ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3320, 12 September 1911, Page 3

ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

(By L. T. Meade, author of "A Son ! of Ishmael.” etc.) A RECORD OF PLOT AND PASSION. CHAPTER XLVIII, MORE ABOUT THE LITTLE WOMAN. The little woman left the boy and went hack to her kitchen. There she sat with her hands folded on her lap and a look of consternation, even teiroi , on her small crabbed face.

"What do it mean?” she repeated. "There’s no doubt they- ha’ put a coffin in the, vault, but there ain’t no little Sir Piers in it.”

Mrs Ives’ thoughts were so disturbing that, weary as she was, she did not care tot go to bed. She drew a glass of beer from a, barrel in the corner, drank it off, and after a very long time lay down without troubling to undress in the iloom where the boy slept. Early in the morning he awoke fresh and bright. He scrambled out of bed and went to the-old woman's side. Ha then sat at the bottom of the bed and faced her.

"You’ve come hack,” he said. "I’m so glad 1 .”

"I have come back, Piers,” she answered.

"Where were you yesterday, grannie?”

"I went on a long iournie into’ Devonshire. ’ ’

'Oh,” said Piers very solemnly, "I wish yon wouldn’t.” "Why so, love? Do you object to me going into the next county?”

"I do,” replied Piers, "because ” "Yes, clear.” "Oh, I can’t tell you. She’ll be ang(iw.” "Who, dear?” "She.” "Ho you mean mv darter—Mrs Tarhot?” "I do, grannie.” ‘Well, whether she’s angry or whether Elbe’s not,” said Mrs Ives, "I went sure enough. You sit there on the bed and I’ll tell you a bit of a story. I went to a beamful place.” "Did yen?” said the hoy. He was trembling and the colour was coming and. going in his face. One moment ais cheeks were brilliantly red, the next white. His little hands shook, he locked cue inside the ether to keep them still.

“A real beautiful place,” continued Mrg Ives. “I won’t name no names, for names is worriting to the young, but I went there and saw a very lovely young lady.” "A young lady,” repeated little Piers. "I like lovely ladies. Was she more beautiful than your darter, grannie?” "My darter and she ain’t in the same runnin.’ You know how freckled my poor Clary is, but there wern’t a freckle on her face, bless her, and. her eyes were as brown as hazel nuts and vide open, and with a sparkle in the middle of ’em.” "I once knew eyes like that,” said little Piers. "Please don’t say any more.” "Why not, love. It was a beautiful place, and she was good l to me, and took me down to the house. Oh, there was a. mortal long avenue—two miles, if you believe me, Piers.” "Two miles!” said little Piers.

“What’s the matter, dear?”

"Nothing, but your story makes me sad. I once knew an avenue two miles long.” "No! did you, love? That’s curl-

ous, very. “I did/’ said little Piers. “You may go on talking if you like, grannie.” “I’m glad you’re interested, my hearty, and I’m willing to go on. The young lady with the pretty brown eyes took me down to the -house and I was took into the housekeeper’s room. Dear heart! the house-keeper was mortal stout. I don’t believe she’s long for this world.” Little Piers got crimson. “She is,” he cried, “she is.” “She’s not, love. She’s too stout to live.” “She’s not a bit top stout,” said little Piers. “Why do you say that, dear? You don’t know her, do you?” “I won’t say whether I know her or not,” returned the boy firmly, “but she’s not too stout. She’s a darling. I love her.” > “What’s the matter with you, Piers?” “I don’t like that story. It reminds me of ” “Of what, love?” “My secret. Ple&»o don’t tell me any more, grannie.” “I won’t if it frets you, dear heart. Go and put on your things, and we’ll both have our breakfast. You must be very hungry.” “No, I seem to lose hunger when you talk about the house, and the housekeeper, and the brown eyes of that beautiful, most beautiful girl.” “Then I won’t say another word. On, by the way, they was all in soirow.” “Were they? What about?” “It seems there was a little chap that—but what is the riiatteiy Piers ?” “I won’t listen, I won’t, I won’t,” cried Piers. He clapped his hands to his ears and rushed out of the room. “He shall come into his own. There's a cruel sin somewhere, and Clary is at the bottom of it,” said Mrs Ives to herself. (To be Continued To-morrow.)