LOVE'S DILEMMA;

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 15, 18 January 1905, Page 11

LOVE'S DILEMMA;

OR. FOR AIN EARLDOM. BY CHARLES GARVICE. *> CHAPTER XXIL— (Continued.) I The little drawing-room was crowded 1 with-people, and in their midst were the | major and his distant relative, the bishorj —tho former rod and shining with satisfaction, and the latter bland and complacent, and with the air of continual benediction. A hush fell npon the group as Kate j entered, and the major came bustling up 1 and took her hand. "This is my daughter Kate, bishop." ; he said, and the complacent ecclesiastic shook the cold mind, and murmured a few appropriate words: "I am very glad to see you. my dear. : and rejoiced that we meet ou r*ueb a joyful occasion. Your mother and I were gr->at friends, and l can understand my cousin the major's pride in the possession of so great a treasure." The major gave Kate hi- arm, and led her to the (-lrriago. and the rest following suit, the cavalcade started. There was a great crowd at the church, and Rate on her father's arm passed up a '.;ine made by the eager and curious sightseers. They were not oniy eager and curious, but kindly and affectionate, for more than once -he heard a voice murmur. "Heaven bless you. Miss Kate!" The church was crammed, and the vestry itself -eemed so full that there was I scarcely r,>cm for the bishop to pur on :r.s -urp'uo. Meanwhile the bridegroom had been : wearing bis heart out impatiently. From an early hour of the auspicious morning he had paced up and down his room, devoured by mingiod eagerness and dread: eagerness tn call Kate hi/ own. his wife, and dread lest by some miracle Desmond should recover his strength ar.tl present himself at the altar to stop tee . crernony. Slowly the hour? seemed tn drag their Ic.ng length along, and he became like a wounded bear to ev< ryone who approached him. Once his valet was on the point of giving hint notice, and one ~f tb • maids whom he happened to meet en the stairs fled to tile servants' hall in tears. called forth l>v the dood of oaths with which he greeted her. I'.ut the longest hour dwindles away if one will but wait for it. and after what seemed to be ages, they can.c and told him that the bride had started. Then, and not til! then, he tossed ofT a glassful of brandy, and permitted his valet to put the finishing touches to bis toilet. "There's — there's a 10l of people ther-. I suppose.-" he in |u:r«d of ihe patient vnict. 'Acs. my lord, v good many people — hundred-. I should say." "What sort of people." he demanded. "Oh. all sorts, my lord; all thegentry — they're in the church, mo-t of them — and the servant.-." '"Are fhpre any of those cursed quarrymen?" he asked with affected indifference. "I don't know, my lord, but T should think so; there seems all sorts cf people there." "Di<i you see any of th'ni give Miss Kale a letter?" ■No. my lord. A letter? —certainly rtot. I did not see " 'And you wouldn't have seen if they had." snarled his lordship. "You're a fool: Uc quick. Confound you. do you think I'm going to -it, here all .lay while you chatter like a monkey? Give mc a little more brandy." The valet shrugged his shoulders and went on with hi- work, and presently Arthur, the Karl of I'arr-Lyon. was i ready, and. accompanied by a distant I relative, a young cavalry officer, who had been hunted up to play the part of best man. entered the carriage. •Keep your spirits up. Arthur." said the young fellow, eyeing him critically. I "There, is nothing to he afraid of." "Who's afraid'"' snarled the park ■-Oh. all right." responded (he lad- adding to himself, "the beggar has been drinkimz." Tiiev reached the chnrc'i porch, and : the bridegroom made his way through the crowd to the door, amid a profound silence. "Looks terribly anxious, don't he 1 " remarked an old labourer, as the earl and his best ivan passed into the church. "Hut, lawks, it's a trying time, lads, ain't it.':" Arthur Carr-Lyon seemed to find it a very trying time- for as he entered the vestry his countenance that of a man who was running a race for life or death; and the ma jor. as be came forward, found an opportunity to whisper: "All right, my dear boy; keep up your spirits!" Then lie introduced him to the bishop. who shook hands and smiled a benediction upon him. and the bridp. Uumng upon her father's arm and followed by her bridesmaids, moved up to the altar. It was a strange thing, but at the moment, as The organ pealed out the first part of the