THE DAUGHTER OF A PRODICAL.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3229, 27 May 1911, Page 5

THE DAUGHTER OF A PRODICAL.

BY BERTHA M. CLAY, Authoress of “The Ironmaster’s Daughter,” Etc. CHAPTER XIX. LOVE DECIDES. Vera examined the next morning’s letters with feverish haste. There was no news of Mr Tredcroft, and, although she had not really expected any, she was conscious of a vague sense of disappointment. There was one letter for herself from Mr Varden, the tenour of which was almost joyous. Dear Miss Lynn (he wrote), — I have some pleasing news for you. After all, Haz-lobank will not go out of the family. ' Earl C'awdthorpe has redeemed everything. Mr C'orston was obliged to realise, and I am in a position to state that he personally approached your uncle, an,d negotiations are practically through. As Earl Cawdthorpe is unmarried, you are his next-of-kin, but we will not anticipate. . . lam gratified 1 to learn that you are progressing so well, and! I admire your courageous and independent spirit.

There was a lot more, and in, every line the unselfish and whole-souled natr ure of the man was revealed. So it was quite' true that Mr Corstou was financially •embarrassed, and it was some relief to know that lie would never lord it over Hazlebank. It would take a long time to disabuse her mind of the belief that lie had ruined both her father and her lover with the deadliest of sinister motives. That he would he hoisted by his own petard bad' not ea tered into the calculation of the redfaced, loud-voiced brewer, but his punishment was just, if not exactly poetic At the moment that was Vera’s uncharitable opinion, and she clung to it tenaciously. Barker looked into the library at the usual hour, and Vera nodded brightly. Saturday was always a busy day for Barker.' He bad to attend at the bank, to draw sufficient cash for the wages of a thousand! workmen, and then motor round to the different works with the money. There were coal mines at Dalby, an iron foundry, and an engineering concern at Exton, forges and rolling mills at Donnington, besides the re-opening of the Birehills colliery. For nearly a century had the name of Tredcroft been indissolubly associated with these linos of industry, and high grade minerals, iron ore and coal, bail been taken from the earth and 1 turned into millions. The luck of the Tredcrofts passed all understanding. Successively they had owned vast tracts of lands stored with minerals. They had only to dig and take. There was ore for the blast furnaces, and' within easy reach the precise fuel with which to smelt and purify the ore, until it streamed from the roaring ovens into serried channels and became valuable iron. There were rivals in the manufacture, but they could not compete with the Tredcrofts. Either their raw materials were widely separated or they had no canals. Thus it came about that the name of Tredcroft was held in fear and! hatred by those who could not command the same natural resources. But in the last twenty or thirty years both- America and Germany had made vast strides in the industrial world. The cream of Britain’s mechanics had been attracted to the New World by the higher wages and the greater freedom and equality. Then came science of the highest order, and'Britain was’leH a' long way behind. More brains and less?brawn and muscle was; now orjlei; of things. Marvel- - toffs 1 electricity. And soothe- Tredcroft name began to wane until Julian Tredcroft came into power and brought his new fangled! notions and up-to-date machinery from America. Bitter was the outcry—savage the heart-burnings, and there were some who spoke openly in their blind hate of destryoing him and his works. The masters incited the men. If the work was ‘to be done by machinery what would become, of the men and their wives and! children ?

Anonymous letters breathing death and destruction were becoming monotonous. ' There was one that morning.

“I have destroyed a number of similar things,” Mr Barker observed, “but I think that they should be placed 1 before Mr Tredcroft in future. He appears to be ringed with steel,” he added rather grimly. “By the way, Miss Hope, I have gone over the ground carefully in: the coppice which fringes the wood, and there are certain traces V

She glanced up swiftly. “I hope you managed' to enjoy yourself yesterday,” he continued urbanely. “My motor passed you last evening. Personally, I abhor those antiquated station carriages.”

He yawned 1 , but behind his assumed carelessness his manner was distinctly disagreeable. Vera faced him with kindling eyes; be was defiant, too, and it was only by: an effort that he maintained his composure. " A dull, red spot had mounted! to either cheek. . “You were speaking,” she said faintly, “of- the coppice, and traces of someone.” '

“I hope lam awake! You have fooled me to the top of my bent.” He was scornfully angry; then with.a muttered imprecation he turned and left the room.

Vera was bewildered. Barker was labouring under some delusion. It usually took a great deal to disturb bis serenity; or, at least, be had remarkable control over bis emotions, but now he was • seething almost to explosive point. She ran to the door, and saw him striding along the ball. She was about to call out to him } but checked the impulse. She would make no appeal to the man. He had been guilty of gross impertinence. She went back to her chair in the library. A death-like silence seemed to be upon everything. Vera was depressed by her responsibility, then, exhilarated to think that there would soon be an end of it. She longed to be away from Tredcroft Hall; it's very atmosphere reeked with mystery, intrigue, and murder. She sat dbwn at her -writingdesk, and, seizing pen and paper, sketched an imaginary conversation with Julian Ttedcroft. She pictured his mood when he heard of the dangers that were besetting him —the truth about Barker, and' her own determination to leave as soon as he would permit. Would he treat it all as a jest? Would) he tremble with fear, or rage with fury? No matter, the end would be the same, and she never doubted that lie wouldl be kind and considerate toward her.

Vera seated herself in the window, and made an effort to read. There were plenty of the newest books, English, American, 'French and German. For a full half hour she sat with her eyes fixed upon the printed pages. She had turned) over several leaves—reading every word, and remembering nothing. Then came the sound of a clanging gate, and she dropped the book. She hear a Julian Tredcroft’s voice, and her heart began to leap. He was speaking to one of the servants —a gardener. He came along the drive, chatting cheerily with the man. There was some question about thinning the tops of a belt of huge fir trees- The recent windstorm had given them a severe shaking, and they were unsafe. 'Mr Tredcroft and the gardener came to a halt close to the oriel window, and the man urged the master to “have a look” at thetrees. “Very well, Macpherson, come along.” He laughed. “I know I shall have no rest until I do.” Fie saw Vera- at the window, and raised his hat, his whole face becoming radiant. How could anyone who knew the man associate him with Michiavelism ! There was not the faintest trace

of anxiety in his appearance—or his manner, notwithstanding her urgent telegram, and the terrible dangers he

knew were surrounding him. It was quite ten minutes before she heard the returning voices of master and mail. The question of lopping the firs was evidently a painful one for the gardener, but the slaughter was imperative if they were to be saved from utter annihilation by the next wind storm. i At last Julian Tredcroft got rid of the man, and walked tip to the parlour window- One of the casements was wide open, and lie spoke to Vera: . ' / ! .“I got your wire yesterday, and I am here. It spoilt a very' plefisant time.” He shrugged liis shoulders; “I will see you in. an hour or' -so—am hungry and tired." You are bothered, I can see. ' I hope it is not on my : account?”

He was regarding her kindly, and she was conscious of some of her stern resolutions melting like snow in the sun. “I have a great- deal to tell you, Mr Tredcroft,’ she said. She shivered from head to foot. “You will find me here when : ——” “When!” he interrupted seriously. “Confound it, I am putting too much responsibility on your small shoulders. It’s a shame. I'll hurry through, Miss Hope, and in the meantime don't you bother about me, or anybody else. Do you hear?” She nodded.

(To he continued on Monday.)