MASTER AND MAN.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVI, Issue 307, 27 December 1915, Page 8

MASTER AND MAN.

(By Alice and Claude Askew.) CHAPTER XVI. Disfi.ffurod for life! Could so terrible a thing be possible? Despite himself Denis shuddered. The picture of Molly as lie knew aud loved her outlined itself sharply before his mind's eye. She was suiilin? at him as she was wont to smile, her dimple, evident, her eyes dancing, her fair curls jllintim. like sunbeams about her lace. What a darling she was! And now! His eyes, a litl. more accustomed to the obscurity, fell upon the almost unrecognisable figure of the girl propped up against her pillows— unrecognisable for the bandages which swathed her head and face. With his hand passed about her shoulders he had drawn her towards him. and she had ceased to resist, finding comfort in the contact, and Denis felt the longing that was in her to rest her poor wounded head ■upon his breast that was warm with love ill spite of all.

Ami. indeed, il was only n momentary ]i:in_ that had caused liim to tremble. He was incapable of disloyalty. Molly was his for better or worse, and he was hers. The vows hail not been spoken before the altar, but it was aa bindina; as if it had. Anil he loved and adored her for herself —not merely for her superficial prettiness. This' needed no argument—it was the spontaneous feeling of .a true and tender heart.

And so. while she wept, ho whispered tender words in her ear. words oi comfort and promise, so that by degrees Molly's shoulders ceased to quiver, and the racking sobs were hushed. "1 know I oughtn't to cry." she murmured, disengaging herself gently from his arm and leaning back upon her pillows. "Dr. Clifford says it is so bad for ir.c—he does everything lie can to cheer mc vp —but think. Denis—that you should have to see mc like this—and the knowledge that we must say -good-bye'— such a terrible •good-bye'—you taking your life in your hands —aud'l—I —never to be the same again—not able to picture myself—as myself—welcoming you back —but wanting to run away and hide my face from you—oh, Denis, it's cruel — cruel." "You won't wish to hide your face from mc. darling." he maintained stoutly, "when vim see and realise how little 1 mind really—that I only want you— you. A few scars—what do they matter? Why. it's very likely that I shall be scarred too. You wouldn't think of turning from mc. would you?" She caught her breath. "Xo—no—as if I could!" --■-•Then why.think it of mc?" he queried gently. ••Because —it's different somehow, she faltered. "I expect I must have been a little conceited, Denis, without knowing it. 1 was glad that you thought mc pretty. 1 wanted to be pretty—for you. And I couldn't bear it if you, were disappointed in mc. And that's why I want ■ -jr OU _I still want you—to consider yourself free —just as I shall." ••Xo—no!" he interrupted. "Yes, Denis—l.mean it," she insisted There was a suspicious quaver in her voiccr-the threat of renewed tears. "I made up mv mind when I lay awake last ni-ht. 1 saw how wrong it would be of mc to bind you. And"—she lifted her hands to her" face—"oh, don't make mc cr y again," she pleaded pitifully. 'Denis, about to remonstrate anew, broke off and was silent. He remem"bered the doctor's warning. Molly must not be excited by contradiction. After all, it was of no importance really. He knew bis own mind, and be knew that Moiiv loved him. He could vaguely understand her emotional desire to°give him bis freedom. -Jt shall be just as you Wish, dearest; he whispered, bending over her. She drew a sigh. "Thank you, Denis, she murmured. "That makes mc happier in mv mind. 1 couldn't bear to think that" I was binding you to mc because of a promise that very few people know anything about, or that you would marry me—out oi pity. But now its different. H you still care when you come back—if I'm not too horrid in your eves —oh! Denis, you know that I love you—that you are all the world to mc, my hero and my king.' -Then may this hateful war soon be over so that I can return and claim you, mv darling," be exclaimed passionate! v. 'Then, a sudden idea Hashing into* his brain, he interrupted himself with an eager question: "Molly. Molly, isn't it possible that you mpy be frightening yourself for nothing? How do you know that it is true—" be hesitated, finding the words difficult to speak—"about your disfigurement. I mean?"

He bad taken bis seat by the side of the bed and was holding her hand in his. "Tt is true." she sighed, "though of course I only found out by accident. I heard Dr. Clifford talking to the nurse in the next room. The door was open, but they thought I was asleep. He used the words 'disfigured for life.' I couldn't mistake them. And afterwards I asked Xurse Ellis herself and she—she admitted it. She was so kind. Denis, and horrified that I should know, but she couldn't deny it."

