A LOVE STORY, MERELY.

Bruce Herald, Volume XXXXI, Issue 4, 17 January 1905, Page 2

A LOVE STORY, MERELY.

W...; _____ . fc.fc®*-'; BY JOHN STRANGE WINTER. Copyright, 1891, by the Authors' Alliance. '**"-* ■'■■'> i -j«y~ CHAPTER 11. « Toek Airlie did not much care aboul .Mrs. Hope, although she was by way o* being an intimate of his wife's. Anr somehow in his solid presence, Mrs Hope always felt more or less hopeless and as if her stock in trade of look! and coquetry w,ere all decidedly impotent. "Why, even Miss Nugent has not been allowed to look into the room yet," he said' bluntly o "You know the poor oh chap has had the very nearestshave in tlu whole world— inf act, we can scarcely sa..-\ he's out of the woods yet. Ruth is simply worn out and dead asleep. at this moment, ahd I'm not much better. " "But" surely I could be of some use," she pleaded. "Well, candidly, I don't think you could," he said bluntly, "and of course every extra one in' the house makes it harder to keep going. But it's a'wfunkind of you to have come; I'll let him know as soon as he's fit to hear of outside interests. By the' by are you driving or shall I call you a cab?" "Oh, ho; I'm driving, thanks," she replied. She was boiling overNvith passion as -she crossed the hall and went down the steps to her carriage. And poor "Vere, who had gone slowly and drearily .up to her room face to face with a neiw and terrible trouble '■- even before the weight of the first awful, one had lifted from her heart. Could it really be. true that he had. gone _ straightway and engaged himself to Mrs. Hope, of all women in the world? If so he- must have gone to her and asked her atonee on arriving in London, at least during .the course of that f day.' FrOm Blackwood they .had learned that Mr. Lumley had returned abont three o'clock, having sent his luggage up to the studio in a cab th ree h ours earlier, that he had dressed and gone out. telling BlackwOod that he might possibly hot return till late at night. "I have to see a lady in Queen's Gate about a sitting," he said, "and if I'm . coming, home, to dinner I'll send you a wire about half -past six. ' ' He had, however, been brought home about six o'clock in a cab by a police-/ man and. a strange gentleman, who told Blackwood of the. accident, and that the only jj. conscious words he had. spoken were— "Take me horne — not a hospital — home," and accordingly they had done, so.. .. . She remembered now so well Mrs. Jock's comment on hearing Blackwood's story. "Ah, I wonder if he had been to see Mrs. Hope. She lives in Queen's Gate,. you know." Well, it was evident that he had been there, and from what Mrs. Hope had N said it was equally evident tliat' he had gone there ih anger and and had asked her to take possession of the heart which he believed that sue, Vere. had rejected! But oh— no, no, not the heart; of the life, the name, the fate, if you will, but the heart was hers — all -* tiers even yet. Hajd he notasked for her in his first conscious moment, had he not wished for her presence? Ah, yes whatever happened in the time to com, she was sure that his heart was and' . would be hers forever! ~ And. oh!, how unutterably wretched she was! She had no tears left! Her anxiety, ,her sleeplessness, her grief the mistakes of the past had taken all her tears— -in this, the most crushing, blow of all, her eyes were quite dry, but her heart seemed like a lump of lead. Her future looked black and blank, her flower of hope was withered and dead. 1 She was still there when a light I knock sOunded on the door. "Come in," she said, when it sounded a second time. The door was opened a couple of linches. "Vere, can you come?" It was j. Jock's voice. ■ She ran to the door, her heart in her imouth, and flung - it wide open. Jock yAirlie was standing on the landing. \ "Could you come?" he said. "He's asking for you and is quiet and sensible. Ruth's asleep ..still." "Oh, yes," she said, nervously, "I will come." . . . ' 'And you will remember how 5 * miserably ill and weak he is' still? You'll be quite steady and calm?" he said, anxiously. "I will be perfectly calm," she said; unhesitatingly. "But tell me, how did he "know I was here?" "I don't know. He asked for you, and I asked him what made him think you were here. He says he's known all along." The girl reeled a little and stopped short. "Is anything up?" Jock asked. ? "Oh; no— l'm all right," she replied, steadily, but in that one moment the iron of anguish had entered yet deeper and more bitterly into her souLThe room ih which Lumley lay was a little'less dark than it had been during the days that i had just gone by, Vere walked quietly in and as quietly to the Side of the bed wherein Lumley, garnt and white and weak as a child, was lying. "Mr. Lumley," she said, softly. Jocidrew the nur^e to ibo whalpwA r'A:.., ' ; A

