A SPLENDID SILENCE.

Mataura Ensign, 15 January 1913, Page 7

A SPLENDID SILENCE.

PpF[Published by Special Arrangement.]

By ALICE MAUD MEADOWS

Author of "A Million of Money " "The Dukedom of Portsea," "1 he House • at the Comer," "1 Charge You Both," "One Life ■ Between. Etc., [COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER 11. Wilfred listened until the sounds of his* friend's footsteps had died away, then he called softly, "Fausteen! Fausteen 1" , . . She came to him at once, pale, with frightened eyes. "Did.he see my hat and cloak?" she asked, hurriedly. Wilfred turned and looked towards •the couch. "Oh! by Jove!" he said, "I never gave them a thought; but I don't suppose he did. He is not observant, and he never said any- . thing.?' ' -'Never said anything?" she repeated ■sqornfully. "Just as though he would ! I wonder whether he guessed the hat belonged to me?" "Of course not, dearest, ■ even if Jbe ' saw them I "—which I do not believe. You seej sweetheart, though ha said.: jou were rather a'friend.of mine 1 ' 'Pal!' 1 interrupting. "Pal, then. No one, I am sure, ■vhas ever-guessed how much we are to flhpie another, . But, my dearesc, you jHfeard what he said, and you must ar> tplerstana how important, how vital, :'it is that you should return to Mcute Cano at once. ighe nodded iier head thoughtfully. "Yes,'' she answered, "I suppose I must go back. I was a fool to run away. I have nothing to be frightened at." "Nothing whatever, of course, only you perhaps know more of Lady Golister's .ftftbits than anyone else. Let • me sfe, -the express leaves Holborn ■Viaduct at nine o'clock. That will srive us plenty of time for refreshment, and a iiie® cosy chat here." She-teat down a strong desire for a good dinner. Her horror and fear at Lady • Grolister's sudden and! proh--ably unnatural death had taken awav . , all wish for food for a tim'e, but it] "had returned now. I "It will be so nice to have a oosv j cha;t," she said. "It seems an age, Wil- i fired since I last saw you." j He had his right arm round her and pulled her suddenly, almost roughly, ] neare£. much nearer, to him. Me ■could' feel the beat of her heart. "It is an age," he said. "I began to think, Fausteen,, that you were never coming back to me. And yot, sweetest, you are a homing bird, and this"—crushing her still nearer —"aud this is home, isii't it?" He had his other arm round !:<••• l ew. She Was folded quite in ais embrace. His heavy moustache brushed her cheek. "This?" she repeated, looking, 'first straight into his eyes, then with . a quizzical smile round the room. "This,'' he said again; "leaning on mv heart, dearest, with my, arms round you. That would make any place home to V6u, would it not, Fausteen?" \ She looked irresolute. Her ,teyes did not meet his now. "You must not 'be foolish," she said. "You must not • 'take things for granted because I have ocome to you in my extremity, my darkoat hour. 'You must remember that we are both church mice living on the i • crumbs that fall from the rich man's j iable." (Fausteen's metaphor w*s »} little mixed.) "We must remember that the best of life —which is love, «fearesfc—love fully and frankly confessed before the whole world, is not for us. We can love one another fully, devotedly; faithfully, from the verv bottom of our hearts in secret with lardent devotion. We can have many such beautiful moments as this, moments more wonderful and beautiful because I am in trouble now. and have not words to sav_ half what I mean. But we must'realise that for us love's cup can never be drained to its sweetest drop." He put her a little from him and looked deeply into her very beautiful hut rather insincere eyes. "Why not. darling?" he asked. "Look here, Fausteen, it is quite time you • and I got married. _ It is right that we should get married, that we should not go on philandering in this irregular way for ever. You say we are church mice, but it is not auit-f so bad as that. , I have five hundred a vear of my own which I should settle on vou, of course,. and our dear children, please Heaven .after us, darling. And ,already I have fiv» or six hundred •a year by my pen. If I once write « really successful novel I may make as many thousands. We really could live citute comfortably in a quiet way. Why. I don't spend more than two or _three hundred a year on myself. Fausteen. when we return from Monte Carlo, will voulaarpy me at.once?" . She shook her head. "Dearest, no.'' she; answered. "For youf sake, no, not for mine. I would not mind l pov- • erty, but I would not drag you into it.. I love you far too much." ■ ■ She looked a youngand beautiful saint as she spcike; there was no hint in. her ' expression of her' shallow soul. "Jf it is' only for my sake. Fausteen." he began. "No, no, diarlinp': as it is only for my sake, please do reconsider it. You would have the! five hundred a year I am willing to -settle on you all to yourself to do just as you liked with, and lots of young couples get along comfortably on what I earn by my pen." • "I would not have you rob yourself j like that," she said. "No, we must ] wait with what patience we can. Your j uncle must be an old 1 man now. Per- j . haps—though, of course, dearest, I ] ■would not oe so wicked as to wish for i the death of anyone—-still perhaps he! will nob lest much longer." j She looked eagerly at him. He lauehed euiie gaily. Lord ■ Northborourh?" ho said. dear, he's y >nlv 67, and as stror'f. ind hardy as,i two-yenr-old. He is rot j likely, unless anything n-forso«n v ';t likens, to quit this mortal coil for i • i long while to come, and when he does there will only be a few thousands for me. I am not his heir." "I wish you were," she said, softly. "The heir is your cousin, Douglas, is it not?" "Yes." f. "A bachelor?" "At present; hut ensrnged to a- vei">charminflt girl. They are waiting till •she is 21 to ?et mar'ied. She loses a fortune if she marries before." "And how long is it before she is *2l ?'

