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--CHAPTER. xrv. j

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CHAPTER. xrv. j | Mrs Dancroft's Arrival. f. Tlio morning of the day on which the Dan- £ srofts were to arrive th .re was a, sense of ex- v citoftit nt and unusual movement at Hunston | Manor. ft Christine had made all possible arrange- meats for the comfort of those who were ing but Mrs Daneroft was quickly demon- f strati ng tliat no matter what was being done for her uuftfit, .nothing would be right except ;• \h»x which she* commanded hfc! sell'. fi She sent three telegrams in the course of the morning cliangiiig the hour of her arrival, and when finally she "fixed un a train it was her 5 decree that both a carriage and a motor car F should be in waiting at the station. Immediately after her father's death Chris. fc tine had had his bedroom closed. She had re- g' solved no our should ever use it whilst she (/ at least was thereto prevent this. It was by no means the largest room in the house, and it was very simply furnished. In going through the house with her house- keeper, Christine had allotted the most impoi— bant of th" guest chambers for Mrs Dancroft's ■if use. The window commanded a most magnij | Qceni view over the country, thc room. waA j?. most beautifully, furnished; it had a bondoir lttached, and was m every sense of the word a delightfui and luxurious apartment. i: Miss Daccrott would be close to her mother m another beautiful room. But somehow as | Christine paced to and fro in the hall, waiting her strange visitors to arrive, she felt | wearily and nervously that she must be pre- jjj> pared to have ail her plana upset. !•; And sure enough, Mrs Daneroft had scarcely if- Hlighted from the carriage, and supported on k her son's arm, had barely entered the halt be- C fore she began to show of what metal she was L made. "j Perhaps in the long ago, in thtwe days about f which James Daneroft had spoken with so k much pathos, when speaking of the past to }; Christine, there had been something soft and (k,. gentle in this woman's nature, but now the-e r peemed to be nothing but bitterness, cruelty, V and relentless hate. «■ Christine had advanced with her hand ex- tended, but the old woman put her on one side. k She stood and looked about her,trembling with sxeitement and with exultation. She leaned on ? a. stick, and slipped her arm away from her ton's supporting hold. ,S yo so—" she said, this was one of his places Very fine. Very fine, indeed—quite palace. Oh, yes, the best wasn't too good S. for our dear Henry Fielding One sees that at 7 i glance Her daughter, who bad foHowed in the motor-car, and now entered, gave an impatient jt. sigh, and shrugged her shoulders, jf 1 should like to go to my room," she said to Christine. i: Though she spoke without her mother's fe bitterness, she yet ma naged to put a great deal *•>. that was disagreeable into the tone of her I voice. It was her brother who answered her. You can wait a. minute or two, I suppose," E s he said sharply. 7 He had winced as he had seen his mother -S push aside Christine's outstretched hand. Just for an instant he had felt impelled to stretch out his own, but the girl had drawn back Instantly with a shiver, and biting his lip savagely, he made no effort to give expression to the sympathy th;:t he felt. There was something witch-like about Mrs Bancroft as she stood in her black shabby :tothes leaning heavily on her stick and darting her piercing eves from side to side. She mut. tered to herself frequently as she took this first survev of what was to be her home, then suddenly she stood erect, and pointed with her stick at the portrait of Henry Fielding over the mantelpiece. James," she said, you will see that that thing is taken a.way. Do you suppose that I am going to live looking up at that creature every dav oÏrn-v life ■ And Dan croft answered the old woman almost roughly. "Come," he said, that is enough; you are tired, you had best go upstairs." Then he addressed Christine for the first time. Will you let a servant come and show my mother to h rjf iBiir a* 'iV .1^ ».ajd-, Christine was trembling in every limb* and — whjfce as a ghost. I—1 take Mrs Daneroft upstairs my- peit'„" she said, and turning she made to go up the stairs. Anne Daneroft at once moved forward to fol- low her, but the old woman stili stood where she was. That. picture has got to go," she said, doggedly. There'll be someone in big frarn? house, I suppose, that can take it down, want to see it done now, at once." "f But her son answered her again in that harsh manner. There is a time for everything, mother," he said," you can't begin by upsetting the house the moment, you walk into it. Come, you are not good at walking upstairs, 111 help I you." t Christine had purposely arranged that the J servants should be dispersed about the house J when the Dancrofts arrived, but as they pro- gressed up the stairs they met