LOVE SHALL PREVAIL,

Lake County Press, Issue 2512, 15 January 1914, Page 2

LOVE SHALL PREVAIL,

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

by ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT, Author of "The Case of Lady Broadstone," "The Gable House," "By Right of Sword," "A Heritage of Peril," "In the Grip of Hate," &c, &c.

[COPYRIGHT.]

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPV r TEES. CHAPTERS I. & ll.—Lady Mountrath discusses aifairs with her niece, Olive Kilkelly. A tradesman interrupts them inopportunely, and clamours for a settlement of debts. As he is insulting Olive raises her whip and strikes him. He leaves, threatening vengeance. Air. Mawson, Donald Arhiytage's secretary, brings a message froin. his employer. Olive gives an affirmative answer, and he departs. The next comer is Christopher Rochester. Olive lets him know their engagement must come to an end on account of tljeir great poverty. He expostulates.,.and finally declares that he cannot give : her up. He means to malce his. fortune at the Cape. They em- '■ brace,, and he hurries off. Lady Mountrath is anxious that Oiive should make a wealthy match, and for that purpose she has encouraged Donald Armytage, who is in love with her niece. He conies as Chris Rochester disappears. He understands that Olive does not love him, but is wishful to marry her. They are engaged. Everything gets better for the Kilkellys after this. Chris Rochester cables from the Cape to Olive that he has become suddenly rich. Lady Mountrath intercepts this message, and gets Donald Armytage to ruffc the news. It proves to be false. Gregory Galthorpe, Donald Armytage's cousin, does not like his cousin's engagement, as he is the next heir. At first Gregory has a friend in Lady Flora Stanton, also a friend of Olive's, but who wants Donald Armytage for herself. Galthorpe brings Armytage news which places him in a great dilemma. He now learns his fiancee is wealthy hi her own right, and would probably not marry him if she were aware of her wealth. CHAPTER HI -Cucrinued "And what if I am?" she asked, meeting his angry glance placidly. "You should never threaten a woman, Greg. It isn't pretty you know." "You'd ruin me—you know that well enough. And a man doesn't think only I about looking pretty in such a case." "It's all right, Greg. Don't worry. I shan't give you away. Besides, you may still win that bet. There's another week yet, and Armytage may yet make up his mind to do the quixotic thing. If not—well, they'll be married. That's all; and we shall have to wait for what may happen afterwards. I'm not altogether sure that that won't be the best for us." "How do you mean?" "Olive's a queer girl in many ways; and if he was to be quixotic enough to tell her, I'm not so certain as I was that she would throw him over. The appeal to her romantic side would be so strong that she'd be very likely to fall in love Avith him for it. It's just the sort of self-denying act that would touch her." "Then she can't care much for the other fellow," he sneered. "Rubbish! She could and did. But he's been stupid enough not to send her a single line for all these months, while Armytage has been doing everything possible to make her caro for him. She's just in that state when an act of this sort would fetch her tremendously. It's lucky he doesn't know it." "Shall 1 tell him?" he asked, with a grin. "You needn't believe me. It doesn't matter in the least. But she has come to look on Armytage as the very soul and essence of honour—a white man right through. Yon don't understand a woman, Grog; and ii' you did, you'd be able to understand what the effect may be it' he is blind enough to break the pedestal she's put him on by being distrustful enough of her to hold his tongue and marry her with this secret between them. 1 can see it." "Well, he's in a stew about it all, and miserable into the bargain." This was quite true. Donald had passed through the most miserable week of life, harried and harassed by the dilemma which laced him. As Lady Flora had so shrewdly guessed, ho had sought relief from the first pressure by persuading himself of the necessity for delay ; and had cabled out privately for further confirmatory facts of the critical news. Two or three days had passed; and

