MORNA DALE; OR, The Guardian's Forgery.

B_ SYLVANUS COBB, Jk.

CHAPTER XIII. ENTRAPPED.

ivsui- montis had passed since Ralph's prance, during which time Morna __ remained with Dr. Laybrook, having • -ted til© Grange only once, and then to t|Ufc a fewr lloul' s- Slie could not ke the place seem like home. At every ,n she was reminded of the loved ones ~_. everything she saw gave her pain by association. The «eW yeftr a dawned, and bhe nn th of January had passed. All effort Srds tlie Uncling of Dr. Aslimore had Led but the stol'y liad not ff^own old. Tfffas st,ill a subJecfc of eamesfc conversa ,L in public places and private, and the vstcry attending it made it interesting. 7 V ery few there were who once in a great. fhile whispered the names of Jonas and Torn Crandal in connection with the affair, Lt in the minds of the sobe*; thinking 4s the. had ceased to be thought of as Lrffl" h'een in any way engaged in tho ttM Ifc was thou Sht tliafc ho liad !te been killed and robbed, or thab he yjjfome way mado himself feared by Sliders who infested the coast, and IrhrP 11* llim out of t]ie way as a '"'^self-preservation. jjeeiacl been one. other disappearance .■ (faJlingham that afforded subject of BDci conjecture. Mortimer Riyers's old j-aieu clerk, whom everybody had felt sympathy for, and whom many had p.'notwithstandinglns erratic course— jjjfjjey Werter —had gone from tlie place. Jehad finished up the business he had to _'• hidfurnished the last copy demanded ,!__ hands, and had then disappeared. Jfen of reliability said they had seen him jj London, at Lisooln's Inn, looking the jjmeasever, only sober. Really, the people ofthetawn could have spared a better man. jj e .as becoming useful; and had he kept ■ M berand attended to business lie might toe had very much of Rivera's business intrusted to him. Further, there were questions continually arising in relation to old contracts, conveyances, sessions of court, which he alone could answer ; and now that he was gone, the good people wore wrplexed. ' "Why did he go?" Everybody asked the question, but nobody answered it iutel lirrently. A few said the poor fellow was homesick—lonesome without bis old master. Kb. a'soul in Wallingham dreamed of sjiino-the steward of Dale Abbey if he could tell. ° '."" Tie truth was: In a moment of great temptation—moved, too, by a great dread— the poor wretch had consented to forge a deed of guardianship, and to forcre Mortimer Rivera's name thereto ; but he had not tbe coinage; he had not the heart to stand up incqnrtand make oatli to the validity of that deed. ' Akd he clearly saw that such a call would surely be mafic upon him should he be within reach. Perhaps, too, Jonas Crandal wished him away.

February had some, finding our heroine still at the good old doctor's, in Walling km. One afternoon a servant informed her that a gentleman wished to see her in ihe front drawing-room. She went in, and ml Jonas Crandal. He wa3 dressed in jjaiu, deep black, and his manner was wdestand subdued. The look upon his ke, as he greeted her, was really kind and •ppathetic. She could not know that he Mjracfeed that very expression before _nirror ; but such was the fact. "Horna," he said, after he had motioned tot to a seat, and had seated himself —bhe name on his lips as he spoke ib neither starfcM nor offended her—" Morna, I have Tsntured to call upon you, hoping that I night persuade you to give me your help in settling the affairs at the Grange. Do you realise that, thus far, since your father's death, not a thing towards a settlemenb has been done ? I have thought bhab, under the peculiar circumstances, it might be more pleasant for you if I were to turn oyer the old home to your care and super rision entirely. Then you can retain such sen-ants as you please, and make yowr own arrangements for paying them. What «lo you think of it?"

She was rejoiced beyond the power of k»r tongue to teH. For the time her troubles were forgotten. The thought that the dear old Grange would be hers, to rule Mid govern as she pleased ; that she could care for it and pay the servants was happi fy ing.