asked her if she had ever seen such for-get-me-nots in town, before. Lumley opened his eyes — and smiled. Vere I shivered. • "How good of you tobe here," he said} ; in a strange weak voice, , a voice very j . unlike his own pleasant, mellow accents i -r-and then he lay looking at her as if j the very sight of her .was all suflicient for his contentment. • Vere bent down over the bed. "Yon are better, much better," she said, very tenderly. She had not forgotten that he was bound to another woman, but he was so weak, so pitiably weak, that she did not seem to think it worth while tc remember anything else. ."Yes— l got smashed." Then after a pause— "Can'tyou sit down?" .. She put a chair by tlie bedsiile and sat down facing him, then by some instinct of tenderness she laid her cool firm hand upon .his white wasted one as it lay, outstretched upon the coverlet. His fingers closed willingly over hers and he smiled again. '>Stay there," he said, ; drowsily. . And there Vere stayed. The painter sank into a sound sleep and Vere was a prisoner, for he held her hand tightly so that she could not

release it. "I can't move," she said, in a whisper to the nurse. "No, you'll do more good sitting there," she whispered back. "The poor thing has worried his heart put about you ever since I came. You just sit there." So Jock; with a friendly pat on her shoulder, ahd a cheery smile, left her, and presently Mrs. Jock came in on tiptoe, and put her arm around her neck and kissed her tenderly, with a murmur that -she had known all along that it . would be all right, and "I'm so glad ; : darling, so glad," she ended. Then she, too, crept away and Lumley still slept on, quietly on, and the girl who loved him watched steadily for the awakening which would mean to her the birth hour of utter desolation. After about three hours Lumley. awoke, still firmly holding Vere's hand. He did not look surprised to see her there, but smiled at her and said in a voice that was perceptibly stronger and more like his own: "Darling, how good of you to stay there." • ' . Her -heart grew sick at his words, but she was brave, aye, and she* was loving-, ; too, for she smiled back as if the tears were nowhere near to her eyes and the . future was as golden as th£ sunset of a summer dajy.y "I have be en here a long time," she said, gently, "and now nurse is going to turn me out." "And Miss Nugent must have her dinner," put in the nurse, seeing the. shadow of remonstrance in his eyes. "Yes, go find get your dinner, dearest," he said, all at once assuming a tone of proud possession of her. "But," anxiously, "you'll come back afterwards, won't you?" "Oh, yes, sir, she shall come back," said the nurse. "I'll take care of that." "I will come back," said Vere. "•■£*••«-■ She got safely into the shelter of her own room before the Airlies knew that Lumley was awake again. And once there she gave way altogether and hid her face in the bedclothes, sobbing piteously: "Oh, how shall I bear it? He has forgotten— he has forgotten! And ' every day will make it worse and worse, harder and harder! Oh my dear, my dear, it would be easier if you did not love me quite so well." She was still sobbing w£>.en Mrs. Jock came in search of her. "Oh! my dear, my dear," she cried, ; "but you must not cry like this. Tt is . all well with him now — he will soon i pull round again. You are not used to i seeing him like this, but it won't be ■ for long, dear child, and he is so seraph ie- ; ally happy. It did my heart good to j see his dear old face looking as pleased ;' as Punch in spite of its pallor."' Vere got up' off her knees. "I got upset a bit, I think," she said, steadily. "As you say, I'm not used to it." Some instinct prompted her to say nothing of what she had learned about Mrs. Hope and her engagement to Lumley. For she had resolved while : she was necessary to his well-being, she would let things remain on their present footing. When he was once more strong and well, she would go quietly away so that there should be no embarrassment, no complications. . There should be no torrent of reproaches from Mrs. Hope on the score of her trying to make Lumley break faith with her. Lumley did not forget — whatever ; other failings he had in the way of for- : getfulness — that she had promised to ; go back to him; and as soon as Miss Nugent had finished dinner his nurse : came downstairs ■with a request that she would go to him. "I am going to bed almost immediately, Miss Nugent," she said, "but Nurse Collins will be in charge, and will . give you a hint when you ought to go away. Keep him as happy and satisfied as you can—it will be the salvation of him.'.' "And you do think," said Vere, anx- , iously, "that Mr. Lumley is better?" "Oh! yes, distinctly better," she replied. "I expect the doctor will be delighted when he comes in last thing." So the doctor unmLstakaMy was! He; came in soon aiter ten o'clock and found if iss Nugent sitting by tlie bed, her ha-nd fast clasped in Lumley 's wasted one. • 0 • Vere tried to draw it away but Lumley, would have none oi it. "JNo-^-ao— A.: -t

