COMPLETE STORY. A (Published by Special Arrangement with the Proprietors of the Copyright) LOVE OF MY LIFE.

Rodney and Otamatea Times, Waitemata and Kaipara Gazette, 23 June 1915, Page 6

COMPLETE STORY. A (Published by Special Arrangement with the Proprietors of the Copyright) LOVE OF MY LIFE.

By L. T. MEADE

Author of "The House of Black

Magic," "Wild Heather," etc

The love of my heart was a sweet, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl several years my junior. I was thirty, Felicity was nineteen, nevertheless I had a vague hope of winning my darling. No other woman had ever possessed for me the slightest interest, and I had loved Felicity since she was a slight, straight, seven-year-old maiden, with a world of mystery and question in her eyes.

Once every year I paid a long visit to Lady Sinclare and Felicity. She was her mother's only child, and Lady Sinclare was a widow. They were rather poor than rich, and lived very quietly at a sweet place in Devonshire, which went by the name of The Home Farm.

By profession I was a barrister, and for Felicity's sake was keen over my calling. I had the usual difficulties, however, which assail young men in my profession, namely, a sad absence of briefs. But for this fact I might have said something to Felicity. As it was, however, I kept my feelings so absolutely to myself that I don't think she guessed them even for a moment. Amongst men I had one. very special friend, his name was Frank Gaythorpe. Gaythorpe was a doctor with abilities far above the average. He was a rich man by inheritance, and owned a lovely house and grounds in the neighbourhood of Sevenoaks. His profession was everything to him, and, in consequence, he opened his house, The Priory, to those sad human beings who suffer from nervous maladies of every sort and variety.

On a certain evening in June Gaythorpe invited me to help him with a big dance, which he gave once a month to his patients. The night was a glorious one —the moon was at its full, and presently I found myself standing- on the terrace and talking to a young man, who had a particularly handsome, pleasant face. I discovered that this youth was one of Gaythorpe's patients. He had been an inmate of the Priory for over a year. "But, thank God," he said, fixing his strange, excitable, and yet pathetically beautiful eyes on my face, "my time of misery is at an end. Gaythorpe is one in ten thousand. Owing to his marvellous treatment I am cured—and with—he quite believes, no chance of a relapse. Oh! it is splendid— too good to be true —and yet it is true." I watched him as he was speaking, and wondered if such were the case. In my opinion, the eyes were too full of .fire, the movements too restless, for complete sanity. The young man interested me, and just before leaving I spoke to him of my friend. "You have got a fine cure there," I said. He laughed. "I saw you talking to him, Fry," he said. "Yes, you would indeed think I had effected a cure if you knew the state the poor fellow was in when I ■first admitted him here." "He says he is quite cured," I said, "that there is no fear of a relapse." 1 "Well, I do not go so far as thst,

Lbut this I do say, that if he has a happy, busy life, I do not anticipate any further trouble—that is, to himv.elf. I have treated him after a method of my own, and it has proved successful,—yes. If he is sensible there 'is ho iurther trouble; but if he were to marry and have children, I should be sorry for the children.' 3

"What! Do you mean to say they might inherit?"

"There is no might about it; Fry— they would inherit."

The next three months passed quickly- Then something- extraordinary happened. I was suddenly given an appointment which put me high and dry out of all financial difficulties. In short I could marry and settle down in a happy home of my own. Instantly my thoughts flew to the girl whom I loved. Had I the most remote chance of winning felicity ? I sat down and wrote to her. -I felt my heart glow as my letter gathered power and passion. At last it rwas finished. I had addressed it to her mother's beautiful place in Devon. She would g-et it some time to-morrow; I would take it out and post it myself.

My task finished, I sat for a few moments with the letter lying on my desk, I was counting" the days before I mig-ht under ordinary circumstances get a reply.

At that moment there came a tap at my door.

