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THE SIN OF JASPER STANDISH.

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THE SIN OF JASPER STANDISH. BY "RITA," Author of "Peg the Rake," "A Daughter of thlJ Ptcpie," "The My-tery of the Dark Id OUSOj" "Kitty the Rasr," "A Woman in It," &c.. &c. [COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER XXI. "My chi1d," sid a tender voice. Lyie lifted her head from her arms, on which it had been resting from the moment mat a c.oiiiv.: door had seemed to her 'iik-e the failing of cfJd earth on a coffin lid. Behind lay death and Jf o- lation. Her fathar was standing beside her. '1 i:» old love'was in his eyes, the old tenderness in 11:0 voice. "It is h-ard for you, my dear," he said, v<w hard; but it would have been a thousand tim"- worse to brave—later. Some day you will be gmJ it came when it did." He stood looking sadly at the agonized your: face. It is hard enough for a parent to learn i> has been supplanted, but it is harder still when finds that the usurper is unworthy. A little wan smile touched her lips. "If it w:s bound to come," she said, "I am glad it has han- pened now. I need not expect—anything more." "My child," he said sadly. "My poor child!" She was trembling like a leaf, but her eyes tearless. "You were quite right, dad," he said. "I was so headstrong, so foolish. I thought my- self o sure. I am rightly served." "The worse you can think of him the better. Ec is an unprincipled scoundrel. No doubt, bad as his confession was, it was not half as bad as tha real case." It was bad enough," she said slowly. I should not like to think it worse." She half rose, but he saw she was too unnerved to starfd, and put her gently back into the chair. "Sit down, child," he said gently. "You are not fit to face others yet. I wish I could comfort you, Lyle; but no one in this world can play the part of Providence to even the dearest thing they love. Every heart knows its own bitter- ness and must bear its own burden. I wanted to "save you from disgrace. perhaps ruin in the future. I could not ease the blow, save by letting him deal it." She did not speak. "I have heard many things about this Derrick Mallory," he went on, "but as I so plainly dis- couraged his visits I had no immediate fear of— whar has happened." "You are in no way to hlame," sh said. "It was < myself all through." "You are very young," he said, sadly, "and you hf.d :;o mother to vv?tch over or advi-p vox A father, however dearly he loves his child, cannot fo.lo.v the windings and turnings of her fancy or her ;)s;irt. I tried my best to save you, but it was teo .te even then." she echoed, it has been too late for a long. long time." Now that you have learnt his unworthiness, continued her father, "you must summon all your cour.tge to help you in forgetting him. Fortu- nately his time in this country is short. He has to return to India." He saw her chiver involuntarily. His eyes grew dark with anger. A man who takes a human life," he said, "suffers the dua punishment of his crime; but a man who comes into the fair garden of a girl's young heart, tramples it. withers it, destrova it, he can go scot free And yet it >= worse than life that he destroys she cried, and hid her face in her hands in a sudden paroxysm of grief. "Oniyyesterdsylwasao happy. I thanked God that it was possible to be so nappy, and raw it can never come again—never." He let hrr cry unrefcuked. Grief was more natural than that strange calm. At las: she dashed the tears aside. "To think," he said, that I could have pained you for sake of—Mm. Forgotten our long years cf love and confidence. Oh, dad, how wise you were—how wise Yet you do not feel inclined to thank me. Ah chjd I know I know It is hard to bear at first." "I will stay with you," she said brokenly. ''It is the best nhtce-fc1 me." God knows I have no desire that you shemid leave me," he said fondly. My homo is yours for all your life, if you wish." "I will go to my room LOW," she said presently. "For to-night I wou'd rather see no one. Just be by myself. You will excuse me at dinner?" "Yes, if you feel you would rather be alone. But brooding and thinking won't make it easier to bear, my child." Only to-night," she said, and looked at him with eyes whoso pitiful misery stabbed him to the heart. "I did it for the best," he told himself. "For the best. He was to blame. He could not defend his own conduct. I left him to do it and he failed." She put his arm aside stood up. He thought with a bitter pang how all the lovely youth and hope had