relinquishing the baby with a wicked glance at her sisters. “1 will ring for hot water, nurse.” “I wouldn’t trouble, mam, eohl will do as well. Poor wee thing; I don’t suppose its. ever been washed in warm water.” “But I wish you to use warm water, nurse. Here are some of baby’s clothes in this basket; you ean put these on her when she has been washed.” Hot water arrived, and the baby was washed under the watchful eyes of it’s mother. “Now she is washed she is a pretty baby, isn’t she, nurse?” “Well, I declare, mam, if it isn’t your own. But how ?” •‘Claude.” , “Ab, that explains it.” "The children’ had the nursery to themselves, nurse,” said Huia. “Look at the floor,” and they all laughed again. Lady Langstone appeared at luneh, anil said that she had had a most enjoyable time in the boat. On hearing of her husband's journey she flushed slightly, but showed no other sign of feeling on the matter. “Do you know, Mrs. Marlow, that I have made up my mind to return to England sooner than I expected. Sir Branden will follow later on.” “Indeed? I thought you intended making a long stay, after coining such a distance, too. Is your decision not rather sudden ?” “Well, it is, certainly, for I did intend making a longer stay, but, unfortunately, Mrs. Marlow, my husband does not find my society a necessity to him, and would much prefer my absence at any time. I am so sorry to tell you tbits, for it cannot but disconcert you. However, I have had a most pleasant time in your lovely little home, and shall always remember you with very kindly feelings.” ■‘l am so sorry to hear this, dear Lady Langstone. I thought Sir Branden loved you in spite of his flirtations, which 1 have no doubt are only pastime.” Linda smiled sadly as she said: “Ob, no: he only wanted my miserable money. Ah, Mrs. Marlow, how blessed you are with so good a husband and those lovely babies upstairs. I heard all about Claude’s misdeeds, as I looked into the nursery on my way down.” "You would soon tire of Claude, Lady Langstone,” replied Huia, with a fond smile that belied her words. “Take care you do not miss him when I am gone.” And, with a laugh, Lady Langstone left the room. CHAPTER XXXV. Two years had passed away, and to many Valerie Day’s visit to Auckland "as only a memory. At the present time she was staying at the seaside for a few days, not far from liome, and was already tired of it, her health not having improved. “I should not wonder if we were to nave an earthquake to-night, Frank. I