"Of course," pursued Crandal, before she could find words for reply, " tbe Abbey b yours, to claim it for your home, if you fish; but 1 have -"

"Q, no, no! I don't want to live at the Abbey. I love the dear old Grange, mere I was born, and where —" ."Never mind, dear lady," said the steward, as her voice broke, and her tears test forth-he spoke softly and kindly. I understand all you feel, and you have my keenest sympathy. I will .not detain you now; but will you set a day when you mil come out to the Cove and help me to arrange the business 1 It need-not take us a great while." _Morna spoke quickly, and with inberesb. ™c said she could come ab any bime. He *ould name a day and an hour that would M convenient to him. "Then, suppose, if it be fair, that I «rae over to-morrow morning, after break- Hand drive you out?" . wna had [her own horses, and aeon 'ttient carriage. There was not snow *»2h for sleighing, and she preferred •at her groom should drive her over. With l«e she said: ~ Really, my poor ponies need the exer ?i and, moreover, it would be entirely •SScessary for you to put yourself to so ** trouble. I will be at the Grange.God i^-, at nine o'clock to-morrow morn-

:,iad I will be ready for you. I like It suits me in every Bk And with that he bade her a re ff"" "Good-day," and was gone, his j^.lopk being a smile, gentle and j^hen left alone, the gfrl asked herself, jfflffl. all along misjudged Jonas Crandal? W U? man could have appeared to B__ advan tage than had he during the JJJW; and, further, he had mani '.f 0 a disposition to place her at her ease, Ss£_ her lofc«» Pleasant and endurable brolt ea f& came to speak with Dr. Lay tW, an his Sood wife on the subject, \J. Tere nraeh gratified. The doctor bad itafW-*1 *1 tnafc n0 manner of sebtle bedn yet been made ; bub if it could »°% aU would be well. , C t _ If _T lk all," he said, * that Mr C 3 means well. He must be an Would a. a _dmeth°dical, orSir William \iit___-' noti-.have employed him so long «B__S_& °* confidence. And, Morna, easily i ? k y°Ul-' father was a man to be -WtoW^ He > I kno'v ' had the & |?Phcit trust in his brother's agent, Tol R mp^ him his own speaks s.?.However, you need have very

little to do with the man, any way. Of course you will remain with *s till the warm spring-time comes."

"If I may—o ! yes." " If you do not, you will leave sad hearts behind you."

Morna kissed them both, and said she would stay.

On the following Morning, as soon as she had eaten her breakfast, our .heroine made ready for her ride, hot- maid, Helen, to bear her company. Her groom and coachman was a young man of five-and-bwenty — George Latham, by name—whose parents resided on one of flic Grange farms, and whom she had known since- she could remember. He was strong, competent, nnd faithful. By the time she was; ready tbe conveyance was at the door, and she bade her kind host and hostess an affectionate good-bye, promising that she would return on the following «lay, if not before. Ah ! little dreamed they how they should next meet!

Ab bhe Grange Morna found Mr Crandal waiting for her.

"Ah! I am glad you did not come before," he said, as he conducted the maiden towards the library, •"fom left me this morning, and I shall be my own master. Ho was good enough, and re spectful in his way, but he was fond of offering bis opinion where it was not wanted."

" Where has he cone ?" asked Morna, with a sense of relief.

"He will go to London first." She did not notice the peculiar emphasis of tlie words " will yo," but it was there. " And from London he may go to India. There is much to be done out there."

They had reached the library, and before the young mistress had removed any of her outer clothing a coach from tho Abbey came rattling up the brood drive-way to the door of the old hall, and presently a servant, who had been on the- box with the driver, entered his master's presence. "Francis! What now? What in the world does this mean ?"

The new-comer was Jonas Crandal. body- j servant—his valet—a man adapted n every j way to serve him ; bold, unscrupulous, and ; fearless, yet faithful to the man whose money he took for bis services ; his name, Francis Oakes ; and he had been a seaman' ] in his day—probably under a revolving I commission. i

■If ever a man appeared astonished at sight of another, Mr Crandal so appeared as his valet entered the library of the Grange on the present occasion. But Francis had been educated. He was never at fault in the part given him to play.

"It means, your honour," answered the servant, with a profound obeisance, "that Mr Blackmore is ab the Abbey, and has not a great many minutes to spare." "Mr Blackmore! -At the Abbey! —Why, be told me he could not possibly come until afternoon."

