OUR SERIAL STORY HER DEAREST WISH.

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume I, Issue 94, 3 April 1911, Page 9

OUR SERIAL STORY HER DEAREST WISH.

(Continued.)

“W:iy—why are you so angiy uit-h me?" .-hv faltered. "Hov. <oukl I help itr He said that it i married hnn he would pay this money, ami—and help Hobby. And—and I said ‘Yes.’ at last. I could not have taken this money from him without— He would not have given it. And—and it- does not matter what becomes of me so that they are sale and—and happy."’ His grasp tightened and she winced. But lie was all unconscious oi the pain he was inflicting. His own agony was great. '1 ne thought that she was to be the wife of another man—and that man Mershon ! —was rending his heart in twain; ;every nerve was stretched and straimul as on a rack. And her admission that she did not love the man increased his torture. She looked up at him. at his set face and gleaming eyes, with a questioning terror. “Why why are you so angry, Why do you care so y“ she faltered. A shudder ran through him. and the set rigidity of his face relaxed, melted, so to speak. “My God, child, doubt you know?” lie asked hoarsely. In Iter innocence she drew a Little nearer to him. “Is it because you—you like me. because we have been such friends, that you are so .sorry for me?” she said. “Perhaps—" She stopped ami smiled, a woeful little smile. “Go on 1 Speak from your heart ! Hide nothing from me I"’ he commanded. insisted, hoarsely. "Perhaps if 1 had come to you, and —and fold you of our trouble you would have married me?" she said simply. “1 — I think you like me. Ix»rd Gaunt, and could not have taken the monev unless—unless I had

• L»een your wife, could I?" ■ ! A groan broke from his white lips, i Fate was too many for him. He had | fled from temptation, but temptation I « fleet of foot, and it had overtaken | him and bad got him under its heel. i “Child!” he said in a slow, thick I voice, “don't you know ? Haven't ; you seen? Can you not guess? I I love you!” I Stye shrank—for even from him ! passion startled and awed her. | “You love—!” I “I love you!” His voice broke in ]on hers fiercely. “I love you, DeciI ma. I have loved you from the I beginning. No man ever loved any I woman as I love you. . You hold my i heart in the hollow of your hand, i It was because I loved you passjonate- | ly. madly, that I -left, you, fled from • you!” [ J<ord Gaunt stopped for breath, and i caught her other hand and gripped it • fast, as if he feared she would be torn j from him there and then. • Decima stood quite sti!' She did ; not shrink from him; she was too overwhelmed by the storm of his pasj sion to realise the meaning of his I words. Then slowly it came crushI ing down upon her, caught her as if. in an embrace, enveloped her like a j si in-warmed cloud. j Her heart heapt. then beat heavily; ; a joy beyond the power of poor mor- i I tai words to describe, suffused he:-. 1 Ail in an instant a veil seemed to , have been torn asunder, and she knew j

what love meant; and that, her love, > with all it meant, liad been given to him long, long ago. The pain of his grasp became an ecstasy. She could have langlied aloud in her new-born joy, delight. But all she did was to ; gaze tip at him as the devotee gazes upward at his god. the god which hail power to deal out misery or joy unspeakable. “You—love—me!" she said unconsciously. Her voice thrilled through him. anil disjielled the last remnant of honour that clung to him despairingly. “I love you!"’ he said. “You are just life to me! Decima. if you had not been as hinocent as a child, you would have known it! Think, look back ! Do you rememlier nothing, have you seen nothing? Why was I always with you—why did I stay at Ixuifmore—why did I do all. everything. you wanted? Do men act like that unless they are in love? See?" He thrust his hand in his bosom and dragged out the ribbon which hail fallen from her hair. “I have worn this next my heart day ami night. Sleeping or waking, it has never left me. Yon had worn it." The blood rushed to her face, heteyes glowed with a pure passion, and she drew still nearer to him. His arm went round her. and ho crushed her against his heart, anil for the first, time—the first time !-— his lips j s<mght hers and ki*sed her. j She did not lay in his | embrace, her face uprattled. Hower- ] like, to his kisses. I “You are the w hole w idb world to i me!" Im said, hoarsely. “Life Is not wo, til having without you. I i cannot live without you. 1 thought I could. I have tried—but you <-. ■ you know- I cannot! Decima. child. : my dearest-. tell me! Tell me! Do I yon love me?" She looked up at li : ni. and the look sent a hot wave over him. Her lijer I parted, but for a moment no words * would conie. Then she said, in a j faint whisper which thrilled him: i “I lovo vou !" I

■ “ Deci ma!" She hid her face against his he::rt for a moment, then she raised 1 w eyes to his. "V.-s; 1 k-iow n::w ! Egw .• .--i >! t — : 'CW ; - I • I . r I II i I w ’ " ! hav- 'o.ed y.ii all thro.>g..: e i re:- ti: < ! " lie b ut ami kissed her h-ur •» .- so; *-.y. :''mc>t reverently. x.* i , avowal of :Wi. awed linn. It was us

if he had suddenly penetrated the holy of holies of some shrine. Her innocence cried aloud to him.

