A SHORT STORY.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 257, 3 December 1914, Page 11

A SHORT STORY.

[COPYRIGHT.]

A HEART OF GOLD.

[By Violet Gordon. Charlesworth.]

"Adistair, you. can trust, me to be true to you. "Even unto life's end." "Even unto life's end, my darling."

.Lieutenant Alistair Gordon, leaning up against the broad mantelpiece in the spacious drawing-room at Douglas House, repeated the words grimly, as ho looked tenderly down at the pale face pillowed against liis breast. "li'ut it "is hard that I may not hear from'you, or even write to you, he added. " Was ever love tried like ours If' •

" Marie, my little love," he continued. passionately, as lie strained her to his breast, "if I were to lose you I think I should go mad. I can hardly realise that this is the last time we shall;ever -see each other for —-Marie, I dare not think; for how long. Perhaps years. You here in Auld Reekie, and I jn a foreign land thinking all the time of my little Marie, and longing for a glimpse of her dear face. The" fair'arms of Marie Douglas stole upwards and clasped themselves round her lpver's neclt." "Yes, 'it is hard, dear," she whispered, softly, "but when you have got your' step you will come home, and then perhaps father will give in." "But, Marie, what if I never get my step?. What if. I never come home?" Alister cried, hoarsely.

"But you will," she cried, smiling up into his grave* sot /face, her eyes. £ull of tears; "you-nrusti It would break my, heart if you: never came back." ' The young soldier'ss clasp tightened; he bent, his head and pressed kiss after kisß ■ tipon "the little tremulous mouth, the 'hair; the delicately rounded cheeks. * 1 God- helping me, dearest, 1 will come back," he cried. Heart to heart the lovers stood, each thinking of and dreading the parting -which Ynusi shortly come; Alistair was the j#rst fro. break the long silence. " . 44 Sweetheart, " he whispered', 4 ' may I not ask your father to relent? If he would only allow us to-write.-. to each ether, once in every six months even, it would be something to look forward to./'

44 He. would never consent," Marie "Oh,- Alistair, let ; us all will come right; I feel it will;" "

""Scour father will marry you to somcfother fellow when. .I am out of the Richard Geary,-.ior -instance.V 4 4 Never, Alistair, never." The girl's .Boft 'jvoice rang clear as a bell through the -ijonjj- room. "I like Sir Richard, tout never, love him.. You have woiimy, heart, dear, and"—her eyes shining 'with the great depth of her ' vou are just all the \tfbrld to me.i&l wait for you, ypp to tile end. Nothing shall part.-us,; love, but death. And,'' she added, '' we good-bye •> here. I will see you to-morrow, in the dear old castle. 'Twas where we met, 'tis there we will part. Gfr how, dear one, while V I have Btrcngth, and —and before my- farther «omek.fV 4 4 But, darling, he knows I. was eoming to-day to-say good-bye." 4 4 Yefe- yes, '' she cried. I knpW, I know.- But, oh, Alistair, he 'will ask me all eorts'.of'questions, and I caimot stand theni - just. piow, dear. When you are gone, dearest, then I will try to be l»rave. for your dear sake." , Was it'by chance, or had some kindly lian<i placed among the flowers in John Douglas's drawing-room, ivy, beautiful, "bright-green ivy? At any rate, it was .there, and- in the breast of Alistair Gordon it awoke memories of a happy past, echoes of Bonnie Strath Gordon, around whose walls and towers it clustered.