feel that unstrung feeling which precedes them.'’’ •‘Neither should F; the moon looks so lurid over the water, and there is a great depression in the atmosphere.” Valerie sAuaFdeveil, and drew her furlined cloak closer around her. “Come on, Frank, it’s too cold to be out here on the beach. We might as well go home to-morrow, t do not feet any better. Brighton is too bleak for me.” •‘You mope too much. Why don’t you interest yourself in something?” "l'iu not fitted for anything special except ” "Except what ?” "Nothing.” “What makes you so reticent; you treat me like a stranger.” “There are some things you do not understand, and it's no use discussing them, as you know.’’ Valerie's predictions proved correct, and she was rudely roused at four o'clock in the morning by a violent rocking of the house and the crashing of crockery and glassware. The earthquake continued for about two minutes, followed by lesser quivers, the noise resembling the rumble of heavy drays over a rough road. Valerie meanwhile had got out of bed in a state of nervous terror, and with difficulty kept her feet as she made her way to the window. The moon loomed dull ami red over the sea, and dogs were barking and cattle lowing, for they, too, felt the uncanny influence of the disturbed atmosphere loug before the earth waves actually occurred. Valerie stood at the window for a few minutes watching the sea; then she dressed herself anil laid down on the drawing-room couch- until daylight. After breakfast she accompanied her husband to the city to see if the earthquake hud done any damage there, and found that twenty-six feet of the upper spire of the Cathedral had given way, and hung by the iron band built into the stone-work. A curious incident was that the memorial font to Captain Stanley remained uninjured, the debris falling on either side of if. Beyond the fall of a few chimneys and sundry broken windows, no serious damage was done in the city proper. But the Normal School, C’rannier Square, was seriously injured, and it was announced would be closed for a fortnight to effect repairs. The property in Vietoria-street and Papanui had suffered terribly, and many narrow escapes from death were reported; while at Hammer Plain the damage was enormous, many beautiful homesteads lying in ruins. Valerie and her husband walked about the city inspecting the damaged buildings for a couple of bom’s, and then turned into a restaurant in Colombostreet for lunch. “Why don’t you order something more substantial than tea and cake, especially as you did not eat any breakfast this morning? Have a steak.” Valerie declined the steak, and said she did not feel hungry. “I'll tell you what it is,” said Frank, “you are starving yourself because you are unhappy. Now, look at me, I'm unhappy, too, but. 1 don't mope and starve myself on that account. I eat my food, and enjoy it, too.” “That’s- because you find enjoyment in eating and drinking. I do not.” “Well, the sooner you do the better for you. Don’t you know that you will die if you do not eat ?” “If I do the loss would not kill you; you’ve just said that you were unhappy. That’s because you married me; I don't satisfy you, and can't sympathise with your tastes, they are so refined.” “Don’t be sarcastic, Valerie. I know you are superior to me in many things, but. hang it ail, a man must eat. I couldn't live on a few currants picked out of a bun, as you appear to do.” “I suppose not,'’ said Valerie vacantly, as she crumbled her eake. After a short silence she looked up suddenly, as though actuated by a sudden thought. "Frank,” she said. “Well,” replied Frank. with his mouth full. "Frank, would you let me go into training for a nurse? 1 would have to leave home, you know, anil live at lae Hospital.” “A nice idea, anil you nearly a shadow now! That would about finish you.” "But you said last night that I ought to interest myself in something. I arrived at the same conclusion long ago.” “Can't you find occupation at home?” ‘‘No; besides I hate it; you are always out, and I am always alone.” “Ob, well, if yon train for a nurse you’ll have to scrub and sweep—all the probationers do.” “1 know; but I'll get on quickly.” “Whether you do or not, you would

|mve to put in the regulation time »t it ns a probationer.” “1 don’t care. Wilt you consider it, anyway ?” ‘••You can please yourself. I suppose ♦re would have to give up housekeeping?” “You need not unless you wish. But t cannot go on any longer as I have '&one.„iny life is so empty.” ••There may not’ be a vacancy at the and you would have to wait indefinitely.” •'There’s one now. and Judith West Jias written and offered it to me. She Yecommended me to-the matron; I told some time ago that I would like to train.” .. .«• ■ .... • _ ‘■You've been negotiating about it, then, and did not tell me?” ‘‘Yes. I was not sure that I would lie eligible, so did not bother you about • t." . 1., ; - ’ Three weeks later found Valerie Day installed as a nurse in the Hospital, and •i'rank on his way to Sydney. They had Bold their house and furniture, and it svas decided that Valerie should join her Jiusband after her probationary time liad been served. CHAPTER XXXVI. .Sandy McPherson lay sick in an hotel in George-street. Sydney, and Sir BranHen Langstone stood by his bedside. ' ‘‘Am I dying, sir?” asked the sick Jnan. ■■ <• ■ i ‘■That is more than 1 can tell: but you look bad enough for anything.” •■Can’t ye tell me what the doctor baid. sir? For if it’s dying I am. I can’t tfpass over Jordan wi' me conscience in this state, an’ I’d like to tak’ the sacraihent an' see a passon.” 1 ' “Hold your tongue, you fool. You are not dying. Listen to me. One word to anybody, and—well, your life will end |>efore the day. closes.” The sick man whimpered and crouched under the clothes ;for a few moments, then he said: ~.i; ■ I'm lonesome here all alone, sir, an’ the day's lang." . . •'Well, if you promise to hold your tongue. I’ll, send Mrs. Brenden down to Bit with yqjj,, L shall .be out all day, so Tdaresay she will be glad of the opportunity to amuse you,” and with that iSir lirandyn Lqijgstijne left, the room.. ‘■Curse y£,C v Ye.black raven! Ye—ye son o' Satan,"*'muftcred tlie invalid, as he listened to the retreating footsteps of liis mastef." '“WiH-f hold' me tongue,' an’ go straight 'to hell^-me,'a McPherson? Kot for all'th'c likroricts in England, an’ imrcli less fur one o' Satan's own kin. fie won’t, srindme a passon, won’t he? Well, we'll see'how a •■McPherson can tell the truth at the last ininnit, fur 1 heard the doctor tell him I’d seen me last, pomething or, other, an' o’ course that pneans death is near. Oh, dear! Oh, Sear, an' I haven't been in the kirk doors fur a twelve-inonth, bad cess to him fur tempting me to my ruin." The morning, wore on. and at last a gentle knock at the door roused the sick jiian. and he hade the visitor enter. “It is only I, Sandy. I am so sorry you are ill. Shall I sit here?", and Aimee 'drew a low chair to the bedside.

