FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 12906, 20 February 1906, Page 2

FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

(By Bertha 31. Clay.)

CHAPTER V. —Continued. "My dear Lady Meldune!" interrupted Mrs Westmore, " I am a woman of the world, and when I see a man and a woman engaged, and the man apparently finds Paris more to his taste than his adored one, I e<mchide that there is, as I elegantly expressea it just now, screw loose somewhere. It's no business of mine, but 1 give my opinion—and I am sorry for Captain Stewart. He's a brave soldier, a delightfully handsome man, and waltzes divinely." " Take care, Maida! I shall think you are taken with him.." "I should have been, seriously, had I seen more of .him. He certainly possesses that Stewart gift of fascination ; if he were a ne'er-do-well you'd like him. 1 All the eligible girls are mad at this engagement of his to an ' outsider.' Xo wonder. He might have given me a chance," said Maida, concluding with a melodramatic sigh. "I wouldn't say no!"

Perhaps the merry widow had been somewhat smitten with the handsome soldier, who " waltzed divinely" and said many pretty things to her in that soft voice of his, which often expressed more than its owner intended. Certainly he would have had far better chances/ of happiness with Maida Westmore than with Pauline Arnold, for Maida was a true-hearted little woman, who made many friends and few enemies. She was a great chatterbox, and knew most people worth knowing, and everything that went on; but she was rever malevolent, and. though high-spirited, ar.d some: imes thoughtless, no one ever oared to s-.iy a word against the spotless integrity of ber life. She seemed in no great hurry to replace Major Westmore, wliom she had married as a mere girl, and was now a seven years' widow; though, as she was very attractive, and had an ample competence, she was extremely ''eligible." Perhaps the report was true which said that the major hadvbeen neither too constant nor too kind as a husband: but never from Maida's loyal lips came a complaint. The little woman, who seemed so frivolous and pleasure-loving, suffered in brave silence, and when her husband was killed in India, if she felt it a re'ease she did not say so; yet made no extravagant show of grief that had no real existenpe: and when the regulation period of abstention from society was over she returned to the world, and found it. on the whole, a very pleasant place. Her pretty aesthetic drawing room in Lexham Gardens was a favourite resort, and it w_as seldom that her five o'clock tea was graced by only a single guest. Lady Meldune. who was fifty, laughed at her young friends last words. Maida. fair, brown-eyed, petite, with a soft peach bloom on her cheek, did not look her thirtv-three vears.

"What a rash speech. Maida '." said Lady l( Meldune. "Why., you said just now that f s you had only twice met Captain Stewarts" ,* ' ; Quite enough." returned the other, j, composedly, "in his rase. I assure you. ~ I shouldn't be afraid of the future. But e he hasn't asked me. xr.d here I am. (Vying K with curiosity about Pauline Arnold, and * inclining to the opinion that he isn't very v much in love ivith her —indeed, that he isn't in love with her at afl. Why don't ; you call upon her? Then you could ir.- ), troduee rne." _ j "I don't feel mi: eh drawn to her." s;iid t j Lady Meldune. "I hardly know why. t If Stewart were in tovtn I suppose I would have to call: But as he is abroad, and j she is living very qtriet'.y, there is no pre- { sent obligation." * I " They say the) marriage is to be a quiet one." remarked Maida. "but no time is x fixed. Well. I hope it -will turn out j better than it promises. .By the way. . somebody said young Trafford was in town. { It wr.s he v:\-x. a.-ciileinally shot Cuptiiin t Stewart. He snv.- Mrs Arnold. I'i! send i for him and find out his impressions of , her." : It was «>. pity that Mn= was , not alale, like a- Thebsophist " adept." to i " project her astral form " into the parlour' of a. house not half, a mile away, wherein . sat loveiy Fau'ine Arnold, in a tea gown, the precise green of which had cost her • a morning's -work to select, but with a very naiy look upon her fair face. ir.v she was alone, and she was vexed and angry. Ore alight divine that) the letters scattered lover the table by her side had sur.ethkig j in do with this "anger, for most of them ! we;.a yet.'jnaptned. and their recipient had | e-.idenfv stashed for cue that was rsoi ! there-.' '• Xeurlv :• we;k '." she muttered, tappn.g her fix.t i'lnparientiy <;n the floor. " and n.;t a line'. It i< shameful neglect: Is he trvir-cr to !i'o:;d ire into throwing Ivim over? He won't Vac.'te.i' in that. His hist_ letter mi"-ht have been written to ,a n:er ctriend. beginning ' De-.r Pauline.' and Mgs'jd ' Stewart.' the contents cold and ftcmal. I'll warrant he dees not always write so to women! He might assume something ■ of the lover if lie Iv.;« nor the lover's ardour. But lie is chained hand and foot, and I* , mean to keep him so. Ail the world knows of our engagement. Jle couhln t. for his ; very name's sake, <leserr. me :inv! What is the attraction in Taris. I wr.j.c.erT He .doesn't ever, say it is buruoss: l.e won't condescend io any explanation. _ She got up, and began wa'. ;• -g about the room. " My last letter required an answer." she said, biting her lips. " I implored him to come over. T told liim people would begin to talk; that I could not endure his ] absence. And he does not send one line - in reply ! It is not for the sake of some gay dancer he treats me "ike this. There's some one else—some one he loves ! "Well, he'll have to give her -up, for I shall not » give him up !" CHAPTER VT.—A HASTY DEP \PTUPI' Ii was this letter of Pauline's, touched in terms of even more tender affection than any which had preceded it. tluit F.srie Stewart hail burned unread: and then he flunj himself into a chair, with the passionate resolve .'-linost formed to snap this ch>im that bour.d him and be free. Pauline wfmk; Mir. suffer: she '■ vc I him ' in her fashion, but she w.is si.::l]ow. ar.-.i no wr.und in her nature cmt'd be deep. He would take all the onus of the dee*'.:

let her seem to liavo cast him off because he was a profligate- anything, so long as he were free. Let the world, his brctaren in the army, think, say. what they he could live it down; and if not, why. better the " rough world's contumely " with Claude Verner than all its smiles and Claude lost to him—Paulino Arnold in her p'.ace. So. he thought and felt to-night, if the wild tumult of a pass-ion within him could be called thought. But when physical and mental exhaustion brought him to some degree of calm, came honour and stood beside him. He. Esric Stewart, of the spotless escutcheon, soldier of stainless fame, to play a woman false—a woman who had sheltered and succoured him. whose heart he had, though all unwittingly, won. to whom bis faith wos pledged! Cou.d he do this wrong! Shame her beFore the world-r-shame his own honour! Yet faithless in heart he must be; he did not love—had never loved —the woman he had promised to make his wife; and Claude Verner he did love. He had not even sought her. The passion that possessed his whole soul came to him unawares; in the first hour of a chance meeting that was done which neither time nor absence could undo.

Does a man sin whose heart, being hitherto untouched, surrenders itself to the spell of a nature akin to its own! For here was no question of the attraction which further knowledge of its object may strengthen. It was the instant and complete surrender: it was the swift leap of the soul to clasp kindred soul. Can the Ethopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots! Cou'd Esric Stewart change his nature, impassioned, romantic. unsympathetic! Could he make the wild mountain blood flow more sluggishly?—the vivid, impulsive temperament j become suddenly equable and unimpressionable?

A man may Avar against his passions if

they r.re sinful, but he wars in vain against his nature: on bis - cr her l.ead bs the wrong who .forces man or woman into a strife so hopeless. With haggard eyes* Esric Stewart stared before him into sp.ice. Must he give name and honour to one. while bis heart was on fire for another? Although he had calmly said an revoir to the only Voman who had touched his heart, he longed for her presence. He knew that if he saw her again is must be to throw himself .it her feet .*fud cairn her against the whole world —faith, honour.

all else, save love, that men hold dearest. If he must keep liis word to Paulke. then he must leave Paris to-day. He dare no: even incur the possibility of meeting Claude by chance. But was there no ruidd:c course? Only on one side this terrible passion of love —on the other, cold, inexorable honour?

He sprang to his feet,. There wa*. one hops, one cbar.ee. slc::der though it might be." of freedom —one ch.uice to escape the torture, the hideous temptation, that the future he'd for him. To go to Pauline, tell her tlio truth, ask her to release him from his promise! It was a cruel alterUnlive, cruel to her. even more cruel to him—i hitter humi/l.'Uo-.i. a stopping down. as it were, frcni hj;- veiy manhood. !t«?. even so. belter than the anguish, the strife—even, if- might he. the deadly sin—that ir.vsr follow »i: the fit*fih*nent of his word. It Pauline refused to release :;?ni —smi it was significant of his instinctive kmiw. ledge of her nature- that he should contemplate this po.-.-ibility—then, the man said, desperate'y." he must keep his promise. r.r.d 1 there were always disturbances :n India, where a fellow who had flung away all of his life that was worth living could mirage to find his death—ingloriously. perhaps, but the end of heartbreak! But to see Claude once more ! Xo. no: that must not be! He dared not trust himself, and his self-betrayal might swakcr. a lire in her heart. Shame on him for even the scarcely acknowledged h«p? * lia" the wry thought roused within hint! Had be r.oi' strength to pray tbai she snich: r.evei; know what he had suffered for her sake, inight never thbk r.f him ;»s father than a friend, nnJes.-.—-unless he cru'd be free to woo her as a iuvcr: He would not da!ly now with, tewptafion: he would not :i>Tk backward ir cr.wan-. A word t-> lan. a brief lx-te to Daveuaui. saying that he was obliged to leave Pans hurriedly, and so was r.n.ibie to c.:'.i to make his adieus, and Stewart was on his way to England.' like a. man who. condemned to the scaffold, makes one last, de-pairing appeal fcr the me. y he

