SERIAL STORY.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 6412, 8 January 1908, Page 2

SERIAL STORY.

TWO GAMBLERS. (By Edith. Stewart Drewry,) Author of “On Dangerous Ground,” “ Only an Actress,” “ For Somebody’s Sake.” [All Eights Eesebyed-I CHAPTER Xlll.—[Continued.) She flung from him with a quick movement to aiming to her feet, but Vivian instantly caught her round tho waist and held her captive with easy strength, despite her futile struggle to get free as he drew her to him, breathless. quivering. "Chut- chut! my poor little bird! Why beat tho pretty wings when you cannot escape? What have I done or not done to draw on me two such Sudden cruel little stabs? Tell me. Coral, what is wrong?” How could she when she did not know it herself? How put into any sort of form and void to the young undisciplined, unawakened heart and soul? She. was silent, fighting against the pitiful choking in heir throat, her face half averted, her fingers nervously plucking at the . hand that lay about her waist, but submitting now to its detaining force-touched, despite that vague sense of smouldering resentment and shrinking. Vivian said slowly, after waiting a few moments; 'Ts it that, after all, you miss the (garish excitement and whirl so much mat oven for one short week you find it ‘deadly dull’ to live without it—alone with me? Is that the unhappiness ?” “No, no! Not unhappiness! Not anything exactly! I don’t know what myself!” cam chokingly, her face suddenly pressed against his breast, “and 1 have wounded you so!” “My treasure, hush! Never mind that «£S3.-1” Vivian said with a quick throb of joy as tho dear penitent nestled to him. “You did not mean it, X know; but you may pour in some balm if—if you cannot give back full measure for all you hold of me.” Ho bent down a little, with glowing eyes. “Put those sweet lips to mine, and once more tell me that you are fond of Val—wile.” AVas that unknowingly what she wanted —from him ? That which sent such a thrill of ecstasy through _ her whole being, and made her, with a passionate impulse filing her arms about Vivian’s neck and lay soft lips to his, clinging, giving all ho asked, if not all he meant to have. ‘You know I am fond of you, Val; my Val, for you are my husband.”

“My darling!” ho said, and folded her very, very close. “My darling!” There was a long, restful silence, and then Vivian, with a half-sigh, roused himself_ and pointed to the west, from which even the after-glow or the April sunset bad almost died' down into grey shades. "It is too chilly for you to sit here any longer, sweetheart,” he said, “and mat cloud, too, overhead looks like a smart shower. Come indoors, and, if you like, we’ll pack our few traps and leave here to-morrow.” Ho abided that as they rose and were strolling ,baok toward? tho quaint hostelry, Coral’s two hands lightly locked within jus arm. She glanced up into his handsome face, and said quickly:

"No. no, Val ; not till the week you wished for is ended. Please forget what 1 said, and forgive me. I—l am such a creature of moods, you know, and I suppose it was that yesterday was horrid and wet, and there was nothing to bo done day or evening.” Val smiled.

“Well; woTl compromise it then, prett}' one. The first wet evening wc will take flight back to the whirligig world. And. by the way, child, you have never asked ,me anything as to our whereabouts in London.”

Sho glanced up rather wistfully. “I don’t think I thought about it at all, Val. An hotel, 1 suppose?” “Only for a few days, till I see or hear from my lawyer," said Val, as they passed outside the open French window of their sitting-room. “Your lawyer?”

“Yes: Hartland. A very nice fellow he is, too, as well as shrewd. I wrote to him from Paris just before we started off, to take me a furnished house and needful, servants for the season. X told him to write here as soon, as ha had succeeded. Old Maitro Jaques has gone over to market to-day, and will call at the posto restanto; he should bo back by now. too.. Ah,-, there comes tho shower, so in with you. pretty one.”

- It .Was almost dark now, between the hour and the gloom of the clouded sky; but there was a bright log fire in the wide, old dog-fireplace, and almost immediately Mere jaques came in with the lamps, supper, and a letter—“for Monsieur, which her husband had just brought in,” the good dame explained in her harsh, provincial French, “only that one was at tho posto restante—none for Madame,” When tho dame had retired. Val, who had opened the letter, said: . . “This is from Hartland, so we shall know our fate, as the old-fashioned novels -say. Of course, ho was utterly amazed at my letter”—Vivian began to laugh, with his eyes on tho lawyer’s letter, but he did not road tho actual words aloud—“but he has obeyed orders—equally of course—and been lucky enough to secure a perfect bargain : some lady wanting to go abroad all in a hurry, glad to take an immediate offer, even at nearly half the terms usually got for the whole three months’ rent down, and option of taking it on. The house is No 15, Dorrington Street, Mayfair—that is close by the Park a; Clubland, you know—handsomely turnished. large rooms, and three servants in tho bouse: man out of livery, cookhousekeeper, and housemaid, who lias also acted as lady’s maid, writes Hartland. These he has re-engaged. All the luggage I sent on—ours—from Paris by King, he is to send to the house the day after to-morrow, and after that we .can take possession when we like. ‘lt needs only.’ says Hartland, ‘to write to me what day and hour you arrive, and I will see that all is right.’ ” “vv’hat an invaluable creature ho is,” said Coralie, with delighted relief. “Apartments would not have done so well for our very Bohemian life.” Val laughed rather drily and shrugged his shoulders. “Heavens, no! Wo axe all too rackety a lot for any landlady to keep, mu that is all right for us, yon see”— touching the lawyer’s letter, “I will write back and say wo shall arrive next Tuesday evening, since wo are to stay out the week here.”

So that matter was settled, at any rate, and perhaps when, soon enough, the days sped by and they started for England, Vivian was not sorry. Beneath the exquisite dolco far niente of an attained end thero was ever the “restless, unsatisfied longing” for something still unrcachcd. It is told of the Doge of Genoa that when taken, practically a prisoner, to Versailles, ho was asked what he s-’W there which most surprised him. ‘To see myself here,” was the reply. Something after the same fashion, perhaps, if Val Vivian had been asked in London what he saw to most surprise him, he would have answered, with cynical dryness, “To see myself—married.” And certainly everyone who knew him would Have endorsed tho surprise to the full, when once they could be persuaded that it was a fact and not a jest. For the merciless chaff he would ho would inevitablyMfugjfiet ,ac e ee t inevitably got ht the club or elsewhere, Vivian’cared not at the least; he had plenty of wit to give back in kind if ho chose; ho had got what ho wanted, and that at present was. all he cared for or thought of. Nothing in the condition of things was changed except that ho and Coral would live together, instead of apart, their reckless gambling existence; he- would take her about here, there, and every where, proud of her beauty and the admiration ..die would attract, as he had been in Paris. He knew, of course, and so did Coral, that appearances—their disparity of years for one—and his own “no saint” repute would inevitably give but one impression of their position—at first, at any rate; but if the mere abstract cognisance of such judgment was a thing easily treated with a shrug of careless indifference, it must not, in Val's sight of knowledge, take overt sign by look, word or deed. Coral was his wedded wife-, and their world must so accept her. (To be continued in to-morrow's issue.)