LOVE SHALL BE FIRST.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIV, Issue 16467, 17 February 1917, Page 3 (Supplement)

LOVE SHALL BE FIRST.

- BY ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT, Author of " A Tight Comer," " The Man Who Wag Dead," Etc.

(COPBIGHT.) \ CHAPTER V.—(Continued.) " There's no need to worry about Ross; the place is shut and there isn't a stick left in it; and lie hadn't a ghost of an idea that I had anything to do with it. But with this fellow Carton it's different. If this failure to remember me is humbug, you may bet there's something at the bottom of it. I'll find out tomorrow. He's asked me to dine with hip and have a hand at cards afterwards." " You'll have to be very careful," said his mother meaningly. He laughed. " All right. He shall win if the luck's on his side."

He winced at the sneer. "Yes, and 1 lon't love him for it, either," he said wit! i scowl. "If I hadn't had to hurrj duriel away I'd have given him cause tc >e sorry for himself." "What would you have done!" slit tsked icily, and his swaggering boastful less wilted before her keen, penetrating ;aze. " You talk like a child, Harold i your idea about Muriel is right, yov ire no match for this man either witl rour fists or your wits." v . , " I'll get the truth out of him to-morroM light, you'll see."' . .' a

"I see what yon do not. That the only safe thing for . lis ';' will bo to drop V ■ S him instantly, if. Muriel is really the at-' ; traction. I'll find out from, her in the morning . ; whether they did meet one another in Scotland, If so, he is to bo labelled dangerous. The one thing tc be S guarded against is the linking up of this house with the Slevington Mansions flat. It would ruin us. There is no other word for it. It would ruin us absolutely, Harold." " But if he has recognised both me and Muriel, he has the cue in his hands already," he grumbled. "You shouldn't have taken her to the place. That's the worst of you, mother, you will be too clever at times." "Does that mean that you have one of your profoundly shrewd suggestions to offer?" she asked with quiet irony. "You.can sneer, if you like, but what I think is that if Carton's gone on Muriel, thfl best way would be to use her to lead him on and bleed him. In any case, he might be willing for her sake to ksep hia mouth shut about that gambling business." "Then you wish to lose Muriel and her £50,000. As I say, you talk like a child. Have we never had ugly comers to turn before, and have I ever failed to find the way I Do you suppose I am not more than a match for a raw Canadian?" and she rose with a laugh. " You don't think I am, at anv rate," he grumbled. Don't be cross and silly. Good-night, dear. Don't go out to-morrow until alter Ive seen Muriel. It will probably settle everything. You may trust me to put it all right," and she kissed him and went away, feeling much less easy in mind than her words implied. CHAPTER VI. Muriel's secret. It was quite true that Muriel was in Lady Ledfield's power, and that until recently her forceful personality, dominating will, and skilfully cruel method of treatment had controlled almost eveiy act and thought of the unnappy girl who had been placed in her charge. There had never been any actual illtreatment; scarcely any open unkindness, even; Lady Ledfield method was much mora subtle. She had found the means she needed ready to her hand, and had used them cunningly and callouslv to destroy the girl's happinesn and secure possession of her fortune. There was a mystery about Muriel's birth. She had never known her parents, and was -ignorant even of her own name. She had Deen educated in a convent in France, and had inherited fiity thousand pounds from a relative whom she had never eeen. This man was an eccentric religious fanatic, with rabid views on the subject of illegitimacy, and he had imposed three conditions: she was to bo under the guardianship of the Ledhelds, was to take the name of Ledfield, and was to be told that sho was -a child of shame, and constantly warned against committing the unpardonable sin of her mother. And Lady Ledfield had made full use of* such an opportunity. Muriel had heard the distressing news when she was taken away from the convent, and it had been told in such a way j and with such constant repetition that she was led to regard herself as branded | with something worse than the brand of Cain, a pariah and an outcast, whom every decent man and woman would point at with scorn, derision, and contempt. For a time her youth and natural brightness of disposition had led her to rebel, but the religious training and associations of her _ convent . life had inclined > her to Jo ok with