COMING EVENTS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXVII, Issue 207, 6 September 1897, Page 5

COMING EVENTS.

(As Advertised in Auckland Star). .MEETINGS, Era", TO-NIGHT. Opera House—"Dr. Bill" City Hall—Popular Concert Museum Build nigs—Auckland Institute, 8 Freemasons' Hall, Princes-strtet—Lodge Ara, 3!5., 1.C., 7.30 „_,„„ Choral Hall—Rehearsal " Israel m Egypt, 7.30 St. George's Hall—Plumbers, Gasfitters, and Metal Workers' Society, 8 Mount Eden Congregational Church— London Missionary Society Meeting, 7.30. MEETINGS TO-MORROWY Legal Chambers—Mount Waihi G.M. Co., 2.30 ; Sir Julius G.M. Co., 2.15 ' ._. ft dy«, , " '■■ -*'^_::V--AUCTIONS, Etc., TO-MORROWJ^" Cochrane & Son—Surgical Instruments, Medical Works, Poigs, Furs, etc., 11 T. C. Beale & Co.—Millinery, Underclothing,. Hats, etc., 11 ; Property, 12

BY BERTHA M. CLAY.

'Author of "Beyond Pardon," "The Duke's Secret," "A True Mag-da-I len," "Dora Thorne," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXII. (Continued.)

Lady Laura Wynyard looked at her husband with eyes" full of wondering pain. That he could so cooly dismiss a Subject of such vital interest to her was incredible. Her whole future was involved in this matter, and he had put it aside as unworthy of discussion. A vision seemed to pass before her of the dead husband who had been so kind to her, to whom her every wish had been law, to whom her lightest words had been of greatest consequence. Were Angela's words really true, that she could not expect such love twice in one life-time ? At last her surprise found voice.

"Vance," she said, "you cannot speak earnestly. I, your wife, come to you with the happiness of my whole life at stake, holding my very heart in my hands, and you dismiss the subject that catises me concern as coolly as&though We were discussing the weather."

Captain Wynyard shrugged his shoulders.

"My whole life is at stake," continued her ladyship. "I cannot live as I have been living. I can bear no longer what I have borne. I pray you, dearest, give up that which has come between us, and take me to your heart again." "What nonsense, Laura," he cried, impatiently. "I am tired of it." "You must listen," she said. "1 have a claim upon your attention. 1 have right to speak You ai*e doing- that which makes me unhappy, and I have a right to ask you to -give up the cause of my unhappiness. Oh, Vance, if you love me, make me happy! Give up Miss Kane! It is not much to do for me." "Little as it is, Laura, you may be __lire that I shall not do it. I shall not scatter my friends like chaff before the vvind to please your ridiculous fancies." "Have you no pity for my pain," she asked. "1 should have pity for a real pain, but I have none for what is only a fancy." "Will you do nothings Vance, to m_ake me happier?" she asked, wistfully. "Nothing of the kind to which you l*efer,"he answered, carelessly. "I should never dream of giving up an old friend for such nonsense as this, Laura." "Will you dance less with her, Vance ? " she asked. The unhappy lady Seemed to think that if she could win some small concession from him fehe might ultimately win all she Wanted. "No, I Will not, Laura," he replied. "Will you devote yourself less to her, so as not to attract public attention?" sshe asked again. "My dear Laura, in no single thing will I change my present course of conduct," he answered, warmly. "Not even if it is likely to kill me?" she said. "It will not do that; and if you die of it-your own folly will have killed you." The frankly brutal words seemed to Stun her. She raised her pale.dazed face to bjs. - , "I thought," she said, slowly, "that you Would comply at once with my wish. I thought you would kiss me and comfort me, and tell me there was no one half so dear to you as I, I thought you would promise, for my sake, to give up Gladys Rane." , "Your thoughts were all wrong," he interrupted, sneeringly. "Yes, they were. lam sorry you do liot love me as much as I thought you did,'*' She went on. "I see that I am not the first object in the world to you. Oh, Vance," she cried, clasping het White hands and holding them out to him entreatingly, "think before you Send me away without love and without comfort —think!" "I have nothing to think about,'' he replied, curtly, "except that it is a pity you are not a sensible woman." "Vance," she cried—and the courage of despair came to her—"tell me, if you had to choose now between my love and the friendship of* Gladys .Rane, which would you prefer?" "I decline to answer so foolish a question," he replied. "You hesitate!" she said, and the beautiful pleading face grew perfectly white. "I do not hesitate," he returned. I simply decline to answer unreasonable questions." "That is an evasion," she said. If you could honestly say that you preferred me and my love, you would say so. You cannot. It is useless for me to say more." Slowly, and with a heavy heart, she went away from him, her sorrow deeper and more intense than when she sought him. But she had much more to suffer yet. The captain smiled to himself as he •watched her enter the house. Hel? •white face and downcast eyes, the listless sorrow of her whole attitude, did riot distress him. , "I hi-we taught her a lesson," he said to* himself, with a feeling of satisfaciion, "ativd she needed it. She will not iiitei-fere Again with Gladys." If Gladys' Rane had looked up at him with tears i'.u her eyes, he would have soothed her trouble. If Gladys had told him she was unhappy he would lia->e done his best to remove the cause at Once. But to his wife he did not eive a thought after she had left him. He had not the sligbtest pity for her. He simply felt indignant and irritated at her' attempting to interfere with "him. Lady Laura went back to her room like; one in a dream. She could hardly realise as yet what had happened to her. That her husband had sneered at her", had laughed with brutal frankness at her, had flatly refused to yield to her wishes, had tacitly admitted that he cared greatly for Gladys Rane, Were truths too horrible for her to look in the face all at once. 'As she walked along she met Angela, who said to her, gently: "You look ill, mamma. Shall I come and sit with you?" • "No thank you, dear," she answered. •*T would rather be alone. lam tired." All the music and the sweetness had gone from her voice. It was weak

