BLAKE KESTON'S VOW.

Otago Witness, Issue 3276, 27 December 1916, Page 52

BLAKE KESTON'S VOW.

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[Puhlishkd by Special Arrangement.]

By WINIFBED CARTER. Author of "Ashes of Eden," "Little Nobody," " Her Mother's Voice," etc.

[CorxniGHT.] CHAPTER I.—THE LURE OF WEALTH. The Thames was wearing its most festive summer garb. Punts, with tall flannel-clad men, drifted lazily up, while fussy little motor boats spurted ahead busily, making a frothy wave rush out to meet the shore. Blake Keston, lying in the prow of the boat, watched with eyes that were adoring, the pretty graceful figure of Violet Daunforth, the girl he was so soon to marry, the girl he worshipped with every bit of his heart. She was an exquisitely proportioned", fairy-like creature, with masses of curly flaxen hair, blue eyes that were almost always looking upwards beseechingly, and a rather- small but characterless mouth, that usually pouted bewitchingly. She paused now, punt pole in hand, to look down into the handsome eyes of the man she was engaged to. "You're a lazy boy, Blake," she said, brushing a curl from her face, that had detached itself from the loose knot in the nape of her neck, and fluttered coquettishly in the breeze. " Let me punt now, sweetheart," he said eagerly. "No! No!" said the girl decidedly. (She liked the thought of what a pretty picture she made.) " Only you just lie and do nothing so comfortably." "It's not that," Blake Keston said earnestly, " it's just because I can't bear to waste a single moment of your presence. I love to watch you, to see you bend in all the beauty of your supple figure. You are so pretty, Violet, that I want to watch, and not to work." He laughed a little, but nevertheless it was true. He could not take his eyes from her. He loved her so intensely.

Violet laughed mockingly. "How silly you are, Blake," she said. " Why, no woman is worth that sort of love. Not that I mind. It's useful to be loved so devotedly, only at times it's apt to get boring." She knew he didn't believe her, though she was really honest for once. She thrust once again her punt f»le in the water, and glanced up to see the e\es of a strange man looking at her with great approval. She blushed, but did not seem to resent the attention he besto re 1 on her, and then she heard Blake s muffled exclamation, and in another moment Blake had seized the other pole, and with long muscular movements, was sending the little craft down so swiftly that the impertinent stranger was lost sight of. Then once again he lay down, on the cushions and let her continue her peaceful punting alone. His face was moody, and the cigarette he had lit had gone out without his knowing anything about it. "Hateful bounder!" he muttered. "Just because he's rich he thinks every girl wants his odious looks."

Violet glanced at him from under her long golden lashes. "Do you know him?" she said offhandedly. " I know he's Binns, the sausage man, and that he's a cool hundred thousand of money; but that doesn't buy him the right to ogle every pretty girl, if he thinks it does," he said angrily.

Violet did not speak, but as she punted she thought rapidly. A hundred thousand pounds! And he was not such a badlooking fellow after all. AH the rapacity of her small soul came to the front at the thought of so much money! Why, what would it mean if she could marry a man who had a hundred thousand pounds, instead of a beggarly screw of two hundred pounds a year? A woman who married a man with all that money could spend a year's salary such as Blake earned on one necklace, and never know she had spent a penny. She looked again at Blake, who watche 1 her eagerly. Gradually all the moodiness was passing from his eyes, and watching her had made him quite happy again. He smiled at her. She wished he wouldn't. She didn't want such absorbing love. But he was handsome. After all, that man Binns was rather fat, and he was rather like the pigs which composed his sausages. "Tired, my Vi?" he whispered to her, and Violet nodded her head.

Instantly Blake seized the pole, and after a strenuous half hour, during which time Violet had time to view him from a physical point of view, and realise, grudgingly enough, that he was perfect, ho had reached a shady backwater, and he drew in to the side of the river. There were a few other boats stationary, but each occupant was engaged in that everlasting and wholly absorbing pastime of playing with fire! Love-making was being accomplished at an amazing rate. Blake moored the punt, then he crossed over and flung his arm round Vi's neck. He drew her close to him, and with the lilt of the river in their ears, the song of birds overhead, and the musical echo of voices afar off,, he kissed her rapturously. Violet moved impatiently. " I wish you were well off, Blake." she said, discontentedly

" Some day I will be, for your sake," he said, not realising that her dissatisfac tion had gained ground during the afternoon ; the mention of all that money and the recollection cf the admiration from a 23air of small beady eyes, remained wita her now, and his own love and his own small salary were at a discount.

