ALL OR NOTHING.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 583, 9 July 1913, Page 8

ALL OR NOTHING.

(lo; •> i- gilt.)

A THRILLING ROMANCE, —♦ : ■—lJy the- Author of "A -IJiltlT bondage," "Two Keys," "Slcila. rhe Unknown Uridegrooin," &c, I'AIiT 11. A prjtty picture they made. The wh'.t? jessamine hung in thick clusters, and great wreaths of woodbine ralied over them. The interior of the porch was filled with a soft, mellow light, that filtered through the flowers. Outside was the brilliancy and brightness of the swi» light. No wonder sunshine i-nd fiowcis did their best for the young gjrl who stood there. She was simply, perfectly lovely. There was no cue fault to be found with her ; end it was such a rich, piquant, rare ; csnty. Her face was fair as a lily, 'with the most exquisite, rose-leaf _tiuali —a flush that came and went, that changed with every thought, that deepened as she laughed, and almost vanished when she was slave or : pensive. The graceful head, so proudly set, was covered with thick coils of golden hair, but the hresistible charm of her beauty was that, with her fajr face, its . pearly and rose-leaf flush, she had large, dark, passionate, Italian eyes, and dark, /straight brows ; a mouth like a rosebud ; small, beautifullyshaped, sensitive, sweet lips, and a chin that might have been modelled for. its perfect symmetry. Those dark, wondrous eyes,had in them at times a golden light ; they were capable of any expression. They glistened with tears, gleamed with smiles ; they were gracious, coquettish, and bewildering. One or two lovely dimples came with th« smiles, and vanished with them. Then, to complete the picture, she had a white throat, that was round and firm ; lovely shoulders, white as Parian marble, and shaped like a Venus. Her girlish figure was full of gracious lines and curves, her hands were white and slender, the finger« tipped with pink. She looked about eighteen, and as she stood in the porch that June lay all England might have been challenged to show a more dainty, charming beauty. Her name was Mabel Morton—"Queen Rose" her

companions called her, because of the colour in her face.

Her companion, Leonard Ainsleigh, was handsome, tall, and had in air of distinction about him. Hie face was dark, with dark eyes, black hair, an\d a dark moustache. Every one who saw him first exclaimed : 4 "What a handsome man !"

He had * broad shoulders, a tall, well-built figure,; he carried himself with an easy, careless grace; he had a rich, dear voice, a hu'moWHW "•mile that was irresistible. He was roud, too, of his white, strong 'lands, white as a woman's, and strong as steel. He stands against the entrance of the porch, trying to look into the charming face; turned so shyly from him. "Yield with a good grace, Miss Morton. You do not know what iangers lurk in that green field, fair as it looks. Say, ' I am sorry for all my unkindness, Mr. Ainsleigh, and shall be glad of your escort.'

"It seems to me I must remain here or do as I am told," she said. "I prefer going home, and permit your escort, Mr. Ainsleigh." On they went away together through the green field. Was grass 2ver so green as that ? Were all the emeralds in the world to be compared to it ? Was the sky ever so blue, the air so sweet, the song of the birds so full of music ? Was it a green field or fairyland that they were walking in together with a June sky overhead ? They had talksd gaily enough when others were near, but now they were in a meadow, the hawthorn hedges around them—and no words lovers ever use are half so eloquent as this same silence. The little white hand just rested on his arm, and he drew it nearer to him ; then ne forgot to take his own hand away, and Mabel dared not look at him—dared not speak, because she was so conscious of this caressing touch.

When they had walked slowly across one half the meadow, then he seemed suddenly to remember that time was flying.

.< "When shall I see you again Miss Morton ?" he asked. "Must I trust to chance or to hazard ?" "It seems to me every one who lives in Carsbrook sees every one else at least twice each day," she replied, with a smile.

His grasp on the little hand tightened.

"I do not mean that," he said. "Of course, I shall see you this afternoon, probably—certainly at the Assembly Rooms. I mean, when shall I have a pleasure like this again—taking you home on a bright June morning." "I do not know," she replied. "The meadows will not always be freen, nor will it always be June." They came then to the old-fashion-ed stile, where the purple foxglove grew in great sprays and wild hyzcinths in rich abundance. "You look so tired," he said ; "you must rest here." And she sat down upon the stile, the hawthorn hedges spreading out on either side, the green field studded with yellow buttercups, like a sea of heaving gold, the western wind whispering sweet secrets to her. He stood by her side, and it happened strangely that although she was seated now and at rest, he still retained his hold of the little white hand. He tried haTd to talk to her, but he could not. It was hapDine6s