horror upon her mother's fall, and the soil was thus prepared for the baneful seed so cunningly and systematically sown. The poison had been • dexterously administered; every healthy influence had been carefully kept from her; every morbid thought and idea as carefully nurtured, until in the end she had ceased to struggle against her destiny and had abandoned even the hope of happiness. Her whole surroundings were chosen with a view to the same end. Her rooms on an upger floor of the house were of the gloomiest. . The narrow windows, heavily curtained, looked out upon a, blank wall; the light was always dim; both paint and paper were dark and forbidding; carpets, curtains, and furniture sad-coloured and faded; and even the very pictures and ornaments abnormally melancholy in subject and morbid, in treatment . Everything that ingenuity could suggest was done "to force home upon the unfortunate girl the conviction that she was an outcast from the world, and that her only hope of peace lay in a life of complete seclusion. The iron bad entered into her soul, and she bad come to regard her rooms less as a prison than "as' a shelter against the sneers of the world, a sanctuary against the contempt of those who knew ner secret. *■' Lady Ledfield had done her work thoroughly, but there were times when she, found that, although she had destroyed Muriel's happiness, she had not broken her _ will. She had attempted to use Muriel's undeniable' beauty as an aid-to i some of her questionable society ventures, but'the same morbid dread of others' contempt which had been so sedulously instilled into the girl's mind had made that impossible. She looked for slights and scorn everywhere; and found the evidence of them readily in chance glances, casual speeches, and light laughter. She was miserable and rebelled at each fresh attempt. To overcome her resistance Lady Ledfield had > recourse to drugs, just slight doses, ' sufficient to quieten her opposition but not to stupefy. .The-last of the attempts had been on the night- at the flat, when the effects had worn off more quickly than usual, with the result that Muriel had realised what was 'going on and had made her dramatic intervention. This had led* to unexpected conse- " quences. There had been a violent- quarrel the next day at Curzon Square', and for once Lady Ledfield had entirely lost self-control in her overwhelming passion. She had said many bitter things, which, recalled afterwards, had served to rouse Muriel to a new understanding of her and had confirmed a purpose which had begun to take shage in her thoughts after her return from Scotland. This wa« to -go right away from the house and everyone who knew her. This purpose had been strengthened by a second matter in which the wills of tho two had come into conflict. Lady Ledi field had had the unfettered use of Muriel's income; for the latter had very little knowledge of the value of money, and as the time was fast approaching when the money would pass into her own control the intention was to force her to marry Harold Brettell. She refused to do this, however. She disliked ■ and feared him, and cleverly turned Lady Ledfield's arguments against her. "Why should I many him?" she asked. " Because he cares for you, and because the protection of a husband will be the best shield against the slights of other i people." I "But lam protected here. <If they do not see me, it is all that matters." _ I "You cannot always live this kind of ! life, child." " Why not? It is the life you have told me I must live." '' " Uj> to the present, but no longer. You are a woman." " I don't think I understand you," said Muriel, and added after a pause of j thought, "Harold is what you call a decent man?" "Of course he is. What do you mean by that?" I How many hundreds of times have you told me that every decent man would both scorn and despise me? How then could he marry me?" " Nonsense, child. _ He knows your distressing secret and is sorry for you." " You mean that he would many me out of plly, then?" ,i: Not at all. Ho loves you.. Muriel; he loves you devotedly." ' But I do not care for him, and would not think of sharing the burden of my shame with him. It is hard to bear; how hard no one knows but myself. I will bear it alone. I shall never marry. Never. Never!" and from that decision "no arguments, reproaches, nor promises could . move her. That conversation had taken place some ' j weeks after ' her return from Scotland, . j while Frank's image was in her thoughts, and the remembrance of : his enthusiastic V' : ; • description of Canada and the freedom of; 0 thfc life there was still fresh in her mind. " v | (To ho continued on. Wednesday next.) ,