"So he said, sir-; but a man he was to i have met at his office in WaUtngham dis appointed him, and be was obliged bo come ' over this morning; or not at all." | Mr Crandal took a turn across the room, and when he oame back, his face had be come as a summer evening's sky when all is calm and serene, and he was able to smile as he spoke. • i

" Well, really, it does not make much , difference. Dear lady, I have not spoken ; to you of a matter of very important busi ness at the Abbey in which you are chiefly ; interested. Perhaps you are aware that the Dale jewel.-by far the mosi of them—have been in my charge since yosr Uncle Wrlliam went away... In the last letter to me,-written on his death-bed, he said to me that I should place them myself in the hands of his brother, and heir, Lawrence, mak ing no provision for thab brother's death. > I can consent to keep them no longer. While in town yesterday, I called on Mr . Blackmore—l think, you have met him ?" i

Alberb Blackmore was one of the besb and mosb popular abborneys in the county ; and since the death of Mortimer Hivers he bad taken the- lead at the bar in that judioial district. Yes, Morna knew him very well. She had met him at Dr. Lo.ybrook's, and had dined once ai his own house, in nompany wibh the doctor and his wife.

"Well," pursued Jonas, "I had deter mined tha-t I would deliver bhose jewels— they are mostly diamonds—to you ; and I wished that Mr Blackmore should be {present bo give me a proper voucher for bhe delivery. I suppose yo_ are aware that your signature, though good enough, Heaven knows, we .id not sband. in law. '

Tlie girl nodded meekly,

"So I thought of Blackmore. I stated to him the facte in Uhe case, and be said he would come with pleasure. Further, if you wish it, he will take care of them for you, and safely deposit them at your bankers'. But," he went on, as Morna's face grew bright, "he bold me he should nob be able to come till after noon. However, you have heard my servant's explanation of that." " My dear master," venbured the valeb, timidly, " the lawyer is certainly very anxious to have his work done, and be off. I think if you explain on the way, it will be as well."

Jonas turned to the maiden in Etppavent perplexity. " Morna!"—beseechingly, " I thing we ought to go at once. There are a few old cabinet pictures that your uncle bade me give directly to you, Those can remain till another time. The diamonds are all gathered into a compact shape ; are in separate parcels, numbered and lebbered, and regularly catalogued. Ib will not take us half an hour to do all we have to d» there; and then I will bring Mr Blackmore here, and he will help us in this business. He pro mised me he would do so, and I shall hold him to it."

Morna did nob hesitate a moment. That bhere could be a lie in the story she had heard, had not entered her wildest imagin ings. "I will go with you, sir. I will call Helen." " Need you disturb her ! 0 ! he quickly added, as he caught the look of sur prise she turned towards him,— " I forgot your riding alone with me. Ten thou sand pardons, I implore.. Your maid will very soon be ready, I have no doubt." Helen was quickly on hand, having only removed her hood and cloak ; and Mr Cran dal started to lead the way towards the outer door. Morna only stopped long ' enough to speak wibh her good old butler, Robert Dabney—to tell him where she was going, and that she would probably have company to lunch ; then she followed her conductor to the coach ; was assisted in ; Helen then got in by her side, the steward e-tered and took the front seat, and in a moment more they were off. The distance from the Grange to the Abbey was nOb more than half a mile, and the spirited horses w .re not many minutes in covering it. Morna had always felt- that she should not like to live at Dale Abbey., It re minded her of a prison. Many oi the apartments, especially of the modern por tions, were spacious and airy, and luxuri ously furnished; yet the great, high, bhick walls, wibh the ponderous gate at the entrance to the inner court, and bhe gloomy old turret and battlements,; had always rendered the place oppressive to her when she. thought of it as a permanent home, as compared with the light, graceful, pleasant old Grange, with its beautiful

gardens, and its bowers and vistas anion. the grand did trees of the park. S Tim coach stopped at the foot of tlie vestibule of the structure, and our heroine was assisted to alight. Then she followed Mr Crandal up the steps, to the vestibule, and into the hall, where he turned and spoke, still wearing the smiling, friendly l«ok. • J

"I have had bhe jewels deposited in the chamber which was formerly occupied by Lady Theresa, and there Mr Black more will join us. He may be there already.

Morna Signified her readiness bo follow by a nod, and the steward burned and led the way up tho front stairs, to the hall above. Thence be went a short distance to tho right, then turned to the left, into a narrow passage, on each side of which were deep arches, with smaH circular loopholes, glazed, looking out upon a rear court feelow, while on tlie right hand were small doors, set deep in the thick masonry of the wall, or partition, leading to rooms beyond. Morna knew that this was one of the oldest parts of the building, and one of the strongest—the very place, she told herself, where valuable jewels would be kept for safety. She wondered if Lady Theresa — that was her Uncle William's wife had ever occupied apartments here. Why not ? Thero might be pleasant outlooks' beyond some of these doors.