"Oh, Blake, I want money! I want lovely clothes, not these cheap ready-made muslins, without cut, or style, or fashion.'

" Why, darling, I think you look beautiful in that frock," he said i. astonishment.

"Oh, it's all right for you to say so, but I know that it's awful. I want things to be fitted on me, not ready-made. I want new hats —the very latest. I hate wearing things that others have determined not to wear, because the mob, of which I am one, have picked up the style. I don't want blouses at two and-elevenpence threefarthings ; I v ant to spend a pound on a single pair of silk stockings!"

"You dear little witch! I must work if I am to supply all these things for you," he said, with a loving squeeze, which she tried to wriggle out of. Violet looked gloomily in front of her. She had quite forgotten that only a fortnight ago she had been in the seventh heaven of delight because she had caught Blake Keston's heart. He was quite a good catch for a little typist, and she knew it.

And now she was already regretting it. After all, she was only twenty, and she was very pretty. Perhaps she could have done much better for herself.

And all the time Blake Keston was looking at her with his heart full to overflowing, because of the love he thought she had for him.

The sight of her peach-blossom face, with its light hair loosely knotted in her neck, her large blue eyes that now were gazing up the shining river, the lashes that swept her cheek and were, fortunately for her, darker than her light, colourless hair, made for him the absolute perfection of womanly beauty. And if her mouth lacked something, he did not see it, for it was well shaped and red, and could pout most adorably. To Blake she was the ideal. He had caught sight of her as she sat at her high etooi ono'day, four months befoi'e, as he passed to his work, and he had at last scraped an acquaintanceship with her, over a sudden March storm, that had blown his hat to her feet.

j After that their love had ripened, and I soon he had offered her his heart and his : salary of four pounds a week, j The other girls had envied her her hand- • some lover, and all had gone on fairy '; wings until to-day, when the fat little sausage man had given her a more than , ordinary admiring look. | She didn't care a ha'porth about love ! i She wanted gold and jewels, fine frocks, ; and sweeping plumes; she wanted to j satiate her mean little soul with finery. I How was she to do it? She wanted to i keep on with her lover until she was sure :of the other. Blake made a very good j second, but, oh ! —if she could get Binns. j And all the time Blake was watching I her, seeing in her regular profile the acme of all lovely, desirable things. | "You are so lovely, so bewitching, : sweetheart," he said passionately, "that I j can scarcely bear to wait until our mar- ! riage."

He turned her face towards him, looking deep into her eyes. He did not see beneath their lovely blue to her shallow soul. He believed she was as good as she was beautiful.

"My little Vi!" He bent, and their lips met. He did not realise that, while his soul was drawn almost out of his body ra the ecstasy of that kiss, she endured it without giving anything in return.

"It won't be long now, my sweet. Oh, if I could stop you going to-morrow to that hateful office. I am a bear, but I want to strangle those men who go near you. I'm fearfully jealous." He spoke in earnest, deadly earnest, and Violet shivered.

"I hate jealous people," she said pettish! v : "they spoil all the fun always." "I won't spoil your fun, my dearest; I'm going to give you all the fun I can, only I'm going to share it, too. Isn't it glorious to think of?" A motor boat, a small, dark-blue thing, came slowly round the curve of the river, and caught her attention. She answered Blake absently, but to Blake there was nothing lacking in the fervency of her assent.

"Has your mother decided what she is going to do?" said Blake suddenly. "Don't bother about her," said Violet hurriedly. "I don't want her with us, anyhow." Blake held her more tightly, and made her lean her fluffy head against his breast. "She would be company for you when I'm out, and she's wrapped up in you, dear," he said lightly. He loved Vi to say that she wanted no one but him. He knew that he himself wanted no one to share the first ecstacy of their married life.

The boat was slowly coming along, and in front sat the man who had stared at her so. The motor boat reeked of wealth. It glittered, from its brass steering-wheel to its immaculately enamelled sides. But it came quietly now, without making a disturbance. "You can't think how lovely you look in that blue dress you so despise," Blake said thrillingly; "the red roses in your belt suit you better than any jewels could." With a movement of petulance she pulled out the cluster of roses, and flung them out into the water. "Oh! Vi, my roses, that I gave you!" Blake said sorrowfully. Vi did not speak, but she watched from out of her eye corners the roses float down the water towards the boat. She saw, with a feeling of exultation in her breast, the fat man lean over. Ho could not reach them, but the boat was manoeuvred, and then again he bent down; this time he caught the roses in his hand. He held them up, so that Violet could

see what he was doing, and then he pressed them to his lips.

