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(? [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,] W) FL YN 0' THE HILL § )?( or, THE LITTLE WHITE WITCH ?\ 10) By MADGE BARLOW, WJ ?[Q A Author of "Crag Cormac," "The Cairn of the Badger," &c. M CHAPTER IV. (Continued.) I TROUBLES FROM A FAMILIAR QUARTER. I ""The rash, unfounded accusation was a mistake. Jaffe's curt, amazed. "Sir!" told him f'0, and the utter blankness of the countenance which courted severest scrutiny. "It sent me to sleep," he stammered, "and I—I fancied-" f "Don't trouble to 6often the charge,' 0 Jaffe said quietly. "Fancy or no fancy, you've spoken what you can't unspeak. But let me assure you it matters not the weight of a pinch of snuff to us whether you slept or stayed awake with ears stretched. Your relatives pushed you into the stewardship. Leave us if you don't like us. Miss Flyn wouldn't lift a finger to stop you if you were zousin to a prince." His very whiskers were rigid, and, awarb that indiscretion had gained him a bitter enemy, Eric departed in a huff to bath and change his clothes. The coast was clear when he slipped out by the convenient French window and limped down to the road to cool his ire in the fresh morning breeze. He wished he had not eun? Fl)'n's praises to Andy, that he had never l'hdd her, never quitted" that he had never beheld her, never  his beloved London, where Uncle Gid was searching for a wife for him, the daughter of his old Army mate who had gone a-missing, Clodagh Farrell. Uncle Gid could invent no other method of atonement for a quarrel forced upon Captain Farrell during their last interview, and sorely re- pented of. He did not dc::bt that Captain Harry, in Heaven, would smile on a union Letwixt his child and Eric. Well, Uncle Gid must be obeyed, and the thought would serve as a check. upon him if he found that he was thinking of Flyn too often for his mind's peace. It was amusing how docile he became of a sudden and how regardful of Gid's authority. At the breakfast hour he returned to the house, and there was Flyn in the doorway receiving her letter-bag from the postman who had preceded him up the avenue, per- fectiv composed, and .V as snow. She handed Eric one of the fam-Har thick creamy envelopes', which contained news of Andy l'rom Nurse Dora, and remarked that his paticncc was rewarded if he had risen with the birds to watch for its coming. "On the contrary, my sleep was disturbed bv a sort of Romeo and Juliet rehearsal, which spoiled the comfort of the sIiall hours," he said pointedly. She flushed and started, and her eyes lost their dove's soft- ness. He was looking at her in a fashion displeasing to her. The red blush spread to her neck, and Eric left her and went into his private apartments. His manner was vaguely suggestive of lowered esteem, and she felt stung. Her eyes sparkled. Rearing her head, she called him back imperiously as she would not have dreamt of calling Jaffe. lie answered the summons, and read the storm signals. "You have been three weeks under my, roof," she began. "Three weeks," ho agreed. "When do you propose to start your active duties?" "To-morrow, if you wish." "I do wish it. A sprained ankle isn't like Tennyson's brook, it can't go on for ever." This struck a steely spark from his eye, end blue matched grey. I "To-morrow, then, Mis Macara. And I'll remove myself and my belongings to Owlet's Kest. "I was going to suggest it." "Of course, when you desire to give orders or hear reports I'll wait upon you at the Hill. You have only to command me." "Isn't that reminder superfluous?" she sneered. ''From a servant to his mistress it cer- tainly is," he replied, with a tolerant smile for which Flyn could have smitten him. He bowed and retired. Breakfasting alone, Flyn dropped a scalding tear among the eggs and bacon, and vowed she hated him. Sylvia says he's a bad let, so I don't care whether his looks are approving or not. He's insulting. Such a change in his face, and all because I didn't rush to explain about Ralph Dorn. It's no affair of his, I'm sure. Didn't I sit on him. properly? (To the coffee-pot.) Served him right, for his im- pertinence. If he has any notion of marry- ing that woman who writes to him, and in- stalling her in the valley cottage, he'll be badly hit when I tell him the salary is in- sufficient for a married steward and I must dispense with his services." A telegraph messenger climbed the hill and delivered an orange-hued missive for Mr. Bamfylde. Flyn peeped into the hall appre- hensively and saw Jaffe carry it to the summer parlour and fetch out the salver. Bad news, maybe? Perhaps a change in Darkington's plans? She opened her door wider and her heart began to throb. "I wonder," she mused, finger on lip, "why he's dancing about the floor like a great boy and yelling 'Hurrah! The telegram ran: "Operation on John Salter successfully performed." He did not seem to see Miss Macara for the whole length of the day, or to remember their tiff. The joy of his face tantalised her. .1 H will forget that I spoke rudely in my irritation, and he won't go," she said, heav- ing a sigh of relief. So she contentedly rode her bicycle into town to do some urgent shopping, and time flew by unheeded. It was late evening when she reached home, and Jaffe greeted her with a toothy smile and the news that Bam- fylde had gone off in a temper to Owlet's Nest, and engaged a "lone girl" of forty- five, Known as Bid the Wisp, to housekeep for him. 1 tr- CHAPTER V. I CATHY JOINS TIIE I Flyn's story is also the story of Lathy, for Cathy helped Ralph Dorn and divers others tcr tangle the thread of a love which even the gods who preside over human des- tiny seemed minded to bring to nought. 