I said "Come in," and my servant entered with some letters. I started when I saw that one was in Felicity's pretty and firm young handwriting. The letter ran as follows:— "The Home Farm, Devon. "March 26th, 19—

"My dear Uncle Cyril,—You will be surprised at my news. Mother wanted to write, but I said no, I must tell him; he is my dearest, oldest friend. "I am so, so, so happy. Oh! almost off my head with joy. Oh! of course you will guess, darling old friend, the Prince has come! He is here, looking over me while I write. He knows all about you, and howmuch your little niece loves her uncle, and oh! he calls me Princess, although that must be because there is a sort of g-lamour in his eyes, and he cannot see such a commonplace girl properly. "<But, anyhow, dear Uncle Cyril, we ooth love each other, and we are to be married in one month from now; and you must, must, must come to our wedding-. Mother says, too, that of course you must come, and my Prince wants you, and I want you, most of all, so do come without delay to your happy, happy niece Felicity. "P.S.—I am enclosing a proper quite sane letter from mother. Of course, I am not sane at present; who would be in the presence of such a Prince. He has just kissed my fingers, and the writing is a little shaky because of that. He says I am to teli you that he is not sane either." There fell out of Felicity's letter an enclosure from Lady Sinclare. I cpened it quickly; as well get the whole agony through at once. "My dear Cyril,—Yes, I am very happy about dearest Felicity. She is engaged to Lord Fentonleigh. He is twenty-four, and came into his property about three years ago at the death of his father. His mother is also dead, so the young people will have Fonton Hall, his magnificent place in North Devon, to themselves, which is just as it should be. my dear Cyril. They met at a ball near here about two months ago, and one week ago they were engaged, with my full approval. He is charming, very goodlooking, such a gentleman, and very, very rich. They are to be married on the twenty-sixth of September, and I hope you will be present. They both want you; Felicity is so fond of you, and I am sure Sifirmound will feel the same. Write and tell me that we may expect you. —Your very happy friend, "Mary Sinclare." Over the rest of that evening I must draw a veil. There was one small object for congratulation—l had not posted the letter. That humiliation was spared me. For a few days I could neither write nor think; I was like a man in a fever. Then I was glad to find that my selfcontrol was returning to me. I wrote to both mother and daughter, I pro|> mised to be present at the wedding and asked the exact date. || I posted these letters instead is that other; then I went to Bond-strjgP and chose a wedding present JBr Felicity. -JSP When I received a reply fullfl^Mt warm gratitude, the day I was.fflH» pected at The Home Farm was spjKSSf Nothing mattered; I would SOmm day as well as another. It wasaK days before the one fixed for the 2m ding; but Felicity said that I cwL make myself so useful, and that J^fiL^ mound wished to kriow me. On the appointed day I arrived in South Devon. A carriage met me, but none of the family. I entered it and was driven quickly over roads and across the country, now in its first autumn loveliness. Suddenly I called to the coachman to stop. .( "I will walk through ; the woods, Frome," I said. "Will you take my traps to the house and say^feat I will follow?" . I**&s s ,^ "All right, sir," answered the uM §> F quickly found myself in m& glorious woods which were some or the beauties of The Home Farm. How often I had roamed here with Felicity!

My heart gave a sudden leap. In the. distance I saw a girl in a white dress. She was speaking:, and - her words, borne on the light Breeze, reached me.

"I'll run to the house and fetch it, Sigmound. Perhaps he has come, too, by" now; if so, I'll bring- .him back with me. Stay where you are until I return."

The white dress gleamed through the trees and disappeared. I stood motionless for a moment, then went slowly forward.

A young; man dressed in white flannels was resting- under a tree. He was slowly filling his pipe, and as I approached he lit a match. Then he turned and faced me. My very heart stood still. I was looking into the dark, restless eyes of the lunatic whom I had met at Gaythorpe's.

• I remembered now with a quick flash of agony that I had never found out the lunatic's name. I also recalled Gaythorpe's last words about him, "He will be all right in the future if' he is happy, and does not receive a shock, but if he marries, his children will certainly inherit their father's malady." * <■ .'

I felt sick; then, pulling myself together, I came a step nearer.

y As well get the first meeting over before Felicity returned. "I am glad •to see you," I said in a voice which must have trembled. "You are, of course, Lord Fontonleigh, and I am Mr. Fry. Do you recall our last meeting ?"

"You.have the advantage Mr. Fry. I am very glad to see you, but this is our first meeting-."

of me*

I felt my blood begin to boil; was he going to hide the fact of his insanity from me? But I would be his

match

"You forget," I said, speaking slowly and with measured calm, which I was far from feeling, "you forget The Priory at Sevenoaks, and Dr. Gaythorpe. I saw you there four months ago; I am a great personal friend of Dr. Gaythorpe.

