A COUNTRY SWEETHEART.

Otago Witness, Issue 2106, 5 July 1894, Page 39

A COUNTRY SWEETHEART.

Sy DORA RUSSELL,

Author of "Footprints in the Snow," "Ihe Broken Seal," "The Track of the Storm," "The Vicar's Governess," "The Last Signal," " His Will and Hers." &c.

[All Rights Resbbved.]

Chapter XXX II. Despair. IE noise and glare outside almost overwhelmed May as she went tottering feebly on. She knew not which way to tarn, and felt that her weary feet would not bear her much farther. She stopped and looked half-dazed around ; and as she did so a lamp-light fell on her white and haggard face, showing it plainly to a man who was just about to pass her when she paused. This was Ralph Webster, but he did not recognise her. This pale-faced, miserable - looking woman, whose features somehow reminded him of the beautiful, blooming girl he had seen last night at his aunt's house, however, interested him. He, too, stopped after he had passed her and looked back. She was beckoning for a cab, and a moment later one drew up.

The driver bent forward and asked her where she wished to go. The woman Webster was watching hesitated, got slowly into the cab, and then he heard her voice. He started ; it waa the voice of May, and the words she uttered sounded strange and ominous to his ears. "Taka me to one of the bridges," she said. " Whioh one, miss ? " inquired the driver. Once more there was a pause before the answer came. Then again he heard May's voice. " Westminster," she said ; and in an instant— swift; as a flish of lightning — itdarted across Ralph Webster's acute brain that this actually might be May Churchill ; that she might have learnt the secret of which he was but too sure 1 He made a hasty step towards the cab, but as he did so it started ; but Webster was not a man to hesitate with such a doubt on his mind. At once he, too, hailed a cab, and bade the driver follow the one before him at his utmost speed. " To Westminster Bridge," he called as he leapt in, " and do not lose sight of the cab before us." The driver nodded, and the race began. It was easy enough at first, but in the more crowded parts it was very difficult. One hansom cab is so like the other that to keep one particular cab in view was no easy task. The driver, however, did his best, but unhappily a slight block stopped them for a minute or two. Webster sat burning with impatience, but there was nothing for it but to wait. At last tbey were off again, and at last, too, they came in sight of the bridge. Then when they reached it Webster sprang \ out of the oab and flung half a sovereign to the driver.

" Wait for me here," he said ; " I may want you again." Then he went on along the footpath, and, half-way across the bridge, he saw another cab drawn up at one side of tbe roadway, and as he approached this cab the driver beckoned to a passing policeman, and for a moment Webster paused to listen to wbat he said. " I say," calledjthe cabman, " there's alady just got out of this 'ere cab that I think ye'd best look after. She looked uncommon queer, and she told me to drive to one of the bridges ; I wish she may not be after some mischief or other." "Which way did she go?" asked the policeman, interested. " Straight ahead ; and she'd a wild, dazed look I didn't like." Webster listened no longer. With swift steps he walked on, peering around him as he went. The bridge was fairly crowded, but he pushed hi ? way, and in a little while he saw tbe figure of a woman before him— of a woman whose form reminded him of the slender, girlish one of whom he was thinking. Some passer-by went roughly against her, and ehe reeled to one side, and leaned panting against the parapet of the bridge. In an instant Webster was at her side. '.'Did that man hurt you?" he asked quiokly, Then the woman turned her head, and Webster saw the white, despairing face and tbe large, violet-rimmed eyes. ••Are you Miss Churchill? " said Webster in a low tone, and he laid bin hand gently on her arm.

A ory broke from May's white lips. *' Oh ! don't speak to me, Mr Webster, Oh 1 leave me alone—please leave me alone ! " she gasped out, "I cannot leave you alone," answered Balph Webster firmly ; " I cannot leave you here " — At this moment the policeman the cabman bad spoken to came up to them, and stopped and looked at May suspiciously. "Is this the young, woman the cabman was speaking of, sir ? " he said, addressing Webster. "I saw you pass when he w&S telling me to look after her." il No," said Webster quietly ; " this young lady is a friend of mine, and a man pushed against her, and she has turned rather faint. You had best take my arm," he added, addressing May, and without any permission be drew her arm through his, and led her quietly on. For a few moments May did not speak, nor did he. Then, with his voice full of feeling, he said :

" You have heard some bad newa. I fear I know what it is." May's whole form qnivered. " Oh 1 go away and leave me alone, Mr Webster 1 " she once more prayed. " Don't tell anyone you've seen me — I only wish to be alone." " You are not fit to be alone," answered Webster ; " you have received a great mental shoek — a shock that I have feared for days must come to you— you have learnt the

truth somehow about Mr Temple and MiES Kathleen Weir ? " May gave a sudden cry. "How do you know 7" she asked in a broken voice " What do you know ? "

11 Miss Weir told me— of her early marrisge to Mr Temple."

" And you knew this and never told me I " cried May. " You let me live on in my — fool's happiness — you let me "

But here her voice broke. She covered her face with her hand ; a moan broke from her parched lips.

