FOR LOVE'S SAKE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXII, Issue 10009, 21 December 1895, Page 3 (Supplement)

FOR LOVE'S SAKE.

BY DORA DEI.MAR, inlb' ,r of "dinner, or Victim "In the Golden A tVl "" l'" 1 She Foreseen," " The Secret of 'titwurt," "A Tempting Offer,"Ac.

CHAPTER IK. - nr inquest was over; bub tho intense xc i;eiui'iit which had reigned all through a,; ju'.l autumn day, and, indeed, for some . ,-5 before it, had not had time to subside, 'l t jic eager tongues wore still clattering cVf the event-; and, although the coroner l, ( driven away fully half an hour before, L'jitle country inn was as full of noise ,„j bustle as evor. I; was very rarely indeed that) mine host . I ~,;!ie hostess of the Lisle Arms had thoir [„ r , i,u 'our, and the room beyond so full of ..., thirsty customers. Tho Lisle Arms, ■,n:h-t!iiiding its pretentions name, was -,; v .i little country inn—if, indeed, ib -er.-i.l the appellation of inn. It stood r _ .„ ,v in the long straggling streot of ... Lil the village consisted, and was a, . .'Hious, well-conducted place enough. V rivver, it was the only house of enterj...,.;., for man and beast In the village, f , ,-i .--.:■ ileoffrey Lisle's estate, and it had , r .. ii.iiion to keep up. [, «as a very unusual thing for tho ini ;.i ,'•- of Cheynford to have any cause i, ~ •.'.uncut, and, therefore, thoro was eu: j , use for that which reigned to day ■ .-. ;: midst.. Never, within tho memory c ; :- -. i\ le«t inhabitant, had there been any - : . IV o crime in the pretty village, with j.j .-. .:t little cottages, swift river, and n;t.;ri-]'io old church, and whon one of its j.,-,! iiits was found dead in the woods, I .: t'.v a blow from some cruel hand, it „ . n.i wonder that tho excitement was «i e;,d and great, and that the villagers «:e,; crhf.ps, just a little glad that I hoy i,.; -.:;iething to talk about, now thai the 1,,, i, • '•« as gathered in, and the long winter *.!« a: hand. i":. v --fortl was a prosperous and pictured: vi.lage. There wero two or three ,- r; ,:':.' i'( s within easy distance—tho Hall, ,",:.• Hiiro Holroyd lived, ami Lislo £:: v. the big house of the district, being ;- . ; :.- ".pal estates. Both the squire and >r i-.ihey were excellent landlords, who .;,-,■ nr«t of their time on their estates, s'r. i i: I not leave the care of their tenants f i: >;.:'ly to their land-agents; and their • r : in:.- wore contented and well-to-do, and l -v ford, on the whole, was a very happy i. [;•'. There wero houses on both sides ci' ■- ' o:i g. broad, straggling village street, it :''!'.' i >p of which stood the quaint old in _t.»ii church, with the curious old i ; ,.;.;i' uwer whoso shadow fell upon the i>-.,ts:? in the green churchyard beneath. T:. • cottages were whitewashed with th ■.: .'i.e.i root's; but there were two or three le-< picturesque but more pretentious buildjr.-- ■■■'. red brick, with tiled roofs rising i: . i.v against the sky. There was Doctor L' - substantial square house, prosaic!i *■:. but thoroughly well built and com-f..-:.:.L'; the doctor had superintended its KiV.un himself. Another, on rather a tx.-'.'xt scale, occupied by his assistant— ]>~■: i' Lane hada scattered country practice c: wide extent. Then there was a little «'-,:? villa which Sir Geoffrey Lisle had built I : tho curate when he brought homo his j ■■ ■:: : wife; and there was the inn iiself, of fi i brick, substantial and rather commonf ice, with its gaudy sign-post, and the red binds in it? windows. Ine October afternoon was cold and dull, 6!: a sharp cast wind was whistling up the ![:■:•:•• ; but the weather would have had to have teen ten times worse to have kept the i i-abitunts of Cheynford beside their comf:: ib!e firesides, Not only was the bar of i.v.- Lisle Arms more crowded than it had e.er been since the gaudy sign had been h-.isted. but litti- groups wero standing about the street, and men and women were fitting on the low stonewall on either side of the lich gate leading into the churchyard, ill eager, interested, and most of "hem garrulous. Round the blacksmith's forge, with its glowing fire, which was so cheery a sight on tr.t u'rey, chill afternoon, a larger group iti.l was gathered. The blacksmith himi:'.:. with his brawny arms bare, was busily irjing to make up for the time he had lost t!,.it afternoon, but ho found a word or two ecciM'.inally to throw in upon the many c.xruents, and he paused in his operations !;t a moment to touch his forehead with fricnJly, respectful familiarity to the curate i- ,-.- passed on his way to the little white til;i where his young wife awaited him. 'I:.* :her villagers saluted the tall young par.' m r.'so with friendly respect ; the i'.-veretvi James Wilson was no less popular f. .'i the old rector himself. J: was evident that the little wife who had i in the white villa only a few months •/a- m the lookout for her husband, for as the curate crossed the strip of ground which i-narnted the house from the road, the hall a '■ i• opened, and a pretty little woman in a dii:.tv grev merino gown appeared on the tt.rci-.'.id, "smiling, although her eyes were full :', tears. ' , "1 :,nve been expecting you, Jim, sho nil, a little unsteadily. "And 1 have • -..: tea ready for you. Youmust want it .!..-' ■'. I afternoon." - Von have heard the result of the inquest, '.'*' h-.- said, as he bent and kissed her, ■;.-. i 'i.ty entered the cosy little study where ;:;-.■ : re was burning so cheerfully. ".N-i. I have heard nothing," sho in-wrrd, as she drew him to the fire and ie thr.'w himself rather wearily into his ir.T.c.'i.iir. "What is dim?" '• Man-laughter," he replied slowly. "M .',-i mghter !"sheechoed. "Against—" >~. could not finish her question, but there Wa- ;.t need ; he understood. " V..r«, : he returned with a nod, and tho ?•;•.' wife clasped her little hands toEf.h'r.aii'l burst into tears. "Oh, Jim, poor Lady Lisle!" sho exclaitTic'i, ptteously. " How dreadful for li'.rl How will alto bear it?' 1 " 1- is a far more favourable verdict than *<■ ..I'd to hope for," he answered, gently. "It thin"s had been otherwise, it would 1.v..j i,..-,n murder, Nell! But the poor If-:, as stiieide has put him out of the '.':■:. <i the law, and ho can receive no i.i .-'.ment at its hands. It seemed to me t:..' '~- jury, honeM. fellows one and all, «-•:..- 1 i.j spare Sir Geoffrey and tho name «:..-:■ everyone about here respects so k" .v.v much as they could." ".-.i <;>• ffrey was present?" Mrs. Wilson a-'sfd. She had forgotten the dainty little hi .-i.ii|iage in her intense interest in her ba'fc:-:id> news.