gone frcm her in this awful hour, and could have cursed the man who was the cause. But wor were useless, and curses too. They mended nothing, altered nothing. In the Mills of Pain the hearts of all are ground. Some to powder, some to chaff; some are bruised and some are crushed for ever. For stronger than Love and Life and Joy is the hand of Fate—and none can master or withstand it. w After that first shock and agony of disillusion a dull calm settled upon Lyie. She told Nora that her father had for good reasons refused his consent to any engagement with Derrick Mallorv that all Was over between them. Nora was only half-satisfied, but she did not like to press for reasons that were rigidly withheld. Lyle could not betray his un- worthiness to a third person. It was humiliating enough to know it herself. Between the two girls, who had been so devoted, and so happy in their innocent friendship, a strange silence and coldness crept. Each had her own sorrow to combat, her own secret to guard. Sud- denly they had reached a point where neither could be of any help. There were no more confidences in their rooms at night, none of the laughing jests and hints of old. But the days lagged wearily, and on both young hearts lay the burden of unuttered pain. Their eager hands, outstretched to the roses in life's garden, had been filled with nettles instead. Sometimes in those drearv days, when the snow or the ram fell and the wind moaned drearily round the old house, Lyle would go up to her turret and gaze sadly down that leafless avenue, where her feet had sped so gaily and unconsciously to meet her doom. She had no heart now to finish her pretty "Sister Anne's Chamber." She would move list- lessly to and fro, or sit idly gazing into the fire, trying to believe life would soon go back to its normal condition that her fated fairy prince" would soon be only a memory that those two bliss- ful days were part of a dream from which she had been roughly awakened; that love was a delusion and a snare. It could be well dispensed with. And all the time that she shut her eyes to aught beyond that important circle of personal unhappi- nes, events were happening around her so fateful and so tragic that in after years she asked herself how she could have been so blind as not to see them. The bad weather had kept all visitors from the Hermitage. Even Mrs. O'Neil had not ventured out. She had scribbled a note to Lyle, saying she was confined to her room with a severe cold, and asking her to come and see her if she could spare an hour, but Lyle shrank from going near the house. She could not faoe the ordeal of a chance meeting with Derrick, and she was not sure whether he had left Ireland. She wrote sympat-hizingly, but ex- cused herself from going over on account of indis- position. So the days drifted on, each seeming a week in length, till they reached New Year's Eve. Sir An- thony was a little weary of the melancholy evenings. No one would play or sing, no friend dropped in for a hand at whist or nap. They had seen nothing of Jasper Standish, and Dr. Dan wrote that he was at his wit's end to cope with the sickness raging in the little town. Workmen came to and fro, com- pleting and furnishing and decorating the unfinished rooms, and in the daytime Sir Anthony demanded Lyle's help and advioe as much a.s possible in order to distract her thoughts. But for the long winter evenings there was no distraction save what they could give each other. Nora's bright spirits seemed to have vanished. She was pale and listless. Her eyes were heavy, and their dark circles spoke of sleepless nights. Now and then she would try to shake off this despondent frame of mind, but the effort was plainly an effort. The laughter was forced, the jests were mirthless. On New Year's Eve Dr. Dan oame over. He was shocked at the change in his pretty ward. She looked but the shadow of her old bright self, so thin and pale and spiritless. But like everyone else he put the change down to grief for her father, and the horror of his tragio fate. Meanwhile strange rumours were spreading through the village as to that fate, and murmurs as to the inspector's laxity in the matter of arrest were rife on every occasion. Shure an' is it kilt an' murdered in our beds we're to be, an' niver asowl the wiser?" wae an ob- servation that reaohed Jasper's ears more frequently than he liked. The reward was stimulating energies, and he was perpetually receiving infm mation. of suspicious events or appearances, but he dismissed them per- emptorily. Yet to all intents