A WILFUL MAID.

Auckland Star, Volume XLII, Issue 212, 6 September 1911, Page 10

A WILFUL MAID.

DX CHARLES GARVICE, AUTHOR OF

"Claire," "Elaine," "Her Ransom," "My Lady Pride," "A Woman's Soul," etc. CHAPTER XV.— (Continued.') ■ '•Weil, uiv darling!" he says, taking u. i- h.iud and kissing it. "Have you am menage lor my father?" and he aa'vcs the letter to and fro. "What do you wish me to say?" she i':i:-ir. iler eyes to his face. "AVhat h:;-,•„' you invii telling hkn'.' That—that 1 ani'iiu ignorant and altogether unsutisiactnry creature ■] have" told him that you are an angel:" he says. wi'Ji a .smile. "But b- will lind that out lor himself. You don't know how glad and delighted he will be!" Carrie looks doubtful. •■Won'c he be rather surprised," she savs. shvly, "seeing that he is under the impression that father's daughters are quite little girls 1" He laughs. "Yes, 1 remember, he told me that there was a 'young family'! Dear old gentleman! You will be as sure to like him as he is to like you. Everybody likes him. There is not a kinder man nn the face of the earth!" "I hope he will like me," says Carrie, with a humility that is so strange and charming that Lord Cecil kisses the soft haijl again. The door opens and the servant appears. "Mr. Fairfold, miss." she says. Carrie starts, but Lord Cecil remains Unmoved. *The «rs.t inquirer after your health," he s;,_ r <, coolly. "It is awfully kind of him." Carrie nods, and the servant taking the nod for consent, admits Willie Fairfold. As he comes' in, Carrie sues that Philippa had described his appearance exactly. He looks pale a.nd haggard, r.s if "the L..11 had lusted for a week instead of a night. "Ah, Fairfold." says Lord Cecil, rising and shaking hands. "How do you do? Capital hall last night, wasn't it?" And with an inclination of the'head lo Carrie for Lord Cecil is not the man to forget his manners even before his betrothed—leaves the room. Willie advances to the table with a determined air. with the manner of a nan hent upon a forlorn hope, upon a irN-i'.n that —though knowing it must fail—he must carry through. "Good morning," he says, taking Carr.e's hot hand and holding it for a ; moment .-is if he scarcely knew what to ' do with it. "1 came to —to hear how you were this morning after the ball." "1 am quite well," says Carrie, trying to speak carelessly. "What a splendid ball it was. wasn't' it?" "Yes.'' lie says, but with anything but enthusiasm. "Yes, I suppose it was. But 1 didn't come to speak about the ball, Carrie. Can vou. will vou, give me a few minutes?" ' "Yes." she falters. "Won't you sit down?" He -hakes his head, and stands clutching his lint, and looking at her with that int-nse stare which denotes an equally int"n-e nervousness. "No, thanks. I'd rather stand. I came t'lit morning, because—because I could liol help it. Carrie." she raises l.er eyes to his face and; trie- to speak, hut no words come. And j at that moment—for the first time—she understands and realises what he is suf- i "Carrie," he says, with the same steadfar; lock. "1 came this morning to ask you a plain question. I know that I I should have asked it before. Perhaps it ! would have been better if 1 had asked it before, but—but 1 had not the courage, j Carrie, you know that I have loved you." I'ale and agitated, she raises her eyes to his pale face and tries to speak, but he does not give her time. "You must have known that I loved you. though I have not said so in so ma,iy words. I wish now that I had, but —but 1 wa.s afraid, and thought that 1 ! would be more likely to win you if I —l j ga\e you tini". But 1 can wait no longer. I Cairie. I Inve you. and L came this morning to tell you so. and to—to ask you to hj? my wife." and he moistens his dri lip-, and gazes steadily down on her. - She lifts her heavy lids and looks-up at him sadly, pityingly., "I—l am so sorry. Willie!" she murmurs. "Why should you be sorry?" he says. "Arc you sorry for me? Do not! waste your pity. You know, you have krown. that 1 love you, Carrie. It I is no new thing. I have loved you, and looked forward to make you. my wife for years past. You know that?" "I —I did not know for certain. But, Willie, I am very sorry; but it canno't be. Willie, I —l " she falters and hesitate-. . ' | A strange tenderness, a new-born con- ! sideration for others has sprung • iip I within her heart since she has learnt that ! she hr.s a heart. i . "Well;" he -ays. and he seems to gain courage and calmness. Sue looks up at him. and her face grows red an d {h en p a ] c a rr n in. "Willie, I am very sorry that yoti dhould have said—what you have! 1 cannot be your wife, because I have promised to b" Lord Cecil's." He neither starts nor displays any! other violent sign of emotion, but his lips—unprotected by any moustache—j quiver as if something had pierced him to the heart, and his hands close more tightly over his hat-brim. "Promised to be Lord Cecil's wife?" he eays. repeating the words slowly, as if to realise and take home fully their meaning. Then he draws a long'breath. just such a breath as a man might struggle for who had been smitten to death but has determined tod ie without a cry. "Are you angry. Willie? Ah. do not be angry!" says Carrie, with a strange I and novel humility.' A week ago she would have put his avowal aside with a few laughing words, and fled from him with a snatch of a song on her lips; but now. knowing what he is Buffering, she looks up at him pleadingly. "Angry?" he says, slowly; "no, surely I am not angry. Carrie—l am scarcely surprised, i—i have seen it coming for weeks past. Last night I felt that the mow to my hopes had already fallea or was about to fall." B^ ! "nr Sha Eays ' with a gesture-.of paSe!»^ 0W S ° ? Was -was it so palHe smiles sadly. ' Hr*v° V £' s v e f * "re keen, and jealousy KK°:-M and I sa? m& C I ° t .. tk « e rest of them, not t Wi w7 n f° u ? d ! ee ' : sa W that I ■ -GarrVi Ti- e hfld come." I *%*\ UffigOT foi mean thatI i, -4 0! no'." W e Ur ''lord Cecil?'' I & SSIKif not h ™ x^?- ! I . "J could MM des P air a nd I I t , w « ttfak bo unworthily