marriage sendee. Kate's spirit took flight, and. leaving Sandford Church, went back to the dusky lane where -he had lirst met Clifford Raven: and his handsome face, pale and wav with fatigue and hunger- rose before her. .She saw him, too. as be had stood beneath her on the terrace on the night, of tho ball, and the organ sefmed to bo setting to music tho passionate words thnt his iin- had uttered. His vcice seemed to rise and rTTI the church, crying: "Kc.te. I love you. I love you! Trust to mo, Kate. I love yon! Only wait and listen to mc!" But she put the vision away from her, and walked up to the altar with a firm unwavering step, j and not one of the hundreds of spec- J

tators ever guessed what was passing in the mind of the bride, whose beauty filled men vrith admiration and women with envy. . At the altar the bishop stood in his lawn sleeves, and in his deep and solemn voice he read tbe service: "Will you. Arthur, have this woman, Kate, to be your wife?" Blandly and smoothly the major spoke his part; and hoarsely, but firmly, Arthur (. arr-Lyon went through his. Kate's was scarcely audible, but the bi-hop was supposed to catch her responses, and in a few minutes the knot was tied, and Kate Meddon and Arthur Carr-Lyon were man and wife. .Man and wife! As the last words were uttered, those who were standing near tile aitar rails saw the bride shudder and droop her head, and noticed tho bridegrom's face 2Tow red and his eyes flash: but the next moment a rush was made, to the vestry to sign the register, and bride and bridegroom were forgotten. ~>Vhite and statuesque. Kate signed her maiden name for the last time, and the bridegroom, taking up the pen. signed his. but his hand shook, and his name was a mere scrawl. Then the usual crowd which is always to the front at fashionable weddings wrote their names, and the bride and bridegroom made their way to their carriage through a line of children, who strewed flowers in their path. "Thank Heaven, that's over, eh, Kate'"' -aid the bridegroom. "What a confounded fuss, isn't it?'' Kate, white and cold, shrank back in : her corner and said nothing, and in a j few moments the carriage stopped at I the major's villa. As many people as—and more than— j the place would hold had been asked, | and the major, in his blue coat and I white waistcoat, received them and did j the honours. i (>ne wedding breakfast is very much I like another. There is the same stony chicken and stringy ham. the usuac soul-freezing j pastry and mock turtle soup: and as it I is at most weddings, so it was at Kate's; I and the guests foraged among the cold ; viand- nod drank the stock champagne ,wi;h the ordinary recklessness. And equally, of course. the usual I speeches were made: the bishop blandly enlarging on the happiness of the marI ried srate. and the major, in his very | best vein, replying to the toast of the | parent. None of those who sat and listened .to him but would have given him a testimonial on the spot for fatherly affection j and disinterestedness—none, excepting, perhaps, the bridegroom, who drank [deeply of the cheap champagne, and who smiled behind hi.s tabb>napkin at the major's most florid and touching sentiments. And Kate? She sat through it all with the patience and stolidity of a statue. Never once did her face lose its set, mechanical expression, and the spectators marvelled at the wonderful self-posses-sion which enabled her to listen unmoved ■ to the major's glowing and elegant peri- - ods. I The bridegroom had stammered out a few words of thanks for the bride, the best man had made the usual attempt at a funny speech, and then a move was begun. Lady Warner and the bride left the j table, and. followed by the bridesmaids. I went to change Kate's white dress for the travelling one. j Tbe major got up and touched Carr--1 Lyon on the shoulder. I " \ few words with you before you "o, dear boy." he said, and his lordship rose and followed him into the little study. "Well," he said, sullenly, "what is it?" -hist to wi-h you every happiness, mv dear Arthur." said the major, laying his jhand on his -houlder and beaming at him with rather unsteady eyes. "Couldn't 1 do i; before all those people, you know! May Heaven bless you. my dear boy : and > my dear Kate, too; You will take care | "f her. Arthur? Yes. I am sure you will •ake .