and purposes he was much occupied, and though he seemed to keep his own counsel there were not wanting hints of mean- ing on the tmck of his footsteps. When tff time comes," he would say in answer to queries or demands. An' shure whin that'll be not the saints in giory car* tell us," muttered the gossips. N-ew~¥ear's Eve found the inspector in his gloomy little study, once more busy with that private note- book. The window was closely curtained; he had turned the køy in the door. The fire blazed brightly, and his unfailing comforter, the spirit bottle, was on the table by his side. He shut the book with a vicious snap and leant bis head on his hands, trying to follow out a. plan of reasoning. Will it be safe-yetf" So ran his thoughts. The links fit pretty closely, but there are not enoysh. If I chow mr hand Jon soojLthe gama-will lo:o"t. 1 must secure myseff nrst before Tmake a move. Now, that weak pretty fool is the only buffer between me and the blow that may come my v.ay. I render two weapons powerless if I use her against them. That proud English minx is not to be fooled, and her old father is not the sort of man to win ever to my schemes, i nave 110 noict on aim. True, I've parted her from her fool of a lover. Fool! .t\ h! twice and treble fool that he was to have won the Jove of a girl like that and let her slip through J is fingers. Had she cared for me I'd have her against everything—the whole world—herself included." He drank a tumblerful of the potent spirit by his side, and then began" to pace the room ve- tiessly, talking half-aloud. "Crime! Who talks of crime? A man masl noi'.M 6°21'0 hi", own necessities; it ,s no crime to rut aw*v that- which stands between. If so. then is eve-.v e criminal; every general; every statesman. To iv-; "'1 mlV;' destroy. Only the sti.,r,g ate fried ■ > • v've. Place and power fa'.l only to the 8ilventtir.it! good thing is grined wiilsont struggle. 01 -eV; without strength. A?', life show. it. It g '»■• or the univer-g. The Creator i ••< life r.« re.ent as he gives it. The w'.r.fl 01 de-Uiny rolV, ev-r KIH1 ON, crushing ail ih T is in i:G way. Ma'i h;R. follows its example stvo whete coward.ce roji.-dt The blood fin-b..<.l hV; ?-e~v. lie threw bac't !< head (ntl l:t1.rhr-:l a. en J "If Ih.s sueere-.U ail v/ill go well. from«it;oi> :<>. lows, then fc,t\1r,(. Il a dsr ng sc1H:m.. brc very daring will serve my en-.is. The case will to fail for just one tittlo of evidence. The lt>\v u ta satisfied, the tongues wJ: wag so furiously tin en never hold up her head again. Tn be g-.¡j, y all but the actual verdict o; gti It is enough i.t r.: her. She win face her i'wn condemnation. My z: and my discretion will have accomplished the.r Again he drank. Again the blood mounted to his head, fired his veins, thrilled him with v/ii.i rt.tolve. So the Old Year left him—wicked of ovii OF pl1rp,se-triumhin6' wilh unholy joy ova dIP v.v and helpless-we, ving schemes that should wreck ,.I ruin innocent Uvea, trampling under foot all temples and all fear. So the New Year found him—dazed and drunken and evil still, while through storm and stress of dying night the bells pealed out their message to unheeding ears. CHAPTER XXII. "There'll be bad work this year, Norry gill," said pretty Molly, the housemaid. "Divil a bit AV for any av us." Glory be! What's happened thin?" "Arrah, didn't that red-haired imp av a Mickey Doolan cross the threshold rhe first thing as the door was opened? An' tha* fule av an English cook knew no better than to kugti whin I teuld her 'twas the worst av luck. He canut wid a letter, he said. And wouldn't go till he'd delivered it. There's for you now! An' who dr. yon think the letter was for? Teli me that "How should I kr.o.v, Molly? Not for you, nor me neither. An' as for the young ladies Ah musha, young ladies. What would the likes av thim be wan tin' wid that thafe av the wurrld— M:ckey! Ah! may he die an' give the crows a for chis day's bad luck. No, guri, it was Mr*. Grapnell he was wantin' spache wid.. an' shure she was downstairs in two shakes av a lamb's tail whin she heard it, an' out in the garden they were colloguing for ivcr ;:0 long, an' she com in' i dl av a trimble an' white as the driven snow, an' not a word good or bad did she spake. Only up to her room an' shut herself in. That's just what hap- pened now! Make the best ye can av it." little best any av us can be av thim as hves in this house," said Konora. Sich gloomy fs.ee-, an' shtrango ways, an' now the ili-iuek to c- >me on thim all as soon as they've set foot in the