Violet's heart warmed within her. She did not want to strike the man for his presumption. Oh, no! she was elated. She felt that somehow this afternoon the gods were giving her her chance, and she had not been a tool: she had taken it.

Her quick action in flinging out the roses had been of no significance to Blake, beyond that she was grumbling about /her own future as a poor man's wife; to the blatant Binns, however, it meant that she approved of his admiration, and wanted to encourage him. Blake looked at his watch. " Time to be returning," he said, and with tender hands he settled Violet in J,he prow of the boat among the gailycoloured cushions.

"You're tired. You would punt, you know, you determined little woman; but I'm going to do it all going back. You are just to rest and look pretty. But you mustn't look too pretty ; I can't have other men casting envious eyes on you, my love." His voice was fierce, and the clasp of his hand was tight. "You hurt me, Blake," she said, with quivering lips, "you are so rough, and I can't help it if other men admire me, can I?"

She looked so bewitcliingly childish, so pathetic 'in her youthful loveliness, that Blake felt angry with himself for his manner. *

"You are absolutely perfect, darling," he said eompunctucmsly. "I wouldn't have you different for the world. And I'm a brute to be so rough." He punted up swiftly. He looked so handsome, so virile, so full of exultant life, that many watched him admiringly. The boat, with its pretty occupant, and its tall, good-looking punter, made a striking picture. But Violet did not notice Blake. Her eyes were intent on that boat, in which was the man she had firmly made up her mind, was to be her husband. She watched him as he ostentatiously got out a note-book, and scribbled a note; she watched him screw it up and weight "t with some hard object. Blake had forgotten the little incident of the man who had stared too fervenfy for his peace of mind, and he steadily punted away, not knowing that there were things going on, almost under his eyes, that were to cut the roots of his happiness and leave those roots to wither and die.

The note' hit Violet gently on the hand, and Blake turned almost at the same time, but she had covered it.

He gave her a smile of perfect happiness, and she returned it languidly. Why would he not turn round! She wanted to see what was in the note. Her insatiable curiosity could not wait, she wanted to know now, and so, carefully K banning, and watching him from under er lashes, she got the tiny not undone, screening it from him cleverly. Will you meet me to-night at eight? Hammersmith Bridge. If so, put on your hat!

Without a moment's thought save one' of furious elation, Violet bent down, picked up her shady straw hat with its wreath of corn flowers, and pinned it on.

CHAPTER lI.—THE TEMPTRESS. Violet Daunforth lived at Barnes, in one of those dear little flats facing the river which she shared with her mother. Her mother, who had a tiny income, simply lived for Violet, and when Violet got home with Blake from her row on the river she was instantly all eagerness to prescribe for the headache, which Vi declared made her want to get away by herself.

Blake 'himself was moody and upset over it. Violet was so strong, for all her fragile prettiness, and he began to blame himself heartily for letting her exert herself in the sun that afternoon. Ever since she had put on her hat she had complained of headache. And yet, many other afternoons Vi had punted happily enough, and had declared herself quite well after it. Mrs Daunforth saw Vi to her bedroom, pulled down the blinds, and then came in to Blake. Blake was watching disconsolately the sailing past of a fleet of racing yachts. The white-sailed boats turned to go back just opposite the Daunforths' flat, and though he was desperately miserable, yet he couldn't help admiring the smart yachts and the clever manoeuvring of the owners.

But the instant Mrs Daunforth came !n he forgot everything but Vi. His eager inquiry was met by a shake of the head, and so he had to go, terribly disappointed and worried, back to his diggings in town. It was*'only six. Vi half-wished Blake had not gone so soon. He would have helped to wile away the hour before she needed to get ready to meet Binns. Anyhow, it was not 'half-bad lying there, watching the changing panorama of the river. It stretched, a broad blue streak, thronged with boats and punts. Occassionally the weird hoot of a big steamer sounded. Full of pleasure-seekers, it went up slowly, with eiiher a piano or gramophone playing loudly. She thought of how she loved everything bright and pleasant. She loathed dingv, sordid things almost with a passion" of distaste. Nothing that was thoughtful appealed to her, either. She was just a pleasure-seeking child of the sun, and anything unhappy or miserable gave her, she expressively but rather vulgarly said, "the pip-" Her thoughts went to the man in the lovely blue boat. She need take no notice of that message, although she had, by her sign, told him she would be at the bridge to see him. Is she liked, she could forget how she had planned that Blake should go away, and how she had managed to scrape upa headache, for the salve of being able to meet the man! But if she did, she would have to settle down to being Blake's wife. That meant looking at a penny twice. It meant, if