At length the guide opened a door on the right, and he stepped back while the lady and her maid passed on. On crossing bhe threshold they found themselves in a small, scantily and plainly furnished room which appeared to be an ante-room to a larger apartment beyond ; and so ib proved. Mr Crandal had followed bhem, closing bhe iirsb door behind him ; then he came on, ard threw open the door next in order, moving back, as beforo, while they entered.

Morna looked about her in surprise. She was in an apartment of moderate dimensions well bub plainly furnished, with a bed in one corner, and a large old cabinet, or clothes-press, in another. Two doors were open, giving her views of two other rooms, both smaller than that in which she stood, and still more plainly furnished. In ono of them, on her left hand as she entered, she saw anobher bed, and a case of drawers. In the other, which was opposite to the ante room through which she had come, she saw a wash-stand and a small bathing-pan. There were two windows in this main apartment, both on the same side, but quite email, and protected by iron bars.

"Now, my dear young ladies, you can remove your outer garments, and rest. I will Hot you know when your presence is re quired. .

And wibh this he turned and left, them, and immediately after the door had been closed behind him they heard the rattling of a key and the rumble and clidk of a heavy lock.

CHAPTER XIV. JONAS SHOWS HIS HANI). Feu a time mistress and maid regarded each other in silence, neikher seeming in clined to beliere tho evidence of her own senses. They both moved bowards the door, where Jonas Crandal had passed out, at the same instant. They caught the heavy iron latch and lifted it, and then pressed againsb bhe door, tihrow bheir com bined weight againsb ib, bub to no avail. They moved back a pace and teok breath, then made another attempt, but effected nothing. Morna was the first to speak. She saw that her faithful attendant, in lior great sympathy, was ready to burst forth into a wail of distress, and she wished not te hear it. Ab bhab momenb, wibh this daring outrage —this wickod, cruel wrong — staring her in the face — a mystery; neither bhe purpose nor the outcome at which she could comprehend, she wished to be calm and to think.

" Hush ! hush !" she said, putting forth her hand, and laying it upon tie girl's arm. " Dear Helen, do not give way bo despair. Leb us look ab bhis bhing calmly. I wanb to bhink whab ib means. 0! I cannot believe that he will be allowed to do me any great wrong. How can he? My friends will all know where I am, and, of course, bhey will make an effort in »y be half. The hrw will protect me." " O ! lady ! wbat is there that dreadful man may nob do ! Whab a hypocribe he can bo ! Did you suspecb anybhing wrong ?" "No, Helten I did not. Until I had seen bhe inside of bhis aparbment I had nob a shadow of suspicion. I had nob thought a man conld lie so basely and so exten sively. Oh, what a wicked', wicked man he is !"

Ab this point, with a sense of feverish oppression, she threw off her hat and her cloak, then took the mantle from her neck and the gloves from her hands. And then she sank into a seat and thought the matter over. Her thoughts were clear and rapid. She began ab the beginning and called to mind every circumstance. While she was thus engaged Helen moved a chair close under one of the high windows, and stood upon ib, and looked oub. The view was contracted to bhe eastern half of bhe rear court. She had been gazing forbh bub a few moments when an exclamation of fierce vindictiveness attracted the at tention of her misbress, who looked quickly, asking whab she had seen. " Oh ! dear lady ! the pair oJE them !—the hateful villains I—are walking in the court below. No doubt they are talking about us."

" Who are the ' pair of them,' Helen ?" " Who should they be but Jonas Crandal and that wicked son of his—Tom ?"

" Tom ! No, no. taken. Tom, has—"

You must be mis-

She did not finish bhe sentence. If the fabher had lied about everybhing else, why may nob his story of Tom's going to London be a lie as well ? She went to the window and stood by Helen's side, and looked out; and, sure enough, she saw Tom Crandal, in corporeal substance, walking to and fro in company with his father. "Oh! the villain! the villain!" she groaned, as she resumed her seat. A few moments she sat, bowed under the weight of her great agony, then she looked up, with blazing eyes, and the flush of a warm colour in her face.

" Helen ! he can do nobbing to harm me, unless he shall resort to direct force ; and that he dare not do. We are in England, and friends are near—friends who will strain every nerve in my behalf as soon as they know that lam missing. And that — thab—will be very soon. Your fabher wiH. miss me at noon. I told him, almosb bhe very lasb thing before I left the Grange, that I should be back to lunch ; and he was to be -ready for company to come with me. —Ha!"