.. "Oh a ma tt or of aMut. six months. T think: not more. Th»v are to ho Tiwrrierl on )wr 21st tyrthVlsy." "A.nd survnos^ —fsacb str.«»»ipf« things r!o haorf"—ho before Vr iruirrwl ? /You "on 1/1 bo the hoir for certain ,thon." • "Pwvon. forbid thnt slum!*? r>en." lio?<id. "I am vpry fond or Douglas, a thoroughly good sort. "But even -Chen I Should not. be sure,

neither is he sure to come into the title. My uncle might yet marry aeain." "At his ageP" "Certainly. Many older men marry. Besides, he does not look his age or, I am sure, feel it. Well, Fausteen, vou won't marry me as things are, then?" She nestled closer to him. She laid her round cheek with an adorable gesture to his. "For your sake, no, my dearest, my very, very dearest," she answered.

He drew a very deep breath. "Then there is nothing else for it," he said, slowly. "Excepting iyou, Fausteen, there, is only one thing" in the world that I have almost worshinped, the thing that has been the great" interest of my life from early boyhood to manhood, for which I have sacrificed many pleasures, many personal indulgences, for which for years I lived hard and slaved 1 away often far into the night. I must part now with something which I love dearly, treasure immensely, but If by this renunciation I gain you, Fausteen, I shall be immeasurably richer. You will laugh, perhaps, when I tell you what it is. You will not understand, you will have no idea, Probably. of a collector's love for that which he collects, his pride in it, his arrogant joy when he knows that his particular collection is better almost than any but two or three in the wide world. Fausteen, I must part with my stamps!" She looked what she was, absolutely unmoved. "Your stamns?" she repeated, "but what would they fetch? A few hundreds perhaps. Not more, I suppoSeP" He laughed quietly, but triumphantly. "Mv dearest Fausteen, a really good collection may be worth thousands. If I sent my collection to Christie's to be rut up for auction. I have no doubt but that it would' fetch five or six thousand rounds. If I part with it, if I settle the whole of that money on you, will you marry me as soon as ever we can manage it after we return from Monte Carlo?" For a minute her eve flashed. Then '°°ked at him reproachfully. Please, please, don't make so much ?<T» money ( ! uest i oll -" she said. Do not speak as though vou thouo-ht I was a. mercenary woman." All I think of really, dear, is what is best for mau . ln y°ur profession should not be worried about monev matters, but if your stamns are reallv worth all that money, and you can bear to part with them " , Hq waited to hear no more—he crushed her to him, and stopped her words with kisses. (i "That settles it, then," he said. 'As soon as we return from Monte Carlo my collection goes to Christie's. 1 should not be at all summed, darling —'laughing excitedly—"if 7 they give me as much as 10 thousand pounds to settle on you, and how Proud I shall be to do it, sweet!" She put her soft little hands into ins. And the money will be entirely mine? ' she asked, laughingly. "If you want- any of it you'll have to ask me to give it you as a great, great favor. By the by, Wilfred, vou have never shown me this wonderful collection of stamps. Where do you keep them? At the bank?" "No -here in a leather case," he answered. "In a way, I suppose, I ought to keep them in a safe deposit ?» r bank, but what nleasure would they b£ to me then? Why, any night 1 !"P alo "e and not in a mood for writing, I get the books out and simply gloat over them, much as a surgeon might over his bones, and so on • at least, ' I don't mean his bones—someone else's, of course. If I g.-> , w -„ v 1: sencl them to the bank. In the ordinary way, had I known I was talimg this joprney. I should' have don > here be absolutely safe

