THE PAINTED VEIL.

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

THE PAINTED VEIL.

IBy SYBIL CAMPBELL LETHBHIDGE, Author of " Middle Life," " The Shoreless Sea," "Love and My Lady," etc.] [All Rights Kcserved.l " Lift not the painted veil which men coll life."—Shelley. CHAPTER XXlV.—(Continued). CONFESSION. Eldred's square teeth caught rather savagely at his underlip. "Did she?" he said. "I think you may as well know, Dagway, that I've tried to marry Laline; I've tried to win her by foul as well as fair mean, but —l've lost." "Yes"—Dagway spoke without looking rip —"so I guess from what she tells me. Her message is that site wants to be friends with you, Sarter, to forget tho past, and —also she wants you to give up that letter of Mrs Arehcourt's that was addressed to Ilartram. You found it amongst my papers that day when you waited to see me in my workroom up at Hampstead; you kept it, and you used it, to bully Mrs Areheourt, Will you give it up? Dclacar's confession isn't to be made public. Ilartram. 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 Ilartram. I found it upon the moors near Ardnafillan when 1 was wandering there, half mad with fear and jealousy and despair. I was cad enough to read it. Her writing it was, and that was why I couldn't destroy it, as I should. Give it me, Sarter. You stole it."

He held out his hand. Sartor drew back, his face set in sullen line**. "Whatever I was or am doesn't seem to matter,'' lie said. "I've lost the woman 1 love, and hard words don't hurt me, Dagway. Why should 1 give it up*" Arthur sprang suddenly to his feet and faced his friend.

"Because if yow don't give it up I shall take it from you," he said quietly. "I don't care a hang what happens to me, hut I do care as to whether Betty is miserable or not. I love her so that her happiness comes before all things, so that to secure it I'd kill you, Barter, ami 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 1 love; would you do as much for Xalinei"

The vibrant, passionate voice ceased. Barter's great head dropped upon his breast, his pale eyes were 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 now and again mich words will —roused in him a sense of his own littleness, of the great things lid had missed. "All you can do to show your love to Laline is to do as slie asks you," Arthur Dagway said slowly. " Sarter, do you realise that? You-don't want her to hate yon?"

Barter raised his head: he looked about him after the fashion of one emerging from a reverie.

"No, you're right," he said; "and T —l've been a brute and the cad you just called me, Arthur. But —Laline shan'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 he 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 eousumated. "That's done," he said wearily, lie toso, and held out his hand to Barter, who clasped it warmly. "Im glad it's finished with," he said; and from that day the matter was never mentioned between those two, but in nome strange fashion the knowledge that each Lad loved hopelessly drew them more closely togethe7\ and the friendship that had always been between them grew and intensified into a feeling that only death could destroy. Barter so far regained the mastery over himself that at Laline's wedding a few months later he was able to be present, and as the multi-millionaire j-vyas a source of avid interest to Mrs [Ccwden, who was a guest at the eere;™<>ny, where Arthur Dagway gave the |bride away. Even Constance, the faithful maid of the Emberton Place board-.•trig-house, was invited, and was greatly yovereome by . the splendour of the Hiotor car, the gift of Eldrcd Salter, in which the. happy pair departed on their •Honeymoon.

"It was wonderful!" she .said fro Mrs Cowden, with emphasis. "Ah. 'twas worth while gettin' married to ■have such a car!''

"I think they are the most generous of people," said Miriam, the ever-ready tears in her dark eye?. "Because of Tvhat I was able to do for her father, iind because of my affection for him, Mrs Burford and her husband insisted »n settling ;ui annuity on me, ami are giving me a house in the < -ovmtrv, in Sussex, so that I can give up this dreadful life. Tf yon like to come with me, can, Constance; lint, in any case. Mrs Burford said that she hoped yon would accept the enclosed, as a little mark of her gratitude for ail you did for Mr Dagway.'' Constance, red with pleasure, opened the envelope her mistress handed her. It contained a cheque for twenty-five pounds. Constance gulped down a sob in her excitement.

"If.'s Too much," she proclaimed: "everyone's too good—and there was Mrs Arehconrt, too, gave me a huge

slice of wedding-cake with her own hands, and looked like an angel when «he was doin' it. Mrs Burford's lovely, but Mrs Arehconrt—ah, slie is a lady!"

It, might have entertained Betty at that moment to hear sue)) candid, fervid praific, for she wan feeling weary and depressed as she sat alone in {he great drawing room after the wedding eorjplo and Arthur Dagway had gone. IJcr thoughts were with Geoffrey ITartrarn, whom she had not been since Delacar's death, lie wafi abroad, mo ninch she knew, luit that was all. lie had not written, he had sent no word to the woman who loved, who longed for him, who fell each mimile without him as a Idauk. Betty A rid;.curt loved once—and it was for ever; ami on this day La line's happinesH contrasted painfully with her own lonelinens. She sighed, a sigh of deep, weary grieving, and it seemed to her that it was repeated close beside her. Startled, she locked up. There beside her stood Oeoffrey ITartrarn, his dark, handsome face a little older, worn with suffering and grief, hut id his eyes the Jove that she yearned for, that was hers. Hurriedly she rose to her feet, faced him. "I have come hack," lie said. ''l love you ho—l could not stay away. If you don't want me, 1 will go." She (Sid nut speak; of words there waa no need. Ikr eyes answered him, and with a little sol) of thankfulness he caught her to his. heart! J The End.]