»he saw a fascinating model of a hat, that instead of paying the price and getting it, Bhe would have to attempt to copy it in cheap materials. Perhaps she exaggerated their poverty. Once four pounds a week had seemed riches, hut after the mention of a hundred thousand pounds, four pounds a week was beggary. And then poor people always had such lots of children, and she wanted to have a butterfly existence. Pleasure was her goal. If she neglected this chance, which was ready for her to seize, she would have to sink into humdrum mediocrity; but if she dared convention and faced this man tonight, she might get what she longed for —wealth and pleasure, heaped-up and flowing over. Mrs Daunforth was reading quietly when the door opened and Vi came in. "I feel beautifully rested, and much better," Vi said. "I think I'll go out for a little stroll. It's so lovely now." Mrs Daunforth shut her book happily. "Why, I'd just love a walk, too," she eaid delightedly. Since the girl had become engaged the mother had taken a very second place. Vi looked at her blankly. She must think quickly, or else it would all be of no use. She had never thought of her mother offering to go with her. She went across languidly and leaned down to her mother; then she kissed her softly. The touch of those soft lips made a lump come into her mother's throat. She did love this charming daughter of hers so dearly! "Darling, shall you think me selfish -f I ask you not to go?'' slie said pleadingly. "I know it sounds unsociable, but really it isn't that. I just want to walk quietly awhile, without having to speak. I feel so much better: but you understand, don't you, darling?" Mrs Daunforth didn't understand, but she couldn't say so; besides, whatever Violet wanted she always had. "I don't like to let you go alone, my sweet, when you don't feel up to the mark," she said caressinglv. "I feel that Blake would blame me if 1 did." "Bless her dear heart," said Violet. "I know what a good little mother she is, if Blake doesn't. No, I want to go alone. I shan't be long; I intend to just walk along the river-side. It's quite light still." And so, rather against her will, Mrs Daunforth let the girl go. She was surprised a few minutes later, when Vi called out that she wis off. Usually Vi came in and said good-bve. What did she mean by running off like that? Mrs Daunforth craned her neck, but could not see Vi. Evidently she was under the little hedge which hid the downstairs flat from the passers-by on the road. A sensation of foreboding crept into Mrs Daunforth's mind. What if Vi were not well, and was going out like this to keep the fact from worrying her mother! Oh, dear, how foolish of Vi it was! In an instant she had on her hat and coat, and was hurrying towards 'the river. She must be with her child if anything troubled her.

She caught sight of Vi just as she got on a motor bus. Vi went on the top, and Mrs Daunforth. worried to death at this deception on Vi's part, decided on a com'se quite foreign to her usual nature. She, too, would go" on the bus, and when Vi got down, she would get off as well. Vi would never look inside, and if she did, the coat and hat her mother wore were common enough, and she would hide her face.

Vi did not go far. She got off at Hammersmith Broadway, and began to walk slowly back towards Hammersmith Bridge. Mrs Daunforth saw, to her Btirprise, that Vi had changed her frock and wore a new muslin she was saving for a special occasion. It was a white one. and had cost more than she could reallv afford. Mrs Daunforth had made up the lovelv soft embroidered muslin, using all her skill.

Also Vi was wearing a new straw hat, a small one with a charming feather sweeping behind. That feather she had wheedled out of Blake.

She looked more lovely than her mother had ever seen her before. A delicate pink flush suffused her cheeks, and her eyes shone with excitement. Tt strnck eight before Vi reached the bridge, and she slackened speed so that her mother, too, had to slow down. TTnperceived, she was just behind Vi when a small plump man came from a seat and advanced, hat in hand, towards her. To her astonishment Vi did not walk on, her head in the air, but looked round furtively, not noticing the unostentatious woman, keeping in the shadow of the suspension chains. "I'm delighted you managed to come." the man said, and his eves dwelt on the lovely flushed face of the girl with an expression that infuriated the mother; but she did nothing, she couldn't until she knew that her girl had deceived her, and not only her, but Blake. She watched them as they walked. With horror she saw the downbent lashes the uplifting, of the glorious blue eyes' the sweetly-alluring smile. Why, Vi was flirting in the most audacious fashion! "You lovely creature, I shall not be content until you are my wife!" the man's words -were wafted to her. At this, Mrs Daunforth forgot she was hiding, and stepped out from the shadow and confronted them. (To be Hon tinned.)