'therefore we make no excuse for joining Cathy and Michael in the jennet's trap that conveyed the former to a tenuis tournament at Tallyho. She was in a glory of fair raiment and a sullen temper, and he was very crushed and depressed because Cathy insisted on his going to the tournament to lead her side to victory, and an aged crone insisted on his seeing her safely out of this world into the next, and he meant to obey the voice of Duty though it cost him all he valued upon earth. I cannot be untrue to my principles," be said finally, after unprofitable argument had bleached his cheeks and seared his soul. To which Cathy said" Fudge! "If I were, and through you, could you forgive yourself?" I could forgive myself anything," she replied demurely. "Cathy, darling, be reasonable." It is you who are unreasonable. I went surety for your appearance, and you disap- point the Jo" vce-Duffys and their guests, and ME, for the sake of an old granny who has cried wolf twenty times. Don't repeat that this twenty-first "time the wolf may be come in earnest. Repetitions are vain. What can you do for her,- anvwav? You can't give her a safe conduct to heaven." Perhaps I can't do much, but I'll do it faithfully. Stop the jennet at the cross- roads, and I'll get out." "You'd be fairly tolerable," she lamented, "if you weren't cursed with conscientious- tess. "And," she resumed, "when I offered you a lift I didn't intend to iet you get out, but I rated my persuasive powers too highly. Now I'll fall back on bribery and corruption. Come to Tallyho to oblige me and I'l. give you"—her eyes grew arch and bright with merry devilry — "I'll give you a kiss, Mick-ee. He gripped his, knees and breathed heavily. "Two kisses," cooed the temptress. > nd you may drive me home in the gloaming." He adored her, and hitherto his portion had been flouting and the frequent snub. Her Bed, pursed mouth wooed him, drew him cl^er and still closer. A wandering ten- drii oi yellow hair tickled his pallid cheek. and Mickey's fall was so nigh a thing that Catfiy counted the triumph already hers, and crowed aloud. I buy you for to-day, Mickey mine." With a jerk he sat upright, and pushed her from him. "Would you aid Judas to betray his Master?" he cried roughly. Her laugh rang shrill in the hush of the green lane. Don't," he said. It sounds ribald, like the laughter of the multitude that mocked." Bah she retorted, but her voice quavered. "You're not a man, or you'd have kissed me and considered the price afterwards." Am I less than a man, Cathy? She nodded. A little toy curate, Mickey, three-quarters conscience and the rest sawdust. You are absolutely bloodless. You don't know how to love. You! Read up the subject and be ashamed." u "Haven't I proved my love by deed as tvell as word since you left school?" "Fetching and carrying," mocked Cathy. "My dog does the same." Yet when I refuse to emulate your dog you grumble." Oh. don't be tiresome. You needn't bear my yoke a day longer than you choose. You aren't married to Culsheen. "Meaning that I am at liberty to leave it. Eid me go and I'll go, but for God's sake don't fill me with false hopes one day and destroy them the next." I won't do it again, Mickey. If I had the tiniest notion of ever being your wifo I've given it up. Poverty and a country parish wouldn't suit your Cathy. I should die in a twelvemonth. Money and position are what I want, and will get by hook or crook. I'll marry the first eligible man who'll give me those, and take me away from Aunt Too-Too before we rend each other like the Kilkenny cats. Can you think of such a party? Where shall I find him? Bamfylde is not rich." Fancy little Mickey a mind-reader! Lord Darkington's cousin is the very person I had in view. He has a good chance of the title, and the income from the estate is moderately good. Moreover, he admires me, and in lieu cf an American millionaire I'll accept him when he asks me." "He may not ask you." If I'm not engaged to him in two months, Mickey, I'll say Yes to you." Has he led you to believe that he—that he-" "Will propose? You would be as wise as I were that answered," Cathy said, with a flickering smile in her eyes. "Take my as- surance that he will, and cease to trouble about me, Mickey. Here we are at your cross-roads. "This is one of your short-lived whims," he replied, shrinking from belief, still hug- ging his dear delusions. "You are angry because I cannot go to the tournament, and Bamfylde is your weapon of punishment. You couldn't be so mercenary, so cruel-to break my heart." She twisted her shoulders petulantly, half turning her back upon him. It's no use. I mean every word. Your