Her eyes . wore a far-away expression that had once been foreign to them, and Sier voice had a tired ring. These signs jtold their own talc, and Sandy was a Remorseful observer of the change. “It was kind o’ ye. mem. ta come to Bit wi' me; ye should be out wi’ the anaster enjoyin’ yoursel'.” Aimee sighed. It was a long time Since her beloved Bruce had taken her out. She saw bis love grow colder day by day. and she was- powerless to amuse .him as she once had done. He was not actually unkind to her. for no one could Be that on account of her sweet, yielding ’’disposition and amiable manner. But man's fickle nature was craving for ft change of feminine com pan ionship, and sometimes he did not hide the fact. Aimee was too . pure minded to understand this, and had blamed herself for the change in the man whom she believed to be her husband.

"How are ypu to-day, Sandy?” she asked, ignoring his latter remark. ‘ I'm iniickfc bad. thank ye. mem, but feel cheered (.like since ye cam’ in. and ~J'm gom' tp, take this opportunity to jXnakc a confession to ye. for I'm maybe l>n the banks;v’ Jordan.” “You ave .npt sp l»:x<l as that, I hope, ftandy, are, you\ls . it anything serious?” "I've got pneumonia, and the master’s refused to let .me see a passon—me, that’s dying, too, maybe.”

••Suryly. you are mistaken. Sandy. I pm' sure i h|r?;‘B|aiiden would not object io send a minister to you if you wish to ■ce one.” " ' ’’--K-

‘‘He did refuse, mem. And I’ll tell ye why. It will be a great shock at first, but ye’ll get over that, and thank Providence that ye have been spared the wrath to come.” Aimee turned white as she fixed her eyes on Sandy's face and waited. ‘•What is it,” she asked, “that you have to tell me?” “First of all, sweet lassie, forgive ihe fur a great wrang I’ve done ye, but I was tempted beyond me powers of resistance by the master. He tempted me with gold, and threatened to dismiss me without a character. I was a good young man, mem, and member o’ the kirk, and took the sacrament regular when the master engaged me, but lie ruined me by his vile and evil example, and he always made me do his dirty work—his catspaw I was. Many’s the nice, good girl he’s ruined, and your case is the worst of all.” Aimee jumped up and leaned over the sick man with wild eyes and blanched lips. “Are you delirious, or is what you say true? Speak quickly. How am I ruined ?” “I'm sane enough, and will tell ye all if ye sit down again; ye frighten me, lassie; I’m weak, ye ken.” She sat down again. “Go on,” she said. “Well, when Sir Branden met ye on Hie .hills he took a fancy to ye, and made up his mind to get ye into his power, and ye was easy took in, lassie. I was the minister that married ye—he made me do it, the villain.” Here Sandy’s voice grew weak, and he gasped and lay still for a few minutes. Then lie went on again: “I did love ye true, lassie; I couldna’ help it, and knowing ye was free was more inducement, although ye believed ye was married proper. Being a Scotch lass, too, drawed me more to ye. I used to curse him, an’ vow I’d tell ye, but never had the pluck till now ” “My—my—grandfather ?” These words were panted out of lips dry and drawn. “He is alive yet, mem.” "Oh. my God! And you knew this, you, all these years. Oh, Sandy, Sandy!” “Don’t take on so, mem. I’m weak, and can’t bear much, and I ” But Aifnee ' was "beyond the reach’of Sandy’s complaint, and lay unconscious in her low chair. He could not help her, so watched the sweet, pale face in its unconscious beauty.

