THE ELEVENTH HOUR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12775, 27 January 1905, Page 3

THE ELEVENTH HOUR.

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ABRAHGEMENT.]

. ; «9» ■ • ■ .->..-.-. BY SIR WILLIAM MAGNAY. BART., , Author*of "The Red Chancellor," "The F.all ■■■ of a Star," " The Heiress of the Season, v v ■■'■■ etc.. etc., etc. ".[:':. CHAPTER XXX.— (Continued.) "How can a woman tell how much loveshe is capable of giving?" she reasoned. f v "It is .the man who must: calk it forth," he said. " I understand' that. And, moreover, that I am not the man. Why—heaven knows! But I think you would have loved me if you. had never met poor Jack." . ':■ " And now that he is to be nothing more' than a memory, are you to be jealous of him?" site asked earnestly. {. ' : > ' "Jealous? Of the man who. saved'-my life for your love? Barbara-, what should I have done in his place? ; Jealous'! , Poitly wish— ~i.'.. ' ' , , 1 ■ "A man came running past the windows. Barbara clasped Reneagle s arm. "Arthur!" she , cried, .With a catch .'in. her voice, " it is all over. •. There is Scotson—" : '.' -.. "■s>,""-:'" i ■'■ "Poor fellow, poor John! Barbara,; I can't bear it," he cried passionately. "I can't, I can't bear 'the'news. And we have been- talking of- nothing 'but ourselves, I our—" ' . ■>- '"' ; " K ' i '' I There was a knock at the door and tho man came in. ,„«.., "Beg pardon, my lord," he said, breathlessly; "Dr. Kirkham sent me up from the lodge to say he -thinks-,. there is a change for the. better iu'Mr. FaueOiiberg—" "A change ; for'Hhe better?!' they both gasped. ,' ;'v'- ; '! y , '\-V/-''i;', v ; "Yes, miss ; yes, "my. lord. -~-.'Doctor Kirkham had a, horse saddled and sent.his groom after the London doctor; he thought Saunders might catch him before the train came in, and bring him back to see Mr. Fauconberg again." "All right, Scotsou. I'll come up to the lodge at once.". 1 As the man went out Reneagle and Barbara looked at each other. "He is going to live," Reneagle said, and there was' an infinity of complex meaning in the simple words —such r a depth of significance that Barbara could not answer them. Next moment he was cm his way to the lodge. "I am glad," said old Lady Reneagle that evening to her son, who had. just brought her news of the patient, "that the poor fellow is likely to recover. after all."\ ; - "Yes, mother; both doctors, have {lie strongest hopes." "Then I need not put off those people who are coming to luncheon to-morrow, tha Scott-Purveses. Did I tell you she wrote to decline, a.3 she had a guest? Of course I had to tell the woman to bring, her too, although when one is a "uncertain about, the people thenwelycs' one certainly does not want their friends." ■'.';■ "No, mother: but ; you can't 1 ' help it. Let's hope for the best,""he said absently. "I am so relieved about- poor Mr. Fauconberg," Lady x 'Reneagle continued. " Apart from the splendid piece of heroism which he performed which may have saved your life, dear —" * "Which assuredly did save my life, mother." " Poor, dear Mr. Faucoiiberg," she went on; "how delightful to think we are after all to have an opportunity of thanking him. Beyond that, Arthur," it would have been so terrible to have had the gloom of his death over us when we have "to think of your wedding." " " • "Yes." he agreed, then suddenly added : " Motlic'r, what would you say if I did not marry Barbara, after all?" .' " f Lady'Reneagle -s(ared at him in blank amazement. " Not' marry her, Arthur?, You are joking!" ' * •'.""'.'