i y -.. « don't," he said quickly, "there's no reason why the doctor, and everyone else ; for that matter, should not know." j "Ah! a new nurse, I see," said the : doctor by way of comment and to spare I :Vere!s blushes somewhat. , The girl was not biusiiing— you must be happy or ashamed to blush, and she was neither; she was only utterly ( wr etched and looked it. Indeed the j doctor thought lie had never seen a sadder-looking girl to be a man's happy sweetheart. So a few more days passed on, Lum- ; ley with each one improving more and j more, growing stronger and less troubled by the knock on the head which had laid.him low and with eveiy ! hour that Vere spent in his company- ' becoming more and more happy and contented with his life. And during all this time Vere Nugent nurses the knowledge that although he had apparently forgotten the fact, he was engaged to another woman, that she was helping to build his health up to an end which she would not be able to share, that wher* he talked, as he did, so happily and glowingly of the future she would not be with him when it cauie. And as each day went by she grew more sick at "heart and showed her trouble plainly in her sad and wistful eyes. At last the happy day came when he was able to get up and he was allowed to totter downstairs in a very cautious and uncertain fashion and was comfortably installed in a wide and capacious lotinge and given ; Vere to "keep him very quiet and good." And somehow during that afternoon Vere came to a realization of the truth that the sooner she weitt away from St. John's Wood the better.. With startling vividness her mind recalled this episode at the Fish Ponds. Vei*e played quite as well as she sang, and one evening two or three dreamy airs stole out from under her skillful fingers until at last she felt that she was telling any who might be listening too much of what was in her heart. She would play no more— she would sing— and' almost without her own will and knowledge a pathetic little air shaped itself into melody, and she sang — " Fate cfrnc bitwcen, j ' Our tlroaui v.a,:j o'er, , And for ever and .or ovoV— we are two." | Lumley jumped up and strode over to her side. "For God's sake, don't sing that to-night," he muttered, in a shaking voice. i -- *'Why not?" she asked without looking up. He rested his hand heavily on her shoulder for an instant. "It's like an evil omen," he answered, then dropped back into his chair again, not daring to trust himself to stand beside her any longei'. Now Vere remembered that incident, ancl felt that it had been prophetic. It helped her to decide upon going away, j So when Airs. Jock canje down to break►"ast the following morning she found a '.ito addressed in Vere's handwriting :y ing beside her plate. "Why, what's ihis?" she exclaimed. : 'Dearest Mrs. Jock," it said, "lhave ■suffered all that I knew in silence ever since that afternoon Mrs. Hope was icre, because it was plain that Mr. "jumley had forgotten his engagement to her, ancl I wished him to get well before I went away, unless' he remembered it. He is well enough now not to

have a relapse and 1 shall be at the Fish Ponds before you receive this. I am going to put all my things together and it will be the most kind if you will just let me take my own line from now. I think I shall goto Switzerland for the summer — I have plenty of money for that— and §n the a/utumn look out for work of some kind. "You've been awfully good to me, dear Mrs. Jock, and I am most grateful. Be good to me still in not trying to keep me in England. Your grateful and loving „<_. VKBE."