The door opened, and Sir Branden entered, and looked sharply at his servant, then at the little figure in the chair. Sandy was snoring, and Aimee apparently slept. “Oh, are ye back, sir? I’ve been dozing, and 1 see the mistress is asleep; maybe she's tired out.”

“les, I’m back—did not go out, in fact. You did that sleeping very well, just appearing to wake as I came near you. And so you saw that little affair at Shelly Beach, did you, and you never told me? I’m going to nurse you myself. Sandy. Y’ou’re always been a good servant, and I’m going to repay you.”

The sick man shivered, and crouched under the bed clothes. “Won’t you bring the missus to ?” he asked in trembling accents. “Not just yet; she’s had too great a shock, and 1 haven't finished talking to von yet.”

Sir Branden then walked to the window and opened the Venetian blinds until the sickening glare of the afternoon sun Hooded the apartment, and almost blinded the sick man. He closed his eyes and drew the sheet over his face, but the heat was terrific, and he threw it off again and groaned in anguish. Sir Branden folded his arms and smiled as he took up a graceful attitude at the foot of the lied, and fixed his eyes on ihe invalid’s face. Somewhere in the distance a street organ was grinding out the familiar strains of “The Old Folks at Home,” and it touched a chord in the heart of the Scotchman, lie clutched wildly at the bed-clothes and tried to draw himself up to a sitting posture. “Have mercy, sir, and send'me a passon. Oh, quick, if ye’re goin’ to.” * “What for? Won’t I do instead?” and Sir Branden hummed an air from “Fausti” ■ “Ye Will lie punished for mocking a dying man, sir. I’ve served you faithful, and you won’t get me a passon; don’t stand there grinnin’ at me.” “You have served another rnastermore faithfully than you have served me,, and he will reward you for your faithful service. By .love It's hot enough today, but'it's nothing to the hept yhtt’ll experience soon within the palate walls of his Satanic Majesty.”