in the interval his hesitation and reluctance to own the truth had increased to such an extent that when the fullest confirmation was in his hands, the task of tolling Olive appeared infinitely more difficult than ever. He went twice to see her, resolved to speak; but each time something had occurred to turn tlio purpose aside; and he had left her with tho announcement unmade. In this way the fortnight slipped away, and every day found his purpose weakening. Olive noticed his anxiety and the change in him, setting it down to some heavy business cares. It was true, as Lady Flora had said, that she had put him on a pedestal. She had grown to look upon him as a man far abovo others in all the best qualities of real manhood, and was intensely proud of him and proud of the fact that ho loved her. The last thought in her mind in regard to him would have been to believe him capable of an act of meanness or moral cowardice, or anything even approaching deceit. "You look very worried, Donald," she said solicitously, when he went to her on the day before the marriage. He was indeed desperately worried, tor he had gone down fully resolved to tell her even then. "Your eyes are so troubled." "I have had some harrassmentj at my office," he replied, rather stumbling over the words in his fear—the portion of all strong men when conscious of doing a weak and dishonourable thing—that she could guess the cause of his worry. But the thought was far away from her mind. She had indeed a secret dread that for some unknown reason his desire for their marriage had weakened as the result of his closer knowledge of her, and that he was chafing under the pressure of Ids promise. She would not have that. If he had changed and wished to be released, she would release him; and she was resolved to find out the truth. "Only business affairs?" she asked with gentle persistence. "That is all. Why do you ask?" The tone was sharper than usual, due to his fear of what was in her mind. She dropped her eyes for a moment and sighed; then raised her head impulsively and looked him frankly in the face. "We have always been frank with one another," she said, in a low voice. "\ r ou won't mind if I am frank now?" "I always should wish it, Olive," ho replied. This recalled her former frankness on the day of tho engagement, and he awaited her next words with no little anxioty. "I ought not to be afraid to say what is in my thoughts," she said with a very sweet and tender smile. "I—l think 1 am afraid that your trouble may have something to do with—with to-morrow # and—and with me"; and she laid her hand on his arm and peered wistfully and almost yearningly into his eyes. Reassured by her look and trustful gesture, bis eyes cleared and bis cheek Hushed as he drew a deep breath of intense relief. "It is the one day for which 1 have been living," he replied in a voice resonant with suppressed feeling. "Surely you know that." "I have so littlo to give, and you so much," sho murmured. "But 1 will try to make that little "' She could not find tho word she wanted, and expressed it by a pressure of the hand which now held hers. His thoughts were all dominated by tho secret which was between thom and tho reference to the "little" she had and her use of the word "try," quickened his fear and increased the difficulty of telling her that in truth the "little" was a fortune almost as great as the "much" which she attributed to him. Yet the need for silence mado him wince in pain, and he dropped her hand abruptly and turned away with a sigh. "Donald!" she exclaimed in surprise "Have I hurt you? I did not