■ "No, I'm not," he replied, gloomily. "I don't think it will come off. ' . . "But, my dearest hoy,; why not?" she exclaimed in a tone of horrified expostulation. "Why not? You have never been so foolish as to quarrel— ' "No, indeed, mother. It would be a difficult thing to ouaryel with Barbara. Only I,have found out that she does not care for me." «'•• ' ~'•' ; ■;". Doesn't care for you ? Absurd! The idea was quite beyond Lady Reheagle's: powers of comprehension. " Up to a certain point she docs," he continued, in a quietly reflective voice, strangely in contrast with his mother's excited incredulity. " But not as I would be loved and you would wish me to be loved by the woman I make my wife." "Barbara EvanVlale does not love you?" she cried,, still refusing to believe it. "That any woman who had the chance could think twice about loving a man. of her son's rank and wealth was tot) absurd an idea. " Sho never told you so?" . . " Not spontaneously; I suspected, and sho has practically confessed it." " But.' the old lady, pursued aghast, " she never refuses to marry von?'' "0h.n0." ;' : , : . ; "Then of course the affair will come off. I am sure you are both very fond of each other; mure so than nine out of every ten couples one. knows of. My dear bar," she continued earnestly, "you are never going to throw away such, a' splendid chance of adding to your property and consequently to your dignity. It is madness. Arthur, sheer madness. Barbara's wealth added to what you have will make yon one of the richest peers in the kingdom." And it means a step ; ■ she practically brings von that. It will more than make up for her family not being equal to your own. Arthur, what insanity! 1 have no patience with you." For all the effect of her argument bad been a shake of his head. . i .;...... 0 ■ "1 am very sorry, mother," he .said, "but I'm afraid.it must be as I say. The. property is nothing. 1 have more as it is than I can manage, and certainly, wealth enough to put me above the danger of marrying or being married for anything but love. 1 don't say that the engagement will be broken ; but it seems as though things were shaping that way, and I thought it well to prepare you. There's the 'dressing-bell. Now, my dear mater, don't take it to heart. 1 promise you I'll do .my best with my chances and make a. splendid match one day. Only I have a prejudice in'favour of being loved by the woman I marry. 1 have all along suspected that Barbara* did not' care for. me as—well— I have all my life looked forward to being loved, Ami now an accident has shown me that my fear was well founded. 1 thought, perhaps, her nature was cold ; I know now it was only so to me." ■'■, , He kissed her and went, out, leaving: her in a vortex of speculation as to' whether 'the break ing-off of the engagement might'not open the door to a,, still better match, and so, after all, be for the best. The guest whom Mrs. Scott-Purves brought with her to luncheon next day turned out. to Barbara's great surprise, to be none other than Sybilla, Caspari. She and Mrs. Scott-Purves had known each other well in town, and on her recovery she was, asked down to stay at " Letworth" and, recruit. She was just the girl the widow would take to —clever, smart, and with such splendid musical gifts. But now, Barbara thought, she seemed but the shadow of her old ' self. Not so much in appearance, for she had made, when once on the load, a rapid recovery. But in her manner, in her character there seemed to be something greatly altered, something that had not been there beforea spirituality, a suggestion' that life was now less a reality than a memory, and a painful one. She could talk and laugh, but Barbara's perception told her that the passionate force with which the girl had once vibrated and which had been so strongly characteristic had been dulled and numbed. ■;'■■■: < _' " - - As they were already well acquainted there was no invidiousness to the others when Barbara took Sybilla off to her room, leaving Mrs. and Miss Scott-Purves to drive poor Lady Reneagle nearly to lunacy with their inane chatter. - When they had talked a little, Sybilla broached a subject which Barbara would have shrunk from; she asked, quite calmly, about Fauconberg's chance of recovery. Barbara told her ot\the new hope which every hour was strengthening, and added : " You knew, then, that he was here?" Sybilla smiled a little wistfully. , Yes; ■' that was why I came down to these parts. Of course, Mrs. Scott-Purves has.told me all about his being here, and the accident." "She told you he went to risk his life to ! save Reneagle?" Barbara suggested quietly. Yes," Sybilla answered with an absence• of constraint .which surprised her questioner. " It is only what I could have imagined

