An Interrupted Marriage

Bush Advocate, Volume XXIII, Issue 309, 12 January 1912, Page 3

An Interrupted Marriage

(Continued.) "Do you think I never long to clasp your hands in mine—to hear your voice whisper sweet words to me?" "i do not know,"' she replied. "But I know, lanthe. And I can bear the torture no longer. There is one thought that has haunted me ever since I have been here. Can you guess what it is?" "No," she saicl. "I will tell you. It is that you would coma to me with love shining in your eyes—that you would clasp your arms round my neck, and'say, "My husband, I have learned to love you at last!" Will such imagination ever become reality, lanthe?" "No," she replied finally, "I do not think it will." "Thtn 1 muse say, Heaven bless you wife. You and I must part; and for your sake, lanthe, I pray that we may never meet again."'

His departure made some little stir. The papers all agree that it was sad to lose the promising young member, just when the country required his services. The 'Karl was loud in his lamentations —indeed, when Herman 'told him that he contemplated a journey to America, the old man broke clown, and prayed him. with tears, not to go away. "Yon are to me iike my own child," lie said. "If had had a son of mv own I should not have loved him better. Why go so far away ?'' Herman, deeply touched by such affection, answered something about money; but Lord 'Carre grew impatient.

'"Money!" he cried. "What does such money matter to .you? If yon lost all that there is in .America belonging to you. it would not matter.''

Hut Herman gravely told him it must l)}—he was compelled to go. In his distress the Karl sent for his daughter. "lanthe," he pleaded, ''can you not

ask Herman to stay? I cannot bear that he should leave us; ask him to

She knew that one word from her would make him give up all thought of the journey; but that one word she would not speak. Stil, her father's sorrow opined her eyes as nothing else could have done, and made her 'think more of her husband than she had thought before. He comforted the Earl bii! to himself he said it was more than probable that he should never see Croombe Abbey again. The morning came when he stood before his wife, his preparations all made, his farewells all spoken.

"1 am here to say good-by, lanthe.'" She looked up in amazement. Avo yon going to-day—now? I did not know it."

"Yes, I am going. I leave my heart "'•d my love with you, lanthe. I pray Heaven to watch over you.'' She held out her hand silently. She was nearer caring for him than she had ever b.en.

"lanthe," he said, in a low voice,, "I am looking for the last, time, in the eyes that have always held happiness for me. I forget the pride, the scorn, i!'.'.' arguish, and my heart goes out to you in farewell—farewell, my lost love —my idolized wife! Will you kiss me once? I shall never suffer a greater bitterness than this. Will you kiss me, lanthe?"

Hh.2 turned her beautiful face to his her perfumed hair brushed his cheek. She touched him with her sweet fresh lips. She saw him grow white as death and then, with a passionate cry, hurry away. Then she was standing alone, with a strange fire creeping slowly through her veins, and a strange tempest breaking over her heart—wondering what had happened. Two days afterward a packet was placed in her hand. She recognised his writing, and opened the missive at once. Hot tears filled her eeys as she gazed. It was a deed of gift, making over to her the greater part of his fortune. He had reserved but' a small share for himself—and even that was to be hers at death. His wealth was made over to her without the least reservation. It was plain that he thought that, when freed from him by the death lie sought, she would marry in her own rank ; but there was not one word of tin's in the deed of gift. She was touched more deeply than she cared to own. Who could say, after such love and sublime devotion, that noble souls belonged alone to men of noble birth ? There had never been a more noble soul than this. What had he not done for love of her ? He had rescued the name she bore from shame and disgrace—he had saved her father from something more than ruin—he had restored their family fortunes with the greatest splendor—he had taken her name, and had added a new lustre to it—he had devoted himself to her service and to her father's and he had crowned his gift by the lavish one of his whole fortune. Had there ever been love like 11118? Plebeian! She blushed to think how often the word had been applied to him. He might be- lowly born, but his was the soul of a prince. Lady lanthe, with all her' pride, was too noble, too grand in character, not to recognise the true nobility lie had displayed. He was gone. She would have liked to see him once more—to hold out her hand's to him in all frankness, and say:

'T have:-- misjudged you—misprized you. I have learned to recognise in you at last, a nobility greater far than the mere accident of birth confers."

She would have said , it, but words were useless now. She took the deed to her father, who read it through, and then said, sadly : "I do not like this, lanthe-—it seems to me that he never expects to return. 11 y daughter, I am an old man, and

my experience of this world has been a large one. I tell you that a nobler man than this husband of yours has never lived."

She added, in a low voice, "I believe it." Come what might she could despise him no more—he had proved himself infinitely her superior. He was gone. His rooms, were closed ; there were few traces at Croombe Abbey of the man who' had rescued it from ruin. But lie lived in the hearts of the tenants. The servants'spoke of him. in whispers to each other, saying that .their beautiful, young mistress had been very proud ; but that she would repent her pride- now, that it had -driven

him away. When Lady lanthe went amongst the tenantry, she wondered to lind how greatly he was loved, '.there was'nothing but lamentation about iiiin. He had been gone three years. During that time he wrote oi:<_,i tu the Earl, but rarely to Lady lanthe. From every land through which he traversed he sent presents to Lord Carre. He seemed never to forget him ; but his letters to Lady lanthe.. breathed only one idea, and that as an apology that he still lived.

Slowly, but surely, she began to miss him—to miss his devotion, the constant protection of his presence, his assiduous attention. When she went out now she had no loving escort; no strong loving hands were near; no-one was present to consult her every whim and caprice: If she felt tired, there was no one to persuade her to rest, to insist that she should take care of herself, to shield her from every little passing care. She missed the strong, tender, never-failing love, although she was unwilling to own it.

It touched her, too, to the very heart to see how the Ear! missed him—V 3 had become so dependent on him for much of the comfort of his life. Herman was so prompt in answering his letters, so skillful in superintending his business affairs, so kind in selecting the 'Newspaper articles he thought would best please him, and and reading them to him. The Earl had often told him laughingly that he was eyes and cars to him. Now all that was missing.' When Lord Carre had cared to walk, Herman's strong arm had been ready to guide his feeble steps; he had been devoted as a son—and all because he loved Lady lanthe. Moreover, he had detected that all was not quite as ii should be. The property of the estate had never been so well cared for as when he had the management of it.

Slowly but surely all these things came home to Lady lanthe, and wciv as the beginning of'the end. She had learned to miss him more than she had learned to despise him. She learned that nobility of character belongs to no state, but is admiral'!" in all—that to be noblv born is not- to have a nnr.opoly of every good eift under heaven —that vice can be hereditary as well as virtue—that virtue can exist without cither rank or wealth. All these lessons she learned slowly, and learned too late. In the long gallery hung a portrait of Herman. The Karl had insisted on having it there ; and more than once a day Lady lanthe would go to look at it—to look in silence at the face that for love of her had grown to thin and worn—to look at that pictured semblance of the man whom her pride and contempt had driven into exile that he hoped would end in death.

It .was a beautiful face ; its beautgrew upon her. She wondered that she could ever have undervalued it- have thought it plain or plebeian. No peer of the realm had a more noble face. Ah, how .full of pain and sorrow it had been when she had seen it last ; How those eyes had saddentd and those lips trembled ! How wait I she had been to him.

(To bo continued.)

NEVER HAD A DOCTOR. "I never thad a doctor in my life and that says u lot for Chamberlain's Tablets," says Isabella Cwrric, Bellbird, CessiTcek, N.S.W. "They keep me in perfect health and any time 1 ■feci "off color," or o.s though I needed a laxative I tako one and the result is perfect health." For sale everywhere.