LOVE WINS THROUGH

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 16506, 6 August 1919, Page 8

LOVE WINS THROUGH

POWERFUL STORY OF ROMANCE AND MYSTERY.

By Ben

CHAPTER IX. Some months later Stella Sherwood walked in the woods at Arcott. It was spring, and the ground was starred with primroses, whilst a bhu; mist ol wild hyacinths was spread under the green burgeoning tree-. Birds were singing everywhere, and the air seemed alive with a gladness that, however, found no echo in her heart. She was fully restored to health, but .something of the gaiety of youth had departed from her, and in the grey eyes was a pensivencss that is often the fruit of sorrow. In front of her a couple of black Cocker spaniels nosed among the bushes and occasionally barked joyfully, ns a rabbit darted for safety, with them in pursuit. She walked on, scarcely regarding them, very deep in thought. Presently sho reached a tiee that had boon foiled and stripped. On this she seated herself, and taking a letter from the pocket of her sports coat, turned a page of the thin foreign r.cto paper and begun to read: —•

“I am sorry to have to tell you this bad news. I did my best, and it is not my fruit that I have failed. Ar-c-oil mistook the directions given him, and so contributed directly to his own deatii. For your sake I would that ii had been otherwise, but what will be. will be, and fate over-ruled my plans. It is perhaps small consolation to reflect Hint, for such a man as John Anolt, a swift death was preferable to life-long imprisonment at He Xou, arid that he has escaped the dreariness of confinement among such men as are incarcerated there. . . . Yon must not blame me for a failure that was beyond my power to avert. I did all that 1 could, but as you know, ‘>,one can bo more wise than destiny,' and the fates were against him and you and me. . . . I shall not be back until spring, as I am going to San Francisco, but on my return I trust to have the reward mil of my accomplishment but of my endeavours. You will keep your promise, I know, and I think that about the end of May would be a suitable time for our wedding. But that, of course, rests with you ” Her eyes wandered .from the letter, every word of which she had read many time's since its arrival three months before Y thoughtful look came on her her face. She had promised to marry Philip Areott on’ his return, and now she found herself wondering if she could possibly keep that promise. "Do 1 love Philip?” she whispered to herself. Do I? ’ The answer her heart made was not so clear as she could have wished. She liked him, they had always been friends, and he was a man whom many women might love. But she was not sure of herself. As she sat there she visioned his handsome faro, and then the vision was erased by another —that of John Areott standing by the dead man in the flat, and urging her to leave at once. Him, she could have loved Somewhere in the wood behind her a, stick snapped, and as her dogs charged in the*direction of the sound, barking furiously, she half-turned, The form of a man 'advancing towards her revealed herself. At the first glance she did not see his face, which was hidden i by the feathery hough of a spruce. But I she caught his voice as he spoko to the i dogs, and as she rose from her seat her t face went suddenly polo, and a feeling I of apprehension grippi-d her heart. Then she saw the new-comer’s face, and know that her cars had not deceived her. Human was Sir Philip Areott. Ho caught sight of her in the same instant and hurried towards her, smiling. "Well mot, Stella!” ho cried, as ho took her hand. ‘‘Your aunt told me that you had gone this way, but I 1 should not have found you il it had - not been for the dogs. I heard them moment Stella stood them ■ without speaking. Her mind was in a tumult. She recognised that the ' hour of decision had come to her, and that she was not ready for it. Then she spoke stammeringly. i -‘You Philip! This is a surprise! I When—when did yon return?” I "An hour ago,” ho answered, smili iugly. ‘T sent you a- telegram, but 1 as'i "mot the boy .with it on the way

from tho station, and learned from jour aunt that yon had not read it, 1 know that my coming would bo a surprise. But you arc glad to see me, Stella.? Are you not?” ‘•Or course, I’hilipl” she answered quickly. “'How can you a«kf” “tt’was the look in your face,” he laughed. “I, supiio.se I misread your astonishment. Stella. But if you are glad, 1 am more than glad to bo back at Areott!” He paused a moment., then looking a t her gravely, he said; “You know that I failed in my mission through no fault of my own?” “Your letter told me so much,” she answered quietly, “but I—l should like the details.”

“You .shall have them as far as 1 ear. give them, Stella. But won’t you sit down ?”

Without replying Stella seated herself on the felled tree again, and Sir Philip sat down by her side. He remained silent for a moment collecting his thoughts, and the. girl looked at him. “Tell me—all.”