more than one maid who was evidently inspired by curiosity. Although she did not express it in open words it was evident that Anne Dancroft found her new abode more charming even than she had imagined, The room she was to occupy was the one which Mrs Dudworth had generally used when she was at Hunston. and the girl's eye« gleamed ivith satisfaction ,as she passed into this room And glanced about her. She was keen enough to appreciate the extraordinary change in their fortunes, for she had grown heartily sick of poverty, although she had been too young to realise the misery of her father's death. She even condescended to thank Christine for escorting her upstairs, but she did it with I very little grace. I Thanks I can get along aU right now," I she said, and then as Christine was passing I quickly out of the room, she added I sup- I pose there's someone to wait on me. I didn't I have time to get a maid in town." I Christine re-assured her on this point, and as I she went out, leaving Miss Dancroft alone, she I closed the door, and pausing a moment, put I her hand to her head. I The nervous tension was horrible, the feeling I which these people had brought into her home I (hitherto so beautiful in xits tranquility and I its tender memories) frightened her. She felt I at this moment as if she could not possibly I endure all that she would have to go through. I One of it maids came in search oi her. It I appeared that Mrs Dancroft having finally ■ reached the room set apart for her, had, of I course, refused to occupy it until at least she H had seen the other rooms. Consequently a ■ procession was made all over the house, and I every room shown, even Christine's own, which ■ had really been the girl's apartment ever since ■ she had been a baby. and was, perhaps, the ■ most modest in the house. ■ James Dancroft had gone downstairs to ■ the hall again. He felt angry, but he felt also ■ miserable with a new kind of misery, something ■ more heart-reaching than any whiich he had I experienced before. He had upon him a sense ■ of remorse, when he remembered that it was he ■ who had brought this suffering upon Christine ■ Fielding. ■ The old woman grunted, but srii very It tie ■ during the Slow progress from room to room, but when she went back again to the one pre- H pared for her, she said: I want to sleep where he slept. I want ■ to have the things that were hi." ■ And Christine looked her in the eyes just for an instant, and, answered coldly, even hardly ■ I am sorry, but my father's room is closed —closed by my orders, and no one shall ■ occupy thatrroom—aoone Then her composure gave way at last, and turning, she went quickly away. ■ There was, on the landing above, a.n old window--corner. whereas a child, she had been wont to play, and there she went now, and flung herself f ee downwards on the cushions, not to weep, for she had suffered too much for ■ the relief of tears, but just to pause awhile, to gather together her strength, to can up all her courage. She stayed there a long wh.le then she rose and went down the stairs. The hall was empty. Just for a, moment she could almost pretend to herself that all that which had just passed had been a dream, a horrible dream. Casson came to find her as she stood there, and he brought her some letters, H Will the dinner be at the usual hour, Miss ■ Christine ?" he asked he tried not to see- her white and troubled face. And Miss Fielding replied that she was not quite sure. Rut added—" I' will let you know ■ as soon' as I have spoken to 1\1ró< Daneroft. She may perhaps wish to dine in her own ■ room." When she was alone Christine glanced at her ■ letters. There was one from Margaret Dud- ■ worth, several from acquaintances, and one from Burnstone. She paused a moment before opening this latter, and then did so hurriedly. ■ Sir George would have been well content if ■ he could have seen the effect which his letter produced. The tears which had refused to now just a. ■ little while before came now. If he had written angrily it would have been different; but his studied simplicity and pathe- ■ tic desire to please seemed to rm so true that ■ the words, "I feel you needme," went straight ■ to her heart. H indeed and indeed she did need him, or H someone like him someone who would he pentic and helpful and tender with her' She H had r. Ar-ed at first tiie advent of his answer to her i.