viace. Shure an' inclado it's sorry I 3m I listened to me mother's persv/ashins an' tuk the situation. Less mcney an' pleasauter comppny vould suit me betrer any day. An' the strict rules. ?.n' always that English cook forgettin' about the fish av a Friday, an' say in it's the housekeeper's fault. Musha! A pretty housekeeper! a J-.d(. "Taat's thrue for ye. Only that the wages is good paid regular an' the work aisy enough be- tween the two av us. it's roes-elf wouldn't care to put- up wid it a month longer." "T.teres the bell, Moliy; an' the tay not wet. ohitre t: you are yer mother's own spit for gos- sipi 1 Be off wid ye, -or 'tis gettin' notice an' not gii-iu' it be." iVieanwhile in oer own room Jane Grapnell was sitting before a small table. A pile of papers lay before her, covered with her neat small handwriting. Her hand shook visibly as she added page after Page, but she never paused. She wrote with a feverish energy, as if against time, and her face was indeed what Molly had described it, white as the driven snow." Wiien she paused at last the clock was striking eight. It was her breakfast hour, and habits of discipline are not lightly broken. Rmug from the table she blotted the_sheets and locked them into a small leather portfolio, with a key which she wore round her neck, attached to a- fine silver chain. That- done she enclosed it in a large sheet of paper and sealed it securely. Holding it in her hand she looked round the room as if she sought a hiding- place. The scearch was vain. A strange hunted look came into her eyes. I daren't leave it here," she whispered, half- aloud. "If there's a search he might find it. There's no trusting such a villain." Her eyes fell on a white fleecy shawl lying on a chair. It was one of Nora's. She had brought it there to mend. Snatch in? it up. she threw it over her arm, so as to coiwe/. the portfolio, and left the room. Nora entered the breakfast room first on that New Year's morning. On the table beside her plate lay a letter. As she saw the writing a wave of colour came into her pale face. Something of the old brightness and light shone in her eyes. She snatched it eagerly. First fell out a card. A simple thing enough, only a wreath of violets and the stereotyped greeting. But the sender's name was on it, and her heart thrilled at sig-n of remembrance. Enclosed was a thin slip of paper on which was written something. She read it, her face one blush of delight, then thrust it hlliSblY into her poolcet, as she heard Lyle's voioe without. She entered with Sir Anthony. Nora turned to greet them. They both looked wonderingly at her changed face, and Lyle recog- nized once more the old impetuous warmth in her kiss, the old girlish ring in her voice. Something has happened. You've had good news?" she said, smiling at the bright face. Yes," she answered. I have the best of news, and of luck. Remembrance from a friend I thought had forgotten me." ° "Ah! cards," said Lyie, listlessly, looking at a pile for herself. She did not open them, only pushed them indifferently away, a.nd began to pour out tea. The sun was shining at last after tha.t dreary week of rain. t The air was once more balmy and spring- like. Life was alert in the world without, and the blue of sky and river showed a lovely radiance through the yet leafless trees. You must go out to-day, both of you," said Sir Anthony. "You'll lose all your roses cooped up in the house day after day. Order the horses, Lyle, and have a good gallop." She glanced at Nora. What do you say?" "I should bve it," answered the girl, with sub- dued eagerness. "Very well," agreed Lyle. "I will order the horses to be brought round after breakfast. That will give us nearly three hours before lunch." "There's a meet at Mount Urris, isn't there?" said Sir Anthony presently. You could ride over and tee them throw off. It's not more than five miles from us." Again Nora's face flushed and paled. How Fate was playing into her hands to-day. "I was just thinking of that," she said. "I haven't seen a meet this season. Do you ever mean to hunt, Lyla?" "Father doesn't nvieh it, she answered, in- differently. No," said Sir Anthony. If I had half-a-dozen daughters it would be different. I don't want to tempt Providence, and prevention is better than cure when there's a risk of broken necks and arms. I never could bear to see women in the field. They spoil men's 6port, and don't get much of their own." It's rank heresy to say that in Ireland, Sir Anthony," said Nora. "Women pride themselves on 'their horsemansh-p, anct to be in