“I will toll you what I can, though necessarily much is hidden from mo. Y r ou must understand that, Stella, because Lucre is not a great deal to bo told in addition to what my letter contained. As I wrote you, John Areott occupied a rather privileged position at lie Non. From what I could gather he had attracted the noticooi tho governor and he was allowed to follow his art. He was still ‘T/hominc Auonymo.’ having for some reason kept, his name secret, but that made it all the easier to find him among the 6000 or so convicts who live in New Caledonia. , I quite easily found a warder to undertake- Arcott’s escape, and all the arrangements were made with surprising quickness. But all that you know from my letter —what 1 did not tell you was that A rent t came within an aco "of succeeding. Ho had almost reached the place whore a horse awaited him, when ho accidentally 'encountered a. couple of prison .guards. They knew him for a prisoner, they guessed that he was e.°canine, and since, instead of surrendering and waiting for another opportunity, ho tried to run. they fired on him. He was killed. It is a groat pity, though tho men 1 sup peso did no more than their duty.” As lie ended. Stella looked up with tcar-diuuuod eyes.

"And my poor effort to help him wns the On'.iso of his death. 1 ' "Yon must not say that, you must i-ot ove.i think it. John Arcolt was not the man to remain at lie Non without an attempt to got away. He would probably have tried at some time under less favourable eonditrons. ./That lie did not break away was an aeeident. you did what you could, or rather - I. did it for you.” ■Stella made no comment on this, hut after a little time she began to ask a question. "Toll me one thing. Did he know that I ” Her voice faltered ami Sir Philip anticipated her thought, "You would ask me did lie know that you were behind the for his escaper \cs. Stella ho did. AVitbont using your name f sent the message in such a form that he could not help but know.” "1 am very glad of that.” said the girl quickly, ‘‘for months I have tormented myself with the thought that he would be thinking me ungrateful, that ho would be wondering why 1 had not appeared at his trial, for, of course, he .could not know that 1 was ill. Hat I am very thankful that before he died he knew that all the time 1 had him in mind. It makes it easier In endure the thought that he is dead.” She fell silent, and Sir Philip, industriously prodding the grass with his stick, waited for a little while, thou he sail! softly: ■'Stella. 1 did my best—for your sake. 1 hope that I am to have my reward. John Arcolt was nothing to mo; but you—you are everything. 1 ought it) wait; I know. lint lam hungry to have your assurance. Stella, dear, my journey has not been altogether in vain, 1 trust. You will keep your promise? You will marry me after a little time?”

A he.fft ating, doubtful look fame on the girl’s face. Plainly she was jn two minds, and for a moment Sir Philip Arcolt feared a refusal. Thou .--lie spoke in a listless voice. ‘‘Yes, Philip, I will marry you, if you wish.” •T do wish—more earnestly than yon can think, Stella. And 1 shall do everything that 1 can do to make you happy. f knew yon would keep your piom’iso and 1 know your aunt will bo delighted. When shall wo ” “Oh, not now!” cried the girl impulsively. “Do not let ns discuss that now. Another day will do for that.' AVe shall have all spring and summer before us.” “For our honeymoon,” he said softly.

“As you say, Philip, for our honcymron.’/' These was no enthusiasm in her voice. She rose abruptly to her feet, and said quickly, “I must go home, now, Philip.” “1 will walk with you ns far as the gates,” he said, fearing that he was to be dismissed, “and 1 will see your aunt after lunch.”

She said nothing as be foil into step by her side, and as they walked on in silence for the most part, Sir Philip Areott was very conscious that, tilings were not as ho would have them. It was true that Stella had promised to marry him, hut he felt as lie had fell once when he was a hoy. when he had ardently desired a halcyon's egg for the collection that he was making. He had found a nest at last —bin. it was empty; just ns this great hour was empty of delight— AVhcn Stella reached home she found Miss Sherwood awaiting her with some impatience. •‘Stella.” she asked, with an excitement unusual for her, “did you see Philip?” “Yes, Auntie,” replied the .girl quietly. “Did he ask you to become his wife?” “Yes, Auntie.” “Ah! he told mo that he would. He was very eager. He—hut what did you reply, Stella?” “I agreed, Auntie. He is coming up to see you after lunch.” “My dear, lam so glad I” Miss Sherwood took her niece in mothering arms and kissed her, then started as a sob shook the girl. “Stella, dear, what is it? A\ hy ” “It is nothing, Auntie, nothing 1” cried. Stella, as she wiped the blurring tears from her eyes. Her aunt looked at her with shrewd eyes, then sho smiled. “You are a little overwrought, Stella,” sho said gently. “I think you had better rest until lunch time.” “Yes, Aunt Eliza, 1 will,” replied the girl, and left the room quickly, glad to make her escape. Once in her own room sho threw' herself upon a settee and gave way to unchecked tears. “I suppose I shall marry Philip now',” she whispered to herself, “hut what should I have done if John Arcott had not died at Ho Non ” It was a vain question, but oue to which sho found no answer. (To be Continued.) Children like Wade’s AVorm Figs; sura and certain. Price Is 6d. \