"I'll speak to Gifford myself." put in Denis, a frown wrinkling his brow. - 'It was great negligence on his part —and it may not be so bad " - r Xo—no—no." she cried anxiously, her fingers tightening upon his hand, "you mustn't do that, you must promise mc that you won't say a word either to the doctor or to my father. It would do no good—only vex and troubl. them. And I shall be all right now T've had this talk with you—it was that that was on my mind." She was evidently much concerned. "You will promise mc, Denis?" she repeated. Once again Denis recalled the doctor's warning. Molly must be yielded to. Besides, what good could be done by any reference to the unfortunate incident? "Yes, dear, I give you my promise. I won't say a word about it." he said, "but. for myself. I'm convinced that Gifford is mistaken —that he was taking too pessimistic a view. You'll realise it for yourself as soon as you get these horrid bandages taken off." Molly did not argue the point. For the rest of the time that they were allowed to be together they talked as lovers talk—so much so that Denis almost forgot that he had been given, and obliged to accept his freedom.

"You will come back," said Molly. "Oil, I know you will come back when this terrible war is over, and you will be one of the heroes which all the country will honour. And how proud I shall be of you! Oh, Denis, I'm not going to allow myßclf to be frightened—l'm not going to let my mind dwell on terrible possibilities. I'm only going to think of tho honour and glory—and that I wouldn't have had things happen other-

wise. I wouldn't have had you stay be-1 hind when our country is in need, when every man is called upon to prove his manhood." She clung to him for a moment when the time came for them to part. "They tell mc 1 may see you again— just for a moment," she murmured — "but we shall not be able to talk much, so I must give you my little souvenir now." She plunged her hand under tho pillow and produced a square cardboard box. "1 always meant you to have it," she went on, "to take away with you and wear during the dangers that are before you. I"—she smiled a little —''1 thought it might be a sort of talisman. And just for that reason 1 couldn't keep it back, though—though things are not quite the same between us. At any rate, it will always serve to remind you of Molly—as she was." Denis had removed the lid as she spoke. The box contained a miniature portrait of Molly upon enamel, set with gold, and it had a thin gold chain attached to it so that he might wear it about his neck. The miniature had been executed from a photograph taken about six montlm ago—a photograph of which Dents was particularly fond. It was the picture of a smiling and happy Molly, with dimpled cheeks and eyes that sparkled with the joy of life, and rebellious curls, and lips that pouted just a little—lips that seemed to call for kisses. Molly—as she was! A lump rose in Denis' throat as he gazed at the portrait, and a sigh broke from him. Molly was watching him closely. She heard the sigh. "You see." she whispered. "You understand mc now, Denis. Wasn't I right?" He lifted the miniature to his lips. "What I do see," he replied softly, "is the spirit that looks at mc out of these dear, blue eyes—and that is the true Molly—the Molly that cannot change— the Molly I shall love till I die." A minute or two later Nurse Ellis rettirnod, and he was forced to tear himself away. Denis kept his word, and though Mr. Strafford questioned him closely a3 to whether he had discovered the cause of Molly's recent tears, he revealed nothing of what he had learnt. He thought it likely, indeed, that the squire had not been into the doctor's confidence as to Molly's true condition, and he was glad that he had said nothing to add to the old gentleman's existing distress. Dr. Clifford had left to attend to other duties, and Denis did not see him again. In the late afternoon he had his last sight of Molly—if sight it could be called, when the room was even darker than before. She was very tired and weak, he was told, and she must not be allowed to move from her pillows. And so all he could do was to 1 kneel by her bedside and kiss her thin, frail hands. Few words were spoken, but Denis realised somehow that since the morning a more peaceful atmosphere was enveloping the girl. She had not been crying —she told him this herself—but had slept free from the torturing dreams that till now had disturbed her rest. She took this as.a good augury. " God will guard you, Denis," she whispered. '" He will send you home unscathed." Her lips moved.s_lei\U___afterthat, and Denis knew that she'was'pray l - ing—praying for him. His eyes were wet when at last, through the darkness, he staggered from ' -the room. When, having bidden a final and affec- • tionate farewell to the squire, he was about to drive away in his car, Jim Bradley by his side, his progress was impeded by the arrival of another car. Out of it &prang Lewis Merton, who had come on one of his periodical visits of inquiry. Denis would have driven off with a simple wave of recognition, but Morton hailed him, and so, against his will— for. despite everything, he bad never really been able to bring himself to a liking of the financier—he was obliged . to respond. " you're really efT, Clayton, are you. Well. I wish yon the very test ; of good luck, and I hope it won't be long before we see you home again. (Meanwhile we will take care of Miss i Molly for you —you need have no fear , on that score." " Thank you," said Denis coldly. He : did not like the allusion to Molly—not that he felt he had the smallest reason to be jealous, but there was something : in the man's expression, something in 1 his manner, that struck a sinister note. He stood, too, on the doorstep of Dor- ■ rington Hall in an attitude that seemed vaguely to betoken possession, and this 1 in itself was galling to Denis, who could i not forget the extent to which Mr. Strafford was already indebted to Merton. ' (To be continued daily.) FOUNTAIN-PENS.