At that moment the opening of a door was heard, not far away—it seemed to be bhe outer door of the anbe-room,—and pre sently they heard the movement of a key in the lock of bbeir own door. A few seconds laber ib was opened, and a woman entered. A quick, low 'cry of horror and alarm burst from Morna's lips as ber eyes rested upon the new-comer ; for she remembered her as one to whom, on a certain day during the summer last (j past, she had refused money when it had been asked for. Tlie woman had been intoxicated at the time—so badly, intoxicated that she fell, and Morna helped her to arise, and received a shower of vulgar and frightfully ,

profane abuse for her kindness. And of •a tenant of her father's, who chanced to be passing at the time, she had learned the poor unfortunate's name. She was known as Nanny Downer, and was bhe wife of one of the Walling Cove Smugglers. And this woman was now at the Abbey, and had free access to herself ! What did it mean ? In her own mind bhe query was •answered as soon as asked. Jonas Cran dal had obtained the services of a female as bold and as bad as himself—a female as wicked, and as unscrupulous. He had feared, evidently, bo trust his own servants, all of whom, so far as she knew, loved her ; or at least, would not willingly do her wrong. But Nancy was not long in making her business known. " My leddy, I'm coom ber see 'f ye wanb any think I can do for ye." Her voioe was thick and coarse, but not at all unkind. 11l fact, she appeared to speak as pleasantly as it was in her power to do ; bub there was a dogged expression about the heavy lips, and in the humid, bloodshot eyes, that told very plainly that she was not apt to be in a melting mood.

Morna's first impulse had been to shrink from the woman, and treat her as her out raged feelings -prompted; but second thoughts were different; and, perhaps, bettor. At all events nothing could be gained by exciting the creature's ill-will. " No, Nancy," she said, calmly, and steadily, but with no false show of kindly feeling. Such a thing the woman would ab once have seb down for what ib was worth. "If you can give me any information, I should like it. I want nothing else." " Lord love ye, me leddy ! I can't tell ye Biothink ye'd care tor know, 'cause, d'ye see, the master hasn't told me. I'm only tor see 't ye don't want for wibtles an' drink, and the like o' that."

"Are you engaged here at the Abbey, Nancy ?" " Oho !— ye haint forgot my name, have ye ?" bhe poor outcast said, laughingly. " No, -1 remembor ytm. You once asked m_ for money. Do you remember that I offered to take you to my own home, —to give you shelter, and rest, and food ?" " Aye," returned Nancy, with a comical leer ; " and 1 remember how ye picked me up, and how I swore at ye ; but, bloss yer dear heart! ye won'b lay bhab up againsb mo I know."

•' No, no, Nancy. I knew ab [the time you did not mean it. But you have _ot answered my question. Are you engaged here at the Abbey ?"

" Only for a little while, My husband — Bert we call 'im, but his name is Albert— sometimes has business wi' Mr Crandal ; and that sometimes b rungs me here. I was bore bwo weeks ago, and I've been here ever since."

" Did Mr Crandal engage your services so long ago as that?" "I do' 'no' what ye call ib. He said he'd like tor have me stop wi' him ; ho said he'd havo sQinethink for mo to do before a great while ; and he never spoke again till last night. Then he said I'd have work for to-day. And now I've got id. It's ter talfc care o' you, I s'sposo ; and I mean tor do it. You shan't want for nothink I can get or give me, nor nothink I can do for ye."

Morna had no desire to prolong the conversation. Evidently Nancy Downer was not so simple-hearted as she had ap peared. She had talked freely enough about matters of no moment; but should she be questioned concerning the man who had employed her, her tongue would be tied. She waited until satisfied that the lady had no further question to ask ; then, with a light of something like intelligence, in her dull eyes, sho said, pointing oub by a wave of the hand the different localities as sho came to them :

" Leddy, I'll jest toll ye—this be ycr own room, and thab your own bed. Yonder is your maid's place, where she can hear ye whenever ye speak. And yonder', ycr plaoe for washin'. Yell find fresh water bhere all bhe bime."

Morna thanked her for her information, and shortly afterwards she went away, un locking the door to let herself out, and ro locking it on the other side.

Time passed. Morna looked at her watch, and fonnd it very near noon ; and she had turned to answer a question of Helen's, when the door of her prison cham ber was again opened, and Jonas CraiuM entered her presence.