at the death is a. feminine proverb." "That may be. I don't like it, and I won't allow Lyle to hunt as long as I have any authority over her." The subject dropped, and as soon as breakfast, was over Lyle went to the housekeeper's room. Nora ran up to her own room to see about hej habit. In reality to read over that treasured scrawl which had eeemed to lift her to sight and sense of happiness once ^Once swung into the saddle and cantering gaily down the dr.ve her sense of exhilaration reached its height. Lyle could not understand her gaiety. Yet even to herself came that feeling of pleasure born of a good mount, the brisk rush of cool sweet air, warm sunshine rnd youth. The reactIon after long days, sleepless nights, tear-filled hours, was a relief for wh'ch she was duly grateful. True, the relief was but temporary, but who is not thankful for the lull of pain in an aching nerve, thousrh a visit to the dentist still lurks in the background. Th" horses were fresh and required management, so the girls did not waste time in talking. They arrived at Mount Urris in time to see a goodly array of red coats, top boots, aid riding habits. Also a multitude of vehicles of aH sorts and conditions. Then suddenly, without warning or preparation, it dawned upon Lyle that Derrick rnyht be there. She had not thought of the possibility, but now it flashed across her and made her rein in her horse in a mariner at which he shewed strong disapproval. At that moment a cheery voice called out her name, and she fouod the remonstrating forelegs of Meteor close to the low phaeton of Belle 0 Nell. Wrapped in furs arid husky of voice that lady had been unable tn resist the temptation of such a gathering as this. Half the county favoured the Mount Urris meets. "I was just wondering if you'd be here," she exclaimed. And a nice friendly neighbour you are indeed! Never been to see me, and there wa.s I shut up between my own four walls the best part n: g_ week-land not-a, :ml And ybu-know, or wiTTioiow some day, tTTal a ffiali is none too fond of putting his nose into a sick room! We'l. here I am though, and I as good as told Dr. Dan that he might save himself the trouble of saying 'no:' for I'd made up my mind. 1". r.. you going to fo 11 ow. Lyle?" "No," she said, thankful for the restlessness that made Meteor prance and curvet till her face and voice were under control. "I only rode over with Nora, to see them throw off." "Derrick's about somewhere," continued. Mrs. O'Neil, mounted on a perfect devil of a horse, too. Blackskin they call him, and faith he is black; and an eye—you should see it, Lyle-rolling fire set in ebony. I'm terrified at the brute; but he's a fine jumper—would take anything." b.-it .0* ,ut. 1 i-111 t see aiu; anywhere," she s.;id. ''1 cxycui D-erry keeps him out oi tae cr.t J. j'y the v, t.y, u-jri's Nora? I rhougnt M a.s ui:h you." iiy:.} gitt.it; ed round. She cou'd not her fr.?iid riyvvncre. 1 dt,a t know wiiciv sac's £ 01.e, ;:he said. "Ah there she is, t-xKa-g to Mr. Sia.dL-ii, ere.aimed Mrs. O'Nei.. "Ti-st iiirtat.on hi? u.ig fire a bit late.v. Ah poor girl, though, I was tor- getting that st-.d story. Lyle, my dear, isn't it most mysterious that no word can be got as to the Win who aid that .rurder? The last time I was taiking to Jasper Standish I said so to him. And what do you think he answered?—and there was a metning with it too, or I'm no jlld8.. Don't be too sure,' he said, 'that it wa-s a Eti&n who did it.' Now wasn't that queer? What do you make of it?" "I t-hini*.—candidly—'h.'t Mr. ehamlish has given himself very little trouble to discover who corn- milted it—whether m o-' woman." said Lyle, coldly. "But it Stïn" highly improbable that any- one but a man could have done it. Think of the strength needed. The broken window—the fallen bar." I said that to him. Those were my very words, and he answered me straight that the window could have bdmbrokcn and the bar loosed from its socket inside the room as easily as outside." Lyle started! "What an extraordinary thing! Does he mean anyone in the house?