His Heart's Queen.

Taranaki Herald, Volume L, Issue 12277, 9 June 1903, Page 6

His Heart's Queen.

By r^-s GEORGIE SHELDON,

Author of " Ste!:a Rovseveßt," " Sibyl's Influence," " The Forsaken Bride," " Queen Bess," " Brownie's Triumph," " That Dcwdy," &c, &c.

CHAPTER .V.— Continued. j "She was, indeed," he replied, clasping the hand she extended to him, and feeling inexpressibly comforted by this fair girl's tribute to his loved one. I He noticed, and was touched also Iby the- fact, that Violet was all in j black, and he knew that sue had ; robed herself thus, out of grief ior I his dead. "I loved her," the young girl said, with touching sim.pl.c->. Then she add-id : 'T, know I cannot «•'_* 'anything to r>y.>, bu*\ l>ejlieve me my heart is full of sorrow for her loss, and of syuipaUy for you." j How lovely she was, standiag •there beside him, her r air face anJ. 'sunny hair in striking contrast [with her black dress, and with her azure eyes raised in such heartfelt sympathy to his. I Her hand la/ m his. for both had unconsciously roi& i r.ed their cla.-p after their first j.siet'.ng. nod he knew by her clinging- lingers Low 'sincere her sorrow and sympathy were. j "My darling, 1 knehv *'(: ; and 3'our presence is inexpressibly comforting to me." | "My darling !"— he ?<ad saii it without thinking. j During all the long works that they had been secarated he had called her thus to himself, and now the word had slipped from hi:n unawares, and he would have given" worlds to have been able t ) recall them. : Violet's white lids fluttered andi then drooped consciously, while a vivid flush arose to her brow. , This brought Wallace to his senses. He also coloured hotly, a feeling of dismay took possession of him. There was a dead silence for a moment ; then he added, humbly : 1 "Forgive me ; I did not know what I was saying." He would have released her hand but her small fingers closed firmly | over his ; she shot one dazzling gleam of light up at him from her lovely eyes, and whispered, shyly : "I am glad !" And he knew that she was all his own — that she loved him even as he loved her. A great wave of thankfulness, of sacred joy, swept over his soul, only to be followed by a feeling of despair, darker and deeper than any he had yet experienced, for he ( knew that he should not, must not accept the priceless boon of her j love which she had so freely and so artlessly yielded to him. j But there was no time for ex- | planations, for at that moment the. door was opened again, and the woman, Mrs Keen, whom Violet had met when she first came, entered, to make some inquiry of Wallace, and to tell him that the clergyman have arrived. , Presently others, neighbours and acquaintances began to* gather, and then it was time for the service. j Violet never forgot that simple ceremony, for the clergyman, who knew Mrs Richardson intimately, seemed to glorify the death of the beautiful woman. "She had simply stepped," he said, "from darkness into lighttoil and care into rest and peace. The veil betwixt her and the Master, whom she had loved, was lifted ; her hitherto fettered soul was 1 free, and in the light of an eternal day no earthly sorrow, doubt, or trial could reach her." Death, after that, nc\er seeoicd the cruel enemy that it had previously seemed J >o Violet. After it was all over, and Wallace had passed out to his carriage, Mrs Keen came to the young girl' and asked her if she would like to follow her friend to the cemetery. "If I may," Violet replied. "She was not a relative, but I loved her very much." "Then, come with me," the woman said, and, as she led the way out, she explained that there were no relatives save Mr Richardson, and it seemed too bad that there should be no one but himself to follow his mother to the grave, and that was why she had asked Violet to go with lfer. The next moment Violet found herself in the carriage with, and seated opposite, to Wallace. A feeling of dismay took possession of her, for she knew that the world would criticise her severely for taking such a step. She had not dreamed that she would have to ride in the same carriage with W T allace, and she wondered if he would understand how it had happened. ' The matter could not be helped