enough to stand by her, to hold the soft, pretty fingers, to be near her, to look in the beautiful face. Halfformed words died on his lips ; and the silence was more full of meaning than all the vows he could have uttered. Then, in the warm, sunlit air, over the meadows from the grey church spire came the boom of the clock—One : and Miss Morton sprang from her seat. "One o'clock ■" she cried. " Mr. Ainsleigh, mamma will think I am lost." They crossed the high road, and there before them, half buried in the rich, rippling foliage of the trees, sui-roundod by a garden in which bloomed all sweet flowers, lay Becchgrove, the beautiful little villa where Mrs. Morton and her daughter dwelt. CHAPTER XXIII. "The one charm of our society," as little, affected Mrs. Welford, the lawyer's wife, used to say, "is, it is so select. We all know each—we know all about each other, so that there is no possibility of mistake." And, indeed, the laws of caste were nowhere more rigidly enforced than at Carsbrook. The lawyer's wife, Mrs. Welford, nerer dreamed of speaking to the baker's wife, comfortable, gossiping Mrs. Brown ; the baker's wife, in her turn, looked very high and mighty if Mrs. Wrangles, who sold greengrocery, chanced to address any friendly observation to !ier. / The chief magnates of Carsbrook were Sir Henry and Lady Mackin, of Creedmoor Hall; Creedmoor Hal! was about five miles from the town, and stood on a summit of a broad sloping hill. Its towers and turrets could be seen distinctly for many miles around. Sir Henry and Lady Mackin had no rivals and no peers. They were essentially king and queen bl the neighbourhood. • They were kindly people, hospitable, but prejuiiced, and slightly exclusive. They were obliged at certain times of the year to do a little popularity. Every summer they gave a grand iete in the grounds, and every winter a grand ball at the Hall, to which the elite of Carsbrook were invited. They likewise at stated times made friendly calls, and they were otherwise -gracious, condescending, and patronising to the less shining lights.

The grand mark of social distinc-, tion was the notice of Lady Mackin. A grand cordon was drawn round those who were invited to Creedmoor. No one could ever gain admittance into the charmed circle who was not Mrs. Stanley, Mrs. Welford, Mrs. Tate, the rector's wife ; Mrs. Elderly, of The Grange ; Mrs. Leyton, wife of the rich banker ; Miss Huntingdon, of The Lodge ; Mrs. Wray, of East Villa ; Mrs. and Miss Lynne, of the Marshes ; Mrs. Pagaty, the widow of a retired stockbroker ; Miss Lcwisham, a spinster of ample means. All these belonged to what was really the first set. Lady Mackin at different times had jailed upon them all. They had all been invited, with their daughters and sons, to the balls and fetes at Creedmoor. That was the really seiect circle into which no intruder jould ever break. Then came the tradesmen's wives worthy Mrs. Brown, the cheerful helpmate of the baker ; Mrs. Jones, the portly wife of .the, butcher. Lady Mackin patronised them by dealing at their shops, but as a matter of course they never dreamed of invading the sacred precincts of Creedmoor. Few strangers ever came to Carsbrook, a quiet lfttle town, sleeping among the Yorkshire hills and wolds. There was nothing for a stranger to do there. As the young men of the place grew up they went away to larger towns and busy cities ; and as each family owned at least one blooming daughter, it will easily be seen that there was a great disparity between the sexes. There were very tew eligible men, and it was, indeed, as Josephine Wray said, "very dull work for the girls." There was young Squire Ayrton, of Langholme, who could amuse half a dozen young ladies, but who never made the least attempt to fall in love ; there was the Reverend Thornton Cathcart, whose only fault was that he seemed to fall in love with every one, and distinguished no one in particular ; there was Mr. Everton,. a gloomy old bachelor, who was exasperated at the very idea of young ladies ; and, lastly, there was Theodore Welford, who made an equal amount of love to every one It was dull work, ;;s Josephine said. Imagine a picnic with twenty healthy, happy girls, all pretty, all fond of dancing, all inclined to flirtation, and there was only a careless young squire, a sensational curate, a gruff old bachelor, and a vain young dandy to dance or fiirt with. Hard, indeed ! The sensation can better be imagined than described when rumour told that a very handsome young man, a perfect gentleman, so pleasant, had come to live with Dr. Stanley. There was a fluttering iu the dovecotes, a general marshalling of new bonnets, a general review of the forces.