he would do.: I wonder, though; if you see as far into the fact as I can." Barbara looked at her searchingly, as half comprehending her drift. ' - i . " \Vhat"dp you mean?" she asked, keeping reticent. ■;.- ,' • . ' - - ' j "I suppose, my dear, he is as much* in love with you as ever," Sybilla replied, outspokenly. -.'-,. _ But Barbara, with all her frankness of disposition, could nob bring herself to break through her reserve. " Perhaps," she replied guardedly. " But how could you know it .' ■-, ... •'' Sybilla smiled. '. "Or account, if it were so, for his facing death to save the man you are going to many? Ah, I know John Fauconberg. If you knew, him as well as I— well, 1 don't think you .would ever die Lady Reneagle. Oh, I know Reneagle is a splendid fellow and ''everything that lie ought to be, but I very, much doubt whether he has' a thousandth part of the other man's devotion. And tnat is, or should be, everything to a woman." i .- ' ; ; Barbara was silent; she longed to answer yet. somehow she could not. " John Fauconberg never cared, never could have cared for me)" Sybilla went on steadily, without a touch of emotion in her voice. " I was a fool to let myself care for him, but, I knew the man, knew what was in him, and dreamt he might give me what a woman might sell her soul for, the devotion lie afterwards gave to you. It is the irony of lite. 1 could not call forth his love; no-woman, of the many he must have met and flirted with- could, fill he met you. And you didn't care for him—you, for whom lie would have given his life." . \ .' '"Ah, doii't, don't say that," Barbara cried. -- < -> ■ ~ • •s! would," Sybilla insisted, mistaking, the prompting of the other's protest. " Shall I tell you something—something that is known in this world only to me and John Fauconberg?" [ Barbara was roused now to a palpitating desire. " What is that?" Her voice shook as asked tuts question. Rive me your word that you will never divulge it to a' living soul," Sybilla demanded. '" Your sacred word of honour." " Yes, I give you my-word of honour," Barbara responded, in fear and wonder. Sybilla leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. "It was not Paul Hascombe but John Fauconberg who was holding the pistol when I was shot." Barbara went white. "He shot yon?" she demanded in a terrified whisper. Sybilla shook her head. " Mo; I shot myself; at least it was an' accident, a pure accident. But John -was going to shoot himself; I came in just in time to seize his arm ; in another second lie would have fallen dead with a name on his lips. I heard it. You can guess- what it was. Yes, ' Barbara-' " : The other had turned away, her breast heaving, her eyes full of tears. "I drove him to that!" .she cried with a half sol). ' You? No, I," Sybilla. declared with the first passion she had shown. I, and it was right that 1 should be punished. .1 poisoned you against him—yes, I did,' I did—" for Barbara had made a deprecatory movement. "I was mad with jealousy then. I would have seen him dead rather than your or any other woman's husband. 1 was a fool to think hat the man's love, the real depth of his devotion, such as he was ready to give you, could be compelled. He gave mo once a kiss in a ..lit of recklessness, and I thought that was everything. lb, was to me; to him it was-nothing, less than nothing. lie was wrong, oh, yes. "'"But not nearly so wrong as my mad folly made him. I told you something worse of him ; hinted at least, of a crime; you remember? Of course you do. Our cruel words, our lies and half-lies, are never forgotten. It was nothing. I had no right- to allude to it as I did. I made it into a lie. What 1 alluded to, was old Orisedale's death. It was an accident. I saw. it myself through the window" at, (Sains,; Jack tiki hut know I was there-;"I saw it was ; an 'accident. John 'Fauconberg can" never' be touched for that as long as I live to give evidence. And yet once, when I knew 1 could not keep him, /Iw would, heaven help me! I believe 1/ Would have sworn his life away rather than have seen him married to another woman." She had spoken all this : " rapidly, almost breath-' les»sly, goaded on by her remorse... She now threw herself on her knees. ' >.."