scarcely hopes :o g.iin. Davenan! said. " Il'm'." whsr. he :«d that note, and stroked his chin persiveiy. then handed the cpi>t!e to his wife. She read it. and then their eyes met. '• What underlies that hasty summons. I wonder t" said Daveuant. "There's more than meets the eye: generally is ia such cases. I certainly had the impression last nigh; that he meant to call again, and T am prettv sure he was charmed with Claude."

" X«.{ a void to lier. Chris." said .T-.dia. quk-kiy. " I can't make it out. unless it is iii;u iic is cither married r.r or.g.iied. and discovers that he is getting to think too much of Claude." "Hes not married." said Dnvennnt. promptly, "and I do:.'t inner he's engaged : but IT: find out. Confound it'. Tt would have been the making oj ns :f he were to marry Claude." He went out. ami did not return til 3 , lata in the evening, una then he came into his wife's presence with a look and manner that she at once knew indicated great vexation. "I met a man." lie said. "ai the rhib who knows Captain Stewart. The csptain is engaged to a Mrs Arnold, a very h»ve!y woman. It is weil known in I.f-v.d-.u society, i; appears: hi:; we r.cver know any-1 tiling in Paris." "Then depend v.p'iii it." said Juiia. c-m----phaticailr. "it is as I said. Bur there ;:re other rich men in the world, and w» harm ■-- done si> far as Cinude is c< ncerne ! . ?he is just the air". 1o he as obstinate as a »iu!e if she fan-ie 1 herself in love." Xo harm? We'.l. perhaps no:. Who could tell? Xot Claude Tenor herse'.f. am: cc*.t--.irsr I' no: those ahr.v.t. her: and yet. when ?::«.• Zhl he.«rd of FNr:-- S!mv,iv!'s ahrup: <'ep-r----:u:f. of his c::-.iirerjien: to Mrthere \vi< a scn-c- of wretched eL-:;h in her heart. .-.<■■ if some one were Ivinr do.id v.i th? Unas?. She was sa istth? <e*f-

conscious that s'hc noil, f«r wi *it. connect Captain Sle*»rt'« hasty jvanty with bcr,«c3i: *iic ofily Jc3i, ami *.!i<3 ti-ail knuw *bc idt. that »<Mnclbirig had £*»»« out of her Hie. CHAPTER VII.—" OK ME REST .U,l, THE SHAME r "Is Mrs Arnold dwenga-ged " Stewart- a*ked of 3he tntn parlosr i» Horary Garden*. He »p<-4e a* <wM\ as lie ypoke on the b.itt!c4icd. with tJ.c bullets whitting about b;»n: yd iar was at stake to-day than the »jw« p3»if«v-'..: ijie. : "Til tee. Mr. if »he'» down. Thi.* w:n sir, plem!" "I* tbe iH?" Stcwut »kd, is*<»loi # tarily. The servant milled. " Oh. n». sir; bet, she"* »evcr np tst; early." •' It. acemed a *msll thing to give added Mtile of pain where a great ir had swallowed np all Jewer *etferisg. and yet thoj-e wonds were i&c a. blow t<* si,< hearsr. A ?nvi3l thing I ivni it- mc-ass ♦ ■ much. especially to the voldfcr, impMicfit of indolence; il meant *.elf-.fe<s»i3gw»<<e. lu* new, insensate waste of time. He las. come im> early becatw* he was " n Ond I'aulioc at home and frt* ftoni ; be did not expect to hear that *he might no? be oat of her room when the m:h >1 high in the heavens. The servant did not need t«* W r<,V who the handwnne victor -«t .i»: »he 3'.t® .Mwn his photograph in the parJonr. .->H bad formed her own opinion 3* jo hi* chances of happinewt with her mi»i «?♦.*. She went up straight to the latter * >ing room, and found her wrapped in a morning-gown. jus! finishing her breakfast. <To l>c con! inced.)