coming wouldn't make the least difference, except that I'd have told you what was 111 j my mind to-morrow instead of blurting it out to-day. Do get down, Mickey. I'm late as it is, and the more we argue the more we I shall disagree." He jumped down, the bleached look age- ing his face, his mouth set in a tight line. I'm not worth a heartache really," she added, offering her hand. You are not," he agreed, refusing to see the hand, and Cathy received a shock, and wondered whether she had gauged his char- acter quite so accurately as she had thought. Her curiosity was piqued. She gazed after his retreating form, and read decision of purpose in the aggressive swing- of his coat- tails and the rigidity of his back. "The idea of Mickey daring!" she gasped. I'll teach him." The jennet suffered vicariously, and re- sented her attentions by kicking the body of the trap till the boards bounced under Cathy's feet. Having reduced her to abject fear 'for the safety of her limbs and finery he tore along as if a thousand fiends were at his heels, and she rose in her seat and shrieked. From the bracken-covered slope of the uplands behind Paradise Hill Chevoral saw them advancing, and plunged to the rescue, but ere he gained the levels the jennet had stopped of its own accord, and was watching panting Cathy out of the cor- ner of a wicked eye. "No harm done, I hope," cried Eric, leap- ing the low roadside ditch and going over to rub the culprit's nose. "There's a snap of ginger in him, but I think he has worked it off, and considering the way you drive him, young lady, he's not t' e worst of his kind." y "Ill-conditioned brute! pouted Cathy, straightening her rakislily tilt.ed hat of lace and cambric, and rather pleased than other- wise at the chance encounter. He had leapt into instant popularity, and she knew the Joyce-Duffy s were anxious to have him at the tennis match, yet lieie he was in tweeds and leggings, leaning lazily on the splash- board of the trap, forgetful of his invitation. "Too busy," he smiled, interpreting her glance "And anyhow I should ask to be excused. These hospitable now acquaint- ances are welcome to my nights, they arc my own, but my days belong to Miss Macara." "It's too disappointing," she said with a babyish droop of the lip. "First Mickey deserts us, then you." "Mickey and I aren't free agents, dear child." child." did you see Flyn lasi? she asked abruptly, "On the day I left the Hill. W 11Y r U "You didn't even hint to her that you wanted the evening. "I don,'t want it, I assure you. "Not if I say I should like you to drive mes "In that case I'd retract the 'doii.t. want, and regret the fate which denied me so great an honour" The somewhat flowery reply, together with his caressing tone, and the intimacy of his manner, suggested to Cathy a warmth of feeling which existed only in her imagina- tion. So had he behaved towards her at the annual county ball when he made his public debut as Darkington's cousin, and scribbled his name half a dozen times on her pro- gramme, and told her she waltzed divinely. She gave him a coy glance, and a pink flush of gratified vanity reminded the exponent of the gentle art of flirtation that im green Arcady he must not exercise his talent too freely lest he be misunderstood. He had no desire to rifle Mickey's dovecot, or to be anything but pleasant and friendly to the girl, but one cannot be ice to a pretty coquette when June's young roses are a-blow. All the same, he resolved to give Mickey no further cause of offence, though Cathy had a guileless way of leading one on and on tiU prudence was lost sight of. "You look profoundly absorbed," said Eric. „ "We are getting a paying guest, and I detest taking a stranger into ,our Ihome," said a would-be doleful Cathy. "I shouldn't like it either." "The living isn't a fat one, and father has lost such a heap of money publishing dry old books nobody will read that we've got to do it or owe Mickey his stipend. Miokey begged us to owe it, but father wouldn't. He advertised in several of the toniest London papers for a paying guest-male, of course, and preferably a middle-aged scientific gentleman, but not a single answer did he receive until to-dav, and to- morrow the advertisement was to be with- drawn. Father didn't give the writer a chance to repent of his folly, but at once grabbed him. He offers generous terms, and his references are Al. He didn't men- tion a word about bcinig scientific or middle- aged, and dad was afraid to ask- him lest bev write back to say he couldn't come. We .L? ?tink, however, after separately per- using ?.tter, that he's elderly and re- ligious. "From London," ejaculated Eric with horrid visions of Uncle Gid on his trail, though Gid could not by any stretch of fancy be called religious. "Might I hear the name ? "It is Ralph Dorn; to be correct, Ralph Halsford Dorn." Eric thanked his stars that he had full control of his facial muscles and did not change colour readily. "Father expects you to dine the night he arrives. He hasn't had time to fix a date, but we believe he intends to com' without delay." d,e "Happy, I'm sure, to—er—meet any of Doctor Mallard's guests," said Eric abstract- edly. He