OUR SERIAL STORY

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume I, Issue 65, 27 February 1911, Page 9

OUR SERIAL STORY

HER DEAREST WISH.

i (Continued.) I ! “Perhaps he cannot help himself,” ■ said Gaunt. “1 ventured w plead tor mercy for myself just now. Miss Deane; let, me now plead for him. We don't know his story. It's likely enough that if we heard him in his own defence, he might, not seem so -—heartless was what you called him, was it not ?” Decima nodded. “Do you not think it is heartless to lead a life of selfishness, and neglect all one's duty? Bobby says—- ; But I must not repeat it.” ! “Please do!” he said. “What was it your brother said.” ; Decima shut her lips close for a moment, then she said : “Oh, I do not suppose Lord Gaunt would care xvho repeated the story, that while he cannot find any time or money to devote to this beautiful | place, he can afford the time and I money to spend in pleasure and j gambling. Is it true that he won—- | what was it, fifty thousand pounds off * a Russian Prince?—l forget his name —and that he thinks of nothing but amusing himself? I hope it is not true.” “Not quite,” he said, “it was not so large a sum as you mention. Five was the amount, and he lost it, not iron it. And as to devoting his life to the pursuit of pleasure”—he pausde and laughed, a laugh of grim irony—“if he doos, his devotion does not met with its reward.” “You know Lord Gaunt?” said Decima. Gaunt was silent for a moment. Now was the time to say “I am Lord Gaunt”—or rather, it was not the time. How could he distress her by revealing himself after her denudation of him? No; he would not discover himself. In a few minutes he would have parted from her, and she would remain in ignorance of his identity—at any rate, till he had gone; and so he would spare her the embarrasment which would overwhelm her if he made himself known. He would leave her when they reached the river, and cut across the meadows to Bright's house. Ha IF an-liuur with him would suffice; and then for Africa once more. Meanwhile Decima waited for her answer. i “Yes, I know him—know him very . j well,” he said, as if suddenly a-waken- ' ing from a reverie. “There is sorneI thing to be said for him like the rest ;of us, Miss Deane. He is rather an

—an unhappy man.” “How can he be hapy?” said Decima, with Ijer frank eyes fixed on his face. “No ono can who neglects his duty. Why does he not come and •live here and try to make others happy? Perhaps he would find his own happiness then?” Gaunt looked at her with his weary smile. 'T'm half inclined to think he might be persuaded to do so, if he heard you.” Decima flushed slightly and frowned a Little.

“Oh, I! It does not matter what I think. lam only a girl, and quite ignorant; and—and I ought not to have said what I did. But—but— How did I come to say it?” “You have said nothing wrong or indiscreet.” he said, more gently than he had as yet spoken. ‘.‘Every word you uttered was true and just, and I know that he would be the first to admit it. Think no more of it—or him. Here is your brother—and, as 1 prophesied, quite absorbed in his fishing.” They had reached the end of the road, and were standing on the crest of a steep little town, at the bottom of which Bobby was busy flogging the stream.

“Mind how you go down.” said Gaunt. “It is steeper than it iooks, and the grass is short and slippery. Will you give me your hand?” “Oh, no; thanks!” said Decima. “I can manage quite well; I shall not fall.”

She began to descend with her light, firm step; but, suddenly, she trod on a small stone winch rolled away from under her feet, and site slipped. Gaunt was by her side, and his hand went out and caught her arm. almost as it had done at the lion's cage at the Zoo. Decima looked up at him wi th a laugh—the laugh of a girl whose heart is still in keeping, and who has not learned to thrill at any man's touch. “That serves me right for boasting ! I was nearly down, was I not.” He looked at the sweet, laughing face, and smiled—without irony or sarcasm this time. “Better take my arm.” he said. ‘ - Uh. no; thanks; 1 am going to run do win.” she said; and she started as ins clasp relaxed. ‘‘Well. Bobby?” she exclaimed, ‘‘arc you catching all Lord Gaunt’s fish ?' ’ '• Sh-sli !” said Bobby, rebukingly, and without looking round. ‘‘Don’t kick up such a tJiine, or you’ll frighten every trout in the river! What fearfully ignorant things girls are? Keep out of sight; and mind the hook when I throw, or you’ll have it in your hair or in your clothes.” Decima withdrew out of the rau.us of the Line as it Hew back and round in its graceful curve, and Gaunt went up to Bobby. “Any sport,” he said, raising the ikl of the basket.

Bobby nodded. “Very fair. But they’re rather small, aren’t they? There’s a big one just over by that Lush, and I’ve l»een trying for ham for the last ten minutes; but I can’t get him.” “You don’t quite reach him, do you?” said Gaunt.