-are of her." and he wiped away an imaginary tear. "Nobody knows what a comfort and treasure that dear girl has been to mc: no one!"' "I de-say." vaid the bridegroom, with an impatient sneer. "But you haven't broughi mc in here to tell mo that, have j you ? what is it'" "Well, dear bdy." said the major, with a little apologetic laugh, "there was a mattpr of business between us. you know. Perhaps it is scarcely tho time, and vet 1 have no doubt you would like to get it settled and done with. Have you—did you happen tn remember to—-ahem!— - put that cheque in your pocket, dear 1 Arthur" 'The cheque for the money I promised I you the day I married Kate? No. I have nor." Tho major's face reddened: he had been drinking far too much of the cheap champagne. "But don't excite yourself." Carr-Lyon went on. " I*ll keep my word. Look here; you'd better run up to London tomorrow or the day after, and 111 give it to you there." I Aery well." said the major, but he looked bitterly disappointed. j Then the bridegroom went out and put | on Tiis overcoat, and stood in the little hall, impatiently waiting for the bride. She came down presently; t».e carriage drew up at the door, the guests pressed forward with the regulation rice and slippers, and in her last. look at the house Kate saw the figure of her father standing on the steps with his handkerchief pressed to his eves i n an attitrnde of profound and uncontrollable grief. CHAPTER XXITI. TOO LATE. On Kate's wedding morning Clifford Raven, the true Earl of . Carr-Lyon. slept rather longer than he bad as yet done, and Nellie and her fa-iber. rejoic.infg that he shotald do so. went about on tiptoe as; t-hey set about their labotir of love. The preparation of a die»licate little breakfast for hd_n. "I a-m so glad he ha.s slept so well, fa.th.er." said Nellie, in a whisper, her aad eyes growing lighter for a moment, "Tile doctor says that all be wants is sdeep and rest, and than, soon " SW stopped and sighed involumtarily as s.he remembered that her patient's recovery tncan-t his departure, pwrhapsi forever. •'Well, he's had a good sleep fcbip morning, anyway." said Mr Wood. sqmrfcting hefore the fire to make some toast. "I shouldn't wonder if he's a ble to get- up and move about a bit: but ho mtrstn't be too venturesome! I've seen m--_ny a man as thought himself quite ottt o' the sick lists chucked back for two or three weeks for been' too cheeky, as you may s.ay. F-or. what I Mr Raven wants is just to or>me out 'into tbe sun .tnd sit about, just like— I just, like them lizards as is in foreign 'countries: there's nothing Like the sun fcr all kinds cf ailm-emcs. Tieers to mc. Neil, my lasa, as you wan* a little o' tbe same kind o' medicine yonrseif: this long bout o' nursing has tried you, my gel. What a fuw them beHs do make to be euro," he broke off, tn«^rijig

up at tbe sky and in tbe directkm of Sandford Church. "Ifs Lord Oarr-Lyon's wedding, father," said Nettie. "Aye," be said, witb a chuckle: "he was not long making- up his mind after the grand party! This 'ere toast's done now. and I'll go and see if Mr Raven's waking yet." It was post noon wben Clifford, woke, and be seemed almost Hke his oM self: so bright were his eyes and cheerful Ms maarner. Nellie stood by him while he ate his break fast, watching him with the rapt attention usual with her. and during the time the belLs wore silent, and she said nothing about the wedding. '•[ think ITI get up, Nellie." he said, ifrer a while. "Are you sure you're weH enough?" she asked, anxiously. "I feel as, strong as a lion," he said, "though I am aware t don't look like it," be added, ruefully, as he stared at his thin hands. "Oh. yes: I'm on the right road now. Nellie. I want to get, up and about again and relieve you of the terrible burden L have been—no, for that sounds ungrateful, and I know you have thousrht. it no burden. But 111 get up. Nellie, and take a walk around the quarry. By -love! it's years instead of week- «in«e I saw the sky face to face." •She went, out and sent her father to him, and Clifford got dressed, though it. was rather a lengthy process. "These things must have grown since I was lying here.'' he saidnvith a laugh. !as he put on the coat that had fitted him so closely and compactly, and now seemed so vest and roomy. "Ah. you will soon fill 'em out again," remarked Wood. "What you want is a little sun. as I was telling Nellie, and a course o" steak and stout. T>o you remember the 'teak you ate the first day you came here? Well, that's the sort." Clifford laughed in company, Mid they went out on to the ledge in front of the eottape. Nellie had carried a, chair out in the sun, and they made him sit down. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, drawing a long breath, and looking around with an invalid's delight in the fresh open arr. "It's worth being shut up in a room for a week or two to enjoy this as I am doing." ""You're looking pretty bright and cheerful. I must say." said Wood, with a look of approval. "I wish I could make you understand how happy I feel." responded Clifford. extending a hand to each. "But, i could not unless 1 tell you all my story: and it's such a strange story, such a wonderful romauco. that I'm afraid you'd think I was delirious again." Nellie and her father exchanged a glance of apprehension. "Don't excite yourself now." said the old man. "Do not be afraid. T am all right and not at all likely to make myself bad again. But it is a strange and romantic story—so strange that at times I can scarcely persuade myself that it's true. I've always been sneh a rolling stone, such a waif and general outcast, that to find myself suddenly—" he stopped and laughed and passed his hands over his eyes. "I was nearly telling you." he said. There was a pause for a moment or two. "I should think I should be able to got into Sandford to-morrow." ''Oh. no. no!" said Nellie, quickly. '-Certainly not." said Mr Wood. "You don't want to go and knock yourself up again. Besides, what do you want to go to Sandford for. all in such a hurry? Can't mc or Nellie do it for you ?" "No." said Clifford, with a smile. "No one can do it for mc. I must do it myself. I have to go and -ecure my life's happiness, to right a wrong and claim my own!" Again Nellie and her father exchanged glances. "And, please Heaven, when I get it thoro shall be some good done with it. I will see if we can't lessen some of the poor men's troubles, hereabouts. For one thing, well have a couple of lifeboats at Sandford: there shall be some decent cottages—and why shouldn't every poor man have a plbt of ground to till for himself? — yes. and a cow to provide milk for his young ones, and—" "There, there," broke in Mr Wood, "you're pxciting yourself—" "No. I'm not," said Clifford, with a reassuring smile. "It does mc good and puts frpsh strength into mc to picture some of the things I can do when I get. the money —" Mr Wood began to look frightened. Clifford laughed, and. laying his hand upon the hard, horny one resting on his chair, looked up at tbe honest face. "You think I am light headed, I know," he said: "but I am not. I am talking simple common sense. And I don't know why 1 shouldn't tell you. Listen. When t came into tho quarry a few months ago. 1 was just a mere waif and stray, as 1 said—a mere nobody without a permy —yes. I had a shilling! And I shall have that shilling as long as [ live." and his hand went mochanical- ! ]v to his heart. oveT which, in his waistj coat pocket. Kate's shilling lay. "I ; rlidn't give you my right nirac —I'll j tell you what that is directly—and I : hadn't, as I thought, a chance of doing the slightest thing for myself in England. I meant leaving it. as you know. And all the time 1 felt as if I were leaving my heart behind mc. And T should have !>een! For just before I saw you that lucky afternoon I had lost my heart for good and all, and—" he stopped. "and now tho wheel has turned, and [ |am rich. Not only rich, but I hope and I trust a happy man. But that depends j upon her —upon the young lady—" he 'stopped again. "Friends, friends." and j be held out his hands, "to-morrow, or as I soon as I am strong enough. I am going Ito her to lay my heart at her feet, to ! tell her of This wonderful ehango in my j fortunes, and beg her to accept my life ! and—" ' Once more he stopped, his face working, his lips quivering. "Do you think I am talking nonsense? No. it's just simple truth. And I know—l feel wbat her answer will be. for I feel and know that she loves mo. and great Heaven ! I can scarcely persuade myself that T am not dreaming! But you will see—you will see. To-morrow, if I am not strong enough to go. I will get you to take a letter —" He broke off suddenly, for tho Sandford bells began to peal cut. "What bells are those?" he asked, with a smile. "Sandford bells." said Mr Wood. Nellie did not speak, but stood a little behind the chair, her hands clasping it tight, her face white and drawn. "Sandford!" said Clifford. "What are they ringing for? Somebody's birthday, I suppose?" "No, it's nobody's birthday a« I knows of," said Mr. Wood, glad to get him away from the otb«r subject. "Tlttf- ft wedding peal, -tat is."