11 See, darling, 5 ' he said, taking a spray •f the green leaves from the table, "this is tlife badge of the Gordons. Its motto is steadfast, and you aud I are going to prove it. "We two are going to keep each & spray, and should either of us. prove false we will return the ivy, and that shall be the sign. The sign, sweetheart, that will never come," and he laughed boyishly as he slipped the emblem of faith within his tunic. ■ .her soft eyes shining, tmf as tone d the brooch nestling against the gleaming white of her throat, and, slipj>in^th6 f ivy betWeen; isaid/ bravely • ' 1 '' And when you receive baek this ivy and-brooch, Alistair, then, and only then,, will you know I have ceased to love you. 1 ' l't was a simple ornament, aud, had been one; of Alistair's gifts to the girl of hiw heart. It spelled the one word "Bydand." It was the motto of the Gordons, and, translated, meant 44 Watchful, V and no\y, as he watched her replace the brooch, lie ithought' of the day when, among the sweet-sceiited heather, he had given it to herl and ljer words: , By dan d —Alistair, our love shall prove it. And in all we undertake our watchword shall be in all truth Bydand.' " . ITe was bending to kiss her upturned face and whisper good-bye until the morrow, when $l slight sound behind warned them they wex'e not alone. (Simultaneously they both turned and beheld the wrathful face of John Douglas. Not a word of the lovers' parting had escaped him. 4 i 4 A pretty enough scene, I warrant yoti,'' he- cried, furiously, striding across the rooih and fixing a pair of fierce: eyes upon Alistair. "If I allowed you to comfc here for five minutes J did not give yon leave to act the part of lover towards my daughter.'' AJiptair started. ■ , li'Sinee Marie and I love each other, Mr".! Douglas,'' he returned, quietly, "1 kase every right to act a lpver's part towards her." . , ye£ under age, sir." ; I'l.jforget nothing," Alistair replied.■ " But in a few months Marie will.be of age, and have a right to choose who and where she will. Her love is mine, and only mine. Nothing you may say or, do can alter that fact, Mr Douglas." "Before then, Mr Gordon, 7 ' was. the stinging reply, "Marie will be a biiido.'' Alistairpale face went a shade paler, aud his; eyes blazed. , fMs your, daughter's happiness.nothing to you, Mr Douglas 1 ?" he asked, sternly. 4 ' Marie will marry Sir Richard Geary, ray partner,'in less than three months," jretufned the squire. "Marry you? No,

a thousand times no. T would rather see her dead than the wife of a povertystricken lieutenant.'' The officer's face flamed at the taunt, but, standing his ground manfully, he retorted hotly: "I may be poor, sir, but that does not alter Marie's love for me. And a Gordon of Strath Gordon is the equal in birth of a Douglas of Kelvinbrae." '' Equal or not, you shall never marry her, not though you begged for her on your knees." In a torrent the proud blood of the .Gordons rushed through Alistair's veins until face and neck were dyed in one crimson flood. He squared his shoulders and lifted his dark, proud head, and the gaze of John Douglas for a second sought and traced the pattern of the rich Turkey carpet,, rather than meet the fiery glance of this imperious, young soldier, who, in all the glory of northern dress, looked like some young chieftain of old, as his voice, clear and ringing, echoed. through the room.

"I am not likely to do that, sir; but, by clan and dirk, and all that a Gordon holds dear, I vow that Marie shall be my wife,..and iiOne other 'a. A Gordon's word is his bond; I have vowed to win Marie, and I will do so, unless she herself breaks that vow."

The girl's tearful eyes were lifted to her father's face, hard and unrelenting. '' Oh, father, father, how can you be so cruel?" she said, brokenly. "I love Alistair, and I will never marry anyone but him. Alistair, dear Alistair; I will see you to-morrow before you go, and in life and death remember 1 am yours.". And with one long look into each other's eyes she turned and went slowly from the room. "Now, sir," Squire Douglas said, turning to Alistair, "have you got anything further to say? If not> go —and never set foot in mv house again," touching the bell as he spoke. Then, to the footman who answered the summons, "Show this soldier out, John." The words stung Alistair to the quick, and his passion strained face quivered under the- fvesli taurft/"'But i he had himself well in hand,-'and with proud, distinguished bearing;-;;:as. .ft: Gordon.ef Bonnie Strath Gordon,-lie passed out - into , the. ■ b''igbf guessing .under what circumstances lie would cross the threshold , , os\ Douglas House again'.

; There was a dull, grey sky overhead when the'immortal Black Watch marched out of Edinburgh Castle next morning. With tartans fluttering in the. light breeze, headed by the pipe-major, the pipers came four abreast, playing the stirring strains of "Scotland ret."; ' Outside the castle gates were little knots of people who had braved the early morning hour to speed the brave Highlanders, who during their sojourn at the castle had strengthened the ties ost* good feeling which were universally expressed towards the gallant corps. A Scottish cheer, full and deep, rose and fell, echoing far over the Calton Hill, and breaking on the silver waters o£ the Firth of Forth. The pipe tune changed to "Hi elan'. Laddie," and here and there above the pipers' skirl came from Scottish throats "Will ye'no come back again?" as relatives and friends clasped hands with their dear ones as the Black Watch men, their bonneted heads held high, their white-gaitered feet keeping time to tlie .pipers' skirl, inarched out through tiie barrack gates. Kilts swung side.by side in rhyme, and the proud array of brooches gleamed flit fully on the shoulder plaids of the Scotch laddies as they marched down the Princes Street eli" route for the station.