and languid. Angela felt uneasy about ! her mother. She knew that this was the beghli-ing'' of what fehe had all along .foreseen. When Lady Laura tried to realise her position she could not. It was the first time in her life that she had met with such cruel conduct, and she felt it all the more keenly because it came from the man she loved. He would not at her request, made with tears, give up his intimacy with Gladys Rane. He would spend as much time as ever with her. He would dance with her as often. And she— "How shall I bear it?" she cried. "It will break my heart!" She had always felt secure in her j husband's love, and happiness seemed to have given way, and she stood alone amongst the ruins. On the night following they were invited to a grand ball given by Lady Holte. Lady Laura knew that her rival was to be there, and her first decision was not to go, although a charming dress of white satin, elaborately trimmed with blush roses, was prepared for her. She felt unequal to the effort, for she knew it would bring the same heart-anguish over again, the same sorrow, and she told herself that she could not endure it. When the captain asked her at Avh-.it hour she wished the carriage ordered she answered that she did not feel sure that she should go. She was tired and indisposed, and her looks fully bore out her words. But she saw the sudden look of relief that came over his face when he heard the words, and she altered her mind instantly. "I will go," she said; "Lady Holte always gives good balls." And as she expressed her intention she saw a look of annoyance come into his eyes. "He would have had a long evening's enjoyment with Miss Rane," she thought to herself bitterly. But if her ladyship flattered herself that her presence would prevent the captain from amusing himself with her rival she was mistaken, for he was more devoted to her than ever. Lady Laura took more pains than she had ever done before over her toilet, much to the astonishment of DorisNewsham. Her dress, her jewels, the blush roses, were all subjects of anxious interest. "Make me look extra well to-night, Doris," she said with a kindly smile. "I haye something to do." Arid the maid glanced at her mistress in surprise. "I could not make you look more beautiful if I would my lady," she responded. Lady Laura's lovely face had a delicate flush, her eyes were bright and clear. She never looked better than she did on this night. Her ladyship had come to what she considered a very sensible determination. She resolved, if possible, to outshine her rival, to win her husband to herself by dint of her dazzling beauty and her brightness. He should not see a sad look on her face. She would lie all lightheadedness and smiles. Sne would try to amuse, him,' and keep him chained by her side, even as Gladys Rane. did. She was full of this idea, and resolved that nothing should daunt her, that nothing should interfere with hexpurpose. She had won him once, why could she not again? She tried resolutely to trample her pain, her &orrow, her disappointment under foot, and to reveal nothing but smiles and Hght-heartedness. . "You look like a queen of roses tonight, Laura," the captain remarked. She looked at him with a satisfied smile. "The strangest part of it is," she. said, "that amongst them there is not one thorn." (To be continued.)