He came in smiling ; but ii was not suoh

a smile as she bad see* on bis face in the morning. It was malevolent, with a gleam of triumph in ib.

" Well, my dear Morna," lie said, as he stopped wibhin bwo yards of where she stood, " no doubt you have been anxiously expecting me. But here lam ; awd I have come to give you full information. Have you thought my condwet very strange ?" "Mr Crandal," she said, still standing, " I need not remind you of the cruel, wicked falsehoods of which you were guilty last evening and this morning—" "No," broke in the dark-faced man, before she had done speaking. " I knew exactly what I was doing ; and I felt that tbe end would justify the means which 1 found it necessary to adopt." "Justify, sir! Do you-talk of justifica tion of such an outrage ?"

" Easy, easy, my dear girl. Suppose a refractory child will not submit to parental authority, has not the father a right* to use stratagem, if necessary, to bring the truant under subjection ?"

'' Well, sir,—what of that ? Why do you produce that figure to me? You do not claim the authority of a parent over me, I suppose ?"

" Indeed, my clear child, —I do that very thing ! To all intents and purposes I am your parent. Ab all events, lam clothed with the full and unconditional powers of a guardian over you." "Over a portion of my property, per haps, but even that can be set aside by the court.. Over myself you have no authority whatever ; and you know ib !"

" Morna, —sit down ! Sib ye down, and I will show you something that will en lighten you. Come!"

He pointed to the very chair from which she had arisen, and without a word, and with but a second of hesibabion, she sank down. Then he drew up a chair close bo her side, and motioned for the maid to be seated near at hand. He was perfectly will ing she should see and hear. His Bearing changed as he sat down. The wicked, cruel smile was gone, and in its place had some a look of- earnest business interest. It was as though he had something of importance which he had come to communicate. He put his hand into his bosom, and drew forth a large pockeb-book, from which he book a folded paper. He opened ib, and exposed bo her gaae, on bhe lower margin, or near thereto, a wribten name.

" Morna ! Look at that signature. Look well, and tell me who wrote it."

She looked. Slue gave first a glance; then closed her eyes, hoping it mighb dis appear ; for something seemed bo whisper to her that there was danger in the paper. She did not speak; she could" not. A great horror had settled down upon her. But waib. Lob him read ib.

" Morna 1 who wrote that ?" " I think—my father's hand traced that name."

" Aye, ib did. Wibh his own pen-or with one of Mortimer Hivers's pens—he wrote ib bhere at bhe foob of bhe instrument which you see. Listen, and I will read it to you."

[•SUPPLEMENT.]

S-_______; ." . ______ "-j- And read- it he did. Ib was a formal deed, explicit and direct, in Rivera's own terse, concise and pungent phraseology, in behalf and by- direction of Lawrence Dale, giving to his well-beloved and trusted friend, Jonas- Crandal, Esquire, entire con trol and guardianship over his daughter Morna. Never mind the legal phrasing ; ib was all there—every word necessary to make tlie deed one of absolute power and authority on the part of the said guardian ; and ib was signed by Lawkexce Dale. Then he naad the acknowledgment of Morbimer Pavers, and showed bo ker bhe old • attorney's signature and the seal attached. Also the name of Darnlq. Werter as a sub scribing witness-.. " Mr Crandal, will you let mo take thab paper in my hand; and read ib for myself ?" He looked into her face, and felt per fectly safe to do ife. It was not the face of one who would do> a- reckless, daring deed. It was the face of one utterly crushed and broken. She wanted to see the paper—to examine it—to iix. it in ker memory—so that she might think clearly in the timo to come. He gave ib to her ; but be sure he held his hand in readiness to take it from her in an instant, should she offer to harm it.

But she offered no-such thing. She took the instrument, and: read it, from beginning bo end. In bhe writing she had done for her fabher —the keeping of his accounts, and filing of his papers — she had become familiar with bhe bawl of Mr Rivers, and with that of his poor old clerk — We-rter. She knew that the deed was drawn up in legal form ; and something told her—sho felt it beyond her power to pub it away—■ that her own dear papa's own dear hand had traced his name on that paper. With regard to ihe signature of the old attorney she could nob be so sure. She could only judge that either his.own hand had set his name there, or thab his poor, drunken clerk, in a wild and irresponsible freak, hail per formed a wonderful imitation ; for she saw that the body of tho instrument had been written by him ; and, no doubt, his signature was genuina-. She gave the paper back into the steward's hand without a word.

