GIRL WITH BLUE EYES,

Lake County Press, Issue 2789, 12 June 1919, Page 2

GIRL WITH BLUE EYES,

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

BY LADY TROUBRIDGE.

Author of ‘‘The Cheat,” "The Soul of Honour,” ‘The Mil licnaire,” ‘‘Paul’s Step- mother,” ‘‘The Woman Thou Gavest,” &c.. &c.

(C 0P r BI G H T.]

OHATTEi; xlx (Coucinued.)— He looked down at her gravely. "Vyvian knew that I loved her," he said, "in that, Mrs. Merton, lies the essential difference between the two cases. You shall hear from me when I have found her. Good-bye." As he left the room she walked to the telephone. Come what may she was now fixed in her resolve to keep them apart. Even if she herself never saw him again Vyvian should not triumph. Taking off the receiver, she gave a trunk call, and presently was in communication with her home in the country. The conversation was long and difficult, but finally, she seemed to make her instructions known, and with a sigh she rang off. "Well, he will have a nice ride foi nothing, "hiaseds etao taoi etaoietaoi nothing," she said to herself, "and if they follow out my instructions he ought to be there for some time." Precisely two hours later the car ' tore up the Avenue at Lulworth Hall, four miles distant from Woking, and Cheviot sent up his card. The housekeeper appeared. Her face was set and rigid and her manner was very respectful. "Yes," she said, in answer to his question, " a young lady had called, and had announced her intention of returning that evening. In the meantime she had gone to visit some friends she could not say where. Would Lord Cheviot be pleased to walk in and resti ?" Her manner was constrained and furtive, and Cheviot reluctantly followed her into the house and partook of tea. During the meal he turned the matter over in his mind and was not satisfied. Why should Vivian, tired and exhausted as she was, have gone out again? It was extremely improbable on the face of it, and a helpless feeling of rage came over him at these continued difficulties. As he smoked a cigarette his eyes fell upon the telephone and a thought ashed upon his mind. He rang the bell. "Ask the housekeeper to come in here again," he said and after a somewhat long interval she reappeared.

“Oh, by the way, what is your name?’’ he began. “Simmons, my lord.” “Ah, Mrs. Simmons, have you been here long?” “A few months only, my lord.” “rs. Simmons,” he said, “I should bo very sorry to say anything or do anything that might lead to getting y<ju into trouble.’ Her face changed. “Comfortable places are hard to find, are they not?” But at the sail e time if what I am about to say to you and to ask of you should lead to your losing this situation, I will guarantee to find you a better one.” “I am not particularly comfortable, my lord, and if your lordship really means what you say— —” . . vvdddrxllusluggg sllslssl hhh etaa ‘1 do mean it. I am under the impression that you have received instructions to tell me something that is not true, and I want to get the truth out of you. 1 am willing to pay for it.” “Mv lord, there are some things that are hardly a question of money. T have my character to consider. Mrs. Merton is a hard ladv to deal with.”

‘‘Should you lose this post I have already told yon I am prepared to offer you a better one; it would lie in my own household, so the cpiestion of references would not come into the matter. Now, then, the truth. Has any young lady been here to-day?” “No, my Igrd. and this T will sav. I have never been asked to tell such a parcel of fibs in any situation I have been in ; it went against the grain. I can assure your lordship.” I can see it did. Well, in my situation you will have nothing hut the truth to speak, and see that voi.

speak it. Here is my card, call on rue when you please." Cheviot's face was set like a flint as he drove back to London, took a little dinner at his club, and finally turned in, weary and disheartened, after midnight. On the following morning he was rung u pat twelve o'clock. "Who are you?" he said, taking down the receiver. He had given up hoping for a clue, and although he had an appointment with the detective in half an hour, he was almost prepared to .rank that, in one respect at least Mrs. Merton had spoke the truth. Vyvian apparently never wished to see him again in this world. His cruelty had overshot the mark, and he had lost her for ever. "Are you Lord Cheviot?" came the voice over the wires. "I am." "Well, we've been ringing you up ever since yesterday. The young iady who is missing has been found. She's taken a berth on the Irtona and is on her way there now." "Are you sure?" he said. He was ready to suspect everything and everybody. "Quite sure. She gave an assumed name in the beginning, but she endorsed the note with the name of Vyvian Desmond." "That's the name; and she's gone you say." "Yes, she went at twelve." "Is there any other train I can get down by?" "Oh, yes, you'll get down there all right. You can get a special if you like. You may not be in time o stop her without making a fuss, that's the only thing." "Then I will go on board. Can I get a berth, or is it too late? Money is no object, you understand." "Well, there's a state room vacant. The Bishop of had ordered it, but he was suddenly detained owing to illness. We'll telegraph and reserve it for you." Doso.'-i I lie hmng up the receiver, and in a few moments was pouring the story nto Evie's sympathetic ears. She was all excitement. "Let me come with you," she said. "No, dearest, there is no time, it vvill be too great a rush for you. Jatch us up at arseilles. You will )e the greatest help and comfort! here, and we can be married imnediately." j "Suppos she's not willing, foolish) oy?" "Well, then we'll come back gain." he answered, taking her in 'is arms and giving her a brotherlv

CHAPTER XX. Vyvian had reached the safer side of her cabin, and to her intense joy found that her room-mate, after a few civil sentences, left her to go on deck and to witness the bustle of departure.

