STELLA'S FORTUNE; OR, LOVE, THE CONQUEROR.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVII, Issue 72, 24 March 1906, Page 14

STELLA'S FORTUNE; OR, LOVE, THE CONQUEROR.

By CHARLES GARVICE,

Aoibor of "Woven on Fate's Loom," "Claire," "Elaine," "A Womaa'e Soul," "A Waated Love," etc.

CHAPTER XXI. -j T_3_ STRUGGLE AND THE RESCUE. The Soto's nature was made To satisfy the fowler's net: let doves, heware When they see nets, and go not there. As the letter had prophesied, it was a magnificent night. The moonlight lit up every tree and hedge of the snowcovered landscape. Stella could have found her way from i the Vale to the Hut in the dark, but j to-night the scene was as light as day, almost too light for her safety, and she kept under the shadow of the hedges! 2nd the old wall, while she was on the \ Yale road, and preferred walking deep in the snow when she entered the park I to be under the shelter of the tree | rather than tread the hard, clean, frozen path in the full light of the calm, peace- ] ful moon. | And now. as she neared the place of! tryst, her heart beat fast and excitedly.! Soon, ill a few minutes, she would be : with Louis: five minutes more and she would be nestling against his strong, blithe heart as the robins press against the strong, sturdy oaks in the park. Then, at the bend of the path, she caught the first sight of the red curtain? of the Hut, and her heart throbbed: mere quickly, and from her half-parted, smiling lips came the low, tender words of love: "My Louis." She reached the wicket, and expected to find his arm around her and his words of welcome and devotion in her ears, but the whole place was silent and motionless in the calm stillness of the moonlight. Not a breath of wind stirred, not a twisr of the snow-laden branches but seemed carved in ebony and ivory: impossible of motion. Amid all her passionate eagerness Stella'? heart gave a leap of fear and alarm, but she shook it oil" with a rallyins si_rh. and placing her hand on the small wicket, waited, her face turned toward the entrance to the Hut. Suddenly, as if it liad sprung from the ground, the figure of a man stood beside her. she turned, and the cry of alarm which she was about to utter died on her lips frozen with fear. The man was wrapped up to the point of disguiee: nothing but a pair of dark, brooding eyes were discernible, and as he laid his hand on her arm Stella had not the slightest suspicion of his identity. "Don't be frightened, miss." he said, in a voice of feigned thiekne9s. '"You're Miss Xewton, ain't you?" "If I am." breathed Stella, "what do you want with mc?" "I've come from—you know who." ""Speak out plainly." said Stella, pressing her hand upon her bosom and summonins up all her courage. "From Mr Felton, if you must have it," growled the man, evidently annoyed by her unexpected interruption. "I've come to tell you as he can't meet you here, but that you're to come with mc to the carriage entrance around at the side." "Cannot come here!" faltered Stella. "Why not?" "He's afraid of being watched: one as is his enemy—you don't want his name, do you?—has got some suspicion of this meeting and might " Stella caught the man's arm and looked around with genuiue alarm. "Sir Richard." she exclaimed. "NeaT herr! Lome! I will go with you at once!" The man smiled with dark meaning and tramped off. Stella followed with beating heart and anxious face. They made the curve of the fence and came upon what was called the carriage entrance, from the fact of the road broadening at the place and allowiuo- of a vehicle to turn, which it could not at any other part of the drive. As shey turned the corner Stella started. ""What is that?" she said, raising her hand and pointing to something black and square which stood close against the roug'i. uneven hedge.

"That's a carriage; it's all right," replied the man. "Mr Felton is waiting ins! le."

drew back and eyed her guide v. itii a keen, piercing doubtfulness.

"A carriage:" she sdid. "Mr Felton iu-idc! I do pot believe it! I will go no farther," and she drew back with a _restur° of determination.

■■ Hush, miss! Don't speak so loud," exclaimed the man, sidling up to her v.-jrh a sinister scowl.

" Do you want to alarm the neighbourhood and call it up to find ye here? Com--, you must come now you've got thos far, it's more than I dare do to go back! Mr. Felton *ud pay mc pretty severely for such a mistake.*'

" No," said Stella. "I will not go! Go »o Mr. Felton and tell him that 1 have gone back and—and that 1 cannot — rn>, I cannot obey him!"