■ Amoug' those wlio hail "seen the departing troops within the castle was Marie Douglas. . !' "My bonnie darling, ,1 fried Alistair fondly, "I did not expec-t to see you, : really, on account ,of the earliness of I the hour." ! "I had to come, Alistair. I promised, you know, and X persuaded Aunt Annie to accompany me." Alistair Gordon took the elder lady's hand in a warm clasp, as he cried; . . " Mrs Maitland, how can I thank von?" , * "Don't try, laddie," she returned •gaily. "It isn't likely I'd let you go myself without bidding you good'bv6<'' ~it's awfully good of you, though," ihe said, a strange wistfulness creeping into his voice; then added, in a lower tone, "Mrs Maitland, cannot you give Line a. gleam of hope?" i "Trust in Providence and bide a ! wee, laddie. All will come right presently." . . 1 ' I X wish I could think so,, he said moodily. „. , "You're not going to tell me .you re ■ a Gordon and a Black Watchman,, and canna trust and wait?" laughed Mrs Maitland. "No, no; I've known you since you were a wee laddie, and I ken you 're made of different stuff than '.that. You'll be coming back with a bit more gold lace on your coat in no time. Though its bonnie enough you look iiow, I'm thinking, in all your wari "There's many an aching heart under 4e auld tartan to-day, for all the. glamour and the glory. Mine for one, he responded ;with a dreary laugh. "You're Wanted on the square,"sir. It was Alistair's orderly who spoke, standing stiffly 1 at salute. ; "Very well, Macphail,'l'll tome, i The man retreated, and Alistair knew that the greatest of all moments had arrived for him, the ' moment which meant parting from the : one who was all in all to him, and whom he might never see again. Marie, her soft cheek pressed against tile rich folds of his plaid, strode bravely! to stifle her sobbing, and to whisper instead words of encouragement which she knew were surely needed by the one who, at the call of the pibroch, must sally forth, and away ayont the borders of his native land. "Be brave, little girl," he whispered, gently raising the tear-stained face and taking toll of the sweet Hps. "Goodbye, my darling, my little Marie, my loved one. God watch between me and thee when we are absent one from the Other." , One swift embrace from hearts too full, for speech, one last passionate kiss, to Alistair the seal of their love troth, to Marie an eternal farewell, and Alistair Gordon hurried oii't on the square as the last company of soltlierg fell into line. ; i One of the finest sights aii the world is to see a kilted regiment on the march, and so thought Mrs Maitland as, with IMarie by her side, she looked down from the castle battlements'at the bonnie lads assembled below.

"Quick march!" ; The colonel's voice rose clear and commanding above the tumult, and in response the battalion moved forward as- one man. The tramp of feet sounded farther and farther away. The skirl of the pipes came fainter and fainter on the morning air. ; They had gone, the gallant Highlanders, and with them Aiistair Gordon, for Whom already in Miarie's heart a cry was awakening. "Lieutenant Gor^iwu'' 4 "-

"Sir Richard Geni v." Such was the greeting between the two men as Alistair stepped briskly on to the platform with his company. "Can I have a few moments alone with you, Mr Gordon?" "I'm afraid not; what you have to say must be said here. It is, as you must admit, hardly a time for private conversation," was the cold reply. The baronet was piqued, but when he spoke again his voice was as cheery as ever.

"I have come purposely to see you, Mr Gordon. As man to man, will you answer me one or two questions?" The voung officer's lips curled ever so slightly under his well-trimmed moustache. His voice, carrying a note of intensity with it, sounded strange in the ears of Sir Richard, who, in his heart of hearts, had a very kindly feeling towards the popular lieutenant. "That, Sir Richard, depends on the subject.'' Sir Richard hesitated, but the entraining was rapidly being pushed forward, and soon Lieutenaut Gordon, with no knowledge of what was in Sir Richard's heart, woflld be whirling away southwards.

