FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 12903, 14 February 1906, Page 2

FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

(By Bertha M. Clay.)

CHAPTER I.—THE WOUNDED GUEST! j The loud clang of a doorbell, hastily repeated, as if indicating the impatience of tihe person who' rang, startled the servant in a lonely little cottage about half a mile from the .village of Aviron. i Who could it be, and what was the dccasion for the imperative summons? The lady of the house was English, and was little more than a stranger in France. These were the thoughts of Toinette, the servant, as she nervously rose and hurried to the kitchen door.

...There -she paused, seemingly puzzled, fferyotrng mistress was sitting under ths tree's, at the far side of the long orchard. ■\j£hy not run to her' before going to .-the front door?

; Why, good heavens! this might be a thief or a murderer, or a gendarme, or something equally terrible: "but madame might be asleep. Best to run to the door. She could call through the keyhole before she opened it.

j So Toinette, who, though she had turned sixty, was a good deal more* active than her twenty-eight-year-old mistress, went swiftly to the door, and called shrilly through the keyhole:

j"Who is there?" < A man's voice answered, in excellent though not quits- a Frenchman's.French : j " Open, for the love of Heaven! There is a man here who is dying!" i The voice was reassuring; it- was English, and it was not that of a common ffclkw; and the plea was irresistible to Toinette's kind heart. The door was instantly opened, and the woman cried out in horror and dismay at the sight that met her eyes. J Two gentlemen, in light summer attire, carried, stretched on a gate, a third, who was dead or dying, from whom the blood dripped on the ground.

;"Oh! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" cried Toinette. " This wav, messieurs !"

; She ran before them* and opened a sitting room door, they following in sileric?, though One of them could scarcely refrain his sobs.

i "Bear up, Trafford!" whispered his companion, as they laid their burden on the little sofa. "He isn't dead ; and it wasn't your fault that the gun exploded. Where is there a doctor?" he added, to Toinette. "At Dinard. It is three miles away, monsieur. Does monsieur know the way V "Thanks, yes. Trafford," added the speaker, who had the air of -a military man, "go for the doctor, while I see to Captain Qtewirt. I know something about such things. Get : me '-' some linen—tear up sheets—anything," to Toinette, as Trafford rushed from the house, and the old servant, who did not. seem to lack presence of mind, liurried away, and quickly returned with some linen, which the Englishman rapidly began to tear into strips: Toinette, perceiving his actions, said rapidly: ! " Monsieur, I'll tear, while "vou bind. Ah!" she went on.yas, with a quick nod j|ndhalf smile, he thanked her, "how handsome he is!—he will not die?" i "Heaven, forbid!" said the Englishman, hoarse] v. '

j With no little skill, he bound up the wound, Toinette watching anxiousiv: then she said:

j "I go tell madame." ; The Englishman- scarcely heard h?r: he was so- entirely occupied with his wounded friend, that he seemed to take all other filings as a matter of course; but presently, as he knelt by the couch, trying to administer brandy and water from, his flask to'-'lns- friend, lie heard female voices—?ne an English voice—and hurried steps without, and he just glanced up, to see a very lovely, fair-haired woman, seemingly five or six-and-twenty. who- looked white and scared, and far "more ready to faintherself than to .be of any assistance to an insensible mas. The "Englishman rcs& quickly; and. bowed. - ! -' i "-Madame," he said, speaking in his own language; and hurriedly, "forgive this intrusion—there was no choice—yours was l:he nearest house—my friend and brother ■officer, Captain Stewart, of Lochniohr. has been accidentally shot. I am, Major Langdale." '

j" *' Captain '""Stewart, of Lcchmohr !" exclaimed the lady. " "Oh! how terrible—-ji&w-terrible!"

! " Yon know hiin?"