She turned as she spo_;e and gathered her wrap around her. preparatory to making jioud her escape, but the man, evidently divining her intention, sprang noiselessly upon her, and. taking her up in his strong arms, carried and half drngeed her to the carriage—skilfully twisting her cloak around her face as he did so. so that it was impossible for her tv shriek or call ior assistance. But Stella was .strong for a woman, stronger than her captor had given her credit for being, and she struggled so fiercely that by the time he had carried her within arm's length of the carriage she had succeeded in uncovering her mouth, and, raising Iter voice to its utmost, sent forth a piercing scream.

Before its echo had died away a figure darted from out of the hedge and dashing at her captor, hurled him to the ground, Stella being dragged down in his fall.

Before the prostrate man could regain his feet the stranger flung himself upon his breast and held him down to the ground.

Stella, trembling in every limb, and -white as the snow, sprang to her feet, and. '.canine: against the carriage door, struggled "rritli a deathly faintuess which rapidly threatened to overcome her.

A voice—the voice of the person who iiad co opportunely arrived to rescue her —chased her swoon away.

"You villain!" he exclaimed. "What ere you doing with that lady? Who are you?

At the sound of the voice Stella sprang 9ftt'Wi**r\*..

"Sir Richard Wildfang!" she exclaimed. " Z.liss Newton!" was the astonished retort. '"Can I believe my senses? How came you in this ruffian's power?" As he spoke he raised his hand and struck the prostrate man with his fist. Stella pressed both her hands upon her aching brow and swayed like a reed shaken in the wind. ""Don't a??k mc: I implore you humbly; do not ask mc!" Sir Richard arose, still 'keeping his hand upon the arm of the ruffian, now captured in his turn, and looked at her with a fine expression of mingled pain and regret. Then he bowed silently and turned to the man. "At least we will unmask this ruffian: you will permit mc to do that?" Stella made a gesture of assent with her hand. Sir Richard struck the cap off the man's head and tore away the comforter which covered the lower part of his face and revealed the features of Stephen Hargrave. Stella uttered a cry of despair. Sir Richard fell back, with a look of indignant horror. "" Stephen Hargrave," he sg-'d. " Mr. Louis I-elion's servant!" Stella shrank closer to the carriage and covered her face with her hands. Both the men knew that she was weeping. Sir Richard gras.ped the man by the arm and dragged him into the full moonlight. " Xo," he exclaimed, his voice thick with indignant rage, " you shall not escape your punishment, though this lady, whom you have so insulied. pleads for you. Answer mc. you ruftia n!" And he shook him as he would have done a dog, Stephen Hargrave submitting indeed with a dogged moodiness. "Who is the instigator—the chief of this outrage? You are only a tool. I feel assured. Speak, or I'll choke you, ruffian!*' Stephen Hargrave hung his head and glanced sideways at Stella. Sir Richard was also, looking that way from the corners of his eyes. Stephen Hargrave waited until he saw that she was listening with strained intent, and fearful face, then said, sullenly: "'That will do, Sir Richard. You don't want to choke mc, and let my betters go free. I'm only a servant: I've got my living to get, and don't wish the young lady no harm. If I'm ordered to do anything, and well paid for doing it, ain't I obliged to do it?" "Quick!" said Sir Richard, sternly. "Who ordered you to commit this crime? What scoundrel could dare so base a thing? Quick, or I'll— —" "Who should order mc but my master—Mr Felton?" sullenly retorted Stephen. Stella unttcr a faint, despairing cry. Sir Richard shook his man roughly. "That's false, it must be," he said, in a broken voice. "False, why? What 'ud be' the good of trying to deceive you?" said Stephen. "Besides, do I want Miss Xewton? Should I've got a carriage to run away with her in?" "True," muttered Sir Richard. "But I cannot believe it—realise it." Then he turned to Stella. . "Can you supply the clue? I beseech you—for your own safety and honour— to answer mc. Did Mr Felton make this appointment—ask you to meet him here ?" Stella inclined her head and covered her face with her hands. Richard sighed. "Base, vile scoundrel, to take advantage of your trusting! Vile, indeed, must he the man who would suffer you to be thus insulted; to hire a ruffian like this to—to " And. as if overwhelmed with rage and indignation, Sir Richard turned away his head and groaned. Then Stella, as if stung into doubt by the enormity of the crime which was imputed to her lover, sprang forward, and, laying her hand upon Stephen's arm, cried, in piteous accents: "No, no! there must be some dreadful mistake. It is—it must be false! Confess that Mr Felton knows nothing unbidden from your own bad heart. Confes stbat Mr Felton knows nothing of it! Oh; say it is false, and —and 1 will forgive you, and let you go unpunished!"' "I'll say what you like," sard Stephen, sullenly. "But the truth is the truth, and that is that I'm only doing my master's bidding." Stella's wild eyes fixed themselves upon his face with soul-searching scrutiny for a moment. Then, with a sob, she threw up her face. "I do not—l will not believe it. He is incapable of such baseness." CHAPTER XXII. "FOKEVER." Mark mc. Ant"nir>. when a bad man smiles Be sure some honest heart must weep, For there is that within his triumph Which sets a ficid of pain. As if in mockery of her pure trust in him, Louis' voice at that moment broke the silence, for as his well-known form leaped the old gate and came into the moonlight, he cried: "Stephen, where arc you? Are you ready?" Sir Richard glanced at Stella as one who should say: "You see it is only too true. He thinks you safe within his clutches." Then, as Louis came upon the group, and stopped to stare with incredulous astonishment. Sir Richard advanced toward him with clinched hands and compressed lips.

