QUID PRO QUO.

Otago Witness, Issue 3489, 25 January 1921, Page 66

QUID PRO QUO.

By

E. Kerr Lawson.

(Copyright.) I. Dolly Fairman did not get hysterical and faint ; she was not one of the fainting kind; but as she read and re-read the account of Harry Boultbee’s wedding only the swift changes of colour in her lovely young face, and a certain angry pose of her queenly little head showed how deeply she resented the great wrong that had been done her. J ilted! Yes, five years ago Harry Boultbee had asked Dolly to be his wife, and she had plighted her word. For five years she had loved him, trusted him, waited for him; and this was the reward! W ithout a word of warning he had left her to marry the heiress of Heatherlea House and her broad acres. It is true that Dolly’s poor little income of one hundred and twenty pounds would not be of much assistance to a man who aimed so high as the clever young barrister, Harry Doultbee. And what mastered it though the age of Heatherlea’s heiress was a matter of speculation, or that she was no longer, if, indeed, she ever had been, beautiful. Boultbee wanted the heritage, not the heiress. He loved Dolly, and could love no other woman; but love must be sacrificed on the altar of his ambition. Perhaps, who knows, some day he might be free again, and if Dolly ■- And Dolly was saying to herself on his wedding day .- ‘‘l know he still loves me, and he shall suffer more than I. By his dishonourable conduct he has swept every trace of my love for him from my heart. But I have done nothing dishonourable, and he will love me still. So- much the worse for him.” Nevertheless Dolly was but a woman, and the shame of it all hurt her more than she cared to own even to herself. She was heartily glad when an opportunity presented itself to her of visiting her aunt in Paris. . She wanted change ; she wished to get away from the impertinent pity of her acquaintances. Above all, she wished, in some far-off spot, to inquire into a new feeling that was dominating her heart. This feeling, a sort of delicious uneasiness, could hardly be called new, either. She had felt it once, and again when last year an impulsive lover had thrown himself at her feet and begged her to love him. She could see his handsome face now, radiant with the generous, noble sentiment -she had so suddenly inspired in him. With what unutterable sorrow he had turned away when she told him of her engagement to Harry Boultbee! How noble of him, loving her as he undoubtedly did, to go away without even suggesting that she should break her word for Ilia sake ! His conduct on that occasion had filled her with admiration, an admiration which might have grown into a warmer sentiment had she not conscientiously struggled against it. But now her sudden release and as sudden discovery that she did not really love Harry Boultbee created a vacancy and hunger in her heart, as well as a sweet pain fulness, such as she had never known before. It was as if her heart had slept for a long time, but had awakened at last refreshed and famished. So she went away to her aunt’s in Paris with a sad but pleasant memory of the man who had loved her. and who, perhaps, loved her still. Would she ever see him again ? 11. Away off in another continent, on the north-west shore of Lake Superior, three men were lying about a cheerful camp fire. One of them, Dick Fotheringham, was reading to the other two scraps of “news” out of a three-months-old copy of the London Morning Post, which a halfbreed had just brought from Fort William along with the letters. The letters, of course, had been read first, and now they were enjoying the gossip of a wholesome English newspaper. Fotheringham read out eacli item of news, and with a solemn “here endeth the first lesson” passed on to the marriages. “ ‘Boultbee—Meesum,’ he read. ‘On the 17th instant, at St. Margaret’s, by the Rev. Glover Richardson, M.A., Harry Boultbee, barrister, to Mary Elizabeth, only daughter of the late Charles Meesum, of Heather-lea.” “What’s the matter?”

Lord Dalkeith, the originator of tho prospecting party, had sprung to his feet, pale and trembling. I must go back to England at once,” he said. “You know why I came over here on this Bohemian expedition. I told you I was in love with a girl who was already engaged. I was afraid to trust myself near her, and I fitted out this little prospecting party of ours to kill time, and, if possible, my love. Her affianced husband was Harry Boultbee, and the annoucement you have just read shows me all too plainly that he has jilted my poor little Dolly for the sake of Miss Meesum’s money bags. I shall go back at once, and either win Dolly yet, or thrash Boultbee within an inch of his life—the unmitigated scoundrel!” Next morning stakes were pulled up, and the three friends started back for Fort William en route for Port Arthur, en route for New York, en route for England. 111. It was the press that informed Doily Fairman of the sudden death, six months alter her marriage, of Harry Boultbee’s wife; but she remained in Paris many months after the event, and those months were important ones in her life. After liis wife’s death one thought dominated the mind and heart of Harry Boultbee. He was now free to marry the girl he loved. He must find Dolly and win her back again. He would tell her, which was the truth, that he had never ceased to love her, and that he had suffered much by the temptation before which his ambition had fallen; that he would now devote his life to her, and to her only. He was rich too, now, and fame was in sight; and after all it was best for both of them that he had acted as he had done. \\ hen he found Dolly at last on her return to England he was greatly surprised at the easiness with which he made tho I re-conquest. Rhe was more captivating | herself than ever, and more beautiful, he thought. She would not listen to his protestations of repentance, but readily consented to be his wife. There was indeed no happier or more self-satisfied man in England than Harry Boultbee. The wedding, of course, was to be an elaborate affair—worthy of the future mistress of Heatherlea House. The church was a perfect Eden of flowers and perfume, and from the tower the happy chimes rang out in the sweet summer air. The whole world seemed happy, and as the appointed hour struck, and the groomsman led his happy friend to the altar, every ptw was filled, and every face was smiling. Then the priest took his place at the altar and waited. In five minutes he took out his watch. “The bride is late,” he said. Suddenly a commotion at one of the doors caused every head to turn in that direction : but no bride was to be seen. There was only a telegraph messenger inquiring for Mr Harry Boultbee. A buzz of excitement spread through the church as the beadle came up to him and handed the telegram to the amazed bridegroom. Standing before the altar, the same altar at which he had married his first wife, Harry Boultbee tore open the envelope and read:— “Please find a substitute. Leaving for the Continent on my honeymoon. My husband greets you. Quid pro quo. “Dolly, Lady Steven Dalkeith.” “Believe me, Steven, darling,” Dolly had said to her husband as they wrote the above message, “this is a far greater punishment than any thrashing you would give him.”