THE PAINTED VEIL.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume V, Issue 1339, 29 May 1918, Page 6

THE PAINTED VEIL.

[By SYBIL CAMPBELL I.ETHBRIDGE, Author of " Middle Life," " The Shorelew Sea," "Lo-ve and My Lady," etc.] [All Rißhta Reserved.] "Lift not the painted veil which men call life."—Shelley. • CHAPTER V.—(Continued). CONFESSION. Eldrcd's square teeth caught rather Savagely at his undcrlip. "Did she?" he said. "I think you may as well know, Dagway, that I've, tried to many Laline; 1 've tried to win her by foul as well as fair mean, but —l've lost." "Yes" —Dagway spoke without looklug up—"so 1 guess from what she tells we. Her message is that she wants to lie friends with you, Sartor, to forget the past, and—also she wants you to give up that letter of Mrs Archcourt's that was addressed to Hartram. You found it amongst my papers that day when you waited to see me in my workroom up at Hampstead; you kept it, and yon used it, to bully Mvs Archcourt. Will you give it up? Dclacar's confession isn't 1o be made public. Hartram, who is, after all, most concerned with it, was told of it to-day and begged that it might be kept a secret. So, as none of us wants the story raised again, it isn't to be published. Now, I want you to give me the letter that belongs to Hartram. I found it upon the moors near Ardnafillan when I was wandering there, half mad with fear and jealousy and despair. 1. was cad enough to read it. Her writing it wa& an<t that was why 1 couldn't destroy it, as I should. Give it me, Barter. You stole it." He held out his hand. Sartor drew back, his face set in sullen lines. "Whatever I was or am doesn't seem to matter," ho said. "I've lost the woman I love, and hard words don't hurt me, Dagway. Why should I give it up?" Arthur sprang suddenly to his feet and faced his friend.

"Because if you don't give it up T shall take it from you," lio said quietly. "I don't care a hang what happens to me, but I do care as to whether Betty is miserable or not. I love her ho that' her happiness conies before all things, so that to secure it I'd kill you, Sartor, and myself quite willingly. That's my love, but it seems to me that yours for'my sister is just self. I'd die this moment if it would serve, the woman T love; would you do as much for Lalino?"

The vibrant, passionate voice ceased. Sarter's groat head dropped upon his breast, his pale eyes wore fixed upon the flames. Those words, spoken with burning scorn and emphasis by his friend, had stirred a certain shame in him, had suddenly —as no"w and again such words will —roused in him a sense of his own littlenesn, of the great things lie had missed. "All you can ■lo to show your love to Laline is to do as she asks you," Arthur Dagway said slowly. "Salter, do you realise, that? You don't want hov to hate you?" Sartor raised his head; lie looked about him after the fashion of one emerging from a reverie. "No, you're right," he said; "and I —l've been a brute and the cad you just called me, Arthur. But—Laline fdian't hate me. Here's that letter, and there is the lire. One is made for the other."

Silently Dagway took the proffered letter. For one second ho held it to his lips, imagining, perhaps, poor faithful heart, that to him were addressed those wild, passionate words. Then he let it fall into the heart, of the coals, and watched its destruction,rapidly conMimatod. "That's done," he said wearily, lie toso, and held out his hand to Salter, who clasped it warmly. "Jm glad it's finished with," he said; and from that day the matter was never mentioned between those two, but in Home strange fashion the knowledge that each had loved hopelessly drew them more closely together, and the friendship that had always been between them grew and intensified into a feeling that only death could destroy. Sartor so far regained the mastery over himself that at Laline's wedding A few months later he was able to be present, ami as the multi-millionaire was a source of avid interest to Mrs Cowden, who was a guest at the cere mony, where Arthur Dagway gave the bride away. Even Constance, the faithful maid of the Emberton Place boarding house, was invited, and was greatly overcome by the splendour of Hie jnotor car, the gift of Eldred Salter, in ly.diich the happy pair departed on their 9ioneymoon. "ft was wonderful!" she said to Mrs Cowden, with emphasis. "Ah, ■'twas worth while gettin' married to have such a car! ''

"I think they are the most generous' of people," s,-»i<j Miriam, the ever-ready Real's in her dark eyes. ''Because of What I was able to do for Iter father, nnd because of my affection for him, fyfrs Burford and her husband insisted •on nettling an annuity on me, and are {riving me a house in tli'c country, in Sussex, so that I can give up (his droad•fiil life. If you like to come with me, won can, Constance: but, in any case, Mrs Burford said that she hoped you would accept the enclosed, as a little mark of her gratitude for all you did for Mr Dagway." Constance, red with pleasure, opened Hie envelope, her mistress handed her. It contained a cheque for twenty-five pounds. Constance gulped down a sob in her excitement. "it's too much," she proclaimed: "everyone's too good —and there was Mrs Areheourt, too, gave me a huge slice of wedding cake with her own" hands, and looked like an angel when she was doitt' it. Mrs Burfovd's lovely. but, Mrs Areheourt — ah, she is a lady!'' It might have entertained Betty at that moment to hear such candid, fervid praise, for she was feeling weary and depressed as she sat alone in the great drawing-room after the wedding couple and Arthur Dagway had gone. .':('!■ thoughts were with Geoffrey Hart ram, whom she had not seen since Dolaear's death, lie was abroad, so much she knew, but that was all. lie had not written, he had sent, no weird to the woman who loved, who homed for him, who fell each minute witliout. him as a blank. Betty Areheourt loved once -and it was for ever; and on this day Valine's hap piness contrasted painfully with her own loneliness. She- sighed, a sigli of deep w< ;r> ..;r,i ■. Mr, nil i'i seemed to her that it was repeated close beside her. Startled, she looked up. There beside her Hood Geoffrey Hart ram, his dark, handsome lace a little older, worn with suffering and grief, bat in his eves the Jove that she yearned for. that was hers. Hurriedly she rose (o her feet, faced him. "I have come back," he said. "I love you so —I could not. stay away. I!' you don't want me, I will go.' T She did not speak; of words there wan jio need. Her eyes answered him, and with :i little sob of thankfulness lie caught her to his heart! [The End.]