" You love Miss Douglasj and the dearest wish of your heart is to make hei! your wife?" Sir Richard asked, with' British bluntness. 1 Alistair flushed, and his bonneted head, if possible, went a shade higher as lie answered, with a careless smile: ;" Since you have so accurately guessed the state of my feelings towards Miss Douglas, there is no need for us to discuss the matter further. It might only lead to unpleasant complications." Sir Richard winced. To be taken down by this cool, youthful Scotsman was a little galling. To be treated with such utter disregard was new to him, but to pursue the subject further would most likeJv not improve matters. And, in point of fact, Alistair's words had declared it at an end,as far as he was concerned.

"Under the circumstances, then, 1 will say good-bye and God-speed," he said, stretching" out- his hand as ho spoke. The two rivals clasped hands, the single word good-bye falling hard anil metallic from Alistair's set lips. The baronet 'raised- his gold-mounted canc by .way of salute as he moved away, the. soldier returning it with ..military- precision. Then, his face white and set, lie slipped swiftly into the compartment.

j * .* * * * . Marie sat in her charming blue aud white boudoir at Douglas House, looking listlessly at the flashing gems lying on her lap. Diamonds and sapphires, rubies and pearls all lay in one brilliant mass, as she had emptied tliem carelessly from their cases. Suddenly she gathered them up m the skirt of her dress, and crossing over to the window, drew up the blind with a jerk. Then, sitting down before the easement, her beautiful eyes strayed restlessly to the grim outlines of the fme old castle, lifted like some!weird monster against the hea-' veijH, which look almost blue in the in-, tenseness of the moonlight; Once again she was within its grey walls, once again' she was pressed against a-manly breast, , an id an eager voice whispered undy ing love. It was but a dream now, a beautiful dream which had lost its reality in a cruel "silence which had followed it. "Twelve months," Marie said to herself, softly, * ' twelve months to day since Alistair went away. Only a year, yet to me it has been an eternity. Oh, Alistair, my love, your cruelty has broken my heart. I thought you loved me, but it was only a foolish dream, and in three days I shall be a bride. I shall vow before God's altar, to. love, honour, and obey —all the time knowing I have ho love to give. For it is yours, my beloved, and will be until I die -" With the air of one who has tasted the cup of happiness and then seen it dashed ruthlessly from the lips, Marie gathered up the sparkling gems, which had fallen unheeded to the floor, making no sotfud as they fell on the thick velvet pile carpet, and, walking to the inlaid secretaire, she laid them upon it, then, taking a key, unlocked one of the drawers and drew out a slip of paper and- a -small box. With trembling fingers she raised the lid and gazed at the contents —only a spray of ivy clasped within a brooch bearing the solitary word "Bydand/ 1 ami by its side a companion spray, which told of Gordon 's broken vow.

Twelve months before it had been a thing of treasure lying pressed, over a soldier's heart. Six months later it \v*m brought to Marie from a far-off foreign station, telling how the writer had regretted the vow so thoughtlessly made before leaving the far-off northern city, and with a heart-broken cry Marie had laid them—the emblems of her love troth and Alistair Gordon's —side by side and locked them away. They were but the relics of days unmarred by mistrust in human faith.

Marie towelled the bell, which was answered by her maid. "I shftll not come down to-night, Annie," she said. "Tell my father I have a bad headache, and I think I shall go to bed.'' The maid started at the deadly pallor of her young mistress's face. "Are you illy Miss. Marie?' 5 she; inquired, anxiously. i"No, Annie, I am not ill, only very, very miseratyq," tlie tears welling up into eyes as slie spoke. ' 1 You can go now," she added. "I wish to be alone, ajul you need not.come in again to-night; I lean manage quite well myself. " ! The maid' 'withdrew quietly. On the corridor sh6 met Sir Richard Geary. '<Whefe is Miss Douglas?" he asked, kindly. i i Is she not coming down?" "Miss Marie is in her room, sir. ,She wished me to tell the master she had a headache, and- would not come down tonight." , • Sir Richard thanked her, and passed on, pausing as he peached Marie's door. 1 '' Marie, my child, you shall be happy vet," he breathed softly. "You shall marry the one you love. God helping me, darling, you shall." . A vision of a stalwart figure, a pair of dark eyes in which the love-light glittered, a broad shoulder with a Gordon plaid thrown carelessly across, and, a young girl, dark-haired, with long lashes veiling a pair of soulful looking xip into the earnest face of her lpver, rose before his mental gaze. The vision was the plighting of the love troth between Alistair Gordon and Marie Douglas at Kelvinbrae, where Sir Richard and the gay young Highlander . had /been her father's guests many moptlis before. Sir Richard bad been :an unseen spectator of the littl? affair, and now it rose up in strong fcrep before him. His heart told him, with a pang of anguish, that such love as he read between them then would live and live for ever. He dragged himself wearily down the great staircase' into tlie hall, startling the footman with his ghastly face. But Sir Richard's resolve Was made, and without a Word he passed out into the night.- : John Douglas, coming suddenly from the dining-room, caught a glimpse of a' J dazed agonised face, and a strange fore{boding: of coming evil Hashed before pjim as he retraced his steps to make ; J "the most, feasible suggestion for the uu-

