LOVE'S DILEMMA; OR, FOR AN EARLDOM.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 16, 19 January 1905, Page 6

LOVE'S DILEMMA; OR, FOR AN EARLDOM.

' CHAPTER XXIV. THE FIRST BITTER WORDS. Swinburne, in one of his most exquisite poems, remarks that when the gods desire to be cruel, they torture tlie heart by straining it on the rack of despair. Cliri'ord's heart was now strained on that rack. Despair! Think of it! Most ills that man is heir to can be remedied, or. at least, alleviated. But what could undo this evil work of Fate? ivate married, married! Yesterday, this morning, before the service, five minutes before the service he might have been in time. lie might have had himself carried into the church, if need were, and forbidden the ceremony. But now it was all too late —-too late for anything! Too late! She was married, ami lost to him forever, aud ever, and ever! I must confess that I marvel he did not go raving mad there and then: that he did not attempt to take Lis life! For, think of it! To find oneself the rightful claimant to an earldom, and to discover that the usurper had married the girl you love! Imagination may picture Ms state of mind, may call up some idea of his s S on y and anguish, but no pen can do aught but mock it. Half an hour passed. Xellie and her father stood outside, the latter too Terrified to take any active steps, the former with her white lace wet with tears. Some dim inkling of the truth was stealing upon her. but she said nothing. It was the old man who spoke first. "Shall we—hadn't we better brenk open the door. Nell?" lie faltered, anxiously. "Lord only knows what he'll do to himself! A man in his condition ain't answerable, you see." But she shook her head. "Wait, father," she said, listlessly, ehnging to him. An hour passed, and then they heard the bolt drawn back slowly, and Clifford Raven stood on the threshold. His face was white and drawn terribly drawn, but it we.s quite calm. He fame quickly toward them and held out his hand. "I have come to a*k roll to foro-jve mc. my friends," he said", and his voice sounded dry and thin, like that of an «ud man. "I—l have had a great trial. 1 scarcely know what I said, but whatever it was. forgive mc. Forgive mc lor every harsh, ungrateful word. Nellie. 1 shall not plead to you in vain, I know-," and he held out his hand to her. She took it in both of hers, and looked up kindly into his face, and then away from him. _ "There, there," said Mr Wood, soothingly. "Never miud all that, lad. V.eve nothinsr to forgive. If there's aught the matter and we can do anything, Nell or mc, why, you know " "ies, I do know," he .said, gravely and earnestly, "and there is something 3 on can do." The old man nodded eagerly. "You can forget every word I have said; yes, every word,*" he repeated solemnly. "Put them down to the wanderings of a sick mem, and forget them. 1 don't ask you not to repeat thorn, for that I know, in any case, you would not do; but I ask you to forget them, and so help mc to forget them. I am, and shall still be, the same man you have always known—just Clifford Raven, the manager of Wood's Quarry —that is. if the proprietor will let mc still be so " "Aye. aye, my lad," said the old man, softly. "And as for the rest," continued Clifford, "why. we'll consider it just a dream," and he drew a long breath, as a spasm of pain crossed his face, "just a dream and nothing more — a dream from which I have fully awakened. Don't be anxious." he added, quickly, as In? looked at their care-lined faces, ''1 ;l «i all right. To-morrow, please Heaven, I shall be well and strong enough to got to work—to work!" and he drew himself up. "That is the be«t medicine for a disease like mine! Good - bye. and thank you—thank you. clear Nellie,'' and, pressing her hard, he went in again, and the door closed upon him. Married ami on her honeymoon! Kate was not a bad-hearted girl, and as she sat in the railway car—a specially orcieied drawing-mom car—in a train Hint was whirling hoi: and her husband to London, she fought hart! against the fearful misery that seemed weighing upon her heart, and harder still to realise her position and efface the .memory from her heart of the one man in the whole world who had touched it. Phe was married to .Arthur, Lord r-f-rr-Lyon, <=he was his lewful wife, and. Heaven h"iD><!?; her. site would try and ci.> her clurv by him. try and fulfil the mrrviage vows which she had sworn lvfor? her cousin ;h° bishop that morning. >\:e did not love him—yet—but she would try to. Moanwhiie she would do all she could tn id ease him, would hide from him the aching void in her heart, and try to be a good wife. Fortunately for her. her lord and husband seemed as little inclined for conversion as she did, for if he had begun to bother her with attentions it is as likely as not that «-ho would have broken down and that a scene would have resulted. But Lord Carr-Lyon seemed moody and depressed, absent-minded and preoccupied; and, though he made a remark now and again, he sat for the most part behind a newspaper, which, strange to say, he never turned over. Now and again he got out and got some refreshment at the large stations, and for some hours left her alone while he got a cigar—many cigars—in the smoking compartmentIt was supposed to be the happiest

BY CHARLES QARVICE, Anthor of "The Marquis," "A Martyred Love," "A Women's SobJ,* "She Loved Him," eta.