mean to. Forgive me. It was only of you I thought. It was best that I should tell you frankly what was in my heart. You think that, surely?" "Oh, no, no. lam not hurt. Far from it. If either of us was to hesitate about to-morrow, I feared it might be you; and, as your words relieved , that fear, do you dream that 1 could be hurt at hearing them ? You know lit- , tie of me if you think so. And you are really sure of yourself?" She paused before replying. "Yes. Quite sure," she said with groat deliberation. Then hor colour deepened as she added, after another slight pause. "And you? Are you equally sure of yourself? Sure, that even in the deepest recesses of your heart there is nothing to make you hesitate, nothing that should be I spoken now, nothing that can ever interfere to prevent that perfect mutual confidence which wo have promised one another?" The unexpected question disturbed him profoundly. Now was the moment when he ought to speak; he was supremely agitated as he hesitated, trying to force himself to tell her. "My candour is all my dowry, Donald," she said in the pause, with a smile which was almost pathetic, as she held out her hand. "No, there is nothing, Olive," he answered hoarsely, and his fingers were trembling with tho stress of the ordeal as ho pressed hers. In all the months of the engagement thero had been very little lovo making between them. The knowledgo that ho | had won her heart, combined with his own natural reserve and nervous reticence, had kept him from any strong demonstration of his lovo. She, on her side, had understood him, and had indeed shrunk from his caresses. But now, when his grasp tightened involuntarily upon her hand and he drew ' her toward him, she yielded, and tho next moment she was in his arms. He held her to his heart, and then I his lips were pressed to hers for the i first time, his passion all the fiercer I and wilder because of the stern re--1 straint lie had hitherto imposed upon ' himself and of the dread of tho last I few days that he was to lose her. He had averted that danger, but | even as he released hor, the disquiet--1 ing thought of the sacrifice he had ' made to secure the victory, and tho 1 racking doubt of the heavy price which 1 might yet have to be paid for it, found ' expression in a sigh of anguish. But Olive herself was far too agitaI ted to hear his sigh or even to notice tho change in him. CHAPTER IV.-OLIVE'S DISCOVERY. "Well, you won your bet, you see," said Galthorpo as ho entered Lady Flora's pretty littlo drawing-room on the day after the marriage. "Glad or sorry?" "Upon my word, I don't really know," was the reply, lightly spoken with a shrug and a grimace. "Are you sure he didn't tell Olive?" "Quite; unfortunately for me. I've come to pay up. I wanted to make certain and managed to get it out of him. You see I'm straight with you," and he handed her a cheque for £IOO. "It was a brilliant affair," she said, referring to the wedding, which had been a very fashionable one with a crowd of smart people present. "It suited me all right in one respect," replied Galthorpe laughing. "Old Don was in a generous mood, so I took a leap in the dark and told him the real amount of my debts. It made him squirm a bit; but he did the handsome thing. So they're all right, thank goodness. As a matter of fact, I made it enough to leave me a bit over, and that's why you've got that cheque so promptly." "Enough to ease the smart of the marriage?" asked his companion with a sharp up-glance. "A salve, I admit"; and he laughed again. Ho was in a good humour with himself and the world in general. "It's a good many days since I was so much of a village blacksmith as 'to owe not any man.' Rather a queer sensation for mo." "I was sure ho wouldn't tell her," said Lady Flora, after a pause. "You were right, too; and I've been wondering whether you were right in your other prophecy—that he might, find he'd made a big mistake by holding his tongue." "I'm perfectly certain of it. I had a talk with her the night before the wedding, and her conviction of his perfect sincerity and honour was absolute. The awakening won't be pleasant; and of course it's hound to come." "It would have come before the ceremony, if he'd had only one day more. The pcoplo who have been out for Don's blood in the affair of this blessed concession have got wind lof her interest in it. I know that a letter was written to her yesterday." "In time to reach her before they went away?" "No. It would not be delivered until last night, and then the happy pair were on their honeymoon way to Paris. I saw the writer of it this morning, a man named Isaacs, and his face, when I told him Miss Olive Kilkelly was now Mrs. Armytage, was a sight for the gods!" Galthorpe lay back and laughed in huge glee. "You never saw a man take a checkmate so , glumly." "Then the letter will reach her in ( Paris?" asked Lady Flora. . Ho shook his head. c "No. No letters are to be forwarded. They're goiny; to mooch about from place to place for a week or so, and then back to town—ho'll bo