wonted absence of Sir Richard Geary, the prospective bridegroom, m. As the hall door closed with a heavy clang behind him, Sir Richard Geary drew a deep breath, which, half a sigh and half a laugh as it was, sounded even in his own ears strange and unreal.

Neither knowing' nor caring where he went, he stumbled on and on, oblivious of all save one thing —John Douglas, his friend, on whose honour he could have staked his life, had bitterly, cruelly deceived him. It was close on midnight, when he returned to the house.

"Anyone up, John?" to the servant who opened the door. ">io, sir, I think not. Mr Douglas was the last to retire, I believe." The baronet crossed the polished floor and entered the library. A man-servant brought him a daintily-laid tray, but he.waved it aside, and as the door closed rose, and crossing to the window, threw open the casement, letting in the still chilly air, which acted like a charm on his overwrought nerves. How long he stood there lie knew not, butthe dawn was breaking 'before he pulled himself together with a great effort, and. made his way upstairs; not to sleep —there was no thought of sleep in Sir Richard's mind: —but to prepare for the bitter ordeal which lay before him.

The morning broke gloriously fair, not a-cloud dimmed the deep, blue sky the sweet-sweet of the birds, as they warbled out glad praises from the sylvan shades of the tall elms,, sounded divine as they floated in on the flowerscented air through the half-open winand found an answering- echo in Marie's heart.

Surely—she questioned—God would not let such a marriage? take place as hers would be, a loveless marriage? He would find a way. She would trust Him, trust him to the end. She -wo\ild plead once more with . Sir Richard — would tell him she could not love him as a wife should love ; her husband,. But no, it was not likely that he who had always waved her pleadings aside would listen now. It was too late. She must marry him, though her heart be breaking. 'lt was her father's wish, too; he had given -her the ehoiee of marrying Sir Richard and leaving her, home for ever —and she had chosen Sir Richaid. He did at least, love her, which Alistair never had done, or how could he have sent such a heartless little note? And yet she loved him; she should love him, and only him, always.

Sir Richard knew that she had not deceived him, but he had only patted her cheek and smiled, telling her she would soon forget when she was his wife, and that time was the great healer.

How little he knew Marie, or the depth of her love. She had loved once, and would never love again. Her face looked white and pinched, and there were dark rings, under her sad eyes which looked wistfully on while the maid laid out a couple of dresses.

"Which will you wear, Miss Marie — your blue frock, or the pink one?" Annie; X will wear white, all white. White means truth and purity, doesn't it# And I shall never wear it after I am married. It would only double the falsehood I shall be acting."' : "Oh, Miss Marie, dear Miss Marie, 5 ' cried the girl; "won't you tell the master? Tell hiin you cannot marry Sir Richard. And. perhaps "

"No, Annie; I shall never do that again,'' •-Marie interrupted. M 1 have told- him so' many times, but he refuses to listen." .

The while she had been speaking Annie had robed her : in a pure white gown, with a mass of soft white laec nestling against the full throat. Beautiful, fragile as a lily she looked, the dead white of lier d rest) showing up the creamy tint and almost ethereal expression of the lovely faeel A servant tapped lightly at -the door. "Sir Richard Geary," the girl said, "would be pleased if Miss Douglas would come to himln the library as soon as possible." And five minutes later, cool and collected, her queenly form drawn to its full height, Marie entered the handsome apartment, which was one of the chief features at Douglas House. Sir Richard was standing before one of the French windows, looking absently across the line sweep of lawn, when Marie's voice broke in.

"Good morning; you wished to see me, I believe?" she said, coldly.