-tter, hut now that it had come it seemed H to her very sweet. His quiet refusal to be put H aside seemed to ( hristine eloquent of the love he h." d so often professed. H H Jongs to the oíd days, to the wonderful liap- pnfss which has gorln. It is so wonderful to H know that someone cares as h cares. I will H see him, I cannot tell him the truth, but I will let him understand that I prize his love, and that in a little while perhaps—perhaps She did not finish the sentence even in her thoughts, for the future stretched before her so doubtfully so darkly. Peggy's letter she would leave to read till ¡ late tha.t night; it would be a consolation, and she would need consolation-most surely. She was resting back on the couch with her eyes closed when James Daneroft came down the stairs slowly. His brows contracted as he looked at her, and noticed with what an effort she rose. have persuaded my mother," he said, abruptly, to remain ib the room which you have given her. There is a woman wt o has been accustomed to wait upon her, who knows her ways this woman will arrive to- night. She would have come with us, but she had to travel down from the north. I think," he said, curtly, that the c, ming of this woman will relieve you of a certain amount of bother. My mother Is not used to grand ser- vants and their ways." Christine stood by the fire. Spring as it was' the winds were cold, and the warmth of the tire was very pleasant. She said nothing, but he saw t,hat she was stronger, and he felt that though she might still need all his pity, she would rather suffer three-fold what she had to suffer than reatise this pity was offered to her. Something in her attitude roused his resent- ment. She was such a slim thing, so young, yet as she stood there coldly she seemed to have a strength which he himself might, have envied. She seemed, too, to stand apart from him, conspicuously superior. He shrugged his shoulders. Well," he said, I am off. I daresav it will he hard work at first, buc perhaps they will shake down sooner than I expect." Thpn Christine roused herself. You are going ?"he said. You are not going to stay here ?" There was open dismay in her intonation. f Stay I stay here ? It is all very well for my mother she is an old woman, and for my sister, she is a girl. What I've done I've done for them, please understand that, not for my- self. He moved towards the entrance door, and Christine followed him. Mr Dancroft," she said, I want to speak to you." Well ?" he turned. I wish to ask you if you had a letter from my-my father's—from the firm." He said, Yes," and an instant later added But I have nothing do do with these people I've got my own business, and I'm not quite ready you see to take charity." She Even Thanked Christine for Escorting J Her U pstairs. The way he said this word brought the colour rushing to tired, pale face. I think you are very unreasonable," she answered. There is no question of charity. The way is open to you to work, to share late in the day perhaps, but still to share. Work he laughed eneeringly. No office drudgery for me, thank you. 111 choose my own life, my own profession. When I want help I'll let you know." Oh siid Christine and the word escaped her almost like a cry, how terrible all this is-bow terrible She walked back to. the fire, and he stood and looked at her steadily then he said, and there was a curious inflection in his voice I told you the other night when I came here you ought to have some one to work with you in this. It isn't fair on you. It's too much for you- Christine swept round and faced him the tears were rolling down her cheeks. Everything could be made fair, Mr Dan- croft," she said everything, even the most sorrowful part, could be made to seem less terrble if-if only all of you would come half way." He frowned for a.n instant, then he smiled, a rather disagreeable smile. You are dealing with savages, you must remember that," he said. We have had none of the refining and beautifying influences which have surrounded you ever since you can re- member. As I told you the other day, yoti are not obliged to do what you are doing but if vouchoose to keep up the hypocrisy of your father's good name, well, you have to pay a big price, that's all He was gone before Christine could say any- thing more, even if she had wished to speak. As a matter of fact, bis last speech (given so roughly and so rudely), took away from her in- stantly that feeling of reliance, even of sym- pathy with which he had inspired her when she had last seen him in London. His ever ready sneer for her father's memory carried a full measure of hurtful bitterness. So," she eaid to herself, I have to meet this and bear withit single-handed. I thought perhaps he would have helped me, but I ought to have known better. He is every bit as cruel, v as hard, and as merciless as his mother Her hand closed oy-er George Burnstone's letter, and once again there ran through her a natural thrill as she felt herself grasp the truth that she was loved. She went to find her housekeeper and prepare for the coming of the woman who was to wait on Mrs Daneroft. In a sense she was relieved that there should be some one in close attend- ance on the terrible old woman. At the same time Christine prepared herself for the advent of another enemy. Before going to her room to dress for dinner she sought Anne Dancroft, desiring to know from the girl what her mother would wish to do that evening. Anne was in the midst of having her boxes unpacked. She had found time to