He asked her what she thought of it. She shook her head, and replied that she knew nob what bo think. Ab length he asked lier :

"You ab leasb believe bhe deed is genuine ?"

She shook her head again. She be lieved that her father wrote that name; but she did not believe that lte knowingly signed such a deed as that.

"But," cried Crandal, putting on a look of unutterable surprise'—" bless and save -us ! what do you believe ? Was your father daft? Did he write his name and not know it ? Was be drunk ? Pah ! you know he came to his senses at last. It was almost the last thing he did before be went away. Wa.-were in Rivers's office. I asked him about bhe money for you, and ho told me to do as 1 pleased. Then old Rivers himself spoke. Said he to your father : ' Dale, youlll never do such a thing as to go away and leave your daughter without some sort of a protector some body who can speak for her and act for ber by authority.' This was what Rivers said. Then your father, after thinking tbe matter over, told the old) lawyer to draw up just such a deed as lie- thought best, and ho would sign it.

"There came pretty near being a bibch here. At first I flatly refused to have any thing to do with it, but that only mado your father tlie moru determined. You know how set andiopinionated he was."

Morna did nob" speak ; bub she thought what a lie it was.. JBbr father was the least stubborn of men,—the least opinionated, in bhe sense of CranriUaTs remark —of any man she knew.

Then the arch, traitor went on with his fabrication to the conclusion of the making of the deed, when he declared thab her father had sigiietl it with a great sigh of happy relic/.

Jonas Crandal hod overreached himself. He had lied too. bard and too fast. First, Morna remembered how ooolly and diaboli cally, how tinblushingly and how easily, he had lied to her-about the jewels, and about Mr Blackmore--' Again: She knew that much of the story he had just told was false—utterly and abominably false. He had pictured her father in alight as foreign to his true character a.s blackness is foreign to noonday. She would appeal to the law, and she felt sure the law would protect lier. Once free from tke villain's power, she would cast herself upon tbo lOve and goodwill of her friends and defy Him,

Suddenly, as she thought, with the eyes of the wicked man fixed,intently upon her, a quick; sharp cry of horror bursb from her lip.s, and her face became white like deabh. Jonas was for bhe moment really frightened or at least startled. The Hook she cast upon him took him unprepared.

" Morna, what ails yovi ?" She started to her feet and faced him. '' You told me your son had gone to London."

"Oho!— yes. A little fiction I thought necessary. At any rate, I fancied you would come quicker if you thought he was away."

She approached him nearer, and laid the ends of her fingers on his bosom. She looked straight into his wondering eyes, and whispered—it was not louder than a whisper, but it sounded ffike a clap of thun der in the ears of him'who heard :

"Jonas Crandal, where is Ralph Ash more ?"

He reeled back, as from a heavy blow,, burning bo an ashen hue, and grasping for breath, and ib was a considerable time be fore he even sbruggled bo regain his com posure. Ab lengbh he tried to laugh—tried to utter an exclamation of ridicule ; but bhe words failed on bis lips. In the end he took refuge in mighty indignation, and swore roundly.

" Girl, you're a fool. If I thought you serious in your insinuation I should be bempted to pub you inbo a sferaighb jackeb.. Leb me advise you bo be more careful how you speak." "Can a simple question move you so deeply r*' She still looked him in the eye unflinch ingly. The great horror—the assurance— as firm as knowledge itself—rendered her invulnerable bo fear.

•' Bah ! Ib was the way in which you pub it. But I'll tame you yet. You'll find thab obedience and dociliby—bhat respecb for my authority—will be best for you." " And I have no doubb," Morna, said, her self wondering ab bhe sbreno-bh that sus tained her, " that you plan to gather the whole great property of the Abbey and the Grange into your own coffers by making me bhe wife of your son." The strong man was again startled, but nob as before. On bhe presenb occasion he quickly recovered himself, aglow of triumph, gleaming in his deep green eyes, and light ing up his sombre face. "You have said it," he replied;. And then, with a fearful oath—an oath so horrible in its heartless impiety fliat his gentle hearer shrank away in terror—he added : " And Tom's wife you will be, if you live, in spite of all the powers, above or below, to prevent it." ■ Without further remark he turned away, and Strode from the room. (To be continued, J

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 14, 1887