She herself cared nothing for it. She had suffered too much in England for any sentimental wish to mr/e on the white cliffs for the last time. All she cared for was solitude and peace, and these for a long time she had.

Towards evening the stewardess came in to see her. and was shocked to see her pallor and exhaustion She had not actually fainted, hut she seemed to weak even to answer questions, and a strange breathless faintness came over her. Her limbs seemed to have no feeling, and she was sensible of nothing but the leapmg of her overstrained heart in her breast.

The woman tried to revive her, and fetched some brandy in a glass from one of the stewards, mixing it with water and administering it in “'imfuls. Under this treatment she recovered a little, and finally sank into an uneasy sleep. 1 Tn the morning she was better

though still weak, and the kindhearted girl who shared her cabin persuaded her to rest. “They say it’s going to be rougher', than usual for the time of the year,” ( die said, “and we shall get a good' tossing in the Bay.” i Vyvian smiled with difficulty. Seasickness held no terrors for her, and had it not been for the weakness or her limbs she would have liked to climb on deck and feel the fresh air, but as it was she lay still listening to her companion’s chatter and pretending an interest in the descrip-’ tions of her fellow passengers. “1 am so well placed at table,” i said her friend, “sitting by the most ’ charming man—quite a contrast to j some of them for on the whole they] are not up to much. I have secured you a seat near ns, so we shall be quite a nice little party when you arc better.” . Vyvian thanked her, but rejoiced ( when she was alone. The solitude here soothed her, and she lay there for hours, her white arms locked behind her head, her hair falling on ffiuiprpnw soao .isl[ pun ‘saap[uoi[s ,ui( the swirl of the dancing waves. Each throb of the screw was taking her farther and farther from the man whom she now knew she must love as long as she lived. No word of cling had reached her, only a message crude and almost revolting in its callous crueltv. His kind regards and his remembrances!

Each word seemed to have in it the sting of a deadly injury, yet after all what could she expect? She had ;laved her game, and she had lost.

At nine o’clock, while they were all in the saloon, she rose and dressed quickly and tottered on deck. The first breath she drew invigoratd her. A light gusty wind was raising ridges of foam in the sea, leaving a white track behind the ship. The deck was deserted, and Vyvian leanjtl over the talfrail, finding a certain comfort in the sensse of space and of union with the mighty forces of nature. Yet a horrible loneliness held her in its grip, and she saw her

I Mole life before her as a failnr the love she had thought she cou control had risen and crushed hj instead, and the only part that w left to her was suffering. Perha . this was the most terrible mome I of all, when the full realisation cai i to her of the eternal cross hidden j all human desires. She bent hj e [ head upon the talfrail and burst in [ a flood of tears. | At that moment a hand touch--1 : hers, an arm held her, a voice whi ’ pered in her ear- and turning si found herself face to face with tl 1 man she had thought lost to her fever. cl. knub I! d t.Uanussf. -! ;e 1 The shock was almost too grea 1 She reeled, and would have fable: I but that he held her closely to him H “Darling, darling, forgive me,” 1 5 j whispered ealmost inaudibly as ( strained her to his heart, noting wit '( terror her increasing pallor. “My own love, how cruel I ha-\ been to you, and oh 1 how I have rL -vented!” “Then you forgive me?’ she stan | mered. “There is no nuestion of forgivness. If you did not tell me wh you were what does that matter You are you, and I was made fc you and you for me.” “It would not have been so perfec it we had not suffered, would it?” She lay in his arms, her flower-lik Meath fanned his cheek, and it wa a moment of delirb’m and of jo worth years of sorrow to obtain. “What shall I call you, sweet est?” he said at length when thei: first transports were over. “I d< not care for the name of Kitty am more, and I cannot think of you a; vian." “It is my only name,” she said ■miling. “Then I suppose I must get used to it until I give vou another, and that will be at Marseilles, where Evie will be waiting for us. and where we will lie married at the British Consulate, but in my thoughts and in my dreams you will always be for me ‘the girl with the blue eyes.’ ” “You naughtv thing, what a lot of trouble you have given us!” said Evie. as the brief ceremony over, she kissed her sister a week later, through th wedding veil.

! "T know," whispered Vyvian, penitent still at the thought of her oast misdeeds. | Cheviot, who was standing near, j caught the shadow that fell on her | face, and dissipated it. "She's never to he scolded anv ' more, Evie," lin said. "Lady Cheviot, like the King, can do n« wrong !" (The End. )