spend a fair amount of the money which Christine had pro- vided, and all sorts of finery were heaped about her. Like Mrs Coniston, she was inclined to regard Christine's very simple attire with a certain amount of scorn. Certainly there was nothing about Miss Fielding's black garments to suggest that shq possessed such vast wealth, and Miss Daneroft had been quick to notice that Christine did not wear a single jewel. She was shrewd enough, however, to realise that though she herself was handsome in a way, there was something about Christine Fielding which gave her an attraction which she, Anne Dancroft, would probably never possess. This annoyed the young woman, and served to keep alive the sentiment of dislike which, according to her mother, was the proper feeling she should entertain for Henry Fielding's daughter. The truth bfcing that Ann. though she was selfish and grasping, and the illusions of youth had been knocked out of her long ago, was not really bad-natured She professed ignorance now as to what her mother wou!d wish to do, but condescended after awhile to go and find out. When she came back with the information that Mrs Dancroft was tired, and would remain in her room, Christine gave a great sigh of relief. She was destined, however, to have no lengthened spell of rest. As she and Anne sat at dinner later on, Miss Dancroft very smartly arrayed, and cautiously watching Christine at every turn to see how she manipulated the difficulties of various dishes, a message was sent down to say that Mrs D' eroft wanted to speak to Miss Fielding after dinner. You had better go and get it over," Miss Daneroft said, briskly. Mother's a rare one for keeping on. and if you didn't go to her she'd aa like as not come down." Christine's face had flushed, and now was very pale. She said nothing, however. Eating with her was a pretence, but Anne enjoy, d her dinner thoroughly, that is to say she would have enjoyed it if Casson and the two footmen had not been in the room. She managed very well, all things considered, except when she upset a glass of claret and she grew talkative when by and by the servants withdrew, and she and Christine were alone. It wM evident she had no intention of spend- ing her life in a quiet countrvfied fashion, evident too that she expected Miss Fielding to launch her info such society as there wasround and about Hunston. Though she was common, and her speech every now and then made Christine wince, there was something huniiii and natural about the girl; and unconsciously Christine fcand herself turning to the thought of making a friend of Anne, and so helping th e situation. The fact alone that Miss Dancroft never spoke Henry Fielding's name argued that she was free to a great extent from the resentful animus which ran like poison through the veins of her mothe and brother. hilst she was still chattering a second mes- came to her from Mrs Daucroft. Miss Fielding was to go to her at once." Casson gave the message wih all his usual deference. It hurt the servant to see the hur- ried way in which his young mistress rose from her seat. The maid who had brought him the message from Mrs Dancroft had exclaimed at the queer nature of the old iady. Seems queer like in her head, that she do," this girl said to Casson, sending for Miss Fielding just as if she were a bit of a school- girl. They're a funny lot, that's what I think they are. What do you think, Mr Casson Casso £ had b tked the girl, but in his heart he had agreed with her. They were a fanny lot! There was something ablut the coming of these people that he did not like, something which boded good for no one in Hunston. The day before he had con- gratulated himself when Sir George Burnstone had gone away in such a bad temper that Miss Christine's marrriage appeared to be a matter for the remote future but he told himself now that he would infinitely prefer a man like Sir George to rule at Hunston than the present arre-ngement. And the worst is these have coine.and who kmws when they'll go," Casson pondered to himself. There's a took in Miss Christine's eyes that makes me feci worse than I lelt even when the poor master died. I'd be right glad to see Mrs Dudworth down here, that I would It don't seem to me proper as Miss Christine shouldn't have someone to be with her now, someone as belongs to her, for it's pretty sure whatever has brought this party along, it ain't a reason to mean happiness to Miss Christine CHAPTER XV. Sir George Goes to Hunston. Three or four days later Sir George went down again to Hunston. His complacency was entirely restored. He had leceived several letters from Christine, in all of which the girl let him realise that she would work in with his will. The man had hardly expected so much submission. He had only seen Mrs Dudworth once. She had been summoned to Ireland, urgently called by her husband's sister, a woman to "horn she was dearly attached and who was s xiously ill. It was a great