; "No; but I know his name. Oh! is h* dangerously wounded? Let me see pvei-ything possible must be. done for him, Toinette! Oh! dear!—oh! dear—this is dreadful!"

| •'jTpjnette vanished, without making any fuss.:_ Major' Langdale bent over his friend againV while the'lady, gazing on the har.dpomfe, -deathly face, continued to murmur and sigh, but made no offer of help, and was probably incapable of affording any. j In a surprisingly short time Toinette* reiturded, to say that a bed was ready. It was on the same floor, and would," therefore, be more easily reached.

j, " Monsieur will sot mind my room ?" she ■said. .. "Iti is clean. There is only one jother bedchamber, and that is aiadiune's. :I can help to"carry the poor gentleman, isir I.am strong." : " That's ' right. Toinette." «aid the lady. Major Langdale. your friend should havemy room, but the stairs would make itdifficult, I am afraid."

•' "Thanks, madame." returned the soldier, not very cordially. "I am ashamed to .thus quarter a wounded man upon you. Yes, Toinette, that's right; you are invaluable."

Gently they bore the wounded man away into Toinette's little chamber, and then, while the women withdrew. Major Langdale got- his friend into bed. and once more tried to restore animation, this time with better success. Toinette had now returned to the room, and watched with deep anxietv.

"He is'so handsome." she said, sorrowfully, touching with her work-worn butkindly fingers the dark curls that clustered over-the shapely head on the pillow. "He is.ue-t an Englishman, is ho?" "No, Toinette. not exactly English."

"An arist-ocraf-." s;iid Toinette. io herself. " Ah ! -I can tell."

" Certainly it was a i.-cbie ami strilciner i face on v.-hich she looked; the clear, dark , skin., thrtuch somewhat bronzed, ps soft as ! a«4; tire awirtli/ shaded by th« ailkjr aart

I moustache, at once proud and tender, and, alas! sensitive, too—surely this man was "somebody's darling"—surely he was not. in the prime of his early manhood, passing away into the land. "Raise the pillow. Toinette—ever so little—so."

A breathless pause, and then a low sigh rippled over the marble lips, and slowly a pair of large dark eyes opened, and rested with a vague gaze upon Major Langdale's face.

" Esric!" whispered his friend, choking down the sob in his throat; but there was no sign of recognition, the dark eyes closed, and the wounded man lapsed again into unconsciousness. *

"Monsieur!" hardly breathed Toinette. "he is not dead?" "No—no. Ah! Listen—it is the doctor!" '-;•■■

. Toinette went' out quickly, and then in came, silently, a short, elderly, bespectacled man, with a rotund figure and a kind, round face.

The lady of the house, whom Toinette had told Major Langdale was a Mrs Arnold, followed with Trafford. Toinette ushering the doctor into the room.

Trafford had, of course, explained to Dr Rasseaux what had happened. The three men were taking a walking tour; at a. town a few miles distant, where they were staying for a short time, Trafford", who was an enthusiastic sportsman, bought a gun, as he heard there was some good shooting about Aviron, He was crossing a gate, when his gun fell from his hand, and it instantly exploded, part of the charge entering the breast of Captain Stewart, who was close behind.

This happened nearly a mile from Mrs Arnold's cottage, which was the nearest house, and the young officer lost a quantity of blood before he could be properly attended to.

Luckily, Dr Rasseaux. though now a country practitioner, had been an army surgeon, and therefore knew very well what he was about in such a case as, this. After an examination of the patient, he announced that Major Langdale had performed his task very skilfully, that he did not think the wound was mortal, but it was dangerous; the patient must be kept perfectly quiet, and not on any account moved at present.

" So much will depend on himself." the doctor said—" his constitution. Monsieur knows him well?" to Langdale. "Intimately. He has a splendid -constitution. I don't think he ever had an hour's illness; and as for being temperate. I never knew a man to take so little! I think he has so much animation, that he needs no external help." "Ah! well! well! Has he mothersister—"'

Here the doctor paused, and looked at the patient. "Neither mother, sister, nor wife." said Langdale. "He is an only son—both parents dead. Plenty of relations, but none very near. I will send for his servant, and I will do what I can—for ten days. I have to join my regiment in India then." His voice crew luiskv.

. "Within ten days." said the doctor, kindly, " our friend will be out or danger. I trust."

At this juncture Mrs Arnold came forward.