—but that's im- possible." My dear, crimes are often committed by just the last person we think could pos-ibly commit them. I don't know what Jasper meant, but 'twas very strange. Ah! there's Derry, edging along outsida of the crowd. I think he's coming this way." Lyle's heart gave a quick sickening throb. Her hands grew suddenly nerveless. "I think," she said, hurriedly, "I'll go and see after Nora. We shall meet again Mrs. O'Neil." She turned her horse and rode away, leaving Mrs. in a state of surprise at such an abrupt de- parture. But Lyle had no intention of joining Nora. She did not wish to see or speak to Jasper Standish. Her one idea. had been to evade Derrick. She care- fully avoided the vehicles, steering Meteor in and out. of the noisy excited crowd, the plunging horses and garrulous drivers. Arrived at a point of vantage, she glanced care- lrlv round. Ah! there he was. How the blood rc,c; ¡)1¡'ough her veins. How dizzy and bint the mere sitrht of that tail figure, that proudly poised head made her feel. All her pride was up in arms, but. then fell down abased. She'bad not forgotten th. brief joy, that too sweet cream. Now to the memory was added a touch of jealousy bitter and torturing. He was beside a woman—re-ad.iusting the reins, bending slightly for- ward in the act. Every movement of his hands and turn of his head seemed to send red-hot pincers into her heart. She was nothing to him any longer. C'st out of his life, disregarded—perhaps forgotten. She loitered there in the background, wishing Nora W'IU:tt end thnt Jong colloquy with Jasper Standish, hoping that Belle O'Neil would not take it into her head to tell Derrick she was present. Not that it would matter. They were parted for ever. Presently there was a stir. She caught sight of the hounds threading their way in an eager straggling pro-tension. Horses pricked their ears, riders settled themselves more firmly in saddle. Those who meant business looked alert and drew away from the crowd. I-yle, unconscious wht was meant, let her horse g,) pretty well as he w.shed. She had some vague idea, that Nora would join her as soon as the hounds were in covert. Suddenly there came a cheer, the crack of whips, a blaro of that music from the hounds' throats so dear to the huntsmen's ears, the sound of a horn thrilled out on the a.r, and a cry of "Forrad! For- rad away In a second, before she had time to think what it all meant or what she was to do, Lyle felt the reins wrenched from her careless hands. :\1eteor had de- cided that inaction at such a moment was impossible. She was conscious of flight, swift and easy, through the air, of dark specks to right, to left, in front of her, of trees racing by in headlong fury, of a broad white band streaming along dark fields and furrows. She grasped the reins instinctively, but knowing the horse had "got his head" left further proceedings to his own discretion. A sort of delirium swept over her. Sky and field and trees intermingled. Everyth-ng seemed mad and wild with motion. The madness touched her- self, she could have laughed aloud! The blood ran riot through her veins, the sunlight flashed, the wind whistled. Brown shadows came and went. They were passed in flight, she scarce knowing what they meant. On and on, swifter and swifter, till sud- denly a dull thud of hoofs beat close to her side. Nearer and nearer they came. The black satin coat and outstretched neck of another horse was in line with Meteor's head. She thought of those words rolling fire set in ebony," and heard a voice whose anxious tones set every nerve throbbing. "Turn, if you can," it said. "There's a nasty bit over the next fence." Then a hasty exclamation My God Lyle. is it you? Can't you turn?" "No!" she gasped, breathlessly, conscious only of the impatient movement with which Meteor tore at the curb as her hand closed U'1. It. Then let him go. Follow me—and trust to Providence." She saw the big hunter shoot on ahead, going straight as an arrow for that blackthorn hedge be- yond which might lie--everything. Somehow it didn'i; seem to matter now. Meteor, stimulated by example, followed on those flying hoofs. She shut her eyes involuntarily. Her knees clenched tight about the pommel, and for the first time since that headlong race began her hand grasped the saddle. Her loosened hair fell like a cloud about her. She felt that now familiar rise, then a stumble, a quick scrambling effort, and—peace! Wearied with the last supreme effort Meteor slackened pace, then stepped, his flanks heaving, his breath pumped through crimson nostrils by long-enauring lungs. She swayed in the saddle, and all grew dark before her. But through the mists of failing senses she heard a voice low in her ear. "Thank God, you're safe! What a feat! What- ever made you attempt it?" What she answered, or if she answered at all, Lyle never knew. Derrick leapt from his hunter, and was by her side just in time to catch her nerveless figure as she fell forward. (To be continued.)

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