now, however, and for herself she did not care ; her motives had been good* and pure ; why then need she care for the criticisms of people ? . The ride to Spring Grove Cemetery was a long .and sad one, for scarcely a word was spoken either going or returning. Wallace seemed absorbed in his own sorrowful reflections, Mrs Keen preserved ' a prim and gloomy silence, and Violet was thus left to her own thoughts. She could not keep from thinking of those few sad, } r et sweet, mtf- . ments when she had stood. alone with Wallace by the casket of his mother, and heard him speak those words which had changed, in one. instant, her whole life. v "My darling, your presence is inexpressibly comforting to me !" 1 She knew that he had not meant to speak thus, that only a sense of his own disolation 1 and her unexpected sympathy, had made him forget himself, break down all barriers, and betray the secret of his love. ! It had been an unexpected |Pevelation to her, however ; she had not suspected *. fide, nature of his feelings toward her, nor of hers toward ! him, until then ; but now she knew that she loved him— that all the world, with every other blessings and luxury at her command, would be worthless to her without him to share it. When they reached Hughes Street again Violet held out her hand to Wallace, saying it was so late she must go directly home.' Then he suddenly came to himself/ and realized how very tedious the long, silent ride must have teen for her. "Ivetme send you home in the carriage," he said, eagerly. "Thank you, no ; I will take a car," Violet replied, so decidedly, that he did not press the matter further. It was very late when she reached home, and she found her sister quite anxious over her prolonged absence. "Where have you been, Violet ?" she demanded, somewhat impatiently ; "it is not the proper thing atall for yo.u to be out so late alone. Mercy ! and you are all in black, too;* I snould think you had been at a funeral." "I have ; I have been to Mrs Richardson's funeral," Violet replied, hot tears rushing to her eves. "Mrs Msncke looked startled. "Mrs Richardson !" she repeated. "When did, she die ?" ''Day yesterday ; and it was all by chance that I saw the notice of- her death in a paper. She died very suddenly, of heart disease.". "I wish I had known it ; I would have gone with you," said Mrs Mencke, looking disturbed. "Would you ?" kViolet- exclaimed surprised. "Yes ; it was not proper for you to go alone." . , The young girl's face fell'; she had. hoped" her sister waLiited to show this tribute to respect to one who had been so kind to her. "Where .was she buried ?" Mrs Mencke inquired. "At Spring Grove Cemetery." "Did you go out there ?" "Yes," and Violet flushed slightly. ; "With whom did you ride ?" demanded her sister, suspiciously. •"With— Mr Richardson and a Mrs Keen." "Violet Draper Huntington !" ejaculated Mrs Mencke, with indignant [astonishment ; "you did not cfo such an unheard-of** thing ?" Violet bridled at this. She, was naturally sweet and gentle, but she could show spirit enough if occasion required. "Yes, I did," she returned, flushing, but tossing her small head defiantly. "There were 'no friends excepting Mr Richardson. Mrs Keen, invited" me to 'go with her, and, as I wanted to show the dear woman this mark of respect, I went." "Don't you know that it was a very questionable act to follow Mrs Richardson to her grave in the company of her son ?" demanded Mrs Mencke, sternly. "What do you suppose the people of our set would say to such a proceeding?" "I presume the people of 'our set' might consider it a questionable act," Violet returned with sarcastic emphasis. "Polite society, [is not • supposed to have much | heart, anyway. But, to tell the truth, I thought I was to ride in\A separate carriage with Mrs K«en, [until I" went out and, found Mr Richardson in it. I was not going to wound him then by refusing to

go ; and 'our ,set,\if it find- it put, can say what it pleases!' ' "I most earnestly hope-that none of our acquaintances will learn of escapade ; they would- be «sure to couple your name very unpleasantly with that of that low-born carpenter, especially if they should find out that you' put qn mourn-, ing," returned Mrs Mencke, ,with, an expression of intense -disgust. " 'kow-bpni carpenter,' indeed;!" retorted Violet, indignantly, and flushing . hotly: . Aren't you ashamed of yourself Belle Mencke, after what he has done for -me ? Wallace Richardson is a.gentleman in every* sense of the word, and' I am proud to call him .my friend.,". "Perhaps you would be proud to accord him a more familiar title, even. Our friends would be liVely to suspect that he was thus favored if they should discover what you have done to-day,"' sneered the haughty woman. Violet blushed vividly at this thrust, and for a moment looked so conscious that her :;istir b^cati'3 * suspicious and secretly, alarmed.' "I «?o*i't ca;e, Belle, ' Violet' spsci, hotly, after a inoiiient;of awkaird silence, "it would Lave 'been very-.un-grateful of me to stay away, and I would do the same th:ug oxer again to show *r»y rogafd ior dear Mrs . Richardson. Xow, -if you the subject.'' ■ ; "" please, you may let me alone upon, "Look here, Miss Violet, yqu/aie trying me beyond all bounds/ Mrs' " Mencke returned, losing control, of her< temper ; "and now, there is just one thing I .want to sa^ to you, and that is that you are to ; drop" this fellow at once and, for aU time. I ,won J t have aiiy nonsense or serftiment^ just because he! hap- j pened to do what- any other man with a germ of Jminanity would have done to save you. from a violent death. It is all very well to . feel properly grateful td^him, and 1/ intend to* pay him, Handsomely; for it, only Ifrdon't want to hear, anything more about him " from^pu. J .V Violet had grown very pale during . the latter portion of . « tins -° speech, and her sister, who. !was observing ljer closerjr, could see .that „ ghe -was^emtiling with suppressed emotion, ; , '■ * "Belle, Mencke,": she said, in a husky tone, "do you mean to say that you intend to offer Mr Rich- „ ardson money in return. for my •life?" ■ ■' , ' ■ -- ". ''Of course. What else can do,? We must make nim some acknowledgement,and people in his station ' think -more of money^thaii of any-" thing else," f was .the coarse re^ spouse. A -\ r . "(To be Continued).