" I could not bear to disturb your happiness," said Webster gently. " I was distressed above measure when this strange knowledge came to me ; I did not know how to act ; and last night when I was at Pembridge Terrace "

" I will never go there again I " broke in May passionately. •• I will never see anyone again that I have known. You mast forget this meeting, Mr Webster; you mast never tell anyone that you have seen me ? Will you premise me this 1 "

" Only on one condition : that yon will try to bear fcbia bitter blow with fortitude — otherwise it is my duty "

" How can I bear it ? " moaned the unhappy girl. ■ " He— was everything to me. I balieve he loved me — and now, and now "

" There is no blame to be attached to you. It is a most painful and trying position, and I do not wonder at you shrinking back from it, yet I am sure that both my aunts " "Mr Webster," interrupted May, " do not speak of this. I will never ccc your aunts again — never 1 My father is going there tomorrow. Do you think I could face him 1 " "Pardon mo asking you, but how do you know all this ? " "He — he came to-day," answered -May in broken accett?, "He took me out — acd told me. He — said our secret marriage was known — for we were married " " I know you were ; Mr Temple has rendered himself liable by his conduct " "To what 1 " asked May quickly, as Webster paused. " To an action for bigamy " 11 No I " said May sharply and quickly, and for the first time she raised her bowed head. " I will do nothing against him ; I will say nothing against him ; I will disappear — and you must keep my secret." " I will do anything Eor you. Will you trust me ? " answered Webster earnestly. " I know at the present time you are overwhelmed with the suddenness of the blow, and no one can wonder at it. But how did you come to be out here alone ? " "He— Mr Temple," faltered May, "left me for a little time, he supposed, and went to your aunts. He — he did not wish me to leave him. He did not know I never meant to Bee him again." " And then you went out ? "

" I went out n«?ver to return. I will never return 1 I will never return, Mr Webster— l — I — ha*o not strength "

•* My poor, poor girl," said Webster, very pitifully. " And now will you leave me, Mr Webster," went on May, who was trembling in every limb ; "I — I am better now. Goodbye." " I will not leave you," answered Webster, quietly and firmly. " I will stay with you until I see you in some safe shelter. Ido not wonder at your decision not to return to Mr Temple, and it is natural that just at first you should shrink from seeing those that you have known. But fate bas thrown me in your path, and it is my duty to watch over you. Turn with me now ; I have a cab waiting at tbe other end of the bridge, and we can settle as we drive where you shall go."

"Oh! I oannot go, I cannot go I " moaned May. " You must," said Webster. "Do you think I would leave you alone in the miserable, desperate state you are in 1 I do not ask you to go back to Pembridge Terrace or to see your father or Mr Temple ; all I ask you to do is to come with me, and I will take the best care of you that I can." 41 And — and you will tell no one where I am?" " I solemnly promise I will tell no one where you are if in return you will promise to do nothing rash. Miss Churchill, no man is worth it," he added, half bitterly. " But come now, let us co back to the cab." By tbis time May's trembling limbs had well nigh failed her. She tottered on for a few minutes more, clinging to Webster's arm for support, and then a deadly f aintness suddenly overcame her, and she would have fallen to the ground had not Webster held her in his arms.

But when he saw her condition he at onoe made up his mind. He called a passiog oab, and lifted May in.

•' Drive as direct as you can to Sfc. PbilHp'd 'Hospital," he told the cabman, At tbe great hospital wbioh I here oall £Cj. Phillip's Webster had suddenly remembered that he bad a personal friend in the house surgeon, Dr Brentwood. He remembered also that private patients could find accommodation there, and that there were private rooms where May Oould be nursed and taken dare of.

Until she had fainted he had not known where to take her. Now her illness settled the matter, and half an hour later May was borne into tbe great, gloomy building where the sick and suffering spent, their weary hours. But first Webster had a short whispered conversation with his friend the house surgeon. " Remember money is no consideration, tirentwood," this conversation ended with ; " but she must not be left a moment alone ; a nurse must never leave her." Dr Brentwood nodded his head and went to look after his new patient. Webster had told him as much of May's story as he deemed necessary, and the doctor quite understood. " She is a woman in terrible grief," Webster had said, "and she might do something desperate unless she's well looked after." Thus when M»y regained complete consciousness she found herself in a small, neat, clean room, with a bright fire burniDg in the grate, and a neat hospital nurse standing by her bedside. Dr Brentwood was also in the room, and when May looked round and asked j the nurse where she was, he too went up to the bedside.

" Well, you are better now I Bee," he said cheerfully.

" Where ami?" asked May again. " I think I must have fainted."

" You are in the private patients' ward in Bb. Phillip's Hospital. Yes, you fainted, but I hope you will soon be all right after you bave had a night's rest." May put her band over her face, she was reoalling her interview with Ralph Webster on the bridge.

11 Who brought me here ? " shd asked presently, in a low, pained tone. "Mr Webster— Ralph Webster; you are a friend of bis, he tells me." For a moment or two May said nothing, and the doctor was turning away to give some directions to the nurse, when she once more addressed him : " Can I see Mr Webster ?" she asked. " Certainly, if you wish it. I will bring him to you at once," replied Dr Brentwiod ; and a few moments later Webster was in the room. He went up not unmoved to the bed on which May was lying, with her white face and her unloosed hair. " Dr Brentwood says you are better, and that you wish to see me," he said in a low tone. " Yes, I wish to see you alone for a few minutes," answered May. Webster looked at the doctor, and the doctor looked at the nurse, aad then they both left the room. " Mr Webster," began May, brokenly and agitatedly, "you have brought me here r gainst my will — but will you promise me at least one thing ? " " I wiU promise anything you wish." " Will you tell no one where I am ? Remember, no one I " . " I faithfully promise you I will not. You are in a safe refuge here, and no one shall come near yon or molest you unless you wish it," " I wish them to think me dead," said May in a low emphatic voice. " I wish everyono to think ma dead." - " I will not betray your secret," answered Webster, and be stretched out his hand and took hers. " Will you trust me J " "Yes; and — and do not tell them my name here. You have not told them my name?" " I have not. Dr Brentwood is an old friend of mine, and I know you will ba well looked after under his care. Try to sleep and forget what has happened ; and wbat name shall I call you by ? " " Ob, anything ; it is no matter." Websttr thought for a moment or two, and then be once moro took May's hand in his own.

"I will^call you Mrs Ohurob,"'he said; " that will do. And now good-night."