"So, sir,*' he cried, with well-feigned passion, "your ruffianly tool is not ready. He has failed to carry out your vile orders. Miss Newton is safe, and under my protection. Scoundrel! your scheme is frustrated!"

Louis stared at him, then advanced to Stella.

"Miss Newton—Stella, what is all this? Why are you here? Sir Richard Wildfang, too! What does it all mean?"

Sir Richard, with an anxiety not dis interested, interrupted him hastily.

"It means, sir, that your villainy is unmasked; that Miss Newton knows you now for what you really are— a base, criminal adventurer."

"Stop!" said a voice, that was Stella's, yet so unlike, so dreadfully,

quietly calm that it might have "belonged to an automaton. And she, with an expressive gesture, motioned Sir Richard aside, and, advancing, confronted Louis with white, drawn face, and dark, accusing eyes.

"It means, sir," she said, in regular, metallic tones., "that one you had succeeded in deceiving is now undeceived; that one whom you taught to love you has now learned to hate you; that one who wbiild have given her life to have purchased you an hour's happiness would now give her life to secure your punishment. It means that from a trusting girl you have transformed mc by your baseness to an in!sulted. woman. All this it means, and this much more, that, having escaped your mercenary clutches, the woman you attempted to deceive has learned the • bitter lesson of a wasted love and a wasted life. Go sir, from my path for evermore. Should you cross it again—beware! I shall find some means of resenting the insult of your presence." Then she let the hand fall which she had raised in denunciation, and turned.

Louis stood for a moment, white and statuesque with astonishment, then he passed his hand across his forehead, looked up at the clear sky to assure himself that it was not a "dream, and held out both his hands imploringly. "Stella! Tell mc what it all means.

How have I wronged you—how deceived?" Stella turned again, her face lit up with passionate scorn. '"Would you have mc recite the story of your vile plot?" she asked, hustily. "Look within your own heart and read in its baseness the reason for my accusation." "This is madness," he said. "Vile plot —baseness!—of what do you accuse me?"' "Of the vilest dishonour.'" said Stella, confronting him. Do you ask for proofs? Seek thpm in the confession of your tool and accomplice, who has sought safety in flight: seek them in the evidence that remains—that carriage!"' ""Accomplice — carriage!" repeated Louis. "Stella, that carriage—oh! listen, I beseech you!" For Stella had taken the arm which Sir Richard had in stern silence offered her. and. though stung through all his soul by the sight, Louis still spoke calmly and humbly. "'I have heard too much of your honied words; they can deceive mc no longer!" said Stella. coldly, over her shoulder! "This much you shall tell mc!" exclaimed Louis, springing forward, his face white with passion, his teeth clinched, and his eves blazing. "And I ask it from your false lips, Sir Richard Wildfang." And as he spoke he grasped Sir Richard's arm. "How came you here— both she and you?" "Ask your own conscience," said Stella, faltering for the first time. "Did you not write mc a letter?" "I did," said Louis. "Enough!" exclaimed Sir Richard. "He confesses his baseness. Leave us, sir. if you have the slightest vestige of honour remaining!" Lotus drew himself up. and, casting a look of scornful contempt upon the allanxious face of Sir Richard, appealed to Stella. "Miss Newton, do you also say 'go'?" "I do!" said Stella. "You cast mc off—forever?" ""Forever.*' said Stella. He said not another word, but, crossing his arms, stepped from their path, and watched them with set. stone-like face, until they were lost to him around the curve Of the road.