"(n, ve<." "II did look!" "',' lite composed find calm, bub lie was fi'i I.', pah-, and his eyes looked as if ho had "■'■:-1- pi for days. It is a terrible ordeal '-.- '< man so proud and high-minded us Sir '".•■:r..- v . Nell!" ">!■ -• reirible/'she answered, unsteadily. "I unthankful it has ended as well as it I", -In.-added, after a moment, and turnin,' to the tea-table she began to busy

•".'-•'( with the little teapot. "It must be a terrible ."Late of things »Un we run bo thankful for a verdict of BMi-lhOßliter against a lad who was hurried Km i!.o scene of his crime by a suicides '!'."di,'' the clergyman remarked, sadly. ''It is a terrible incident, Nell, lernble f' m beginning to end !" " V«s indeed," she answered, sorrow''»iv. to -he brought him the cup of tea she '•'■ > prepared with her loving, careful hands. ''«»-«,- Millicent there?" "Yi-«. dear; she was obliged to be present, J'on know, she witnessed the quarrel with l*'i.-h..r." ~ " I'lilmppy girl! She is the cause ot it *'•'.' Mrs. Wilson said, angrily. "N'arHv, Nellie," her husband an- *•*< ■!, reprovingly. "The dower of beauty r.,-i W rt has been a fatal gift to her. 1; it i! -he hits not been very prudent, she is "i cliii Ily to blame ; and she has Buffered, "'"1 Hill suffer, terribly. I never saw buch an expression on any woman's faeo as hors l; '•■ when she stood up before the coroner l-sv. It was awful! It haunts mo! '•!)) you think that she cared about >'>•"'' Mrs. Wilson asked, more gently,and *i'i. .m earnest expression of sympathy on her pretty face; "or was it merely vanity i'i'-li led her astray?" . "1 think she loved him with aU the strength of her undisciplined heart, her husband answered, gravely and gently-so Bravely and 50 gently that his wifo pretty 6 )'w overflowed again. "Oh, Jim. do you think |so?" she said, penitently. " Then I have been wronging "« trreutly. You seo, she had the repufca-

turn of being such a flirt, and so vain of her Deauty and so proud to all her equals, that i thought it was her flattered vanity which had led her away. Besides, you know, he was known to be in lore with his cousin,