was thinking that the drunken blusterer of the stile, the love-sick Romeo of the window scene, was not lacking either in audacity or determination. Thinking that Flyn must be told, and that for her haughtiness she didn't deserve to be told. "Shall I say you will ride over to Tallyho in the evening?" Cathy inquired, beaming on him as she had never beamed on Mickey, a coaxing note in her voice. He shook his head. Not even for you will I desert my post," he replied playfully. If he held her gloved fingers at parting longer than was necessary Cathy almost com- pelled him to, so closely did she twine them about his hand. When out of sight she let the jennet walk while she opened her purse—the serviceable purse in which she kept her meagre pocket money-and took from it a small square of folded paper, soiled and yellowish, a cutting from a society journal of ancient date. It was a portrait of the man who had just left her, blurred, beardless, but sufficiently like to satisfy her that they were one and the same. She read the printed description be- neath it: Eric: Nephew and heir of Vis- I count Cheveral." I And Darkington's cousin had a comrade named Cheveral," she murmured, gloating over her secret knowledge. It would be a splendid match for me." I CHAPTER VI. I ENTER THE SERPENT On an evening destined to be memorable he met Flyn, and stopped her when she would have passed him by. Now, Miss Macara, I've got you," he smiled, and we'll fight our battle out and make peace. Why have you avoided me since you gave me that polite hint to leave the Hill?" I had nothing particular to say to you, and you were enjoying yourself, weren't you? Drowning sorrow," he corrected. Come, we were rude to each other; let's forgive and start afresh. I hate being at loggerheads with a lady." "What have you to forgive?" she de- manded fiercely. But he was wary and would not again commit himself. "No use reopening old sores. Our naughty passions rose, and we are sorry, and no more need be said." I am not sorry in the least," she rejoined. her face hot. You might pretend to be," said Eric. "Do, for one day." Flyn stared under the crook of his elbow and scowled. "Do," he urged. The Irish terrier you sent to Owlet's Nest is lonesome and wants to see you. I promised that lie should, first opportunity, and here's the very finest op- portunity, but 'unless you are nice we can't make the most of it. There's the Wisp, too, eager to have your opinion of the sitting- room wall paper, chosen by her, a swate pat- tern, purple roses on a buff ground." You are asking me to visit the Nest?" derisively. "On a double errand of charily." "Wouldn't it be the unpardonable sin?" "Whisper it low, it would if *you were !> chatterbox Cathy." He laughed, and her I tense lips curved deliciously, catching the in- fection of his humour. go, she said impulsively, but only to look at the dog." The dog's master is content. We'll have a cup of tea in the porch, and I'll take you home. Have you been ill? I notice black hollows under your eyes, and your cheeks are sunken, and your mouth sags at the corners where it used to turn up." "Aren't you rude?" she cried. "A pri- vileged friend might venture to disparage my appearance, a stranger may not." "I hope to be numbered among your pri- vileged friends." They arc few and insignificant." The fewer the better," he retorted. There'll 'be more of you to go round. And what girl could remain stubborn after that? Maybe I wronged you," he said as they went vallevwards, and it was illness, not pride and temper, that forced you to send your orders through Jaffe, and receive my reports through the same dry channel." He got no reply, and continued, tilting his head to the sky: Perhaps I hit the truth when I blamed pride and temper. You have your full share of both." Flyn was dumb, but she lifted her hands to her face like a child and wept. Down came the high head, and panic seized him. Miss Macara," he stammered, I—I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to hurt you. 1 —I—don't cry that way, please don't. "I can't do it any other way," she sobbed, the feeble witticism provoking her to strangled mirth mixed with tears, till in her distress she railed at him for causing her hysteria. You drew such a pathetic picture of poor Flyn Macara wasting to a shadow that she had to blubber in sheer self-pity," said this sturdy little person, dabbing her eyes vici- ously, and glaring over the hem of her hand- kerchief. I'd like you to know that Flyn Macara isn't pining, or going into a decline, and she has no troubles, and doesn't see why you should be officiously sorry for her." Her pertness, and the descent from pathos to bathos, offended him, so they walked on silently and were relieved when the cottage came into sight in the cup of a valley lying between hills. Its front windows looked towards the back of Paradise, and a road which cut the plain and wound round the base of Flyn's own hill to join the main road was all that saved the Nest from utter isolation. "It's desperately lonely," she said, and then—for she had as many moods as an I April morning. (To be Continued.)

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