He waited even after that for the space of five minutes, then he turned and walked with slow, measured pace up his own carriage entrance.

He slowly climbed iiie broad stone steps up which he had, so short a time since, and so proudly led his beautiful Stella, and, with the same indescribable expression of concentrated, deadly calm, pushed open the door and entered the antique dining-room.

He stood before the fire musing for a few moments, thinking of all he. had lost, and the mysterious, inexplicable manner in which he had lost, it, then, without a sigh—his sorrow had not Teally that distinctness yet—lie walked into his studio.

A light was burning there, and the marbles seemed to grin and mock at his misery and loneliness, as with folded arms and absent air he walked around the room and looked at them.

•'Here in this room." he murmured. "I held her against my heart. Here her lips—so false! so cruel!—told mc that she loved mc! Here the sweetest happiness my life has ever known fell to mc. Blessed be the room—for evermore. Those blind eyes," and he swept his hand before the sightless marble faces, "shall see no misery, no other love scene here! I swore to break them, one and all, if we were parted. We are parted, and I will keep mv vow."'

As he spoke" he took np the heaviest mallet, and with a passion utterly indescribable struck first at one beautiful face and then at another, until the room was filled with the noise of falling marble, and the fragments themselves, as they dropped and rolled about his feet.

With the mallet in his hand he went into the garden, made his way to the shrubbery, where they had talked so long and joyously, and raised his destroying mallet before the face of a statue which he and Stephen had only that day set up there.

It was the statue of the mother and child which he had worked at so enthusiastically, and which he had placed on the very spot in accordance with Stella's expressed wish.

But as his mallet was swung back a twinge of regret and remorse struck across his soul, and with a sigh he let the mallet fall to his side, gazed up at the plaintive face of the mother, and murmur, d:

".No. it is sorrow and despair itself. It shall stand!"

Then he flung the mallet from him, and, with drooping head, re-entered, the house.

• With the same calm self-possession, which had settled upon him as the snow does upon the mountain, he ascended the stairs, and entering the room slowly and methodically, put on his greatcoat and heavy walking boots.

Then he descended again, went through every room, locked every door and, flinging the keys into the farthermost corner of the studio, left the house as desolate and silent as he had found it on that Chrhistmas eve upon which he had met Stella—his beautiful, cruel and only loye—at the little wicket.

When he got clear of the grounds he stood, for a moment, and looked back at the Vale, which was all alight in the clear night, and at a steady, swinging pace started off on the London road.

For some few minutes Stella and her companion and protector remained profoundly silent.

Every vow. and therf Sir Richard's dark eyes took stealthy glances at her face, hut its expression was not encouraging.

Stella was still as "white as the snow and as hatd as the frost.

Her eyes "were bent upon the ground, her Jigs compressed. Tha hand which

held.her. wrap.jaround her was clinched hard and fast as marble upon her bosom. Altogether ?he was as statuesque as Louis, whom she had left watching her retreating form.

But as they heared the Yale the little frost of'despair, broken love, and disappointment wavered and began to thaw.

Her lips trembled, her hand unclasped and clasped spasmodically, her eyelids quivered, and Sir Richard, glancing stealthily again, saw a tear slip from under the lowered lids and fall upon her pale cheek.

Then he thought it was time to speak, and. having learned his part most thoroughly, he commenced to take it, up at the point at which he had been compelled to drop it for a while.

"Miss Newton—Stella." lie murmured in the softest, most dulcent tone of sympathy, "do not let your gentle heart distress itself. The cause is not worth a tear! Think how mercifully you have been permitted to escape a great misfortune. Remember what a vile plotter you have been rescued from, and look more hopefully, and—dare I say?—thankfully upon the future."

Stella turned her pale face to him. "Sir Richard," she said, in a very low, flattering voice, "T am grateful to you. though 1 cannot show it. I know from what you have rescued mc. From a life of misery, chained to one who would have snared mc for the worthless dross which has clung to mc like a curse! Oh, that I had been the poorest peasant on earth rather than my wealth should have tempted him to such baseness!" Her tears fell fast and she turned her head aside.