day in his life, but I don't think he had spent a more miserable one. He had obtained the dearest wish of his heart. Kate Meddon was his wife, but he could not forget for one instant the white face of the man lying in the quarry cottage, the man whom he had recognised as Desmond Carr-Lyon, the rightful owner of the title he, Arthur, bore. The train reached London at last, and he came to the car door. "We're here." he said, in a low voice. "Are you tired?'' and he raised his eyes to her white, weary face; "the train's beastly late, and it's a long journey." I "I am a little tired," she said, as plea- ! santly as ahe could. "Have we far to 'go? I know little or nothing of LonI don." j "No, it's not very far to Park Lane," jhe said. | He led her to the car-way, a couple lof footmen, who had hurried up, following up with the costly furs and trifles .'with which the car seemed half loaded. | and she saw a splendidly appointed carriage waiting, with a wigged coachman !on the box. ! It would have filled the major with joy. but it brought not a spark of consolation to poor Kate! And yet how happy she would have been walking to a hansom cab leaning on the arm of Clifford Raven! The people on the platform looked at them as they passed, attracted as much by her beauty as the powdered footmen. "What a lovely girl!" said one. "Bride and bridegroom. How pale she is!" 1 They got into the carriage, and Lord , Carr-Lyon attentively arranged the furs round her. "We shall soon be home," he said; :"then you can rest. There will be time before dinner." "I am not so tired as all that— Arthur," she said. It was the first time she had ever called him by his Christian name, and one time, not long ago, his heart would have thrilled at the sound of it on her lips, but his face did not lighten or grow brighter. The carriage sped swiftly through the London streets, and pulled up at the house in Park Lane. It was not very large, but it was completely and artistically appointed even for these super-luxurious times find Kate tried to appreciate it as she looked round the small hall, with its costly mosaics and splendid hangings. What a beautiful house it seems," she said. k«i" Ye + t" h t Said; Uit ' s not bad! Tt 's a YoSifW' com P ared to some of them. ioull find your rooms pretty decent Better go and rest. We'll have dinner when you like!" Jfcr maid stood quietly to d respectfully eager to welcome her, and led the way t/ 0 her rooms. l+-i^r"% WeTe^ ree ' en suite ' all Beautifully decorated and appointed—bedroom, and dressing-room, and a boudoir, m china-blue and gold. There was a piano in the boudoir and pictures in all the rooms—wa,tereolours and cabinets—exotics, statuettes; all the things which the world considers as necessaries rather than luxuries. Kate looted round with a dazed feeling. Was she asleep and dreaming? Was she really a countess, and all these things her own—her very own? She tried to get up some enthusiasm of ownership, but failed. "I am tired, that's what it is," she ■sajd, and she threw herself upon the soft couch. "The butler wishes to know at what hour your ladyship will dine," said the majd, as she drew a silken coverlet over her. Kater started. Even yet she had scarcely got used to the title. "I do not care; in an hour, perhaps! Any time Lord. Carr-Lyon wishes." "His lordship wished the butler to consult you, my lady." "In an hour, then," said Kate. She lay still for half an hour; not sleeping, for that was impossible, but spending the minutes in attempting to realise her position, in strengthening the resolution she had made to do her duty. Then she got up, and Marie, the maid, who had been unpacking some of the imperials in the next room, came in and assisted her to dress. "Your ladyship will wear a plain evening dress to-night?" she said. "I have nothing but plain ones," said Kate, with half a smile. "You will find one of black lace " "Yes, my lady: I have got it ready," paid the maid promptly. "I thought it wotild be the one'your ladyship would choose. - ' The girl, who was about the same age as Kate, was a capable and intelligent maid, and something over and above that; and Kate's beauty' and gentleness had already won her heart. "I hope I shall not give you too much trouble," said Kate, as she sat down before the glass and the girl unfastened the thick coils and let her hair fall like a silken cascade over the snowy wrapper. "I have not been used to a regular maid, though one of my father's servants at home was kind enough to wait upon mc on occasions." The girl's heart went out to hex more and more at this simple appeal. "I shall not think oi trouble, my lady; and 1 am sure you will not give mc any; it will be a pleasure to serve you. Your ladyship .has lovely hair!" Kate smiled, and glanced absently in the glass. 'Tor that matter, it is no nicer than your own. I dare say," she said, simply. The girl, who had been accustomed to have her little flatteries received by her former mistresses in haughty selfcomplacency, coloured with amazement. "Will you wear any jewellery—and whajt, my lady?" she asked, presently. Kate was about to answer, "None," when it suddenly occurred to her that her husband would be pleased if she wore same of his presents, so she said: "There is a pearl and ruby set I will wear, please." Marie arranged the suite with careful attention, and stepped back to take inspection. "Your ladyship is dressed," she said, and added to herself, "and if there is a more lovely young creature—bride or no bride—in London, tihen I Should like to see her!-' A footman came to the door a few minutes later and announced that dinner : was ready, and Kate went down, Marie following and aaranging her train |in the hall, the two gigantic footmen ! standing like gorgeous statues on.

either side of the door. Kate entered the drawing-room, and. was surprised to find it empty. She walked round it for a few minutes, looking at the decorations and ornaments. There were costly pictures on the walls, rare ornaments, and artistic furniture; it was, in short, a drawingroom of the present day, furnished by an uphosterer Avho had received carte blanche. The minutes passed, and still ahe remained alone. A footman eaine in with some coals, and she thought she would ask him if Lord Carr-Lyon knew dinner was waiting. "His lordship is not in yet. my lady; his lordship went out half an hour ago —to his club, he said, my lady." Kate wondered a little, hut a few minutes later the door opened and Lord Carr-Lyon entered. He was in evening dress, but much less' overdressed than usual, and his hair was disarranged and his face Hushed. "Sorry you've had to wait," he muttered. "I just went down to the club —it's just round the corner—to get my letters." He offered her his arm, and they went into the dining-room. (To he continued Gaily.)