"A wedding peal! Some one has been married, then?" said Clifford, with a smile. '"Who is it? But it's no one 1 know, I suppose." "I reckon you know them." he said, lightly. "It's Lord Carr-Lyon's wedding —him and Miss Kate Meddon!'' Clifford looked up, with the smile still on his face, as if he had misunderstood; then he repeated, "X.ord Carr-Lyon and Miss Kate Meddon I" still in a mechanical fashion. Then he started to his feet and caught the old man by the collar of his coat. and with a. stern air and white face confronted him. '"How dare you mock me?"' he shouted. "How dare you play upon the feelings of a sick man? Whose wedding, do you say? man. and tell mc the truth this time!" Mr. Wood gasped and stuttered in drpadfuJ alarm. '"Be easy. now. Mr. Raven,"" he pleaded, ! thinking Clifford's mind was going. li ße 'easy and calm like. now. There, now! iHI tell ye slowly, and it's gospel truth. J It's Lord Carr-Lyon and Miss Kate, the major's daughter, as was married today !" With a wild and awfu! cry, Clifford , flung the old man from him and stood erect, with his hands extended over his head. '"Married! Married!"' he said, and in. such a tone of agony and despair that it rang again in the hearts of the two listeners. "Married: Kate married! Oh, Heaven, have mercy on mc! Kate married, and to him!" Then he turned to the terrified old man again. "It's false! false! and you know it! You are only trying mc! It's a jest—a cruel, hard-hearted joke! She can't be married! No. that can'r, be, for if she were, then everything would be too late! Tell mc the'truth! Oh, forgive mc!" he cried hoarsely. "Don't mind what I say, don't think hard of mc. I scarcely know what I'm saying. Not married! Oh. don't tell mc that! I'd rather hear that ~he's dead —no, no. not that, either! Oh. Heaven, have mercy on mc!" and ho hid his face in. his hands and sank into the chair. The bells pealed on. They seemed to madden him. he sprang- upright and made afi if he were going to rush across the quarry in the direction of Sandfora; but Nellie caught one arji and her father the other. "Let mc go!" he shouted. 'She shall not marry him—the impostor! She shall not. at any rate until I have told hrr who I am! Let mc go!" and he struggled with them fiercely: but the old mans tough hands held him in a firm grasp. '"Hearken to me-' lad.' he said, with emotion, "whether you tie sane or mad. I cannot tell; but whichever be ye, ye must bide here, for it won't do 'cc no good to let Ye go on a wild goose chase —for a wild goose chase it would be, seem' that the Lord Carr-Lyon married Miss Kate early this mornin'. and that by this time they are on their way to the honeymoon.'' The Tortured man ceased strug ( _'ing, and stood with clasped hands and frenzied eyes, the bells pealing like mad and demoniac laughter in his ears. "Tell him. Nellie; most like he'll believ# you." said Mr. Wood, gravely. '"ft is true," she murmured; "his lordship and Miss Meddon were married this morning."' '"Xet mc go, please." he said, huskily; and he walked with the staggering gait of a drunken man to the cottage, locked the door after him. and flung himself full length on the floor. (To be continued daily.)