Many people remember to this day young Dr. Ainsleigh's first appearance in Carsbrook. It was at church, on a bright, clear, frosty day. How did he bear the broadside of bright eyes, the demure glances, the pretty affectations ? No wonder that that day the singing was out of tune, and pretty Kate Fareleigh, who- led the choir, dropped her hymn-book in the midst of the hymn, causing dire confusion thereby, and bringing the music to unutterablf grief. It is very well for young ladies who live in large cities, and are perhaps troubled with multiplicity of admirers. Think what a sleepy country town is with or.c admirer between six ! There was nothing else talked ol but the young doctor. The girh walked home from church deep ir discussion of his merits : how hand

sonic he w?'.,-, how nicely In- was .lreiv..d —t'o ditferent to Squire Ayrton i:r Theodore Weli'onl. Then came the grand question—had he looked at my one ? Ab.s ! when tiny compared notes, all had the sumt story to tell—he had, they were shocked to say, hardly taken his eyes from the lovely young face of Mabel Morton the whole time. Before three weeks were over Leonard Ainsleigh was established as a general favourite ; every one liked him. At first there was some little coolness amongst the girls. Margaret W'elford and Agatha Tate had r few sharp words ; a council of war was held, but Josephine Wray, by a common-sense view of the matter, soon set it ail straight. CHAPTER XXIV. "It is no use quarrelling," slit said, "or being cross. It is to be hoped Mr. Ainsleigh will marry, but he can only marry one of us, and he has a right to please himself which it shall be." After a few weeks it was phi in enough to see that from all the others the young doctor distinguished lovely Mabel Morton, whose face was beautiful as an angel's. and Alice Leyton, whose father was rich as any nobleman. When he came to make inquiries about Miss Morton, the doctor was puzzled. No one kuew anything about her family. Her mother, Mrs. Morton, came, to live at Carsbrook some ten or twelve years since. She had taken a small cottage there and did not appear to be possessed of any means. Gradually, however, she seemed to grow better off, she positively bought Bcechgrovc, one of the prettiest viilas in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Welford was the young doctor's informant. "I assure you, Mr. Ainsleigh,' 1 she said, "it was a matter of surprise to us all when Mrs. Morton purchased Beechgrove." "Perhaps she had money left her," suggested the young man. * "No, "replied the lawyer's wife. My husband made the purchase for her, and she told him distinctly not."

' "She is a widow, of course ?" he inquired. , "Yes ; of that there is no doubt. Her husband was in some situation abroad, and died there, I should imagine. Mrs. Morton has evidently travelled, but she will never speak of it."

"Is she well received in society here ?" asked the, young doctor. "I hardly know how to answer your question," she replied. "Of course, as I have told you, when Mrs. Morton first, came to live here, she was really too poor to belong to our set. She took one of those little cottages in Holliwell-lane, and devoted herself entirely to the education of her daughter. After some time her circumstances improved, and she bought Beechgrove. She lives there how, in pretty comfortable style, I believe. Strange as it may appear, it is not society that has made any difficulties about Mrs. Morton, but Mrs. Morton who has made difficulties about society. AVc all called upon her when she first went to Beechgrove, but she received us coldly, and never returned the calls. She has declined all invitations, and never invites any of us." "Has she been to Creedmoor ?" asked Leonard, anxiously, that being the true touchstone.

"No ; Lady Macklin called, and was delighted with her. I know that. She gave her a most pressing invitation, and Airs. Morton declined it. Lady Mackin also invited Mabel, but her mother persisted in refusing." "How strange!" said Leonard, musingly. "I have heard," continued Mrs. Welford, charmed at the interest she was exciting—"l have heard (but mind it must not be repeated as coming from me) that she positively writes !" "Writes !" cried Leonard. "Writes what ?"

"Writes books, Mr. Ainsleigh. I cannot vouch for the truth of the tale. We have not taken any steps in the matter, for we do not know yet what Lady Mackin thinks of literary people. She may not like them, you know. In that case, my sirls must give up Miss Mabel Morton."

"She must write books worth reading if -she gets money enough for them to buy such a place as Beechgrove," said Leonard Ainsleigh. He little thought as he spoke that the quiet lady who had declined the patronage of the Carsbrook elite was the brilliant writer, the unknown genius of whom all the world was speaking. He little guessed that in after years she would be so famous that strangers would come from far and near to see the pretty,, picturesque home where her glorious books were written —that hereafter those who had known her would be more proud of that fact than of knowing a king. He did not foresee that she was immortalising her name. But having a quick sense of humour, the young man could not refrain .i'r'om smiling as he thought of■■ what Mrs. Morton's opinion of-the Carsbrook elite must he. "I must find an introduction tc her," he said. "She has a charm, independent of her being the mother of the loveliest girl I ever saw. Who would have thought that in this quiet, out-of-the-way place there wan a woman of brains ? I wonder what she is like ? Morton ,! 1 do not remember the name. It is neither common nor uncoinmotn —a kind of neutral name, neither plebian nor aristocratic." The next time Leonard. Ainsleigh met Mabel—it was at a, i-ttrawberry party given by Mrs. ISldcrly— he asked if her mother ever, received visitors. She opened her lovely, ejves and looked at him. (To be Confiiriued.V ' '