Fontonleigh had now risen to his feet. He gazed fixedly at me for a minute, then burst into a boyish

laugh.

"Really, Mr. Fry," he said, . "you puzzle me a good deal. I am glad to meet you, because you are an old friend of ray fiancee, but you must excuse me if I say that you are a total stranger to me; I never saw you before. I do not know Dr. Gaythorpe, nor The Priory. I was never in the neighbourhood of Sevenoaks in my life."

He had forgotten! Forgotten absolutely and entirely. Beyond doubt, he was Gaythorpe's patient, but the period of his life spent at The Priory was a blank to him; it had passed from his memory as completely as though it had never existed.

The young man continued to gaze at me with that good-natured assurance which could not possibly vbe assumed; I had to m|ike up my mind, and very quickly. The wedding was to be the day after to-morrow; I must stop it, and there was not a minute to lose. "Lord Fontonleigh," 1 said, "you must forgive me. Of course, as you say, we are strangers. Now, will you oblige me?"

"Undoubtedly, Mr. Fry."

"I find that I have left something of urgent importance in town and must go back at once to fetch it. In order to be in time for the wedding I cannot delay even for an hour. Will you explain to L*dy Sinclare and Felicity—tell them I'll be back as soon as possible. I would not go if it were not vital —say that to them."

He looked at me in grave and puzzled wonder, bowed his head with a haughty movement, which suited him well. I turned on my heel and in a few minutes was out of the wood. A cart was passing on the high road, I asked for a lift, and was conveyed back to the railway station in time to ca\ch 1 the evening express to town. I shall not attempt to describe that evening and night. My feelings were of the strangest. I loved Felicity; I would give my very life for her, and yet now my painful and horrible office was to dash the cup of happiness from her young lips. I knew well that it would be easy for a girl of Felicity's type to worship a man like Fontonleig-h. His face was absolutely charming, his refinflpMr^ gentle manner, joined to *jJP *~»Ve manhood which he JIF not but attract any horpe's words, "He ! another attack, but iTUdren would 4 in'"ts'en now Fonton- -'^ quite normal, $ 'forgotten the ~ -'l'/l-4 he would not r ,-\ istence of Gay- ' j'td me that he had loaks. y, lambers abo.ut mid- ... „ - fi' the rest of that hor- -. nigi|^L^icing my room. At as an hour as was permissible I J^tiotored down to Sevenoaks. I arrived at The Priory between nine^and ten in the morning. Although the time was the end of September, the day was a lovely one —the air was soft as though it was midsummer. Already some of the patients were pacing about in the grounds, and to my "amazement I saw at a little distance from me, talking eagerly, to a pretty , girl, no less a person than Fontonleigh himself. He must have followed ,me up to town by the next train. Why I had he >done so ? And what was he doing: here? I felt a sudden dark suspicion of the man. He nad evidently not forgotten, as I had believed. He had remembered his dark past,- and wished to be beforehand with>me in

consulting Gaythorpe; I -would' therefore let him alone. I was glad to pcr r ceive that he had" not seen me. I rang the house bell and was'soon in Gaythorpe's presence.

"Oh, my dear friend," I said, "I am iii the most fearful trouble; we have not a minute to lose, riot a minute. You must come with me, Gaythorpe, you must break it to them, I can't. I,"—my voice shook—"l love her, old man. All my life she has been the only woman for me, but God knows I'd gladly and willingly never see her again to spare her this. You said voorself that if there were children, they must inherit it, and I don't believe, even now, that he's altogether sound. And, and what is he doing here, Gaythorpe?''

"My dear Fry," said the doctor, "'do allow me to interrupt; you look most tragic, and you evidently have a very tragic story at your fingers' ends, but what in the world have I got to do with it? Who is the person whose marriage I am_to interfere with.? 5'

"Why, Lord Fontonleigh, of course," I said. "Surely you have seen it announced in the 'Morning Post'? They are to be married to-morrow. 'Sigmound, tenth Baron Fontonleigh, to Felicity Sinclare, only child of Lady Sinclare, of The Home Farm. South Devon.' "

"Good gracious!'s interrupted Gaythorpe.