regret to Margaret Dud- worth (hat she could not be with Christine at this time. You know," she said to George Burnstone, "she is not alone at Hunston. There are some people with her now. I cannot quite make out whether they are connections of her father's or not, but evidently they have some claim on Christine, and I thini this is the business about which he wrote to you." It was not a pleasing matter to Sir George to be told that any connections of Henry Fielding had cropped up, for despite the great advan- tages of his marria e with Christine he had never lost sight of the fact that her father's beginning had been humble and mysterious, and his real status an inferior one. If poor relations are going to worry her," be* said, there is the more reason that some- one should take care of her." And in this sentiment Mrs Dudworth entirely agreed nevertheless she felt anxious, for though Christine had told her nothing of the truth, she felt i stinctively, or intuitively, that some great trouble had come into the girl's life, brought in all probability by those people who were now staying with her. As soon as t can leave Ireland," she mused. hI shall go down to Hunston myself. I don't think Christine would be willingly im- posed upon, but her attachment ,to her father was so extraordinary that it would open the way for unscrupulous people to trade upon such a sentiment." Christine had intended to meet Sir George at the station in the car herself but already she had been taught a lesson, that her movements were not her own to command. < Mrs Dancroft had expressed a wish to drive that afternoon, and further, had ordered Miss Fielding to accompany her. Therefore, when Sir George reached Hunston he found only Anne Dancroft, whose air of bein absolutely at home surprised him disagreeably. Neither was he attracted by Miss Dancroft's appear- ance. He found her appalling common. He did not waste much attention on her, however, but paced bo and fro in the hall wait- ing for Christine to return. Her absence roused all his old impatient annoyance Surely when she knew he was coming she should have been there to receive him When the carriage finally arrived it contained only Mrs Daneroft and it the footman who gave Sir George the message hurriedly. that Miss Fielding had got out at the gate as she preferred to walk through the grounds. Sir George was in a mood ripe for anger when he set forth to go and meet Christine, but as he saw her coming towards him his feelings were abruptly changed To say that be was startled by the difference in the girl would be to describe his .clings inadequtely. Her appearance gave him a Christine walked though she were weary in every limb. Her face in the broad black hat she wore looked thi i and colourless. She ad- va,uced some time without seeing him, then all at once she caught sight of him. and in that instant George Burnstone was well repaid for all the discomfort and vexation he had experi- enced. There was no mistaking the signifi- cance of the light which flashed into Christine's eyes or the colour which rushed into her cheeks. It was over again such a moment of submission of response as had come when he had spoken of his love that bygone night on the river and asked her to be his wiffe. She stretched out both her hands in invol- untary fashion to the man, and he, mo red at once by the simple pathos of the action, re her close to him, and murmuring her name tenderly, stooped and kissed her. At this very moment James Daneroft, whose visit was unexpected as far as Christine was concerned, coming along from the village in a swinging fashion, turned a corner and saw them together. Just for an instant Dancroft paused, and his face was livid, the next he went on his way and strode past, neither looking at them, or vouchsafing any greeting to Miss Fielding. The sound of udvancing steps had roused Christine from a brief spell of consoling sym- pathy am unting even to happiness, and as she looked round sharply and saw Daneroft, her face was hot with colour, and her heart hot with shame. It was not a sense of humiliation from modesty alone which held her, it was the sweeping back of that intolerable shame which sight of this other man signified. For the coming of Daneroft at such a moment carried, indeed, a weighty significance, it re- called her from what might have been to what really was. It confronted her suddenly with a new and a harder duty, the task of holding the happi- ness which seemed to her only possible through George Bumstone's love, and still remaining protector of the secret of her father's past! (To be Continued)

SUICIDE AT^rHE^AIVllNGTABLE

MY HUSBAND." 4-

[No title]

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-------------.... SOLICITOR-GENERAL.

11—————————* PIT BOY TO MANAGER.

-------A MULTITUDE OF SCHEMES.

THE CARMARTHEN SOCIETY.

GLAMORGANSHIRE CHAMBER.

MERTHYR GUARDIANS.

HUNTING FATALITY.

PROVED AN ALIBI. ---...

RECTOR'S FREE BEER.