!of you! No, I know that would make no difference to you " "Thank you, WUliel" "I know that even if he were not a nobleman, he is my superior; but I will not talk of myself, except to say that having loved you so long—long before he know you. Carrie—l could uot refrain from telling you, even though 1 had no hope." At the manly words, so gently, so J quietly spoken.' Carrie's eyes fill with I tears, and instinctively she holds out her hand. He takes it and holds it in his, almost with a protecting touch. "So, having said my say," he goes on, with a wan smile, that in a woman would melt to tears, "I will go. But, Carrie, though I—l am not to be your husband' —his voice quivers—" you will still let me ho vour friend—l will say your lover; ! for while life lasts I shall love you, Carrie!" "No —no." she murmurs, and now the tears roll down her cheeks. "But ves," he sayß with a smile, "always, while life lasts, and I shall always think of you as tie little girl whom I loved as a playmate, and whom, as she grew up. almost hand in hand with me, became the sole queen of my heart! You will reign there still, Carrie; though another will call you wife, you will still be enshrined in "that corner of my heart, Carrie, while this heart beats!" " Ko —no!" she murmurs again. "Find one better, worthier." He shakes his head with a smile. "Never, Carrie. And now I will go. To tell you that I wish you' all and every possible"happiness is not necessary. You know that, and —Carrie—: —" She lifts her eyes to his, fixed on her with unspeakable devotion. "If at any time, by any chance, you need a friend — a friend who would give his life to serve you, however slightly —will you come to me? Will you promise thatt It Beems I know, such a request, seeing that you have surrendered your life into the keeping of another, but—who knows —some evil chance may come, Heaven grant it may not, when you may need me. If you should, though you do not seek me, I shall know of it, and I will be at your side to help you; and now, 'good-bye,'" and he presses her hand tightly. She cannot speak for a moment for the lump that rises in her throat, but presently she finds her voice. "Oh, Willie, will you forgive me?" she murmurs. " Forgive vou! For what?" he asks, gently. •• F or " her face turns scarlet, and her eyes droop. " Ah, Willie, I know that I have not treated you well! I know it now! I have been thoughtless —heartless " " No, not heartless!" he says, staunchly—"not heartless, Carrie; thoughtless, perhaps, a little; but with the thoughtlessness of a girl who has known nothing of the world and the feelings which live 1 and glow in a man's heart! There is nothing to forgive, Carrie! Good-bye!" I and with truest, gentlest chivalry, he bends his head, kisses the soft, white hand, and goes out. ! In the morning sunshine he stands for | a moment, with his hat still heW. in his hand, and as he thus stands—gazing before him and seeing not the green meadows and the blue sky, but the beautify. l face he has just left; hearing not thd lowing of the cows and the singing of the birds hut the low sweet-toned voice of j the girl he has loved so well and losl>^ j Lord Cecil comes through the window of his room and lays his hand on'his shoulder. ! Willie starts slightly, then takes Lord Cecil's proffered hand, and for a moment the two men look at each other. Willie is the first to speak. "I —I have just been saying 'goodbye.'" he savs. quietly. " You are going away?" says Lord Cecil, gently. " Yes; for a time. Lord Cecil. I think you should know that I have just left Carrie—Miss Carrie Harrington—and that I have asked her to he my wife. She has told me that she cannot, and why!" Lord Cecil does not speak for a moment, and Willie, with a sudden flush, goes on: " I will not say that I do not envy you, Lord Cecil, because I do, with all my-heart and soul. I will tell you that 1 would have died to win what you have won so easily—so easily!" There is the first, the only touch of bitterness in his voice. "But though I envy you.l wish you nothing but good. I hope that you will be happy! I can't see how you can be otherwise, having her love!** wistfully. " Good-bye." Lord Cecil holds out his hand, his dark eyes fixed on the now pale and haggard face'."

