A WOMAN’S HATE.

New Zealand Times, Volume XL, Issue 8987, 9 March 1915, Page 8

A WOMAN’S HATE.

Published by Special Anangement.

BY A. RENDER POPE. Author of “Redcairn’s Rcdemptioi, ’ “The Wages of Sin,” etc., etc. [Copyright.]

CHAPTER ll—Continued,

As their hands met, every nerve in Gerald’s body responded to the touch. Judith the girl had vanished; in her place was a woman of power and capacity—of subtle force, capable of exercising strange, uncontrollable influences. It was at that moment that the figure of Mary' Sbafto rose radiantly in Gerald’s vision. He recalled her as ho had last seen her—proud in her first evening gown, a scarlet rose in her hair, her roguish eyes challenging him across the crowded drawingroom. Involuntarily, he released Judith’s hand.. They faced one another momentarily in silence. “Of course I’ll forgive you',” said Judith suddenly, “I ” Their eyes met, and they laughed in unison. Intimate though they had been in the past, they realised now that they were on the fringe of a new familiarity. Although they had many times exchanged vows of love, and had written to one another in terms , almost extravagantly affectionate, no ultimate purpose had ever been hinted at. They- were happy enough together, that was all. They were too young to treat the future with the respect it later imposes. “I wish you would walk to the station with me, if you have time,” Gerald suggested, somewhat awkwardly. “I am catching the 5.50, and if I miss it there will be the* very dickens to pay. I am dining with Uncle Hubert, at the club. You *know what he is when his arrangements are upset." Judith regarded him steadily. “I am sorry,” she said; “I, too, have an appointment. But if you want to see me, you have every excuse for coming down a little more frequently. I saw- your father to-day. He looks frightfully ill. Oh I I know,” she added hastily, as Gerald commenced to ’protest. “Still, he is your father, and whatever his failings may be, it is still your duty to help him. Why, for my father, 1 think” —'her eyes grew infinitely tender—“X think I would do anything in tho world.”

‘‘l am sure you would/’ Gerald assured her, with mock gravity. Her boundless love for Hr Karen had afforded him opportunities to tease her as long as he could remember. “But look here, Judith,” he proceeded, bending slightly towards her, “I’m coming down to Oxwold again to-mor-row; I expect I shall be returning by the- same train. Will you . meet mo-hero at half-past four? I want to see you frightfully. It seems years since we had one of our good old talks, andthere awe no end of things I want to tell you.” “I have a few confidences, too,” laughed Judith. “But if you don’t mind, I think I won’t meet you here. I’m regarded as quite a grown-up person now, and the good people of Oxwold make gossip worse than a vice. That man Jeffooat, who went by, is euro to spread the nows that he has seen us together. If it happens again, I am afraid we shall bo compromised beyond redemption.” . “Well, I ,l’ll tell you what,” Gerald suggested. “You know the lane that leads straight down from the governor’s cottage,- I’ll meet you there, at a quarter-past four. I think we shall bo fairly safe from detection. They’re a ghastly nuisance, theseold tea-drinking women. If they ■ knew of some of your visits to the Temple, I guess ' they would have you dissected in less than a minute, eh?” . ( , “Very possibly,”’ Judith agreed, “but, fortunately, they don’t know, and in any case those days are over. Look here, Gerald, I shall really have to go. I will see you in your lane tomorrow. Don’t be late, there’s 1 a good boy. If you are, I shall have vanished.”

“It’s very nice to see you again, Judith,” protested Gerald, still a trifle bewildered at the wondrous changes a few months had wrought in her. He ■ took her, hand in his again, and again detained it. “Don’t be silly,” said Judith, softly, her cheeks just faintly flushed. “Of course I’m glad to see you, but there s no need to-be so distractingly sentimental about it. I will see you tomorrow. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Judith,” replied Gerald solemnly. He stood for a minute, staring after, her. As she turned the corner of the road, she glanced behind, her and waved her hand to him.

“Great Scott,” said Gerald Tankerville aloUd, “what an extraordinary change.” ’ But a few hours later,. under the influence of his uncle’s cynical wit, he had almost forgotten that so delectable a young woman as Judith Raven existed. •

Judith herself found quite sufficient cause for speculation in her brief encounter with Gerald Tankerville. Womanlike, she was quick to perceive his embarrassment, and his evident desire to conceal it. The reason for it was difficult to determine. If he wished to show her that having reached years of discretion, they must no longer permit themselves tne emotional gaieties of the past, why had he displayed such evident admiration, and ,shown so much anxiety to meet her again? Her heart beat fast, as she put these questions to herself. For, loth as she was to confess it, , or even to accept it, as possible," she had to admit that her feelings for the young barrister verged dangerously near to love. In the old days, she had regarded the whole affair as- a mutual infatuation,Which could be discarded when either- or both deemed it desirable. She feared now that the process was scarcely so simple as she had imagined. Her father, whose practice in Oxwold and’the surrounding district was becoming uncomfortably extensive, had been called to see a patient in a village some ten miles away, and Judith, whose mother had died when she was a child, and who had neither brother nor sister, spent the evening in solitude. It was in these few hours that the passionate love which was later to score so deep a mark on her own and Gerald Tankerville’s lives found recognition. But recognition was reluctant, and in the most primary form. (To bo continued.)