He mado Millicent) Drow boliovo that OVCd „IJ? r ' dm " Mr. Wilson said, gently. ' Sho has sacrificed all foe him, and now sho M loft to boar the shame, the disgrace, the romorse, and to know that nor sin was the indirect cause of her father's doath-of her father, who loved the ground she walked on 1 Already-ay, already, poor soul, the women have turned thoir backs upon her, and when 1 tried to preach charity and gentleness to Sirs. Lowry, she asked me if I wishod to encourage such conduct as Millicent's." " What insolence!" Mrs. Wilson said, indignantly, nestling hor little hand in her husband's. " Oh, it is well to have a high standard of morality," the curato answered, pressing the little sympathetic hand. "Bub it ought not to exclude Christian charity. Soinn women can bo very cruel to those of their own sex who fall by the way, Noll. Do you know, Nell, that although she fainted twico at the inn to-day, thore was not a woman thoro who would go back to her cottago with her, and she was quito unable to walk without assistance."

"Oh, Jim, is it possible? l'ou wonb with hor, of course ?'' " Yes, I took her homo," the clergyman answered, gently. "Think, Nell, to what a desolate homo, darkened by the prosenco of death."

" Who is with her, Jim asked his wifo, tremulously. " Sho is not alone, is she ?" " An aunt is with her, her father's sister," roplied Mr. Wilson. "A hard, cold woman, who feels the disgrnco which has fallen upon Millicent too kecily to give her any sympathy," There was a minute's pause. Nellie Wilson looked into tho fire thoughtfully for a moment or two, then she looked up, lifting her head with a little air of decision. 1 "Jim," sho said, quietly, "I think, if you do not mind, I should liko to go to Millicent. I novor cared for her much, but I may bo of some use." 1 My darling," tho Reverend .Tamos exclaimed, delightedly, " that is just what I expected from you. It is a dreary day for such a walk, but if yon will put on your things I will tako you to hor at once. Nellie, sho needs all your pity and sympathy," "I will get ready ab once," Mrs. Wilson said, feeling amply repaid for tho little effort) of self conquest, by her husband's loving approval. "Pour yourself out another cup of tea, Jim, while I put on my ulster."

The cosy, tiro-lib room scorned to loso much of its brightness with tho departure of the pretty, fair-haired woman, but there was a tender little smilo lingering round her husband's lips, which faded, however, as he thought of the terrible experiences of that afternoon.

It seemed to him, sitting thero in his familiar sanctum, in his own familiar armchair, that tho cosy littlo book-lined room faded slowly away, to bo replaced by a large, bare inn parlour, with white-washed walls, and a dull log tiro smoking on an open hearth. He saw the coroner's grave, troubled face ; Sir Geoffrey Lisle, handsome, proud, and haggard ; two or tbreo strange faces, keen, grave, and lawyer-like, besides a crowd of others which belonged more or less to his daily life. And every eye in that crowded room seemed turned with ono accord upon the figure of a woman who stood drawing her cloak around her with an involuntary shrinking, even while she hold her head erect and faced them liko a stag at bay. And what a face hers was, as it was turned toward them, framed in its heavy black veil, so strangely beautiful, yob so despairing—the face of a woman ruined, lost, whose future hold nothing bub darkness and despair. And yet what a promise her young life had given until this awful blight had fallen upon it! Sho might have lived to be a happy, honoured wife, a proud mother; and now the child which might be born to her before the new year would be the living evidence of her shame, and the purest, holiosb joys of womanhood would be poisoned at their source. One man's whim—ft cruel fancy aroused by the girl's superb physical charms— blighted her life, and he had sought death to escape his share— how small a ono compared to hers I— the consequonces of his tin.