“No, I don’t,” admitted Bobby. “I can throw fairly straight, but not so far as I should like • the fly fails about a yard short of where he is feeding. Y’ou try.” Gaunt hesitated a moment, then took the rod and threw the fiy.

“Is it there? Ah, yes, I see him.’ “And have got him,” exclaimed Bobby, with a flash of excitement. "L say, what a fly you throw! 'lhat was splendid!” Gaunt handed him the rod, but Bobby shook lus head determinedly. “Not much ! You hooked him, and you ought to land him. It’s a beauty. Here, Decie; com® and see. your first trout being killed. This gentleman's hooked the beggar I have been trying for ever so long.’ Decima ran up and stood watching the business, little guessing the skill with which Gaunt was playing the oig trout, but understanding enough of the operation to share in Bobby’s excitement. “Oh, what a splendid fellow!” she exclaimed, as Lord Gaunt brought him to the bank and Bobby slipped the net under him. “Thank you,” said Gaunt, handing the rod back to Bobby. Bobby laughed. “You throw a beautiful fly, sir,” he said. “Are you staying here? If so, I’ll ask Bright—the steward —to give you permission to fish. Halloo ! here he is!” he broke off as a short, thick-set man, with a pleasant, goodhumoured face, came down the hill. “Hi, Bright! how are you? Just look at this fish!—This is my sister. Decima, this is Ala - Bright—This gentleman caught him. Why? what’s the matter?” he broke off; for Mr Bright’s face, as he turned to the stranger, had grown red with surprise and delight; and, raising his hat, he came forward with an eager exclamation of—- “ Lord Gaunt!” CHAPTER IX. For an instant, but an instant only, Gaunt looked annoyed and embarrassed, as he shook hands with the steward. “How do you do, Bright?” he said. “Taken you by surprise, you see.” Bobby stared, then emitted a low whistle, and grinned. But Decima’s face wore no smile. It went red for a moment, then very pale, and her eyes sought Gaunt’s then hid themselves under their lashes. This man, to whom she had been abusing Lord Gaunt, was Lord Gaunt himself! Humiliation, shame, and confusion fell upon her and seised her in their clutches while one could count twenty; then something like resentment and anger took their place; and ■ site turned back and turned her face away. But she could hear Lord I Gaunt talking steadily and slowly ,as if to afford time for her embarrassment to pass.

“Yes; 1 should have written to say I was coming, Bright; but I—well, 1 didn't make up my mind until the last moment.”

“Delighted to see you, my lord!” said Bright, “notice or no notice. Of course, I should have preferred a short warning. The house—well, I’m afraid tlie house is scarcely fit to receive you.” “That’s all right,” said Gaunt. “I shall not stay long; half an hour.” Mr Bright looked at Bobby and Decima. “This is Mr Deane, of The Woodbines, a neighboui of yours, my lord,” he said. 1.0 r d Gaunt held out his hand to Bobby, u-pon whose faco the grin still flickered. “Very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr Deane,” he said. “Thanks,” said Bobby; “and I’m glad to be able to thank you for the permission to fish. This is my sister Decima.” land Gaunt went up to Decima, who stood perfectly still and without making any response to the introduction. “I cannot hope for forgiveness this time !” he said in a low voice unheard by Bobby and Blight, who, a little apart, were discussing the strangeness of Ix>rd Gaunt's sudden and unannounced visit. “But you will admit that the temptation to conceal myself was very strong. If Mr Bright had not turned up I should have gone away without your learning that I was the “heartless’ owner of Leafmore.” The tears of vexation were very near Decima’s ej r es. “It does not matter,” she said, with a little, a very Little, catch m her breath. “It does not matter ifi the very least. But—but I think you might have stopped me when I was talking of you yourself, not knowing that that you were Lord Gaunt.” “I might,” he said; “but it would have given me pain to reveal myself; and—well, we men all shrink from pain, you know. However, you said nothing that was unjust or uncharitable; and if it will console you, let me assure you that the truths you uttered liave done me some good. For once, at any rate, I have seen myself as others see me.” Dex-ima gnawed her lip softly. “Are you still—mocking me?” she said; and there was something in her voice which brought the colour to Lord Gaunt’s face.

“Mocking you ?” lie said, and his voice rang deep and low and full of pain. “Great heaven ? don't you see that I am burning with shame at my cowardice? that I would now give the world if I had had the pluck to own up? Aly dear young lady, there is no mockery of you in my .mind ; lotbing but respect for your denunciation. nothing but— How can I convince you, prove—” Mr Bright approached. “Will you con' ■ up to the Hall, my Lord? 1 have so much I should like to say, and.—and you said something about half-an-hour,” he ended regretfully.

(To be Continued.)