But his passion deafened him. “Decima, since the day we met at Leaf more. I have loved you. Day by day that love has grown until it is now the master-passion of my life. I have struggled with and fought against it, but fate and circumstances nave been too many for me. You know the truth now, and—and I am not sorrv.”

"Sorry! Why should you be?” she asked; and love lent a sweeter music to her voice, so that he paused and listened before replying. I “1 am not sorry I For us nothing { matters, nothing is of consequence, but our love. Nothing, no one, ! shall separate us, Decima."’ I She smiled up at him, and her hand ; stole to liis face with a womanly touch | which thrilled him. i “No!” she said. Then she started. I “But—but Mr Mershon! I have I given my word—my promise!” Her face grew- grave and fearful. Gaunt laughed slowly—a laugh of scorn and defiance. “A word wrung from you—cozened by an artful scheme!” he answered. "What does it amount to? He—he bought, bribed you! Bah! I buy, bribe you! I’ll do all he offered.” He laughed and pressed her to him. “And I buy with love, love, love! My <-hild, do you know now what you were about to do—to marry a man you did not love?” “Yes.” she said, and a shudder shook her, so that she clung tighter to him. “I know- now I Oh, how could I!” “How could you!” he exclaimed, with a desperate reckless laugh. “But that is all over, finished with, dearI est. It is i—l—l whom you love! Are you glad, Decima? Tell me!” She drew a long breath. He was ! smoothing the tendrils of her soft I hair from her forehead, was looking I into her eyes with the hungry, craving look of love. j "L am glad!" she responded, with I innocent abandon. j “That is all right!" he said. “And ; you shall never regret it, dearest—- ■ never! While I live, I will spend j every hour in making you happy. You believe that—you trust me?” I “Yes.” she breathed. “But think ! Am I fit to be your wife?” The word fell like a bolt from the blue. His wife! His face went white. But she went on, all innocently ; “You—-are so far—above me. I am only Deci ma Deane—” He laughed as he thrust the gruesome spectre of his past, of his lionds. away from him. “You are, yes, Decima Deane l —the girl I love, the only woman in. the world for me. Oh. my darling my darling—!” His voice broke. “Deeima. tell me, am I awake or dreaming?"’ Site raised her head from the pillow of his breast, and kissed him on the lips. “Awake!” she brea the d. He returned the kiss fouri'ould. “Listen, dearest," he said. “Tonight we will start for- -for—anywhere: it does not matter w here.” She looked up him with a faint smile at first, then with as faint a questioning.

“Start! Why?"’ He met her inquiring eyes for an instant, then looked aside.

“We must go away together.” lie said, hoarsely. “There will be some fuss and—and stir. We—wijl go to —yes, to Egypt, to Cairo.”

“Shall we be married there? 7 ’ she asked, her innocent eyes on his face. “Married?" The word echoed on his lips hoarsely. “What—what does it matter."

The word again reminded him of his bondage., of the fact that he was married already. He thrust the remembrance from him once more. He would not remember. “You can trust me. dearest?" he said.

“Trust you?" she repeated after him. with a slight knitting of the brows. “What do you mean? I don't understand." “See here, dearest,” he said, hfs eyes falling before the innocent- directness of hers. “There are some circumstances—it may be necessary that —would you come with me? —does it matter whether we are arc married or not?”

With all her ignorance of the world and life's miserable mystery, Decima knew something of the sacredness, the necessity of the marriage tie.

“I—l don't understand. It is very stupid of me," she faltered. He turned white and bit his lips.

“Suppose I ask you to come with me without Ix-ing married?" he asked dt-sjierately. “Suppose there was some reason why—why—we could not be married like—other persons, would you risk—dare all? Would you trust me and—and come with me-?"

She looked up at him with no fear iu her eyes, only faint surprise’I would go anywhere with you," she said. “1 could not refuse." She drew a long breath and smiled up at him. “And why should I not? If we cannot be married wo can- l>e iriends. just as we have lieen at Leafn.ore. 1 was very happy there —ah. very happy! And 1 .should see you every day, should I not? Perhaps Bobby would go with us? But 1 suppose not. He could not leave his work, could he, even for a time?" Before her absolute inoncenceflaunt quailed. Aunt Pauline’s system had l>een very thorough. He :-it his lip. and for the first time his .yes fell before her pure gaze.

“Come—come and sit- down,'’ he sa d. huskily. He drew her to the big ehair ; hut she signed to him to sit. and sinking on to the big fur rug at his feet, she leaned her arms on his knee and her head on her arm. Haunt stroked her hair with a trembling hand and stared at the fire. (To be Continued.)