They are insured, I supnose?" lo a certain extent, yes; but not uo to their value. No insurance office will take the risk of the full value, as 1 keep them bv me. Thev are insured' for a thousand rounds." "For the future, until their sale vou must ta'ke more care of my propeity, she said. "Ah!" as strange, unoannv isounds, something resembling a locomotive engine shutting off steam were audible, "I think I heard Mrs Hepplethwaite returning." Mrs Hepplethwaite, the landladv came -slowly, laboriously, for she suffered from bronchitis; but she reached her goal at last-

Here I am!" she said, plumping flown into -a chair and planting a bottle on one knee nd a nacket of sandwiches on the other. 'I should Lave been here before, only Lazar.is detained me. Lazarus, my dear voung ludv, is my husband."

"I hope he is a good husband," rausteen said. "He has rather an unusual name for a "

I "Christian?" Mrs Hepplethwaite interrupted. "Well, as a matter of fact, miss, it is not his namey' I call him Laz-mis because he came .iourth—a little loke of mine! As I was saying," she continued, "Lazarus detained me to tell me Eileen Alannah—my cat, miss—was caterwauling in the garden, *»nd Mr B v own's dog Snooker was howling in the next street; but neither ot them could be persuaded to come home. And Lazarus says something's tn the wind. Personally, Mr Wilfred, if I had seen your mice sitting in a row on the kerbstones and squealing at the top of their voices, I should not nave been m the least surprised: as vour friend Mr Staples said to me, something is going to happen—fire and water, murder, and sudden death!" Fausteen turned quite pale. . "Hush, Mrs Hepplethwaite," Wilfred said, almost angrilv. "You are frightening Miss O'Neill". Now, if you Dlease, you must take a glass of wine and then " Wilfred had poured out her wine, and the good lady tossed it down her throat as though that part of her anatomy was a water-chute. Then she turned towards the door. ~ "Oh. by the by," Wilfred said, "I 'shall bo away from nv- chambers for ' do'- or two. I shall lor-k uo as usual. T will wire you when I am returning." "Very good, sir,'' she said. "Goodnight, sir. and "ood-night. miss." She went f'-om the room, and shut the door. Then she r»aused. "Going awav?" she said to 'herself. ' "It's sudcTen. There was no talk of gohi" away until that minx came. There is more in this than meets the eye. It's either a honeymoon or an elopement; orobablv the latter. However, it's none of my -business, onlv I hone it not mean trouble for Mr But the mice and the cat and +he dog have not deserted the house this

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night without a reason,, that's a moral." And with a deep sigh and a not altogether unpleasant reeling tnat ikt head had an inclination to lift itself from her shoulders and float away through space, Mrs Heppletlnvaite made her way very carefully back to the basement. When she reached the kitchen she unearthed, as it were, a small bottle from under a cloth which lay at the bottom of the basket in. which she had fetched the port wane and sandwiches, took out the cork, and moved slowly towards the dresser for a glass. As she reached the table once more a succession of howls from the back of the house startled her. She lurched aarainst the table, overturning the bottle and the red wine which it contained! spread itself over the white tablecloth. Mrs- Hepplethwaite stared at it u,v a moment, then, with a smothered cry, she dropped into a chair. "Blood she said, under her breath. "It looks like blood! What was it I said, 'Fire and water, murder, or sudden edatli?" Heaven preserve us. The warning's not come for nothing!" And shivering from top to toe as though an ague had! possession of her, Mrs Hepplethwaite threw her apron over her head and wept with terrified apprehension.

(To be continued.)