"Do not think any more of him; he is not worth a thought." pleaded Sir Richard. "He will never cross your path again. You must forget him." "Forget him!" said Stella, with a bitter smile. "1 shall not be permitted to do that. You forcret that I have to meet a mother's just reproaches. I am justly punished for deceiving her. But. alas! that punishment will be severe."

"You fear. Miss Newton." said Sir Richard, more softly than ever. "Why should you give her unnecessary pain and anxiety? Let mc enjoy the hapness of taking the responsibility- of thi-i night's events."

"You?" said Stella, half-shrinkin°-from him. °

'Yes. I," said Sir Richard. "Do you remember the promise you gave? Though it was a solemn 'promise, I would not have reminded you of it now but that by bo doing I may be able to spare you pain." He paused for a moment.

Stella turned colder even than she grew in the moment of her belief in Louis' treachery.

"Remember how I loved you. how patiently I pleaded, how patiently I waited. Had that scoundrel proved all you could have wished him. all he ought to have proved with such an incentive to virtue, as your love. 1 would uever have spoken of my love to you again. But now dare I hope that you will pardon mc if I remind you of your promise? He has proved himself to be unworthy of your love dishonourable, mercenary, base, vile. Will you keep jour promise?" He bent over as he breathed the words in his softest, most musical tones, and gently but firmly took her cold hand.

She let it remain id his, passive and icy.

"Yotr? pr6'ffr!se?«*-ire"breathed. "You will keen it?"

Stella looked up at the sky and around at the snow-clothed park", with a- wild, helpless, despairing gaze. What mattered her fate now that her heart was broken?

As well marry Sir Richard, whom she disliked, as another. All men were one to her now—she dreaded, distrusted, every son of Adam now that the prince of them all had turned out to be but a fiend in the disguise of ar. angel!

"1 will keep any promise," she said, in a faint, low voire.

Sir Richard hent over her hand, and pressed his lips upon it. "Heaven bless you!" he murmured. "I cannot thank you; my heart is brimming o'er with happiness." Like a wise man he said no more. They reached the Vale, and Stella entered the hall.

Mrs Newton came from the drawingroom, white with anger and anxiety. "Stella, you wicked, wicked girl, where have you been? I have "

Then she stopped suddenly as she cauhgt sight of Sir Richard, and stared from one to the other.

"You are alarmed, no doubt, my dear Mrs Newton," he said, coming forward, in lus quiet, self-possessed 'way, and with his calmest, most placid" .mile. 'Miss Stella ha? been taking a moonlight stroll in the park, when I had the happiness of meeting her." Mrs Newton turned to Stella, who smiled a dreadful, ghastly smile, and slowly ascended the stairs. Then Sir Richard gently led Mrs Newton into the dining-room, and with a smile of tirumph that was not all feigned, said, in his silkiest whisper: "My dear madame, congratulate mc! Miss Newton has promised to make mc the happiest man in the world!" iTo be continued daily.) OATHS PASSWORDS IN LONDON CLUBS. The large number of strange clubs in Loudon has been increased by. an addition of "Utopians," a Society of twenty, mostly women, who have established themselves in Chelsea. The club meets occasionally in the building erected on the site of Sir Tromas JJWs dwelling p/aee, Beaufort House. The club's motto is to serve God and be merry, aud its Utopia is reached bysharing the sources of pleasure in books', music, and art. The number of clubs which are unregistered In Londou, owiug to the facts that they have no headquarters and need no licenses, would surprise mauy people. About a year ago a man who made an involuntary appearance at the Westminster Police Court told the magistrate that he was a member of the Froth Blowers' Club and as a member he was bound, he said *o curse and swear every time he entered the club, ami produced a card of niembershl_t. .

There are, -however, very many cluhs In London that bring together men and women of culture which are scarcely known to the general public. Among these may be mentioned the Boz Club, representing the admirers, of Charles Dickens; the Castaways Club, for resigned naval officers; the Lost Legion, for the Empire, and the Pioneers.

There is also to be a development on the lines oi the Esperanto Club. Permanent premises are to be taken in Clement's Inn, Strand, with news, reading and writing room, and an Information bureau Is to be introduced. This clnb will be open to people of all nationalities, and It la expected that they wOl converse ln the new u_rer__l language.

A register will he kept ot member* desirous of entering into a course ot correspondence In foreign tongues. There axe already sixty-eight applications for membership.