"Fairfold,' he says, in ibis grave 'sweet voice, " I am sorry—very, very sorry! What can I say more? It is not'strange that you should have loved her. There is no man, worthy of the name of man, who could have known her aB~ yon have known her and not loved herl' I am sorry-that you should, suffer. I hjopg you will believe that! I will say more; Jhat if I stood where you stand npw, if we had changed places, I should hav e wished yon the Same as.you.have wished me and though there would have been envy in my heart, there would have been neither hatred'nor malice! Fairfold, we shall be friends! In time you will forget—no, not- forget,, but the wound will have " It rtay be so," says Willie, with a sad smile, " but I do not feel like it now. But I will be your friend if yoii will let it be so. Hers, I must of necessity be! I have-'just told her so, Lord Cecil. I have told her that if ever she should need a friend I pray that I may be at hand to help her. I trust she may never be in sore strait or trouble, but if she should " He does not finish. Lord Cecil presses the strong hand gratefully " Heaven grant your wish, which I eoho Fairfold!" he says. "But I take your promise." "Thank you" says "Willie, in a low voice. " While I live, you wife will have at least one friend in the world who will never let anything, be what it may, overshadow his friendship. Good-bye!" and he goes. Lord Cecil star.ds looking after him for a moment, then he goes into the parlour. Carrie is sitting on the sofa, with her head drooping, her hands clasped in his lap. He goes up to her and puts his arm around her, and she raises her head. " Cecil! I=s-I must-tell you,", she says, the tears still in her eyes, and shining through her smile. "No need, darling," he says, kissing her; "he has told me himself. He is a noble fellow, Carrie, and—and" his lip quivers as Willie's has done—"if the truth must be told more worthy of you than I am." With a little sharp breath she puts her arm around his neck and lays her head on his breast. " Ah, no, no! There is only one in the wide world for me Cecil—only one!" And she takes his hand and presses it to her lips lovingly, meekly, almost burnbl v. (Continued daily.)