• Barbara, , can you a forgive- me ?v«; -have ■ ruined his life, if he lives. I have wronged you hideously, but. as I live, I have repented. If you know what it has been, to lie all through ; the long hours of my illness thinking of this, of nothing but this, you would believe me when I tell you how bitterly I have repented—how I have vowed to atone. And now it is too late. Ah, if I had only writ leu. but I dared Hot. Barbara, can I ever hope fovAyour forgiveness?" i '■'■'> " . *'' J For a moment Barbara hesitated. , Then she stooped and kissed her.'";•■' *Z"'V. ■$ ■■...'• ;. "I can understand," she said, gently.' And I have treated him worse than you. for 1,, had not- your , excuse. ' It was' my head that condemned him against' my heart; your heart fought for him in defiance, of your head." . '■~.. : :-,., ■'. j, " But that is all over now," Sybilla said resolute]v. "I am going to begin a different life. 1 have done harm enough, heaven knows; I shall try after this to do Wine good. ] shall never care for, never think of any man again, and next week I go to. a life where love must be left behind. But I was bound -see you first and confess (lie.; wrong I hail done. Now there is nothing to delay me." ; Reneagle next day.was sitting by Fauconberg, now fast recovering. "i "Jack, my dear fellow," ho said, "you .were wrong* alter all to leave . that post we were clinging lo." " Wrong?" Fauconberg opened his eyes in surprise. ' '■'■:■&. '.'■. • "'■ •*"•; .; "Yen." Keneagle went on, "or rather '.] was wrong to let you go. I ought to have-slipped off instead, except that perhaps I might have made a worse tumble of It than you did." " But why?" John demanded still wou--deriug. , . .., I "For the very reason (hat 'made you do it: Barbara's happiness." * '■" Fauconberg flushed a little as with pain and lay .'hack staring at, him. ;■ It's a shame; .1. mustn't worry you, ; dear' old fellow," Reneagle said.* a' he laid his hand affectionately upon the other's. "Tin: fact is, Jack," as yon did. take me into your confidence, in that supreme moment. I may fell you now that I have found out Harbara does not love me, and for a sufficient reason—she loves yov.." X "Reneagle!" the poor fellow in his weakness could say nothing more, only • cry out in a delirium of doubtful hope and •'joy./ But the sight of if in the man who had to all intent given his life for him went far to compensate Reneagle for the unpleasant coiime he hail set himself to take. "The long and short of it," he continued, "is that—l am not going to marry Barbara—-now do keep ill. Jock, there's a dear fellow-— wouldn't have me marry a girl who didn't care for me. especially,'" ho added with a touch of bitterness, "as they tell me I can have anyone I choose to ask. ; . Now. as I can't have her myself., under the only conditions I care for in marriage, the next best thing is to arrange it all for you, my best and truest friend, as you can't just now quite look after the affair yourself. Yes, -ves; it's all right. I have settled it all with,"Barbara, who knows now from Miss Caspa.ri the truth of everything. Yea; Barbara will tell you so herself when you care to ask her. It is all absolutely arranged, subject to your approval, even to the repurchase of Gains, which I fancy yon won't let go again in a hurry. You know the lady in possession is" only .oo ready to be paid out. So all you' have" to do is to get well John—John!" he cried, suddenly, "my dear; fellow—if you only .knew the pleasure and delight this gives me to do for von—" : For' Fauconberg had turned his lace to the wall and was sobbing like a child. [the end.] *■ TO-MORROW (SATURDAY) Our readers will be given the opening chapters of a couple of exceptionally bright and attractive serials—" COURIER OF FORTUNE," from the pen of that well-known and popular author, MR. A. W. MARCHMONT, and "FOR HEART OR CONSCIENCE?" by that versatile .writer of light and healthy fiction, MR. George, Griffith!, .. ~, .