The curate, a man of wide charity and tendernesn of heart, was aroused from the reverie into which be had fallen by aloud peal upon his doorbell. Ho started up rather anxiously, and glancing from the window, he sow that Doctor Lane's dogcare was standing at the gate. The next moment ho had hurried into the hall, meeting tho doctor, who had just been admitted. " What in ib ?" he asked, eagerly; "am 1 wanted "I want you—or, rather, I want that good wife of yours," Doctor Lane answered, as be entered the study. "Is she at home? 1 want her to do rae a great favour." " Nell is at home, and I am sure she will do you a favour if it is in her power," Mr. Wilson answered, smiling. " But I hope you don't want it done now," he added. " She is just putting on her cloak to go with me to Drew's cottage to see if sha can do anything for that unhappy girl." "Then my favour is granted before it was asked," said the doctor, cordially. " Your wife is an angel, and you are a very lucky fellow, Wilson, I have been called off to the Abbey, so I will drive you as far as the cottage." "To the Abbey? Lady Lisle is not worse, I hope?" said Wilson, anxiously.' "She is in a condition of almost complete prostration," the doctor answered, "the refit of a succession of fainting fits. It won't surprise me if this dreadful business is the death of her, Wilson. And her niece is constantly in violent hysterics. I wonder what thev would have felt if tho verdict had been 'murder,' and the guilty man had not seen fit to escape tho hanging by suicide? Warrington had a warrant out for his apprehension at the very time ho drowned himself. Ah, Mrs.Wilson," hcaddod, taking Nellie's little hands in his, " I came to ask you to act the flood Samaritan, but I find there was no need. Will you lot me drivo you Mid Jim to tho cottage on my way to the Abbey?" "Oil, that is good of you," Mrs. Wilson answered, smiling. "I shall be only too glad to bo spared that long walk in the cold. Yes, I am quite well wrapped up. Even your professional eye- must grant that 1" The rain began to fall as they drove up the village street and past tho little church, and tho autumnal twilight was deepening into evening. Just as thoy rawed over the brow of tho hill a dogcart passed tbem at a rapid pace, and Doctor Lane, who at sight of it had been about to pull up, drove on without any romark. "I thought that was Sir Geoffrey driving," Mrs. Wilson said in some surprise. " He was so mullled up that I could not be Buro -" , i t. "It was Sir Geoffrey," remarked her husband, speaking from his seat in tho back of the cart. "Ah," said tho doctor, carelessly, i thought I had recognised him. He has had a hard day, poor fellow." ! They drove on in silence for about two ' miles of well-kept country road, which | usually at such an hour and in such weather j would have seen utterly void of pedestrians, I but they passed several groups walking sturdily through the rain, returning to their distant homes after gratifying their curiosity. Presently the dogcart paused at two great iron gates, with pretty, quaint | little lodges on either side, whoso lighted I windows looked bright and homeliko in tho dull light. From one of these a man came out and opened tho gatos, recognising the doctor with a salutation which was both respectful and cordial, and apologising for the gates not being open. "I don't generally close so early," he said; " but I did not think as we should have any visitors tonight, and ten minute or so ago, whon Sir Geoffrey went out, I closed 'em." "All right, Bennett," replied thoeurgoon, cheerfully, and he drove rapidly up the long avenue under the shadow of tho great elmtrees which bordored it. Midway up the avenue ho paused, and instead of continuing his way to the house, which seomed a great black mass againsb the lowering sky, ho turned hie horse's head into another driving road, which led to a more thickly wooded portion of tho park. A light glimmering feebly among the trees showed him thab thoy had reached their present destination, and he pulled p. The clergyman sprung down and lifted his wife from the cart, holding her for a second close ! to bis bcarb as be did so.

t "Your wife had better go alono, Wilson," the doctor said, quietly. Jf there had been sufficient daylight to soe the expression of his face, Mr. Wilson might have been a triflo surprised at its perplexed expression and puzzled look, and wondorod at it. " Millioonb may connect you with asorraon, to which Bhe is in no condition to listen. Come with mo to the Abbey, and we will return for Mrs. Wilson in an hour or so," " Yes, that will bo best," Nellie Wilson whispered, with a pressure of her husband's hand, as sho turned away and rapidly traversed the few yards of pathway which led to tho gamekeeper's cottage, wboro the light gleamed through the lattice windows.| And having seen her safely through the wicket gato, the two men drove on, the thoughts of the one full of his wife, and the rather painful duty boforo her, while tho other was thinking, with something almost liko bewilderment, of that muffled figure whioh had .passed them in tho dogcart, and wondered what was taking Sir Gooff- v Lisle away from the Abbey at such n i and certainly tho dogcart which they .... i p:\s.-ed was bound for tho station, which it would reach just in time to catch the up express as it passed through. (To bo continued.)