needed here—and afterwards thcy'ro off for a cruise in the yacht." "She'll get it on her return, then." "Barring accidents. It may go astray," ho replied meaningly. "Somo one's been working things at that end of tho affair; and I'm inclined to suspect that wily and garrulous little person, Lady Mountrath. You might make sure that that letter and another which Isaacs is going to write to her don't get destroyed. It would only be friendly to protect her interests in her absence," he suggested with a leer. j To his surprise the suggestion met with a prompt repudiation. ! "No, Greg. The thing's done and can't be undone; and if I had a chance I'd rather destroy the letters than that Olive should see them. I declare honestly that I wish her to be happy." I "Lovely attribute, honesty, even when a bit belated," he sneered. "Difficult for you to understand, perhaps," she retorted flushing. | "Umph!" he grunted with a smilI ing significant look. "Got something i bettor up your sleeve, then? I was ' going to discuss things; but not in 'this mood, thank you." i "I don't want to discuss them at all, lif they're against Olive. I feel rather rotten about what I've done, as it is." "Sackcloth and ashes, eh? They don't become you, Floretta. But go your own way and leave m« to mine." "I will. And I'm only thankful to think that if there is any trouble coming to Olive, I've had no hand in making it." "Not your fault, anyway," ho rapped back as ho rose. j "And if I get a chance of destroying , those letters I'll do it." | But she had no chance. Lady Kilkelly, who missed Olive every hour of the day, made a care of tho letters : which came for her a special charge, so that not even Lady Mountrath, who , was nervously watchful for one from ■ Chris, could find an opportunity of seeing them. Immediately on her return, Olive hurried to the flat. She looked the picture of health, and had a hundred tilings to tell her mother about the honeymoon week—the bustle of travel, the change of scene, and the constantly fresh experiences which had made the time so delightful; and through all ran the praises of her husband. She had had some rather nervous anticipations of the first period of close companionship with him. "But ho has been absolutely charming, mother," she declared enthusiastically. "Nothing is a trouble to him; there is nothing he will not do to please me; ho seems to guess my wishes, by a sort of instinct almost before I know them myself. It is wonderful" ; and much more to the same effect. "Then you will be very happy, child, after all?" asked Lady Kilkelly, wistfully. Olive paused and smiled, reading what was behind tho question. "Does that 'after all' mean that you are thinking of Chris, mother?" "There aro some letters for you, dear, and I think one of them is from him; and I wasn't sure whether you would care to see it, whether " | "Shall I finish the sentence for you? Whether it would be safe, you mean. I have scarcely thought of Chris all tho time. Poor Chris!" she sighed. "I have had two letters, also, which have puzzled me, Olive. From a Mr. Isaacs. I'll go and fetch them while you read yours," said Lady Kilkelly, leaving the room after giving Olive the little padket of letters addressed to Miss Kilkelly." The address seemed to emphasise the gap between the old life and the new, and drew a smile from Olive as she turned them over, thinking of the great change and all that it meant to her. She hesitated before opening that from Chris, trying to analyse her feelings. The handwriting stirred many old memories, and she was more affected by it than sho had anticipated or wished. Mingled with the embers of the old feeling for him, was a certain amount of resentment at his long neglect. He could not have cared much or ho would at least have written, even if only to release her from hor promise. Would it be wiser to leave the letter unread ? They were nothing to each other now, and could never be anything more than friends, even if that. Probably they would never meet again. That would be best. And as sho recognised that, sho wished it; and knew that at the bottom of her heart fear of meeting him again prompted tho wish. That thought brought a flush of anger to her cheek. It was disloyalty to the man sho had married. She had no right to feel anything but indifference. It was her duty to put every thought of another man out of her life altogether. It w s weakness and a humiliation that she could not; and that sho was not able to think of Chris without emotion and a desire to see him again. Hut sho would lie strong enough to read his letter and prove herself able to "stillo all such unworthy thoughts. < In this mood sho opened tho letter im- { pulsively and began to read it—to con- [ vince herself that in reality sho cared \ no longer for him in tho old way. : But tho instant sho glanced at the 5 first line her interest was keenly roused, and she read the letter to the i jnd, her concern mounting with every " vord. It had been written a couplo of I ' lays after he had sent off the cable ' innouncing his good fortune, and he ' t. [escribed how he had becomo suddenly , u •ich and had looked for at least one ° abled word of congratulation in reply. : (To be Continued.) t(

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