“I've repented—the McPherson’s al-e< ways repent, sir, before they die; not that they ever did much harm to anyone, for we was always fond o’ the kirk.” “Oh, no, you have not repented, for did you not only five minutes ago gratify your revenge .by your devil’s work. Look at the result of your repentance,” • anjl Sir Branden pointed to'Aimed, who’ still lay unconscious. ' ' ’ “I’m sorry for the mistress. Perhaps I’d lietter have held ma tongue, sir; but it’s best as it is, maybe. She’ll get over it, and forget ye, please God.” “Stop that cant, or I’ll choke you —- you vile hypocrite.” and, going closer to the sick man, Sir Branden glared at him with a look of loathing, while his hands twitched. Sandy shrieked, and Aimee moved uneasily, which attracted Sir Branden’s attention, and he lifted her in his arms, and, laying her on a couch, applied restoratives. After the lapse of a few minutes she sat up and rubbed her eyes, and glanced round the room with a vacant expression; then she yawned and stared at her rings. “You had better come home, Aimee,” said Sir Branden. “Had I?” she replied, but made no a.tempt to move. “Yes, come along.” He spoke kindly, and she rose from the couch and stood irresolute. Sir Branden made no reference to her faint, nor did she, and he wondered if she remembered Sandy's confession, or if the shock had stunned her thinking faculties. She followed him from the room, and as she did so her eyes fell upon Sandy, whose eyes were rolling wildly, and a look of momentary pity shadowed her face. “Send a passon,” he gasped, but her only answer was, “Good-bye, Sandy,” as she closed the door behind her. “My hair is all tumbled, and I would like to fix it, Bruce, before I go into the street.” “Certainly, dear, I’ll send someone to show you to a room, but be as quick as possible. I am in a hurry.” A servant appeared in answer to Sir Branden’s summons, and conducted Aimee to a room, but instead of arranging her hair she said to the girl: “Go immediately for a Presbyterian minister, and take him to Room No. 25. If you lining one within a quarter of an hour .1 will give you this sovereign. Can you do it?” “O.h, yes,. There is one boarding here that’s op a visit to Sydney, but he might lie out. . I’ll ,go and see.” The girl returned in a few minutes to say that the Rev. Alexander Johns was in Room 25. “I said the case was urgent, and he went at once to No. 25; he was just going out, so I was lucky to catch him.” "Thank you. There is your sovereign,” said Aimee, as she hurried from the room. “Your hair seems pretty much the same, Aimee,” remarked Sir Branden when she joined him. “But it doesn’t feel the same at all, Bruce. Shall we go home now?” “Yes, but how is it you don’t want me to send that brute a parson? I heard him ask you to send one. You seem strange, Aimee—not like yourself at all.” “Oh, I don’t believe Sandy is so bad as he thinks he is. And of course I want you to send a person to him, Bruee.” “Of course I’ll send one. I’ll go now and hunt for the Scotch article that he desires. Shall he be in kilts, Aimee, or ” “Not now, Bruce. Take me home first,' please; I’m so tired, and something is roaring in my head.” And as she spoke Aimee pressed her little hands to her brow. “Yes, you were too long in that room. What was Sandy saying to you while 1 was away?” “Oh, I went to sleep, I think, and so did Sandy.” “When 1 take you home, Aimee, T must leave you, for I think Sandy is really dying, and I would not like the poor fellow to die alone. But I'll return early, and we, will have a nice, quiet evening, together. ~ . - ; After seeing Aijnee : comfortably settled on a couch in their lodgings, Sir Branden hurried back to.,hip. servant’s room, where he heard voices inside, A curse escaped his”lips, liiit lie listened, and heard a man praying arid Sandy’s “Amen” in a weaker voice. After the prayer' the voices werb too low to catch what was'feaid, and Sir Branden tried the door, but found it locked. “ihc'.devill He’s bbfore nle,'after all. I wonder how he got that mail so soon?” After a short p'atise he knocked, but no -notice 'jvas taken, and he knocked again. ■«■>«.• , s c.. i, “You must excuse me, you cannot

>me in just yet,” answered a strangi voice. ' “I must get in; my business is int> portant.” “Pardon me, you cannot enter for • quarter of an hour.” Sir Branden cursed under his breath, arid left*the door. In Waif an hour lie returned, and found Sandy alpne with a lorik of'great fear mingled ri'ith' joy .on' his thin face. He did not speak as Sir Branden approached the bed. So you’ve bested me, after all, McPherson? Y’ou won’t speak, won’t you? Well, you must be made to. Now, who sent that parson here?” Still no answer. “Do you hear? Answer me.” “God sent him, sir.” “Oh, and who was the messenger?” “He just came in answer to ma call.” “Liar! Will you speak the. truth before 1 choke you?” The excitement of the last two hours had told upon the man’s already exhausted frame, and he began to show signs of sinking, and his brain wandered. “Oh, aye, an angel came to me, with a passon along with her—she Hew away agin. I’m happy now, an’ me conscience —is clear o’ sin. Turn from yer bad ways—sir—an’ ” "Shut up! How dare you. villain,” and Sir Branden caught hold of his servant’s shoulder with a heavy hand, and shook him violently. And with that shake the eraven spirit of the invalid was stilled for ever, for he never spoke again.. When Sir Branden joined Aimee he told her of Sandy’s peaceful end, and now pleased he had been at getting a parson. "Who sent the parson, Bruee?” “I do not know; someone forestalled me.” "Bruee, dear, did Sandy tell me anything that made me faint, or did I dream it?” “He told you what was not true, my love, and his lies gave you a shock, from which you are still suffering,” said Sir Branden wearily. (To be continued.)