Sir Richard turned, and the girl noticed with a slight start how aged he had grown since, yesterday. "Good morning, Marie," he said, gravely. "Yes, I wished to see you," pulling a chair forward as he spoke, and leading her to it. "Are you better — is the headache quite gone?" he added, gently. "Quite, thank 3*011,' she replied. There was an uncomfortable silence. It was evident that Sir Richard was labouring under some great emotion, and Marie, as she watched him, felt the resentment surging within her breast give place to infinite pity. "Marie, child,.' he said at last—and ,she thought his' voice had never seemed |so full of gentleness, as now —"I am going to put some .questions to you. Nay, not out of idle curiosity," as he saw her start. "No, dear, , not that; [but I want, to make you happy if I can, little Marie."

'' What is it you wish to ask me,'' she faltered, without raising her eyes. "Do you still love Alistair Gordon? Do not be afraid to tell me, dear; I can bear it."

" Yes, Richard, I do love him, and always shall." It. was the first time she had ever used his Christian name, and a glad light leapt into the baronet's blue-grey eyes as it fell from her trembling lips. "If you found that hk still loved you would you marry him, Marie?"

Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, were raised to his. Sir Richard did not need to hear her..low ."Yes" .to know what his answer was to be. The lovely eyes spoke volumes. . " He turned to the. window for a second, striving to gain the, upper hand of himself. He paced the length of the room, once, twice, then, coming to a full stop in front of her, said quietly—j "From now, dear, I wish you to understand you are perfectly free as far as I am concerned."

"X —I don't understand you," she said, wonderingly. "Free. You don't meau our wedding will not take place?" "That is what X do mean, Marie," he Said, smiling. "You are free to marry tile man yon love, and who loves you as much to-day. perhaps more, than he did a year ago. Yes, yes, I know what you would say; but it—there —there has been a—a mistake, little girl." : To know that Alistair, whom she had thought false, still loved her, and that now she was free to marry him, was too much for Marie, and, laying her head 011 Sir Richard's breast, she burst into tears. He soothed her as a father would have done, and presently, when she was calmer,

put her gently back in the easy chair, and, kneeling beside her, took her little hands in his and told her all. How he had been deceived into thinking she would learn to care for him. in time. And how he had wrung the truth, fi'om her father, whose purpose was to see his only child Lady Geary, instead of the wife of a plain lieutenant. "We have both been cruelly deceived, dear,'' he went on, stroking the quivering hand he held; "you in the thought that Gordon had been false to you—and, child, I believed it, too; but now I know he never sent the ivy spray back, Marie, j Your father, in some way not unconnected j with money, persuaded one of the men in j your lover's regiment to send the letter; and the spray of ivy. you received. The plan worked admirably, but, thank God, I was able to find it out in time. "Last night," he continued, hoarsely, ' < I chanced to be under the balcony when I heard your heart-broken words. They cut me like a knife, Marie. I think I was almost mad for a time. Then I heard a whisper that your laddie was coming home on leave; it seems it was right. For, as luck would have it, he arrived in Edin- ! burgh last night. He knew nothing about your impending marriage, Marie, until he reached home. And I—well, I am proud to know him, that's all, proud to think I was the first on his arrival to congratulate him on his good fortune. He is not Lieiitenant Gordon any more, but Captain Sir Alistair Gordon of Strath Gordon. "Almost as soon as he got his step his uncle, the laird, died, leaving his nephew something like five thousand a year rentroll and the bonniest place in the couni try.'' *' .. 41 And Alistair?'' Marie whispered, with downcast eyes. '' Alistair is longing to see you, dear. He has already seen your father, and forgiven him for what was so nearly the ruin of three lives. Your father now, Marie, is quite willing for you to marry Alistair instead of me on the day already appointed. In fact, he cannot well help himself, for Gordon and I are determined there shall be no more delay," and Sir Richard Geary laughed—laughed though his own heart. was breaking. He Joved Marie, and for her sweet sake would stand by and see her wed another, and in that act proved his heart's best gold. "Marie, dear," he said, "your father is sorry for the part he played. Yon will forgive him, will you not ? " "J will try," she whispered. Sir Richard pressed the little hand in his, then quietly slipped from the room as someone else entered.

'' Marie, my darling! " "Alistair, my Alistair!" A girl's glad cry blended with a man's deep voice. They had entered the gates of Eden at,last.