" Doctor," she said, earnestly, "I will keip to nurse Captain Stewart." The doctor looked at the lovely speaker rather doubtfully. " Rather a tax on you, madame—a sister of charitv—"

"If you desire it," answered she; " but indeed—"

"Very well, madame"—the doctor bad the somewhat abrupt manner acquired in his army practice—" we shall see. At present, let all leave the room but Major Langdale and myself." " My house, and all in it, are at your service." said Mrs Arnold, as she retired. " Useless pkce of porcelain." commented the doctor, when the door had closed upon the two -women and Trafford: "just the womaji to go into hysterics at the sight of a cupful of blood. " She'd like to potter round a. handsome young fellow—that's all—wouldn't, care a jot if'he'd be*n ugly. Give me the brandy, monsieur. Hell come round. again soon." CHAPTER lI.—THE YOUNG WIDOW. Pauline Arnold sat alone in the little parlour of the cottage, while Trafford went to the post office to telegraph for lan Macrian, Stewart's servant, and Toinette went silently about her work in the kitchen, both women listening anxiously for any Round from the room -where the patientlay, though, in the case of the servant, with unmixed feelings of compassion; in the case of the mistress with feelings in which genuine compassion bore but a small part. Some interest "was stirred within tho woman's heart by the beauty of the sufferer thus cast u i>on her hospitality: his helplessness, which should have * appealed to her more strongly, touched her not ut all; it was a factor, and an important one. in the train of thought which the finst knowledge of the wounded man's name had started in her mind: but the woman in Pauline Arnold was outward loveliness—the fair, soft, blue-eyed loveliness that can look a thousand things: infinite guile, to assume all sweetness of love and tenderness, and any tiling else; but wrinkled, weatherbeaten old Toinette had more of the true woman in one of her fingers than her fair young mistress had in the whole of her well-shaped person. "Captain Stewart, of Lochmohr. howstrange !" mused Pauline. " How strange that he should have been wounded near my house, brought here to be under my roof!"" Herein lay no mystery. Pauline had never known Esric Stewart: no story of her past was linked with the handsome young Scotchman. The thing was verv simple; it lay in a nutshell. She had heard of him. and she knew that he was a very rich man; one, too. of the charmed circle that she had always desired to enter. Heiv. then, lay the secret of the fair, pretty woman's deep interest in the man who lay. perhaps dying, within a few feet of where she sat —scheming. What, might she not make of such an onportunity as this, which swined to ba almost providentially thrown in her way? She rose, and looked at herself in il:n 1m tie iM.nrf?J.j»' v <.« t ; »nd *irile«l nl -'he U-J- :■■.■,*« it reflected, with aidownwirdglanjcaof dJa-l

i content at the gown she wore, which was not quite r.ew, and had beeis turned. How cruelly her life bad been wasted! H<ro she was. at eight and-twenty. still a widow, obliged to economise in {his solitude for fivo months in the year, in order to make a showy appearance during the <4her eercn; and what bad bit he: to come of all her efforts to win a rich husband? Nothing. For I'aultne Arnold was, in her way, ambitious; mere vulgar wealth would not satisfy her; a wcalthv stockbroker, or merchant, would not suffice. What was the good of monev. if one weie not in society

She was gently born, and had all the external graces which would fit her for the status she coveted. Wnv *houlda"t it be hers? She had hoped "to gain it when she gave her hand, seven rears a»o. to Richard Arnold, and he InrnW out l« be little better than an adventurer. Her life with him was nothing but keeping creditors at bay; and she was sea reel v woixe off, when he d**ert«i her. than she had been scrambling about with him from pbec to place, and hotel to hotel. Axd when, by the will of a relative, she inherited a small income, she bad nothing to regret, in her husband's departure, and drew a deep breath of relief when the news came from America of bis death—we!l authenticated news, or Pauline would not have considered herself a widow; she had no intention of being involved in bigamy. A good natni was serviceable.

And now. helpless and w< ur.ded. under her roof, and her care. lay t>.e owner <-f an ancient and noble name, and not only iho broad lands of Lochniohr. but estates in more fertile Kngland also. Purely, surely, the luck had turned for her at las-;.; it would be her own fault if this opportunity went for nothing. (To be continued.)