"Yes," I said, "haven't you seen

it?"

"Of course I have seen it announced. I always look at the lists of fashionable marriages, they amuse both me and my patients."

"And, Gaythorp*, you calmly allow this marriag-e to go on! You, who know what you know!"

"My dear Fry, how in the name of all that's reasonable can I prevent it ? M*

"Listen, Gaythorpe;" I went up and shook him by the arm. "Didn't you yourself say to me in this very room that if Fontonleigh married, the children "

"Blow the children!" replied Gaythorpe. "I never said a word about Fontonleigh, I don't even know him."

"Good heavens!" I cried. I sank back into the nearest chair. "Why, he's walking- about the grounds now" I said.

Gaythorpe looked at me with puzzled astonishment, then his brow cleared. He crossed the room and rang the bell; a servant appeared.

"Ask Mr. Carlton |o be so g-ood as to step in for ?a" minute."

Mr. Carlton! When*"" moments were flying-! I could scarcely restrain myself. Gaythorpe stood by the window; he was whistling under his breath in the most annoying-, deliberate fashion. Suddenly steps were heard outside. He turned abruptly to me.

"You must let me manage this little affair, Fry. Don't,speak vmtil I give you leave. 5J

The door was opened and Fonton-leig-h appeared. He smiled when he saw me, and came up and offered his hand; I took it in a sort of dream.

"Carlton," said Gaythorpe, "will you tell my friend, Mr. Fry, why you happen to be at The Priory again for a short time?"

"With pleasure, if it interests him," was the remark. "The fact is, you warned me, Gaythorpe, not to yield to undue excitement, and when my cousin Fontonleig-h urged me so strongly to be present at the wedding and (o act as his best man, I got one of my nervous fits. I had to tell Fontonleigrh, and it put him out a little; but he's the best fellow in existence, and he has invited me to stay with them both after the wedding. I hear she's something wonderful, and that Fontonleigh "

"Enough for the present, Carl ton; get out into this fine air, my dear chap."

He left the room. "Now, Fry," said Gaythorpe, "are you satisfied?"

"Satisfied?" I said, "satisfied? But is it true, is it possible that any" two men could be so alike ?"

"I leave you to judge that, Fry. My patient is Ralph Carlton. I never saw Fontonleigh; but I do not think your young friend need have the slightest fear of marrying him, for in studying Carlton's family history— which I did, of course, carefully—l found that -on the mother's side —and she was a Fontonleig-h—the stock is absolutely healthy, without a trace of blemish. The- nervous weakness in poor Carlton's case he inherits from his father."

"Well!" I said, "well! of all the amazing- things! God bless you, God bless you! I haven't time to explain now, I must catch the express to South Devon. Poor Fontonleigh, how mad he must have thought me. Gaythorpe, you have lifted a load from my mind."

I was out of The Priory and in the motor-car and whirling- back to town all in the next few minutes, and as I put my car to her extreme limit of speed my heart sang- for joy. ♦

As I got close to London I thought of what excuse I could make for my abrupt departure the day before, and then it flashed across me what I could do. I left the car at the garage and reached my chambers. I took a small case from its hiding; place in my roll-top desk and put it in my pocket. I was in time v> catch the express to the south,

That evening- saw me «■« The Home Farm. It was Felicity in her white dress who danced down the steps of the old-fashioned house to meet me.

"Darling Uncle Cyril," she said in her sweet way, "why. did you run away in that extraordinary manner yesterday?"

"To get your wedding present."

"Oh, Uncle Cyril!"—the starry eyes were raised to mine—"you -ent it to me ages ago, such a beauty, a rope of such glorious pearls. I'm afraid you ruined yourself to buy it for me. I am going to wear it tomorrow^' "Felicity, I want you to wear this also to-morrow." I took a magnificent, old-fashioned diamond ring from its case and slipped it on her wedding finger. "But"—her face grew a little pale —"you—you showed me this before." "I did." "You said it was for girl you loved." "So it is." ■'■-■' "But—but—" ''You are the only girl I love $ Felicity; the only girl I shall ever love. Keep a corner in your heart for the old uncle, and give him a kiss." (The End.)